#ex boyfriend smut

[cupidkenji]

Slowing Down

Now playing: slowing down - the backseat lovers whisper in my ear that you need me Pairing: Nam gyu (player 124) x AFAB!Reader CW: smut, drugging, noncon (putting this as noncon but the MC is into it. However, they are under the influence so they cannot consent.), toxic ex bf trope, he's kind of manipulative sorry, p in v, praise, mocking, possessiveness, creampie, this is literally deplorable i'm sorry, kinda ooc, university AU Summary: Four months after breaking up with your boyfriend, your roommate asks you to pick her up. Of course he had to be there. Disclaimer: Reader is always written with a chubby/bigger person in mind but in this she's literally not described. WC: 3.7k part 2

this is disgusting and i'm sorry, please head the warnings. this is also not beta'd or proofread. i am tired and going to bed. sorry if this sucks. i wrote some pre-breakup HC if you want more <3

also check out this PHENOMENAL fanart if you want some visuals

The mildly run down apartment of a random university boy was an unfortunate place to find yourself when you had the option of being anywhere else. The brick walls were cracking and the water from the current rainfall made a sheen over the building that resembled porcelain. The glistening building was taunting and never ending as you stared up at the top floor, a single window open and seeping dim lighting out into the dark streets. Smoke was billowing out of it, bringing the scent of weed and the sound of laughter down into the depths of the road with you. You didn’t know how your roommate knew this guy, or why she came here if she didn’t have a ride planned, but you moved forward regardless. The front door was heavy, greasy and gray but lacking any security measures that were common for entry. There wasn’t even a front desk, just a desolate lobby that sat in front of an elevator. 

She’d told you where to find her in the text she’d sent twenty minutes ago, begging you to come get her and successfully misspelling words that you’d thought impossible to type incorrectly. It wouldn’t have been difficult regardless, even without the guidance. It was midnight, most people who inhabited the building were either out at their own parties or asleep. The only room that harbored audible life was the one she was pointing you to, and you were less than eager to walk into a room with a group of who knows how many intoxicated strangers. You didn’t even know her that well, just that she was keen to partying, and was usually able to find her own way home. You figured she must be truly desperate to resort to you, you didn’t have the heart to tell her no. 

The knocking you did felt like it bruised your knuckles. You hadn’t hit the door hard, but making any noise in the stillness of the hallway felt like a disservice. There was a penetrating calm in the building if you ignored the music leaking from your destination. It seemed wrong. When the door opened, smoke invaded your lungs quicker than you were anticipating, and you fought the urge to cough it up. The owner of the apartment had come to let you in. You recognized him vaguely from campus and knew of him only through stories you’d heard whispered between the girls he’d been with. You just wanted to go home. 

A giggly drawl of your name sounded out from behind him, and he stepped back from the doorway to let you lay your eyes on your roommate. You had no idea what she’d consumed over the past few hours, but she seemed loopy and out of it. You walked through the doorway with your eyes stuck to her, thinking about how the fuck you were gonna get her home in this state. She was practically rag dolling on the small loveseat that sat in the living room. She appeared in her own world, and you really didn’t want to haul her back to the car in front of however many people were in here. You hadn’t looked up, going and leaning over her for a moment. She looked right through you, staring at the ceiling with a permanent uptick of her lips carved on her face. She was giddy, and seemingly glued to the furniture. Her pupils nearly encased her irises and you knew she wasn’t moving anytime soon. How she managed to request your assistance in this state was beyond you. 

You heard the man who opened the door return to his seat behind you. It wasn’t loud, not like a party, you assumed there were maybe three people besides your roommate there. You were now in probably the most uncomfortable situation of your life - alone with three high strangers and a practically incapacitated roommate that was your responsibility. 

“Do any of you know what she took?” It was the only thing you could think to ask, turning around to face the crowd as you said it. If you hadn’t gotten your words out before you spun, you would have choked on them. Of course, among the three people that could have been sitting there, was your ex. Locking eyes with him now was equivalent to letting someone rip the air from your lungs.

You’d met Nam Gyu at the beginning of your freshman year, him being a grade above you. He’d made you feel things you’d never envisioned for yourself. Writing them off trivially as immature and placing yourself above them. For two years you grew intertwined with him, and when he got deep into his problems, you did everything you could to help him. Eventually, it was too much, and you left. The residual devastation had stayed draped over you for the past four months you’ve been apart. You were growing convinced you’d feel gutted forever. He hadn’t taken kindly to the split, pestering and persisting every moment he could spare. He seemed convinced he’d get you back, never failing to remind you of the experiences the two of you had. Just his presence dragged you back to the depths of it, and your knees nearly buckled beneath you. You’d missed his eyes, missed being close enough to see all of him. You did a good job of avoiding him, so he resorted to calling, or texting. You never blocked him, you couldn’t bring yourself to. 

You couldn’t read his face, you could only witness the flick of his eyes over you, feeling too exposed even in your covered state. “Probably something from the bag.” The man sitting to his right spoke, sporting purple hair and painted nails. You’d seen him on campus too. “She’ll be alright.” He didn’t seem fully sober either, something in the nonchalance and slight slur of his words keyed you in. At least he was comprehensible. You didn’t even look at him, caught in the pinpoint gaze that stayed locked on you. 

You took a shallow breath, stomach stumbling slightly at the thickness of the oxygen combined with the abundance of smoke. That was what you told yourself, anyway. “I’m supposed to be taking her home.” Your eyes flicked to the left. A smaller man took up that end of the couch they were sharing, glossy eyes and shy demeanor. He was caved in on himself, he barely seemed to notice you. 

The man of the hour chuckles slightly. “Good luck.” He motions to the girl with his head as he speaks. “She doesn’t seem to be moving any time soon.” 

You took a glance behind you, your roommate fully asleep on the loveseat. You were fucked. 

The purple haired man looked at you. “You can stay here for a minute if you want. She’ll sober up in a bit. Shit’s fast acting.” You were thankful he didn’t seem creepy. He also appeared in his own world, more concerned about his high than the random girls that were there for the ride. “She could always just crash here too, we’re all planning to.” 

You looked at your roommate for a second time, considering the options. You could feel the familiar eyes casting a shadow on you. Regardless of the assumed kindness of the men, you still didn’t know them. You had no idea how well your roommate knew them either. You hated to think about leaving her here and something happening. Technically it would be on your hands, and you didn’t want her to get hurt. “Yeah, alright. I’ll wait her out.” You sunk down in front of your roommate, sitting on the floor wasn’t ideal, but you almost felt like you were protecting her, blocking any harm by keeping her behind you. You heard one of them mumble something about drinks in the kitchen, but you were planning to stay rooted to your spot. Since Nam gyu refused to say a word or steer his eyes away from you, you took out your phone to kill time while you waited. 

When your attention was away from him, he spoke with his friends. You hated how deep his voice cut. It was so indescribably comforting to hear it again. You’d been declining his calls for this very reason, you knew the more of him you had, the harder it would be to stay away. After an hour, your phone was getting low, and your roommate was still passed out. The shy one had ducked away to a different room, presumably going to sleep, just leaving your energized ex and his friend who seemed to be getting drowsier as the minutes passed. You didn’t want to consume anything that might have been in that place, but inhaling nothing but smoke for the past hour had sucked the moisture from your throat. You reluctantly stood, drawing the eyes of only one of the men, and taking begrudging steps into the kitchen. 

Opening the fridge, you grabbed a random carton of tea after your search for water failed. You grabbed a disposable cup from the container on the table, you were grateful - you hadn’t wanted to look for glasses. Leaving your now full cup, you turned to put the carton back in the fridge. He was standing far too close to you when you turned back, resembling a jump scare from some cheesy horror film. You took a shaky breath, grabbing your cup and walking back to your spot. You didn’t want to talk. He followed suit a minute later, a soda can grasped in his palm. He continued his conversation with the man beside him like nothing had happened, and you envied that ability. Your heart was beating like it was going to stop. You drank your tea faster than you even wanted to, just doing something to fight the urge of looking at him. You could have sworn your resolve would be stronger than this. 

His eyes seemed to float to you more than they had been. You felt monitored, stalked, even. It was such a piercing sensation that a mild cold sweat started on your skin. There was something so personal about the way he looked at you. A devoted gaze of a predator, someone intense. It was something that drew you to him in the first place, something that wrestled within you. Fear and want in one. God, you wanted to go home. You spent maybe another twenty minutes on your phone, feeling the world get hazy around you. You hoped the invading mental fog was just a consequence of the late hour, of the smoke around you. You needed to move, so you stood up to throw your cup away. Your legs felt like steel rods, heavy and immovable. You don’t know how you dragged yourself back into the kitchen. Your skin felt like it was buzzing, too sensitive to the air around you.

You heard the couch creak behind you, the sound of confident footsteps as you stumbled and nearly fell. You were an imbalanced scale, tipping to one side when attempting to stand normally. Familiar hands caught you, and the feeling of him on you after so long pushed a small sob out of your dry throat. You didn’t have the strength to suppress it. “Careful.” He spoke low, so close to you that you could feel the vibration of his chest on your back. Your lips trembled as you looked around, things looked like static, marbling patterns blurring around you. 

“What’s happening?” You hated how pathetic you sounded, teary and weakened. “Did you do something to me?” You sounded so small; quiet and choking out your words instead of saying them. His hands felt so heavy on your skin. You despised the inherent recognition that your body held for him. You weren’t stupid, he’d probably drugged you. How fucking deranged did it make you that you were still getting wet for him, even in this headspace. You squirmed a bit in his hold, but all that accomplished was making his hands rub against your skin, getting heavier as his hands tightened to keep you in his grasp. You looked back at the couch, his friend had fallen asleep, and your roommate was out like a light. You were so fucked. 

“No, no. You’re ok.” He started walking towards the door of the apartment as you stumbled to clutch on to him. The world felt like a pool of molasses. “Let’s go back home, yeah?” He was still holding you, dragging you along with him and mumbling out the words like he was talking to a baby. “Not like you wanted to be here anyway.”

It was still raining when you got outside, the feeling of your clothes sopping up the water and molding to your skin was excruciating. The air felt prickly, like a cactus, and it made your poor roofied brain so confused that your body didn’t know how to react. It was bordering on painful as you sat in the passenger seat of your own car - him grabbing the keys on the way out and getting in the driver’s seat like he owned it. He didn’t even seem high. Your body ached, tingling like a shockwave, but your thighs were clenching in direct opposition to the sensation. Wires got crossed in your brain, and you were practically dripping into your underwear as your skin buzzed like you were on fire. You couldn’t sit still, shifting little by little and choking ever so slightly on some of your inhales. The drive was only ten minutes, but it felt like an hour. 

You watched him open the door to your place. You swore you’d taken his key when you left him. Maybe it was yours, you couldn’t remember him taking it out of your pocket. Your apartment was cold, and you heard him sigh as he shut the door. He’d been here a thousand times over the years, something he was clearly remembering as he returned for the first time in four months. You heard the thoughts ring out in your head, bound back and forth with a million different things. Your hand was flat on the wall, looking at him lost like you were waiting for direction, or answers, or just something from him. 

You couldn’t seem to properly catch your breath, chest heaving slightly as he moved towards you, his hands cradling your face to force eye contact. “I’ve missed this, you know?” He looked over the space he could see. It was brief, just enough to take it in without diverting his attention away from you for too long. “You haven’t changed anything.”

He pulled your hand off the wall, turning you around and forcing you to walk in tandem with him as he headed to your bedroom. He was right against your ear, speaking so low and knowing, your brain felt like a puddle in your head, only thinking about him and what he was going to do. “Most people go through breakups and they want to change everything, get something fresh.” Your stomach lurched as he opened the door, your own room causing a new feeling to stir in your gut. It wasn’t comfort, or fear. You couldn’t tell what it was. “What does it say that you left everything the same, huh?” He put his chin on your shoulder, holding you from behind in such a disgustingly intimate way. Your underwear was sticking to you at this point, you felt sick. “Did you really think you could stay away from me?” There was none of the usual malice in his tone, he sounded amused. As if he was scolding you for such a comical belief. 

Your back hit the bed, as gentle as the first time he’d ever laid you on it. The lack of standing was a welcome relief, and you could have wept with the feelings that swept over you as you drank in the sight of him standing above you. You tried so desperately to remember why you’d left in the first place, fighting through the haze to not lose your will. “Wait- you-” You didn’t have a clue what you were even trying to express. “No- I can’t.” 

He was heavy on top of you, hands drawing lines of fire as they dragged your shirt off. That exposed feeling you’d been sitting on all night cranked up severely as he stared at you, tracing his hands over you as he remapped old trails he’d been so familiar with. Nobody had touched you in four months. You’d been reeling so hard from the loss that you’d barely touched yourself. With your already limited capacity to process what was happening, combined with your recent celibacy, you felt like you were going to die, and it just made you all the more wanting.

“No?” He mocked, slipping the pants you were wearing down your legs. “Why’s that?” 

You were breathing heavy, lungs filling with the air that seemed too thick, bearing the weight of the tension. “We’re not-” You stumbled over your words as he kissed down your chest. “We’re not together anymore.” He nipped at you, leaving a stinging feeling that forced quiet groans from your mouth. “And you fucking drugged me-”

“And you’re fucking soaked.” He ran his thumb over the prominent wet patch on your underwear, pushing it aside to make bare contact with you. “You’ve always been easy, honey, but this is something else.” He takes his time sliding against you, making you preen at the contact. You were so caught between right and wrong. He’d touched you a thousand times, dragged the same sounds out of you he was doing now; but he didn’t have the right to do that anymore, he shouldn’t be doing it, not like this. The argument formed and died in your mushy brain, the feeling of the craving you’ve had for months finally being satisfied pushed all reasoning out of sight. It felt so good, and he was barely doing anything. A couple slow lines up and down, and you could practically hear it. He was right, and you were in borderline tears from how much you needed this.

You watched his clothes come off, wishing you could have helped, but rejoicing in the view of his bare skin. It was fucking pathetic how much you reveled in the sight. You felt like a lapdog, some pavlovian response firing up in your brain as you stared at him. Had you truly thought you could stay away? You could have changed the locks, or cut your hair, maybe reinvented your wardrobe. You had been devastated, yes, but maybe the reason you were never heartbroken was because you knew the split wouldn’t last. A dedicated devotee rarely deserts the altar, why would you be different? Why would you want to be different when he felt so fucking good against you?

You choked on a tiny gasp as he started pushing into you, your hands reaching to grasp his shoulders as easy as any instinct is. You hear the small noise that pours out of his parted lips, tightening around him as he bottoms out. You go practically brain dead at the feeling, mourning that specific fullness more than you ever thought you could grieve anything. He seems to sense it. “Don’t you miss me inside you, honey?” Even if you can barely process anything other than the feeling of him, you still pick up on that sleazy tone he can never seem to shake. Mocking and arrogant, always talking down to you somehow. “It was stupid to leave.” He starts moving his hips, calculated and slow - loving in a way that’s out of character for him. “You know you’re fucking made for me.” His words were breathed out in a sigh, audible content in his voice, as if he could stay like this forever. You realized with slight horror that you wanted him to. You wanted to be here forever. 

You were being driven so thoughtfully to the edge that you could barely keep up. The hand that wasn’t holding himself up was rubbing timed circles on your clit, his face finding home in your neck. If he wasn’t leaving marks, he was saying something that was only making you tighten around him more. “I didn’t want to have to do this, you know that.” You nodded, eyes watering from the intensity. “I tried so hard.” You just nodded again as he sucked a bruise into the underside of your jaw. You were scared to look at the damage when this wore off. “If you had just talked to me, we could have worked it out.” You couldn’t pick apart his words right now. Not when you were so close and he said them in that tone that just killed any critical thinking you had in you. 

“I’m sorry.” You could barely hear the words as you said them, whispered hoarsely as you tensed up. Your lips were trembling, a tear running down the side of your face and dripping onto the sheets. 

His hips stuttered at the sight, cursing under his breath. “I know, It’s ok.” He put his mouth on your jaw, mumbling his forgiveness so you could feel the vibrations, etch them into your skin. “Don’t hold it, honey, you can cum.” The permission made you lightheaded, air rushing from your lungs. “Just let me back in, yeah? I’ll forget it even happened.” 

You were so close that it was painful, his motions speeding up. You whimpered, small and meek. Your hands were shaking, hiccupping as a couple more tears streaked down your face. The thought of having him back was so enticing, even through the mild sedation that was still coursing through you, you felt like you were whole again like this. You came hard, so hard that you thought you might black out for a moment as it fully hit you. He followed right after, cumming inside you for the first time in your entire relationship, as if to physically demonstrate his intentions, to emphasize that you were made for him. You belonged together, something that he whispered with various other praises as his hips slowed to a stop. You sat with the weight of what just happened, what was most likely going to happen when you were sober. You couldn’t imagine being away from him anymore. It was hard enough holding out for four months, but after this? It seemed impossible. You realized that it hardly mattered, even if you wanted to leave, after tonight,

you doubt he’d let you.

[sugarverse]

riding your sub ex!bf!

requested by: @e2nvy

word count: 1k !

“You're wearin’ me out, can't you do some work?” your ex boyfriend teased, whispering into your ear as you whine softly. He smiled, slowly letting your legs down from his shoulders. your thighs felt like mush and you were almost positive the indent of his dick was now andforever carved into your insides. of course now's the time he wants you to get on top. 

“I hate your guts..” you mumble, feeling him slowly pull out and lay down with a soft laugh. you sit up, climbing over him and straddling his waist. its not like you actually minded, but you did feel your thighs start to ache. you leaned forward, kissing his forehead before sinking down onto him. pretty eyes fluttering as they watched you sit your hips down completely against his own.

His back rose off of the sheets, biting his bottom lip for a moment before speaking up. “you don't hate when I'm in yours..” he laughed breathlessly, watching you mock him and roll your eyes. before you could move again, he taps your thigh, causing you to stop before your hips could meet his a second time.  “be careful I'm sensitive..”

“you never care when ‘m sensitive.. you think shits sweet and move deeper..” you say, moving up until just his tip was inside. you slammed down, moaning softly and staring down at him to watch his demeanor change. his breathing changed, eyes shutting as he spoke up.

“you like when I d..do that.. he gasped, hips moving upwards, causing you to lose some of your balance. He bit his lip, moving his hands to rest on your waist. “c'mon be s..slow..”

“slow?” you laugh, beginning to rock back and forth against his cock. his eyes open slowly, rolling back and squeezing the fat your sides. his back arched off of the bed just for his chest to be pushed down by your soft hands. “you know you can take it, can't you handsome?”

he whimpered, squeezing you just a bit tighter before his hips slowly went back to resting against the couch. he hesitated, nodding slowly. he stared at your lips, then up into your eyes with a more consistent nod. he couldn’t stop staring at your pretty lips.. your eyelashes.. the way your face twisted in pleasure. those alone could make him cum. you notice the lust in his eyes, giggling and taking your shirt off.

oh. this was gonna be fun.

suddenly, all of your energy felt like it was back and the ache in your thighs seemed to leave. you didn't give him but a second before moving up and slamming your hips back down against his. he went to cover his mouth, moaning behind a hand that was just pinning your wrists down less than an hour ago. 

you rock your hips back and forth slowly, rutting your clit against him as you leaned into his ear. “Let me hear you, honey..” you were breathless, moaning in his ear and causing his head to spin. it was more of a demand, and he understood that. moving his hand, going to set his hands onto your waist once more. 

his eyes rolled back as you sped up, staring up at you in awe. he tried grinding you against him, hearing shlick of your sexs only made him want you more.  “feels g.. feels good.” he huffed out. you smiled, wrapping a hand around his throat gently before slamming down your hips ever harder. you watched him moan under you, nails clawing into your hip as he leaned into your hand. you grip his throat, giggling at his change in behavior.

“you like it when you get to lay here and look pretty, honey? miss lookin’ up at me, huh?” you taunt, listening to the bed creak under the noise of shared moans and uneven breathing. he nodded, slack jawed and gripping you tighter. “y..yes ma’am..miss you so- muchhh..” he bit his lip, gasping and putting a hand around your wrist. 

You loosen your grip around his neck, hearing him suck him a sharp breath. You could stare at him like this for days if your bodies let you. When you two were together its not like he let you top a lot, so for him to finally give in was the best.

You grind against him, leaning forward as he whined to kiss you. He rubbed his hands over your thighs, leaving wet kisses wherever he could on your skin. “M..Miss you so much, need you forever.. please let me cum- let me cum in you. please..” He begged, nails scratching your thighs as he tried to get your attention.. as if you weren't focused totally on him.

“In me? You think you deserve to cum inside me?” You ask, holding back a laugh in your voice. It wasn't often that he begged, or begged to cum inside of you. You two were far too busy for babies and he was no good at pulling out. The system you had was fine, until you see him almost in tears because he cant pump you as full as he wants.

he nods frantically, shamelessly begging and leaving kisses on whatever body part he could reach. “nnno.. no dont deserve it- dont deserve you. just please let me.. let me cum.. please?” he was struggling to catch his breath, it was pathetic, really. Seeing him such a mess because he missed your cunt. 

You kiss his forehead softly, leaning down towards his ear. “You can cum handsome, Ill let you this one time..” You could feel his hips twitch, going to grab your waist and move you along faster. 

“T-Thank y...thank you so much..” He whimpered out, cumming inside of you not long after you gave him the okay. His head spun as you came with him, feeling you clench around him and shivering at the sudden warmth. He came down from his high, looking up at you with a fucked out expression.

[madamechrissy]

Bad idea right

NSFW- you trip and fall into Gojo's bed- whoopsie

"We're... still... broken - ah - up!" You scream out as ex-boyfriend Satoru is pumping you full of his cock from the back. He chuckles, husky and deep as his cock strokes in and out of your soppy little cunt, your slick dripping down the veins of his cock onto the dark blue blankets on his bed.

"Sure we are, still... ha... broken up. F-fuck." He is moaning as you clamp your pussy down on him, walls tightening, making him cry out and you giggle deviously. "Ya fuckin brat, you really trying to make me bust quick?"

Your ex-boyfriend Satoru flips you on your back then, bending you in a mating press, and you look into those dilated blue eyes, his snowy hair falling over his forehead. "Still hate you, Toru." You manage to breathe the words out, hips arching up for him.

He smirks, shoving his cock back into your greedy pussy. "I know baby, but your pussy loves me."

"Ah!" You scream out as he's stuffing his cock so deep like this, your thighs are pressed against your breasts, you can barely breathe or think, feeling your walls fluttering around his thickness. "She's fuckin s-stupid, ngh." You're gasping for a breath, nails digging into his back hard, leaving cresent marks.

"She's so wet f'me, only me. Stop lying, you... mmm... don't like that little boyfriend of- ah - yours. Gonna fuck you stupid." He's bullying his cock in between your walls so mean, tip leaky and smashing your cervix. You cling to the sheets, eyes rolling back, mouth wide open, tongue lolling out. "there it is, stupid fucked out face."

"F-fuck... you... Toru, you dick! Ohmygod, c-cumming!" You're gushing around him as your orgasm wrecks you, and now ex-boyfriend Satoru is gripping your face, shoving your legs further against you as he's thickening. You've cum so much you hear it, the squelching wetness of your cunt.

"Gonna fill your pussy up, so you remember who you belong to." You smack at his shoulder, the hard muscles bunching as he leans over then, earning his psychotic grin, he grips your chin and rolls his hips, squishing your cheeks. "You're weak f'me baby, admit it."

You can't speak anymore, you just yank him down and smash his lips against yours, tongues dripping with saliva as your thighs tremble on his hips. "Nope. Gonna have to try harder, Toru."

He chuckles, then he's fucking your every last thought out of your brain, and you will wonder how you're gonna tell everyone you tripped and fell into ass hole ex-boyfriend Satoru's bed again later, for now you're getting filled by his cum, and you will just blame your pussy for her bad judgement, couldn't be you.

Was listening to Bad Idea Right from Olivia Rodrigo and thought of our boy lol

[hauntedfawnn]

۶♡ৎ Ex!Boyfriend!Rafe Eating Your Ass ۶♡ৎ

Cheating (not on reader), ass eating, fingering, choking, hair pulling, daddy kink, spit kink, anal, possessiveness, Rafe and reader are low key toxic for each other 18+MDNI!

(I read this fic by @novashelby and it had me really thinkin bout ass eating so shout out to her for thaaaat)

“I knew you fuckin’ missed me, baby.” You can hear the smirk on Rafe’s voice even if you can’t see it. He has you face down on his expensive sheets with his large hand pressing the side of your head into the mattress. “You might not want to admit it, but how wet your pussy is for me, says it all.”

Rafe chuckles as he kneels behind you, running his fingers through your dripping folds. You hate that he’s right, you always end up bent over for him no matter how many times you tell yourself it’s the last time. He always pulls you back.

“You know you can’t stay away from me. You always come runnin’ back for more.” Rafe dips the tips of his fingers into your dripping cunt before running his wet fingers on your clit. He teases your pussy with his thumb, letting you get lost in the pleasure long enough to pull it away from you and land a harsh smack on your clit. It makes you squeal and try to close your legs on instinct but Rafe keeps them open with his knee. “It’s cause you know that lil boyfriend of yours will never fuck you like I do.”

“You don’t know anything about him-“ Rafe lands another harsh smack on your pussy and laughs at the way you squirm and squeal.

“Yeah? I know if he was keeping you satisfied you wouldn’t be bent over like a fuckin’ whore for me.” He smacks your pussy again, this time following it with a spank so hard on your ass you’re sure it left an immediate handprint. “Plus you’re drippin’ f’me.”

Rafe runs the tips of his fingers along your pussy, wetting them with your juices. He traces your lips and your clit before sliding his hand up to your asshole and circling it with his pointer finger. “Bet you don’t let him play with your ass, do you, baby? This hole is just for daddy, right?”

“Raaafe, Shut up.” You whine into the mattress, embarrassed by the truth in his words. You told your new boyfriend you weren’t into anal when the truth was you just weren’t into it with anyone that wasn’t Rafe. There’s a lot of things you only trust him to do and that’s why you can’t give him up. He’s so fucking toxic but he fucks you like he loves you and hates you all in the same vein and it’s like you’re addicted to him. Rafe spanks you with his free hand, pulling a little yelp from you that makes his cock jump.

“Drop the fuckin’ attitude, doll. That shit might fly with your gamer bitch boy boyfriend, but that’s not how we do things around here.” He spanks you again before thrusting two fingers knuckle deep inside you. He curls them just right, he always knew how to work you like you were his favorite toy. He presses his thumb on your clit, rubbing slow circles around it. Rafe grabs the globe of your ass with his other hand, pulling you open for him. He leans down and lets a line of spit drip from his mouth directly onto your asshole. “Miss this sexy little ass, you gonna let me eat it from the back, for old times sake?”

“You’re lucky to even have me in your bed-“ Rafe pulls his fingers from inside you to wrap his hand around your throat and pull you up against his chest.

“Nah, that’s not how we’re gonna play it, princess.” Rafe grits into your ear. “We both know you want it, so just admit it. Say ‘yes daddy I want you to eat my ass and treat me like the whore I am.’ Say it or I won’t fuckin’ touch you.”

“Fuck, please?” Rafe’s hand tightens on your throat as he leans down to sink his teeth into your shoulder. The pain sends a jolt straight to your already throbbing pussy.

“That’s not what I said, is it? Beg slut, beg me to eat your pathetic little asshole.” You can feel Rafe’s sinister smirk against your skin and you hate that you’re going to do exactly what he says because you aren’t leaving here without it.

“Please eat my ass daddy? Please? I’ll be so good, I’m sorry for having a bad attitude.” You pout your lips and look over your shoulder at him and god if you didn’t want him to touch you so bad you would probably punch that smug look right off his beautiful face.

“That’s my girl.” Rafe snickers before pushing your head back into the mattress. He grips onto your asscheeks, pulling them apart and spitting onto your hole again. The warm liquid drips down your pussy and onto your clit, sending a shiver down your spine. He rubs his thumb in little circles around your hole, pushing it in every so slightly and then he leans down and licks from your clit all the way to your asshole. “Missed this ass so bad, you gotta stop depriving me, baby.”

Rafe mumbles into your pussy as he runs his tongue back down your clit before laying it flat and running it across your asshole. He licks you greedily, sliding his tongue between your cheeks and teasing your pussy. He circles your ass with his tongue and then pokes it inside you, flicking it in your tight walls.

“Oh fuck.” You moan into the sheets as Rafe fucks your ass with his tongue. He switches between circles and flicks of it inside of you, making you drip with his spit as your pussy clenches around nothing. And almost as if he can read your mind Rafe slides his fingers into your dripping cunt, thrusting them in and out of you at a brutal pace. His thumb finds your clit and it makes your eyes roll back. “God I’m gonna come already, daddy.”

“Mmm, there’s my obedient little slut. Come for me.” Rafe groans into your ass before shoving his tongue as far deep inside of it as it can go. One of his big hands spreads you open while the other finger fucks you, bullying your sweet spot. His thumb finds your clit and that’s all it takes to have you clawing the sheets and clenching around his fingers.

“Fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming, oh it’s so good, daddy.” You grind your ass back against him as your orgasm wracks your entire system. Rafe fucks you through it before pulling back and admiring the view.

“Would ya look at that.” Rafe grips onto your ass and pulls it apart so he can watch your cum drip down your thighs, his spit dripping down your crack and mixing with it. His finger circles your asshole before dipping inside to the second knuckle. “You gonna let me fuck your ass, baby? Need to feel you squeezing my fuckin’ dick.”

“Yeah fuck, yes.” You’re so far gone you aren’t even ashamed of how quickly you agree. Rafe rubs his hand on your pussy, wetting it with your juices before bringing it to his cock and using it as lube. He jerks himself a few times as he spits on your ass again and brings his finger to your hole, shoving it all the way in. “Oh my godddd.”

“Oh fuck, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You really aren’t letting him play with this ass, huh? It’s all mine?” Rafe chuckles as he presses a second finger into you and thrusts them in and out of you slowly, opening you up for him. “S’gonna feel so good, goddamn.”

“Please.” You don’t even care if it hurts, you just want to feel him inside you. “Fuck me.” You wiggle your ass and arch your back even further, practically presenting yourself to him like a bitch in heat. Something in Rafe snaps in that moment and he brings his cock to your asshole and presses the head inside.

“Oh fuckin’ shit, baby, so tight.” Rafe groans as he brings his hand to your clit and rubs circles on it, the pleasure distracting from the burning stretch of his cock. He spits on you again before pressing halfway in and pulling out again. When he presses back in this time he slams his entire dick into your ass and it nearly knocks the wind out of you.

“Oh god.” You whine and writhe beneath him, your body subconsciously trying to run away from the stinging pleasure.

“Where you goin’? Huh? Fuckin’ take it.” Rafe wraps his arm around your middle, locking you in place. His hand on your clit slides up between the dripping folds of your cunt before he presses two of them into you and thrusts them in and out of you time with the pumps of his cock.

“Fuck, I feel so full, daddy.” You’re practically limp beneath him as you drool into the mattress. “Fucking use me.”

“Use you? Oh baby, I’m gonna do more than that.” Rafe pulls his cock out of you to the tip before slamming it back into you and repeating the action. “I’m gonna fill this ass, then I’m gonna send your pathetic little boyfriend a picture of it. Wanna know the best part?”

“Hmm?” You’re so fucked out you that you don’t even fully process his words, blindly agreeing as long as he keeps fucking you like this.

“You’re.” Thrust. “Gonna.” Thrust. “Fuckin’ let me.” Thrust. “Aren’t you, princess?”

“Uh-huh. Oh fuck.” Rafe’s thumb finds your clit just as he pumps deep into your ass, his fingers curl against your sweet spot, and it has euphoria washing over you. “God, I’m coming again.”

“Yeah, that’s my good girl, give daddy your cum.” When your pussy stops spasming around his fingers he pulls them out and uses his opposite hand to yank onto the back of your hair. He pulls your head back and brings his wet fingers to your lips. “Taste yourself.”

He shoves them into your mouth as the hand on your hair yanks hard. You swirl your tongue around his digits with a moan as you lick your juices from his skin. He pulls them from your mouth with a pop before giving your hip a bruising grip and using your hair for leverage as he fucks your ass harder than before. Skin slaps against skin and the groans leaving Rafe are nearly animalistic.

“Gonna fill this slutty little ass with my cum, tell me you want it.” Rafe’s thrusts grow harder and sloppier by the second and you can tell he’s close so you clench around his cock.

“I want your cum, daddy, fill my ass.” Rafe’s dick twitches inside you as the hand in your hair pushes your head back down into the mattress. He leans his large frame over you as he pumps hard and deep into your ass. All it takes to have his cock bursting inside you is another clench of your walls.

“Yeah, that’s it, slut, take my fuckin’ cum.” Rafe pushes your face into the mattress so hard it cuts off your airflow as he fucks himself through his orgasm. His cock fills you with ropes of his cum and when he pulls out, he takes sick satisfaction in the way it drips out. “Don’t move.”

Even if you wanted to, you’re so fucked out that you’re stuck where you are. Panting on Rafe’s sheets with your ass in the air. You hear rustling behind you before the snap and the flash of a camera go off. It takes your hazy mind a second to process what he’s doing but when you do, you shoot up and turn around.

“Hey! Give me my fucking phone, Rafe!” You squeal as you launch yourself toward him but he just holds it over your head as he types. You manage to get your hands on it right as you hear the sound of a message being sent. You look at the screen in horror as you see the text he sent your boyfriend accompanied by the photo of his cum dripping from your ass. “Are you serious!?”

“Yeah. I am.” Rafe tongues his cheek and runs his hands across his chin as he smirks smugly. “I was tired of watching you pretend you liked that loser just to piss me off. Now he knows who really owns your little ass.”

“Ugh, fuck you!” You huff and slap his chest but he just grabs your hand and brings it to his lips.

“Pretty sure you just did, baby. But if you wanna go for a second round…” Rafe licks his lips as his eyes roam your naked body.

“No. I’m leaving.” You try to turn away from him but Rafe grips onto your shoulders, holding you in place.

“Nah. Lay your ass down, I miss that fuckin’ pussy. You’re not going anywhere.” Rafe grips onto your throat and pulls your face inches from his. “You’re mine and you know it. So stop playin’ your little games, I’m over it.”

“You’re so fucking annoying.” You groan as you throw yourself back on his plush pillows. You’re not leaving. And you both know it.

Tagging mooties: @rafescorpsebride @rafesheaven @rafescvntyclubgf @eerielamb @that-sarcastic-writer @moonlightseranade 🤍

Divider by @anitalenia

[sweetiecutie]

More ex bf!König headcanons bc I love my men pathetic

Ex boyfriend! König who is definitely over you. That’s what he tells himself and his friends, sipping on his beer and pressing his new girl closer to his side. No one says anything but they all share a knowing look - all of his new girls resemble you somehow: their general appearance or some exact features like shape of her lips or eyes, their behaviour or how they handle themselves. But needless to say that none of those ‘relationships’ lasted longer than a few months.

Ex boyfriend! König whom you meet at one of your shared friend’s party, his sharp eyes detecting you the moment you step into the room, his throat growing dry as he watched your every move intently. You seemed relaxed - too normal, not mourning the loss of your relationship as much as he did, seemed like you didn’t spend sleepless nights thinking about him.

Ex boyfriend! König who after a few drinks has you cornered in small bathroom, on his knees with his face pressed against your thigh, begging for you to take him back. “Please, I need you so much, my life doesn’t have any sense without you. I’ll be better, please baby, I love you so much”. Your heart clenched at the sight before you - always arrogant and complacent he’s now kneeling at your feet, fat tears running down his reddened cheeks as he scatters small kisses all over your knees.

Not so ex boyfriend! König who is too eager to take you to his place once you mumble out small “Okay, fine. But this one is the last chance you get” to prove to you just how good of a boyfriend he may be for you.

Boyfriend! König who eats you out like man starved, your slick smeared all over his chin and cheeks, tongue buried deep inside of your cunny as his ears strain to not miss a single little sound you make, familiar taste of you clouding up his mind and turning König into a perfect whore for you. He spends the rest of the night fucking you oh so good, rubbing and licking all your soft spots - ones he knows by heart, until you cry and beg for him to give you a little breather. But he just can’t - not when you’re finally back, laying all spread out on his bed, hands tangled in his bedsheets, your trembling legs wrapped around his waist.

Those months spent without you were the worst in his entire life and now that König has you back he’s not letting go of you never again.

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

your boyfriend, jason todd’s instagram

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send an ask if you want some other characters too ;)

[deunmiu-dessie]

werewolf!ex-boyfriend who you've been out of a relationship for the last couple of months. werewolf!ex-boyfriend who can't get over you, who doesn't want to get over you. werewolf!ex-boyfriend who becomes dangerously obsessed with you, because you belong to him, he's already laid his claim on you. werewolf!ex-boyfriend who stalks you all over town. werewolf!ex-boyfriend thinking of ways to win you back. werewolf!ex-boyfriend who becomes desperate when you move on to someone else. werewolf!ex-boyfriend who follows you home from work one night. werewolf!ex-boyfriend who drags you into an empty alleyway, covering your mouth. werewolf!ex-boyfriend who whimpers and pleads, humping against your thigh. "just the tip, that's it. you don't mind, right?" ˙◠˙

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Treat You Better » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Ex Boyfriend’s Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky explains how much better he would treat you compared to how his son treated you.

Warnings: Smut (18+), Fluff, language, age gap (reader is in her 20s), crying, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, fingering, female receiving, unprotected sex, size kink, praise kink, vibranium arm kink, daddy kink, Bucky’s dog tags, aftercare, pet names

A/N: I wrote this a little over a year ago, but I accidentally deleted it so I wrote it again. Enjoy!

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Bucky has noticed that you haven’t been coming over lately. You always come over to hangout with his son Aiden, your now ex boyfriend. Aiden broke up with you, because he found someone prettier than you. Now, here you are, with a box full of Aiden’s stuff that he left at your house and standing outside of his dad’s house. Bucky smiles after he opened the door when he seen you.

“Hi, Y/N.” Bucky greets with a smile, stepping aside to allow you to come inside the house.

“Hi, Mr. Barnes.” You say.

Bucky knew something was off with you by the sound of your voice. It doesn’t sound like your normal cheery and sweet self.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Can you tell Aiden that I dropped his stuff off please?” You asked, completely bypassing his question and putting the box on the table.

Bucky gently grabbed your arm before you could walk away. He knows something’s wrong with you and he’s going to figure out what it is.

“What’s wrong?” He asks again with worry in his voice.

“I don’t want to unload my problems onto you.” You muttered, your voice cracking.

You looked down at your feet, avoiding eye contact. Bucky gently tilted your head up so you were looking in his blue eyes.

“Talk to me.” He says softly.

You didn’t say anything. Bucky didn’t miss the way your bottom lip quivered. He seen a couple tears roll down your cheeks.

“Did my son do something to hurt you?” He asks.

You nodded your head yes.

“Did he cheat on you?” He asked. “I swear if-” You cut him off.

“Aiden didn’t cheat on me.” You finally spoke up.

“Then what did he do that has you so upset?” He asked.

“He found a girl prettier than me and broke up with me.” You tell him.

That’s when you broke down into tears. Bucky immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. You laid your head again his chest as you cried your eyes out. He rubbed your back soothingly to help calm you down.

“Look at me.” Bucky whispers.

You sniffled and looked up at Bucky with teary eyes.

“I want you to listen to me when I say this.” He wipes your tears away. “You are beautiful. Don’t ever say you’re not.” He says softly.

“Thanks.” You sniffled again. “You’re just saying that to be nice.” You say, looking down and fiddling with his shirt.

Bucky tilted your head up to get you to look him in the eye.

“I’m saying it cause it’s the truth.” He caresses your cheek softly. “My son is an idiot for not seeing that.” He says softly.

You stared in his beautiful blue eyes, getting lost in them. Before you knew it, your lips were on his. You realized it after a few seconds and pulled away.

“I’m so sorry!” You apologized. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” You say, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Instead of saying something, he kissed you passionately. You were caught by surprise, but kissed him back. Your hands grasped his shirt, clutching the fabric in your hands. You melted into his touch.

“Let me show you how beautiful you are.” Bucky says against your lips.

You nodded your head, giving him permission to do so. Bucky picked you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. You carded your fingers through his soft brown hair and kissed his neck as he carried you to his bedroom. He kicked the door shut with his foot before he gently laying you down on his bed.

Bucky hovered over you, his Army dog tags dangling above your face. You grabbed the chain of it, giving it a tug to pull him down for an eager kiss. He lightly chuckled at your eagerness. This kiss was more eager, but also passionate. Bucky’s lips were soft against yours. The stubble of his beard scratched against your skin as he kissed you, which you loved.

Bucky’s hands trailed down your body, disappearing under your shirt. One hand warm and one hand cold against your skin. His hands rubbed up and down your sides. His hand then found the bottom of your shirt. He pulled away from the kiss, looking at you for permission, which you gave him. You sat up just enough for him to take it off and throw it somewhere in the bedroom. He got quickly entranced by your beauty.

Bucky leaned down, kissing along your skin and marking it up. You sighed contentedly while running your fingers through his soft hair.

“You’re so beautiful.” Bucky softly murmurs against your skin.

You blushed when he called you beautiful. You haven’t been called that in a while.

One of his hands slid to your back, expertly unclasping your bra. He took it off of you and dropped it on the floor. Bucky eyed your breasts before marking them up with hickeys. He slowly kissed his way down your body, stopping at the waistband of your shorts. He looked up at you for permission, which you gave him. He unbuttoned and unzipped them. You lifted your hips so he could take your shorts off. Your panties are now exposed to him. The wet spot on your panties was now visible to him.

Bucky couldn’t help but admire the lace fabric on your body. His fingers traced the floral pattern on your panties. He then kissed your hipbones through your panties before placing soft kisses on your inner thighs after spreading your legs apart so he could get in between them. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and stopped, looking up at you for permission. You nodded and lifted your hips just enough for him to take your panties off.

You shivered when you felt Bucky’s breath against your wet pussy. His vibranium thumb rubbed your throbbing clit. A gasp left your lips when you felt the feeling of the cool vibranium of his thumb. As Bucky continued to rub your clit, his tongue licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit. He moaned at your taste. Your hands found their way to his head. Your fingers began tugging on his soft hair when he started eating you out.

“Oh, Bucky!” You moaned loudly.

The sound of your moans was music to his ears. Bucky loves the way his name sounds when you say it and moan it.

“Does that feel good, babydoll?” Bucky asks gruffly.

“Mhmm, yes!” You moaned, nodding your head.

You gasped when the tip of his tongue prodded your entrance as he licked from your entrance to your clit again. Bucky brought his vibranium hand to your pussy, one of his fingers circling your entrance. He took his mouth off of your pussy momentarily so he could watch his vibranium finger slide in your pussy.

“Fuck…” He mumbles, watching his finger move in and out of your pussy at a slow pace. “I can’t wait to feel this sweet pussy around my cock.” He practically moans.

Bucky added another finger, moving his fingers faster. He curled his fingers, hitting your sweet spot perfectly, making you moan loudly.

“Did I find your little spot, doll face?” He asks teasingly.

“Yes.” You nodded your head vigorously. “Please don’t stop.” You begged.

Bucky latched his lips back onto your clit, sucking on it as he fucked you with his vibranium fingers. Pleasure took over your body quicker than ever before. It’s like Bucky has known your body long before this. At least, that’s what it feels like for you and him.

“Daddy!” You blurted out in a moan without realizing it.

He took his lips off of your clit and looked up at you with a smirk on his face. You looked down at him, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment when you realized what you just called him.

“Mr. Barnes, I-” Bucky cut you off by curling his fingers and hitting your sweet spot, making you moan loudly.

“So I’m daddy now, huh?” He asks teasingly.

“I didn’t- I mean-” You couldn’t figure out what you wanted to say due to the pleasure you were receiving from his vibranium fingers.

“Say it again.” His voice sounded husky and low. “I want to hear you fucking say it again.” He says, curling his fingers again.

“Daddy!” You cried out in pleasure.

Your moans went straight to his cock, making it uncomfortably hard in his jeans. He was jonesing to feel what your pussy feels like wrapped around his cock.

Bucky put his mouth back on your clit, sucking on it while his vibranium fingers continued to fuck you. You could feel your orgasm building up faster than ever before. You felt like you were about to fall over the edge. Bucky could sense it too.

“Cum for daddy, babydoll.” Bucky says.

You did just that. You came so hard that you soaked his face and vibranium hand. His vibranium fingers fucked you through your orgasm. His vibranium thumb gave your clit one last rub before he took his fingers out of your pussy.

You laid there trying to catch your breath from the mind blowing orgasm your ex boyfriend’s dad just gave you. It felt like you were on cloud nine. You’ve never came that hard before. Not that you remember.

After a moment, you lifted your head to look at Bucky. A pouty formed on your lips when you noticed that Bucky was still fully clothed and you were completely naked on his bed.

“What’s with the pout, pretty girl?” Bucky asks, caressing your cheek with his right hand and rubbing his thumb across your pouty lips.

“You’re still fully clothed.” You say, the pouty staying on your face.

Bucky chuckles before hovering over you and kissed you. He then got off the bed to take his clothes off. You watched with hungry eyes when you seen his perfectly sculpted body. A shiver shot through your body when he unbuckled his belt, along with unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. You were practically drooling when he pulled down his jeans and boxers in one go, revealing his hard cock.

“You want daddy’s cock, babydoll?” Bucky asks, wrapping his hand around his cock and stroked it.

“Yes I do, daddy.” You answered, almost whining.

Bucky chuckles lightly before getting on the bed in between your spread legs. He put your legs on his thighs before lining his cock at your pussy. He rubbed his cock against your pussy, getting it wet with your slick.

“Daddy…” You whined.

“Alright, alright. Daddy will give you his cock now.” He says.

Bucky slowly slid his cock in your pussy, inch by inch. A soft moan fell from your lips the more his cock entered you.

He’s the biggest you’ve ever had. He’s definitely bigger than your ex boyfriend.

Bucky allowed you to adjust to his size when his cock was fully inside of you. You nodded, giving him permission to start thrusting. Bucky pulled almost all the way out, only leaving his tip inside of you and then thrusted back into you.

“Oh my god!” You moaned, throwing your head back against a pillow. “You’re so big!” You moaned again.

Grunts fell from his lips from how tight you are.

“Fucking tight…” Bucky grunts lowly. “He didn’t fuck you good, did he?” He asks.

“No.” You shook your head and pouted.

“I’ll show you how a real man does it, babydoll.” He says.

“Yes please!” You begged in a whiny voice.

Bucky’s right hand grasped onto the headboard while his vibranium hand put one of your legs over his shoulder and started fucking you at a pace you’ve never experienced. You sure as hell know that you love it.

Your hands scrambled to find something to hold onto. One hand held onto his sheets beneath you, clutching the fabric in your hand while you put your other one on his abdomen just to feel it. His abs flexed against your hand every time he thrusted into you.

Pleasure took over you. You felt like you were on cloud nine. You never wanted it to end. You were loving everything about this and so was Bucky.

“You feeling good, doll?” Bucky asks.

“Mhmm, yes!” You moaned.

Your moans were like music to Bucky’s ears.

He increased the speed of his thrusts. His cock was hitting all of the right spots. You arched your back in pleasure. Bucky got an eyeful of your breasts when you pushed them up towards him. He dipped his head down, kissing along your soft skin. His teeth nipped on your skin to mark up your breasts. He then kissed his way up to your neck and kissed just below your ear, a soft moan leaving your lips.

“You’re being a good girl for daddy.” Bucky praises, whispering in your ear.

You moaned at his praise. Praise kink… unlocked.

“You like it when daddy praises you, doll?” He asks.

“Yes, daddy.” You answered in a moan.

You grasped onto his bicep, digging your nails in his skin. Bucky moans when he felt your pussy squeeze around his cock.

Bucky then readjusted the two of you. He took your leg off of his shoulder and wrapped it around his waist, along with your other leg. His right hand left the headboard and he hovered over you, caging your head in between his arms and his dog tags dangling just above your chest.

“Look at me, pretty girl.” Bucky demands softly.

You looked up at him in your pleasure filled state. Lust clouded his blue eyes. He had a soft expression on his face. His vibranium hand gently cupped your cheek, caressing it. His vibranium thumb rubbed against your bottom lip. You voluntarily parted your lips for Bucky to slide his thumb in your mouth. You closed your lips around his thumb and began to swirl your tongue around it like you would do to suck his cock. Bucky watched intently.

“Fuck…” He grunts softly.

You grinned around his thumb innocently. That made Bucky want you more. He sped up his thrusts at the sight of the innocent grin on your face.

He took his thumb out of your mouth and kissed you hungrily. You moaned against his lips. Your hands found their way to his head, carding your fingers through his soft dark brown hair.

You felt like a coil tighten in your stomach. Your second orgasm was building up quicker than your first one.

“I’m close again.” You whimpered softly.

Bucky’s vibranium hand snaked its way down your body to your clit, rubbing it in fast circles to help your orgasm build up even more.

“Cum for me, gorgeous.” He pants.

You moaned his name loudly when that coil snapped, coming harder than you did the first time. Your legs were trembling against his sides. Bucky gave your clit one last rub before focusing on his own orgasm. He could feel himself close to coming too. He tried to unwrap your legs from his waist so he could pull out of you and not cum inside of you, but you weren’t haven’t it. Your legs tightened around his waist.

“You gotta let go, doll.” Bucky coos, gently tapping your thigh with his vibranium hand.

“No!” You whined.

“I can’t cum inside of you.” He pants, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

“I want you to.” You tell him. “Fill me up, daddy!” You moaned.

“God damn…” He moans.

Bucky leaned his head against your shoulder, his face in the crook of your neck. You kissed his neck softly before nipping on his skin to give him a hickey.

Bucky finally came, coming inside of you and painting your walls with his cum. His thrusts slowed down before he pulled out of you, his cum leaking out of your pussy. He laid down next to you and covered the two of you up with a blanket. You snuggled yourself against his side and he wrapped his arm around you. You laid your head on his chest, his fingers playing with his dog tags.

“Be mine?” Bucky asks after a couple moments.

“What?” You asked, lifting your head.

“Be mine?” He repeats. “You deserve to be loved and treated the right way by a real man. You obviously didn’t get any of the from my son. I can give you that and more.” He says.

You stared in his blue eyes for a moment, thinking about it. Bucky has a point. His son never gave you one ounce of love. You need that from a real man. That man happens to be Bucky.

“I’ll be yours.” You finally said with a smile.

Bucky smiles and kisses you passionately.

“Let’s take a shower and cleaned up.” He whispers against your lips.

You hummed in agreement. Bucky stood up and carried you to the bathroom, setting you on the sink counter. He turned the water on in the shower and waited a couple minutes for it to heat up. He walked back over to you and stood in between your legs, rubbing the tops of your thighs with his hands.

He then carried you to the shower and cleaned you up gently, pressing soft kisses against your skin as he did so. You leaned against his body, looking up at him with a smile on your face and the look of adoration. You reached up, putting your head on the back of his head and carded your fingers through his wet hair. Bucky smiles at the feeling. He then leaned his head down, kissing you sweetly and passionately. He wrapped his arms around your midsection, holding you close to him. After a few seconds, he pulled away from your lips, looking deep in your eyes with love and adoration.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky murmurs softly.

“I love you too, baby.” You softly murmured back.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[queenie-the-court-jester]

you'll be back.

Yandere rockstar x reader

A/n: this was very rushed so I'll fix it later, but please enjoy! 🌺

Tw: dub con turns to non con, breeding kink, obsessive behavior, yandere ex boyfriend, very minor angst

🎸you hated him. Hated his guts, his handsome looks, the way he'd wrap his arm around your waist as if you were still dating. His spotless dark skin you were so envious of, that dumb charismatic smile. You hated it. Why did he do this to you? Always running back and begging you to let him stay for a while. And you'd let him. Why? You didn't know

🔥 Maxine knew. It's because you still loved him. He knew you did. Why else would you let him climb into your bed and hold you close? Why else would you let him kiss your lips? Why else would you let him undress you slowly with so much love

🎸he was a mess for you, no matter how many fans he had, they could never replace you. All the girls he slept with after your breakup? None of them compared. He loved you more than his love for the life he had. But if he did, why did he pick it over you?

🔥 highschool sweethearts, well, up until you both graduated and he started a band. They were small, but slowly grew in the following year. Having multiple companies reach out in hopes of striking a record deal. Soon, nightly Melodies came to be.

🎸you forgot his bandmates names, they weren't really important to you since they didn't bother trying to know their leaders lover. Good riddance you say. You never liked how that drummer kept staring at him.. not to mention his fans were psychopaths. Harassing you online and sometimes even in real life. He didn't even care after you'd complain about it

🔥you were eachother's first time, first everything. So ofcourse it hurt when you finally confronted him after he skipped your date night for the 10th time that month. He never had time for you anymore, brushing you off in favor of hanging out with his "friends"

"just calm down babe geez.. it's not that big of a deal.."

"not that big huh? Well then, if you care so little about actually being a good boyfriend, consider yourself single."

🎸you left him to stare at you in shock as you packed your bags, he tried stopping you. Begging you to stay, blocking the door, standing behind your car as you tried driving away. He promised he could change. But you knew otherwise. You were done

🔥months later, he stalks your socials and keeps sending you gifts. All until you start to crumble and let him in slowly. He knew you wouldn't last long. His reputation and band be damned. All he wanted was you.

🔞you could only stare at him, unsure as he kissed the valley between your breasts and trailed lower, hands rubbing up and down your sides. You could feel his dick press against your leg, your clothing scattered all over the bedroom floor

"there there pretty baby.. let me take care of you hm? Such a good girl.. want me to fuck this pretty pussy as a reward? Hm?"

🔞he slowly pushes the tip inside after teasing you relentlessly for what seemed like hours. Letting out Little groans as he slipped in inch by inch. Praising you for taking him so well, cutting himself off and letting out a lewd gasp after he felt you squeeze him

🔞 he starts off slow and steady, he doesn't last long as he's practically fucking you into the bed. Crying out tears of euphoria at the feeling of you sucking him in deeper, the tip bullying your cervix

"f-uuuckkk pretty ma', hah.. I don't think I can last long- a-ah!"

🔞he refuses to stop after cumming inside you once. Babbling something about knocking you up and filling you up with his children. Gathering some sense of clarity you tried begging him to stop, but he clamped a hand over your mouth. Pinning you down and angling your hips higher. Blue eyes staring down at you with manic glee

🔞drool drips down his chest as he pants and groans, he only stops until he's fully drained and each touch of his skin makes his hips spasm. Pulling you flush against him he practically purrs, nuzzling his face into your chest. You couldn't help but wince at the cold feeling of his lip piercings rub against your bare skin. Tiredly reaching a hand up to play with his dark curly hair

🔞you better hope the test comes back positive, because if it doesn't he'll just keep going every night until you're swollen with his child. This may dampen his image a bit but he couldn't care less. Staring fondly at your tummy and the ring on your finger. He was holding your hand as you both Walked into an important event, He couldn't wait to introduce you to everyone as his wife!

[kurooangel]

⊹₊⟡ suggestive (?) content ⋆ masterlist

★ ex boyfriend!suna, who still doesn't move on from your relationship. late night unanswered calls, whatsapp audios with husky voice, pictures of his bare chest and his toned abs.

★ ex boyfriend!suna, who one night shows up in front of your door with a bucket of flowers right before you leave to go on a date with a boy you've been talking with during a few weeks. his eyes analyse your outfit — your beautiful hair and that long, elegant dress. his favourite dress, one he actually bought you.

★ ex boyfriend!suna, who tells you to go with him instead. he has reserved on your favourite restaurant — not even fancy, just a cozy ramen restaurant both of you used to go a lot when you were together. you know you shouldn't listen to him, and you also know it's probably a lie.

★ ex boyfriend!suna, who still can persuade you with his beautiful green eyes, and you agree, texting your date with an apology and a weak excuse you're not sure if he'll believe. for god's sake, you're not even sure why are you agreeing with suna.

★ ex boyfriend!suna, who was dragged by you inside your house instead and kissed him after he stole a glance at your cleavage.

★ ex?? boyfriend!suna, who woke you up naked and with breakfast done. "what do you wanna eat first, babe?"

[cupidkenji]

Gnaw

Now Playing: Gnaw - Alex G everything I knew was looking just as it should Pairing: Nam gyu (player 124) x AFAB!reader CW: smut, oral (r receiving), choking but not in a freaky way he literally chokes reader to get them unconscious (no somno), kidnapping kind of (he takes them back to their house), knifeplay 💀, restraints being used (reader's wrists are tied), noncon technically but again mentally reader is into it, toxic ex bf, he's really whipped tho, minor bloodplay, undertones of sadism, lokey father figure vibes from Nam gyu (i'm so sorry), probably kind of OOC, university AU Summary: After that night, you ran. You should know by now you can never get far from him. Disclaimer: Reader is always thought of to be chubby/bigger when writing but I do my best to not physically describe reader at all with stuff like skin tone or body type. Anyone can read this as reader is not depicted but if there's a slip up please let me know. <3 WC: 3.7k (again) this is a part 2! read part 1 here.

the worms are eating away at my brain i am going crazy. please for this story just imagine you have one of those bed frames that are individual bars w space in between them instead of like one solid thing. also i really need to start writing these earlier in the day so i have the energy to proof read them. i'm sorry for my sins have mercy on me.

The sunlight seared through a pair of shitty motel curtains, attempting to penetrate your shut eyelids. It was the sixth day you were waking up in a scratchy bed on the run down side of your already dirty town. It was the sixth day you would spend missing him. 

You knew it was wrong, immoral to even think of returning to the man who had done such a thing. Who was clearly at a place in his life where he could do such a thing. Even through all the intellectualizing of his actions, the pleading you did with yourself to be disgusted, you weren’t. You knew it the second he cleaned you up and went to sleep, and it was terrifying, so you ran. As soon as you were sober, you ran to the only sanctuary you could afford as a college student who was also renting an apartment and a vehicle. You had already overstayed your welcome, knowing that the six days would cost you more than you wanted to shell out. You didn’t know how long you planned to be gone, originally fleeing the scene to be able to think. It was only proving more difficult as the days ticked on. You’d come all the way out here to talk yourself into hating him, only to carve out an even bigger space within yourself that he was to occupy. You missed him. The more you thought about it, the more apparent it became, and that just pushed you to stay longer. To wait out the bruising feeling eating at you the more you forced yourself away. 

You skipped class, not daring to step foot on campus lest he be waiting for her. The thought made your head fizz, a horrified and excited feeling mingling as they wrapped around the nerves in your stomach. Just the possibility of seeing him overwhelmed you, but you were simultaneously sick from the distance. You were sick of your surroundings, too. The walls were gray and stained, and you feared the hygiene status of the bed you were sleeping in. You hadn’t had much time to pack when you’d left, grabbing miscellaneous clothing that had yet to be put away and shoving it in a backpack. You hadn’t brought a blanket or a pillow, something you regretted. The suffocating nature of the beige room prompted the nightly walks you’d been taking. It was a bearable temperature, and the full perimeter of the building provided a decent amount of ground to cover. You hadn’t grabbed a charger, leaving your phone dead and you bored. Without any artificial stimulation to occupy your head, you took notice of the normally unnoticeable aspects of such a place. There were bits of a wired fence on the right side of the parking lot, the few lamps that lit the outside up had security cameras on them that didn’t work. You couldn't sleep one night, so you’d gone to look at them, finding that when the cords reached the end of the pole, they’d been haphazardly cut. It looked rushed and frayed, like a child had done it with safety scissors. It was deceiving, truly. There was no safety in an already dim parking lot. 

On tonight’s walk, you mulled over the date you’d return by. You still needed to graduate, and realistically, you couldn’t avoid your life forever. You were getting progressively more tired, sleeping less each night you stayed, missing the comfort of your own bed. The ground was uneven and cracked under your shoes, reminding you of the gray, crumbling building you were supposed to retrieve your roommate from. Reminding you of him, how stupid all of this was. There was a familiar smell in the air as you rounded a corner, nearly back to your room. It was distinct, heady and musky, as if you were back on that street and looking up at the flowing smoke again. You did your usual observation of the desolate asphalt full of empty parking spots.

And what the fuck were the odds?

He was already looking at you, the end of his cigarette glowing orange as he took a drag, like a sniper taking aim. He was a mere silhouette being poorly lit up by a streetlight that barely worked, but you knew. It was this feeling of magnetism, the same way he knew exactly who he was looking at, you felt the world around you melt, the air around you became irrelevant as your eyes locked on him. There was another man there, leaning against the hood of his car with Nam gyu right next to him, taking no notice of you as he spoke. You couldn’t make out his words with how far away you were. The man you’d been avoiding making little sounds of acknowledgement while being completely trained on you, posture relaxed and comfortable. He found you.

His friend nudged him, mumbling something and standing up. The both of them walked back into what was presumably the man’s room after snuffing out what they were smoking. You didn’t even register your legs beelining for your room. You threw whatever you had into the backpack you’d brought. You needed to get the fuck out of here. It was an unfathomably cruel move from whatever higher power was in charge of this situation. The two of you were being forced together like sand and water. He was everywhere, no matter where you were he would inevitably catch up. Maybe it took him three months the first time, but clearly he was done waiting. You rushed the check out process, not knowing how long his friend would keep him occupied now that he knew you were here. Maybe he wouldn’t even care. The thought made your stomach twist, but still, you needed to go. Your car seemed like an endless walk from the front doors, parked in the corner closest to your room, dark and unsuspecting. In such an empty place, you didn’t want your car to sit illuminated, as if advertised. This motel had a reputation, and you wanted to keep your means of travel safe. 

Your hands shook slightly as you hit the unlock button on your keys, yanking the handle to the backseat and throwing your bag somewhere in the back. It was just clothes, you didn’t care if it rolled around or hit the floor during the commute to wherever you were going, you just cared about getting out. The slam of the back door shutting seemed louder than what was appropriate for such a bone-deep silence for this time of night. Opening the driver’s side, you barely had enough room to squeeze through before it was being shoved closed from behind you. On impulse, you tried to turn around, startled and drowning in adrenaline; but before you could, the crook of his right arm encompassed your neck, tightening like a snake who was readying the prey for consumption. Your hands shot up, grasping his forearm with a futile grip, as if you could will his arm away from you. The pressure on your windpipe was bleeding black into the edges of your sight, static mingling with your hearing as your head got lighter. You could hear quiet shushes and reassurances coming from the man behind you, as though talking a child back into sleep after a nightmare. You dug your nails into the fabric of his sweatshirt as a weak sob barreled out of your mouth. He only pushed a little harder, pulling you into him. The proximity comforted you despite his actions, and you used the last little bit of energy you had to condemn yourself, body going limp against him after the last internal inquiry of what the fuck was wrong with you. He had also noticed the camera situation, knowing that his actions would go undocumented in the empty little place. He walked you over the passenger seat, hauling you in and buckling you up like a kid in a car seat. He started the route to your house, it was a Friday, your roommate would surely be out. He knew she was barely ever at the house, after staying there on and off for two years, he thinks he could probably count how many times he saw her sleep there on one hand. It wasn’t a long drive, twenty minutes or so, and you’d be home.

–

The normally disarming lamplight of your bedroom reeled in your consciousness from the void it had been thrown to. It didn’t feel particularly calming - not now. Your head was on your pillow, a focused Nam gyu diligently knotting a rope around your wrists, bundling them together and lacing the restraint through your headboard. Your neck felt bruised, sore and pulsing with a light pain as the blood rushed to your head. Your legs tensed on instinct, noticing the motion was not detained. He hadn’t tied your legs. You tugged once at the rope, testing the endurance just as much as you were testing your own strength. Your muscles felt nearly atrophied, the action making an ache ricochet through the oxygen-depleted muscles. Your whole body felt tired, heavy. Your exhale was shaky, slowly deflating from your lungs as if your body was made of stone. 

“Oh, good.” He double checked the knot, tugging once to solidify it’s hold on you before standing up to look down on you. “I didn’t know how long you’d be out.” He sounded so casual, as if instead of choking you unconscious and dragging you home, he’d simply carried you in from the car after you’d fallen asleep in it. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Your voice was quiet and gravelly, like your throat was coated in sand. Your lip trembled at the feeling of being so close to him. God, you were like a fucking puppy; can’t even be away from him for a week without turning into a weird sentimental puddle upon seeing him again. “Please untie me.” Your eyes watered as you spoke. You’d barely been awake five minutes and you were on the brink of tears. Pathetic. 

His eyes flicked over your face at the sight of your eyes welling up, a little glint of something familiar sparking in them for just a moment. “I can’t.” He shrugged, imitating disappointment at the notion. “You keep running from me. How are we supposed to resolve this if you can’t even keep still?”

Resolve this. Your eyes closed at the words, attempting to stop the tears from spilling at the thought. You’d left him for a reason. It was repeated over and over in your head like a mantra. You had to stick to it even if you couldn’t remember what the desire to be away from him felt like. Even as your chest heaved slightly with panic, you hoped he wouldn’t move. You hoped he would keep talking just so you could hear his voice, be near him. It wasn’t a rational wish by any means, but you could feel the intensity of it in your fucking bones with how consuming it was. 

“I’m not a patient man, honey. I waited for so fucking long.” He leaned over your dormant frame, putting one knee on the bed and moving his other to mirror the motion, effectively pinning your hips down under his weight. “You know, it wasn’t even your roommate who wanted you there. She just left her phone unlocked, and I knew you’d show up if she asked.”

“What-” Your words halted in your throat as he drew a pocket knife from the pocket of his sweatshirt. Jesus.  “Please - you don’t understand-” 

“Relax.” The word was chuckled slightly as he cut you off, like the panic that shot through your eyes at the sight of the blade in his hands was unjustified, like you were being irrational. “I think I was too selfish that night, hm?” The look he was giving you felt like it could kill you if he really wanted it to. Intense and suffocating, full of excitement and devotion. “You clearly hadn’t been touched in months and I got ahead of myself.” He shook his head slightly as his eyes looked over you, your chest was moving quick and shallow as you breathed, stomach tensing as he lifted your shirt up just an inch, caressing the skin above the waistband with his thumb. It barely even seemed intentional, as if his hands subconsciously drew themselves to you, needed to be touching you. 

Any urge you had to respond kept dying before it could be expelled. What do you even say to a situation like this? He was so at ease, explaining himself like a truly remorseful lover would. To anyone who didn’t know his inflection, that’s where it would end;  but you were so in tune with him, you could hear the edge of entertainment that his words carried. Maybe he was sorry, maybe he just liked seeing you unsure.

“I’m gonna make it up to you.” Your breath stumbled as he said it, your wrists grating unconsciously against the confines. “But it hurt my feelings when you ran like that.” He put a hand to his heart as he spoke, emphasizing his words. “So I’m gonna hurt you a little, too.” You felt the point of the blade make contact with the skin that his thumb had been smoothing over minutes before. It was enough to make the first tear fall from the corner of your eye. There was no pressure, just the threat of his words ringing true. Even in this scenario out of most peoples’ nightmares, you still didn’t think he’d truly hurt you, not irreparably. He’d always had sadistic tendencies, you even sometimes - shamefully - thought about the potential that was undoubtedly lurking beneath the surface of his presentability. He could get mean sometimes, especially when he was high, but never like this. He was sober, you could see it in his eyes and the way he moved. He just wanted to do this, wanted to be in control. 

He could practically feel the mesh of emotion seeping from your veins, taking longer than necessary to talk just to watch you soak in it. “Just enough to teach you some manners, honey.” His thumb trailed a line of pure heat along your jaw. “Don’t worry. You’ll probably even like it, knowing you.” 

A weird feeling jolted through the active nerves in your stomach. It was such a direct callout, based in certainty that he carried in his voice. You felt caught, recalling all the times he most likely knew exactly what you were thinking. Another tear streamed down the side of your face. 

The steel in his hand glistened in the low light of your bedroom, the sharpness of it being dragged down the fabric of your shirt, severing the only semblance of modesty you had left; the material draping open and bearing your skin to him. You’d been practically ready for bed by the time you took your walk, foregoing any additional coverage underneath the shirt, leaving all of you vulnerable to the exploration of his eyes. He pushed the sagging cloth to hang more off your shoulders, grazing his hands over the naked parts of you. It was gentle, restrained, like he couldn’t bear the time it would take to touch all of you because he needed it that badly. 

You felt the sting of an opening wound a second later, a whimper barely fleeing your throat. It wasn’t deep, he didn’t push hard. His lips parted as the blood rose to the surface of the small cut, pooling within it and releasing a single drop to pour down the side of your stomach. Before it could gain traction, he smeared the runny crimson, letting the liquid coat the print of his thumb. His pupils dilated at the sight, his breath coming out shakier than he’d like as his blood seemed to thrum in his veins. 

Your face twisted at the feeling, molten lava pooling in your stomach and burning you from the inside out. You felt hot, immune responses and arousal both running rampant in your body. You’d never felt more awake. He lowered his head to your exposed collarbone, brutally reminiscent of the night that predated this one. “See? Not so bad.” He led his hand up to your mouth, palm skimming your side as he hovered his thumb above your sealed lips, muttering out a request to open your mouth for me and you did because he was inexplicably intoxicating. Your tongue was coated in bitter metal combining with the discreet and slight flavor of his skin. You felt dizzy. 

He mouthed down the expanse of your upper body, leaving patches of your skin shiny with his saliva and stinging from the occasional love bite he would leave. He marked his places of affection with small cuts, each one sending a wave of warmth lower and lower, fanning the flames down to where he would ultimately end up. He would kiss over each future scar he left on you, a bloody comparison to your relationship as a whole, his actions making your heart ache and your back arch. You had been trying your hardest to stay quiet, trembling exhales being the only thing you couldn’t suppress; but he had a way of wearing you down in the most pleasurable ways imaginable, gradually building you up to the whimpers that were slipping past your crumbling resolve. 

With caring hands, he pulled at the waistband of your pants, folding them out from under your hips and bending each of your legs forward to get them fully off of your legs, laying them back down once he had. The room felt colder than it ever had. He stared with pride at the state of your perpetually clenched thighs, groping at the tense muscles. “What’d I tell you, huh?” He tucked the blade of the knife under the seam of your underwear, pulling up and slicing clean through them. “I don’t know why you want out when you like it so much.” Cutting the other seam, he let the fabric slide off of you, discarding the shreds of useless hindrance and taking in the full sight of you. 

You didn’t know why you ran either. You did like it. You liked it so fucking much that it scared you. Maybe it was a fear of feeling good, or a fear of what this kind of connection would inevitably do to you, what kind of a man he was. You’d tried to leave him and ended up panting, wet skin glistening and covered in gashes; and the worst part was you liked it. How the fuck could you like something like this?

He left various other claims of territory on your thighs. Teeth marks, nicks from the knife, worshipping kisses of a man in love. Everything action committed against your wanting flesh had so much emotion laced in it that you could barely take it. You were overwhelmed, your brain half shut down, only stopping itself from going dark because then you wouldn’t be able to feel him, to accept what he was giving you. 

He pushed your thighs out of their locked state, soothing over the irritation littered on them with his thumbs and his lips, dulling the sting with an even greater ache that was bleeding directly into the center of you. You felt like he’d lit you on fire. 

The tip of his index finger scorched a line up the place you’d been anticipating, shamelessly gliding in copious arousal that had been pooling since you saw him leaning on the hood of that car. It was a touch that seemed to pump life back into you, invigorating and familiar. Something you missed so much that you were sure you’d never be able to fathom the depth of it. He cursed, quiet and breathy; and you groaned at the feeling of friction, even if it was just a little. 

His mouth on you was sudden, but not rushed; the spontaneity of it forcing a gasp from you. His actions were calculated, arms wrapping around your thighs to keep you open, malleable and pinned. His hands were tense on your legs, fingers digging in tight as if he was struggling with his own internal grievances. You weren’t sure if it was restraint, or desperation, or something uncharted between the two of you. It was scary to think that something could be undefined right now, that maybe he was lost too. 

The warmth of his mouth on you after already having your body thoroughly overworked nearly knocked you unconscious for the second time that night. Your head was as thrown back as it could be given the state of your arms, chest reaching for the ceiling. Your poor wrists burned in the grit of the rope, but it only seemed to add to the peak you were being pushed to. He brought his index finger to sweep through the bountiful wetness in between your legs, this time pushing in and curling up, his second finger joining soon after. 

“Gyu - please -” The nickname was so domestic, something that hadn’t left your lips in months but seemed to feel as natural as breathing in this moment. The loving tone hit him like a wave, drawing a reflexive groan from his mouth. His eyes were practically black from how much his pupils encompassed the iris, his own eyes looking a little watery as a less extreme mimic of yours.

“Missed the way you taste.” The auditory affirmation paired with his fingers and his mouth sent you toppling. His fingers never let up, his mouth detaching to plant light kisses on the bone of your hip, looking up at your breathtaking form with an awestruck gaze that you couldn’t see through your closed eyes and tilted back head. 

You panted, thinking it was over. Maybe he’d fuck you, or maybe he would make you tea and the two of you would finally talk about things. He just moved his soaking fingers up to your clit, your body jumping slightly at the sensitivity. 

“Wait-” 

“Shh, just take it.” He spoke low and moved back to where he was, starting again when you had barely started coming down. His declaration of making it up to you rung in your ears. How long was long enough to be considered even? You writhed with overstimulation as you thought about it. Ten minutes? Thirty minutes? An hour? Your second orgasm hit you hard in the middle of your useless inquiries, and you realize it didn’t really matter.

You were in for a long fucking night regardless.

𓂃���𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃❮𓁿❯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

tags: @mitsxuri @citarnosis @namgyunation (tagging you lovely folks because you all mentioned wanting more content. please let me know if you want your @ removed and i will do it ASAP <3)

[sugarverse]

exboyfriend! who calls you to ask if you wanted any breakfast while he was out, mentioning the new waffle house down the road.

exboyfriend who picks you up exactly at 10 like he said he would, the smell of cocoa butter and his cologne filling the chilled car.

exboyfriend! who absentmindedly opens the door for you, staring at your sundress in awe.

exboyfriend! who asks if you want to smoke before, handing you the joint to light as he drove. he hummed to the music in the car, tapping the wheel lightly to the beat.

exboyfriend! who pulls into the parking lot, blowing smoke in your direction.

exboyfriend! whos lap you're on just as quick as you had gotten to the parking lot.

exboyfriend! who makes sure to be semi gentle, not wanting to shake the car too much as he bucked his hips closer to yours. He kissed your lips, nails gripping into your thighs as you moved up and down.

exboyfriend! who marks you in hickeys before you finish, walking you inside after filling your panties with cum. He held your hand, letting you follow behind him with a proud smirk on his face.

exboyfriend! who orders what you like, paying for it all and making sure you're fuller before asking to come back to his house. you'd always nap after visiting each other, why not together? you can shower at my place too, I still have some of your soap left.. He mumbled against your skin, letting the AC run through the car once more.

exboyfriend! who takes you home just to fold you in another few positions to remind you how much he knew your body, that no one else could fuck you like this. or know you as well as he did.

exboyfriend! who cleans your tired body up, the smell of lavender filling his bathroom. you could tell he'd cleaned the place up before you came over. he cleaned you gently, kissing parts of your body softly before carrying you back to bed for said nap.

[nanaminxs]

Jason misses you. It hadn’t even been three days since the breakup n he’s finding his fingers tapping against his screen.

Apologizing, slightly groveling. He wants you back. All of you.

So bad that he turned to fisting his cock at the sight of new instagram posts almost daily. Rough callouses on his hands making it hard for poor ole Jason to cum properly :c

So he buys a fleshlight. It isn’t you, but if he squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on your sweet voice chanting from an old voicemail..maybe it’ll work.

Jason spits into his palm, rubbing the fat glob against the base, all the way to the tip.

He sighs, pushing the head against the silicone slit. It’s a tight fit. Inch by inch, the mold struggles engulf the fatness of his cock and he’s seeing stars.

Like I said, it isnt you. But it’ll have to work tonight. His phone is in his left hand, and his right is pumping the fleshlight up and down his length.

The camera picks up airy moans, and the way the toy forces itself to accommodate his girth.

It’s so messy, precum mixed with his spit pool at the base of his cock with every harsh tug.

Jason Todd misses you, so much that when he cums, filling the toy to the brim which messily seeps out the sides, he swears he can see your face.

Yes, Jason Peter Todd sent you a video of his fat cock abusing new toy with a text that read,

‘Just don’t feel like you used to, miss you baby.’

You shamelessly pull soaked fingers from your overnight shorts and fight the battle between going back to him, or standing on business.

A/N: Here’s the tag🙂‍↕️, @slightlysaltysometimes

[fangdokja]

Some truths are better left buried.

❤︎ Synopsis. A charming façade hides a mind unraveling, as jealousy sinks its claws into a man obsessed with the untouchable "Ice Queen," her mysterious past igniting a sinister need to claim what was never his to own.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. Friction & Fire - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 7,753

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con + manipulation, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances

The office was silent except for the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard and the faint hum of the air conditioning. The morning sun bled through the blinds in fractured slivers, painting your desk in a dull, sterile glow. You sat across from him, your shoulders squared, your focus unyielding as you combed through line after line of data.

And yet, despite the quiet, he could feel the tension lingering between you like a living thing.

It was still on his mind.

He wasn’t the type to fixate—hell, he prided himself on letting things roll off his back—but this? The thought of your first kiss, of the strange, detached way you spoke about it last night, had lodged itself in his brain like a splinter.

He leaned back in his chair, one leg lazily draped over the other as he watched you with sharp, predatory focus. On the surface, he looked relaxed, his usual cocky nonchalance on full display. But beneath it, his mind was a storm.

“You know,” he began, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife, “last night got me thinking.”

You didn’t respond, didn’t even look up. Your fingers danced across the keys, swift and precise, as though you hadn’t heard him at all.

He smiled, leaning forward just enough to rest his elbows on the table. “For someone who’s so good at everything, you sure don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”

Still, you gave him nothing. Not a word. Not a glance.

He didn’t let it deter him. If anything, your silence only spurred him on.

“So, first kiss,” he said, his tone as light as a feather, casual enough to sound innocent. “When was it? And don’t give me that ‘transaction’ excuse. I want details.”

Your fingers paused for half a second—so brief it was barely noticeable—but it was enough to make his grin widen.

“I’m working,” you said flatly, your voice like steel.

“And I’m curious,” he shot back smoothly, his grin taking on a sharper edge. “Come on, indulge me a little. Was it some rich heir your parents set you up with? Or…” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Was it someone you actually liked?”

You exhaled slowly, your gaze still fixed on your screen. “Drop it.”

“Oh, I would,” he said, his voice dropping into a softer, more insidious tone. “But it’s kind of hard to stop wondering when you’re so damn mysterious about everything. I mean, it’s not like I’m asking for state secrets here. Just a name. Or a story. Something.”

Your fingers hit the keys a little harder now, your movements growing sharper, but you still refused to look at him.

He leaned back again, tapping his pen idly against the table, his expression deceptively calm. “Okay, fine. Let’s broaden the topic. Ever had any other boyfriends? Or am I the only one lucky enough to deal with your charming personality?”

The sarcasm in his tone was sharp, but it wasn’t enough to mask the strange, simmering edge beneath it.

“Work,” you said simply, not bothering to look at him.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about!” He leaned forward again, his voice growing louder, though his grin remained firmly in place. “You’re like a damn iron wall. It’s impressive, really. But also kind of annoying.”

You finally paused, your hands hovering above the keyboard as you turned to meet his gaze. Your expression was calm, cold, and utterly unreadable. “If I don’t answer,” you said, your voice low and measured, “will you stop asking?”

“Not a chance,” he said, his grin widening into something wolfish.

You sighed, turning back to your screen. “Then keep asking. It won’t change anything.”

He let out a soft laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something else there now, something darker and more insistent, coiling tightly in his chest.

He didn’t know why this mattered so much. Why the thought of someone else—someone before him—made his jaw clench and his stomach churn. But the idea wouldn’t let him go.

“Fair enough,” he said finally, his voice dropping into a softer, almost dangerous tone. “But don’t think I’m letting this go. Sooner or later, princess, I’ll get you to crack.”

Your silence was answer enough. But the faint flicker of annoyance in your eyes as you typed? That was all the encouragement he needed.

———

The late afternoon sun filtered through the office windows, casting long, golden streaks across the sterile desks. Papers and coffee cups littered the space, evidence of a day stretched too long. You sat at your desk, immersed in another report, your brow furrowed in concentration. The tension that had gripped you for days had finally loosened, and though your posture remained rigid, there was an air of calm about you now.

It was a calm he intended to disrupt.

He stretched lazily from his chair, a satisfied smirk curling his lips as he sauntered over to your side. His steps were slow, deliberate, the kind of gait that was both casual and predatory. Leaning down just slightly, he peered over your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck.

"Still working, huh? You're really setting a new standard for the term 'workaholic.' Should I be worried you're cheating on me with a spreadsheet?" His voice was light, teasing, but there was a flicker of something sharper beneath it.

You didn’t even glance his way. "Your jokes are terrible."

"Terrible? Wow, you wound me," he said, clutching at his chest as if your words had pierced his heart. But his grin didn’t waver. Instead, he slid closer, resting a hand casually on the back of your chair. "Seriously, though. You’re in a much better mood now. My charm’s working, isn’t it?"

"Or maybe I’m just ignoring you," you replied dryly, typing without pause.

He chuckled, his laughter rich and low. "Ignoring me? Oh, sweetheart, if you were ignoring me, you wouldn’t have responded at all."

You sighed, still refusing to meet his gaze. He watched you intently, his eyes tracing the lines of your face, the subtle movements of your lips as you murmured something under your breath. For a moment, he was silent, caught in the strange, unfamiliar pull of wanting to touch you—not for show, not as part of this ridiculous transactional arrangement, but because he wanted to feel the solidity of you beneath his hands.

So, he acted.

Before you could react, his arms were around you, pulling you into a firm, almost possessive embrace. He buried his face against your hair, his lips brushing against your temple in a gesture that was disarmingly tender.

You stiffened but didn’t pull away. Not yet.

"Not in public," you said flatly, your tone devoid of emotion.

He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. "We’re in an office. No one’s here but us. Doesn’t count."

You sighed, finally turning your head just enough to give him a withering look. "Still. Stop."

"Stop what?" he teased, his grin widening. He tilted his head, pressing his lips to your cheek in a playful kiss, lingering just enough to make your expression harden. "I’m just fulfilling my boyfriend duties. What, you don’t want me to be affectionate?"

"This isn’t affection. It’s a distraction," you retorted, your voice sharp but your body strangely still in his hold.

"Oh, so you do know what affection is. I was beginning to think you were allergic to it," he quipped, his arms tightening slightly as if daring you to push him away.

But you didn’t. Not yet.

His gaze drifted down to your lips again, unbidden memories of last night creeping into his mind. The way you’d slapped him, the way you’d rubbed at your mouth as if scrubbing him off—it had stung. More than he wanted to admit. And then you’d dropped that bomb about it not being your first kiss. That knowledge sat heavy in his chest now, simmering with something dark and ugly.

Jealousy.

He hated the word, hated the feeling even more. But there it was, coiled tight around his thoughts, tainting everything.

"Hey," he said suddenly, his voice softer, almost coaxing. "You never did tell me about your first kiss."

"Drop it," you said firmly, shifting in his hold.

"Come on," he pressed, his tone still light but his grip on you unyielding. "It’s not like I’m going to judge. I’m just… curious."

"I said drop it." This time, your voice had an edge to it, and you finally moved to shrug him off.

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression carefully masked with that infuriating grin. "Alright, alright. I’ll drop it. For now."

You narrowed your eyes at him but said nothing, turning back to your work.

Still, his hands lingered, his fingers brushing over your arm in a way that felt deliberate. He smiled to himself, his mind churning with thoughts he didn’t want to dissect too closely.

Transactional or not, he was still your boyfriend. Your first boyfriend. The only one you had now.

And that? That was enough. For now.

────────────

The garage hummed with a low din: the scrape of pool cues against felt, the occasional clink of beer bottles, and the raucous laughter of his friends echoing off the cement walls. The air reeked of oil, sweat, and cheap cologne, a heady cocktail that somehow felt like home. He leaned against the pool table, a cue stick balanced lazily in one hand as his gaze drifted—unfocused, distant, and entirely unlike him.

“You good, man?” One of the guys leaned in, squinting at him. “You’ve been off all night. Usually, you’re the one running your mouth the loudest. What gives?”

He blinked, snapping out of his trance, and a lazy grin slid across his face. “What? I’m just letting you losers have your moment. Can’t have me wiping the floor with you every game.”

The group laughed, though the scrutiny didn’t ease. Someone else chimed in, gesturing toward him with a beer bottle. “Nah, nah, there’s something going on. You’ve been staring off into space like you’re in some indie movie montage. What’s eating you?”

He rolled his eyes, straightening up and spinning the cue stick in his hand. “Nothing’s eating me. You guys are just too boring to hold my attention.”

The teasing jabs came quick after that, each more ridiculous than the last. “Oh, I know what it is,” one of the guys said, smirking. “It’s that ice queen of his. What’s her name again? Miss ‘I’m too good for this world’?”

A chorus of laughter erupted, and he smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You mean my girlfriend?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, you wish you could land someone like her. Don’t be jealous just ’cause I’ve got taste.”

“Girlfriend, huh?” Another guy leaned in, grinning. “Man, you’ve never been serious about anyone in your life. What’s the deal? She finally melt that big ‘I don’t care about anything’ heart of yours?”

He snorted, the sound sharp and dismissive. “As if. It’s a transactional thing, remember? Don’t go reading any Nicholas Sparks nonsense into it.” He paused, spinning the cue stick once more before adding, almost offhandedly, “Though she did mention something interesting.”

That got their attention. “Oh?” one of them said, his tone dripping with curiosity. “What’s that?”

“She’s got a past,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “Romantic history or whatever.”

There was a beat of stunned silence before the room erupted into laughter again.

“Her? No way!” one of them wheezed, slapping his knee. “You’re telling me the Ice Queen actually let someone get close to her? Hell, I thought she’d freeze anyone who tried.”

“Right? She barely tolerates him,” another joked, pointing at him with a pool cue. “And he’s the boyfriend! Can you imagine anyone else even standing a chance?”

He shrugged, the grin on his face sharp and self-assured, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes. “Hey, I’m just as shocked as you guys. But yeah, apparently she’s kissed someone before. Wild, right?”

“Pfft, no way,” someone scoffed. “She’s probably messing with you. Bet she said it just to get under your skin.”

“Yeah, no offense, but she doesn’t exactly scream ‘romantic whirlwind.’ What, did she date a robot?”

The laughter rolled on, but he didn’t join in. Instead, he leaned back against the pool table, his grip tightening on the cue stick. He kept his expression light, easygoing, but inside, something coiled tighter and tighter, a venomous knot of jealousy and something he couldn’t quite name.

“Maybe she did,” he said finally, his voice smooth but edged with something razor-thin. “Or maybe she just has good taste and doesn’t fall for losers like you.”

The guys hooted and hollered, taking his words as another well-timed joke, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, his mind lingered on the thought of her—her cool, distant demeanor, the way she brushed him off like he was nothing. And yet… someone else had touched her first.

The idea churned in his gut, hot and nauseating.

Transactional or not, she was his now. Wasn’t she?

———

The laughter around him ebbed and flowed, but it barely registered. He leaned against the edge of the pool table, staring blankly at the neon beer sign on the wall. The buzz of their voices blurred into a distant hum, and his mind gnawed at the frayed edges of the conversation like a dog with a bone.

“Yo, you’re spacing out again,” one of the guys said, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “What’s the deal, man? You look like someone ran over your dog.”

He smirked, forcing himself back into the moment. “Please, like I’d ever let that happen. You guys know me—cool as a cucumber.”

“Cucumber, my ass,” someone quipped. “You’ve been weird ever since you brought up her romantic history. What’s the matter, hotshot? Jealous someone else got to her first?”

The words hit like a sucker punch. Jealous? Him? Of course not. He was the picture of casual detachment, the poster boy for not giving a damn. It wasn’t like they were in love. The relationship was an agreement, a mutually beneficial arrangement. It wasn’t supposed to be messy. It wasn’t supposed to matter.

But it did.

“Jealous? Me?” He barked out a laugh, the sound a little too sharp. “C’mon, you think I care about some guy who’s probably ancient history? If anything, I’m curious. What kind of guy would even catch her eye? She’s not exactly handing out free passes.”

“Curious, huh?” One of the guys grinned, leaning against his pool cue. “Sure, let’s call it that. I mean, it’s not like you’ve ever been the possessive type.”

The comment was met with a wave of snickers, and he rolled his eyes, his grin widening. “Exactly. I’m chill. Relaxed. Totally unbothered.” He emphasized the last word, slapping the pool table for effect, but the laughter around him only grew louder.

“Yeah, sure you are,” another guy chimed in, taking a swig from his beer. “That’s why you’ve been stewing over this for, what, ten minutes now?”

He forced another laugh, but inside, the knot in his chest tightened. What was wrong with him? This wasn’t like him. He’d had plenty of relationships—flings, hookups, even a couple that could loosely be called serious—and he’d never felt like this. Never felt this gnawing, restless ache that made him want to punch a wall and pull her closer at the same time.

It wasn’t even logical. So what if she’d had someone before him? It wasn’t like he owned her. She was her own person, icy and untouchable as she was. And yet…

And yet.

The image of her brushing off his kiss the night before crept into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome. The way she’d wiped her sleeve across her mouth, the way her voice had been sharp, cutting, when she’d told him it wasn’t her first kiss.

The thought burned.

He clenched his jaw, spinning his pool cue in his hands like a restless fidget. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. He wasn’t the jealous type. He wasn’t the possessive type. He was laid-back, easygoing, always ready with a joke or a grin. That was who he was. That was what made him so good at this kind of thing.

So why did the thought of her with someone else make him feel like he was coming apart at the seams?

“Alright, spill it,” one of the guys said, breaking through his spiraling thoughts. “Who was it, huh? Some prince charming? Some straight-laced business major who knows how to schmooze parents?”

He scoffed, the sound automatic. “Please. Like I’d even know. She didn’t exactly give me a play-by-play.”

“Bet it was some boring, pencil-pushing nerd,” another guy chimed in. “She seems like the type to go for someone... predictable.”

Predictable. The word grated against his nerves. Predictable wasn’t him. It wasn’t them. Their relationship, transactional as it was, wasn’t supposed to fit into neat little boxes. It was supposed to be different.

He was supposed to be different.

But here he was, sitting in a dingy garage with his friends, trying to rationalize the irrational. Trying to figure out why he cared so much about a past that wasn’t supposed to matter.

“You guys are way off,” he said finally, his tone light but his grip on the cue stick betraying him. “If she did have someone before me, they weren’t memorable. She’s with me now, isn’t she? That’s all that counts.”

“Spoken like a true charmer,” one of them teased, and he smirked, though the weight in his chest didn’t lift.

Yeah, she was with him now. That was all that mattered.

So why didn’t it feel like enough?

———

The ribbing didn’t stop. If anything, it picked up speed like a train without brakes, and he was tied to the tracks.

“You’re really off your game tonight, man,” one of them said, chalking the tip of his cue stick. “You keep spacing out, missing shots, and letting us win? That’s not you. You’re usually the one handing us our asses.”

Another chimed in, leaning against the edge of the table with a sly grin. “Seriously, you’ve got this whole garage thinking. Is the great charmer finally losing his touch? That what’s bugging you?”

He twirled his cue with exaggerated nonchalance, plastering a smirk across his face even as his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles. “Please. Like I’d ever lose my touch. I could charm the rust off a bolt if I wanted to. I’m just... keeping things interesting. Letting you guys feel like you’ve got a shot for once.”

The laughter was immediate, loud, and thoroughly unconvinced. One of them even doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“Yeah, right. You’ve been distracted all night. And don’t think we didn’t catch the little bombshell you dropped earlier. The Ice Queen has a romantic history?”

“Shocking, right?” another piped up, voice dripping with mock astonishment. “I mean, no offense, but she doesn’t seem like the type to go for you. Or anyone, really.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t interrupt, knowing that trying to stop them would only make it worse. He’d been here before—well, not exactly here, but close enough to know the best way out was to wait until they got bored.

Too bad that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

“I mean, think about it,” one of them continued, his tone growing more amused by the second. “She’s this cold, untouchable, straight-laced type. Always looks like she’s got a stick up her—”

“Careful,” he interrupted, his tone light but the edge unmistakable. The shift in the air was subtle but palpable, like the faint scent of ozone before a storm.

The guy raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. My bad. I was just saying—she’s not exactly your usual type. And you’re definitely not hers.”

“Yeah,” another added with a smirk. “She probably goes for, like, bookworm types. You know, the quiet, nerdy guys who read poetry and bring her tea while she’s working. The ones who wouldn’t dare try anything until they’ve written a formal letter asking for permission.”

That earned a round of chuckles, and his smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. Not that anyone else noticed—they were too busy piling on.

“Yeah, man, face it. You’re too loud, too flashy. She probably thinks you’re just a walking ego trip. All charm, no substance.”

“Exactly,” someone else added. “It’s probably why your charm doesn’t work on her. She’s immune. Bet she’s only with you because it’s convenient or something.”

The words hit harder than they should have, slipping under his skin and sticking there like splinters. He forced out a laugh, sharp and just a little too loud. “Convenient? Yeah, right. She’s lucky to have me. I’m the full package: brains, brawn, and a personality that makes life interesting.”

“Interesting, huh?” another guy said, raising an eyebrow. “Or annoying? Pretty sure those are interchangeable in your case.”

“Hey, she hasn’t dumped me yet,” he shot back, deflecting with practiced ease. “That’s gotta count for something.”

But even as he spoke, the words rang hollow. His usual bravado felt like a thin shell, barely holding together under the weight of something he didn’t want to name. Something ugly, and burning, and clawing at the edges of his chest.

Jealousy.

He hated admitting it, even to himself. But the idea of her with some quiet, bookish type—the kind of guy who might actually understand her silences and match her calm, reclusive nature—was like sandpaper against his nerves.

And worse, the idea that she might prefer someone like that...

He clenched his jaw, his smirk freezing into something sharper.

“You know,” one of them said, breaking into his thoughts, “it’s kinda funny. For all your talk, you’re acting a lot like a guy who’s got something to prove. Like you actually care what she thinks.”

“I don’t,” he lied smoothly, his voice as light as air. “Why would I? It’s not like this is anything serious.”

The words tasted bitter, but he swallowed them down, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Whatever you say, man,” someone said, shaking their head. “But you might want to figure it out before she realizes you’re not as cool as you think you are.”

The garage erupted into laughter again, and he joined in, the sound loud and hollow.

But later, when he was alone, the laughter would fade, leaving only the burning question that wouldn’t let him rest:

Why did it matter so damn much?

────────────

The stars above the city burned cold, distant, and sharp as needles. The private balcony was far enough from the glittering chaos of the gala to offer a semblance of quiet, though the muffled hum of music and laughter still seeped through the glass doors. The cold air bit at your skin, but it was a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the crowd.

He leaned against the balustrade, a champagne flute dangling from his fingers, the liquid untouched and shimmering like pale gold in the faint light. His tailored suit clung to his frame, the picture of nonchalance, but his eyes betrayed him—glinting with something predatory, something calculating.

“So,” he began, his voice smooth and edged with a teasing lilt. “I was thinking.”

You didn’t bother to turn from the view of the sprawling city below. “That’s dangerous.”

He chuckled, soft and low, but there was a weight to it that made your spine stiffen. He tilted his head, watching you like a hawk sizing up its prey. “Funny. No, really, I’ve been thinking about us.”

“Us,” you echoed flatly. “The contract is clear. There’s nothing to think about.”

“Sure,” he said, pushing off the railing and stepping closer. His presence was like a shadow swallowing light, oppressive and impossible to ignore. “But I’ve been reviewing it, and I think we’ve overlooked some... fine print.”

“Fine print,” you repeated, finally turning to face him, your expression impassive. “There is no fine print. You drafted it yourself, remember?”

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Which means I have the right to amend it if I see fit. And I’ve noticed a few areas that could use... adjustment.”

You crossed your arms, your gaze narrowing. “Such as?”

He stepped closer, close enough that the faint scent of his cologne mingled with the crisp night air. His tone was light, almost playful, but there was an undercurrent of something darker, something that coiled around his words like smoke.

“For one,” he began, “I think we need to establish clearer boundaries about third-party interactions. You know, to avoid misunderstandings.”

Your brow twitched. “There haven’t been any misunderstandings.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, his voice soft and coaxing, like a blade hidden in velvet. “But let’s be proactive. For instance, we should clarify what kind of behavior is acceptable when interacting with... other men.”

You stared at him, your expression as unyielding as stone. “That’s unnecessary.”

“Is it?” he countered, his grin sharpening. “You don’t think it’s wise to define expectations? After all, appearances are everything. Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about us.”

“People already know what this is,” you said coolly. “A performance. There’s no need to complicate it.”

“But isn’t the whole point of a performance to make it convincing?” he asked, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. “And for that, we need consistency. Unity. Which is why I propose we add a clause about exclusive proximity.”

“Exclusive proximity,” you echoed, your voice flat. “That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” he asked, tilting his head. “Think about it. If we’re seen with too many... distractions, it undermines the whole charade. It’s just common sense.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he was already pressing on, his words smooth and relentless.

———

The air seemed to thin as his words settled between you, the kind of silence that carried a weight far heavier than sound. He leaned closer, bracing himself against the railing with the kind of ease that betrayed the sharpness lurking beneath his carefully curated mask of charm. The city glittered below, but its brilliance felt muted compared to the fire smoldering in his gaze.

“Let me break it down,” he said, his voice silken, the edges just sharp enough to catch. “Exclusivity isn’t just about proximity. It’s about cohesion. A story without holes. Every moment you’re with someone else—a colleague, a stranger, hell, even a waiter—it opens a crack in the facade.”

Your eyes flicked to him, narrowing. “You’re reaching.”

He smiled—a wolfish, predatory thing. “Am I? Think about it. Someone catches sight of you laughing with some random nobody, and suddenly, the gossip mill is running wild. The illusion cracks. We lose credibility. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s losing.”

The venomous certainty in his tone made your stomach twist, though your face remained unreadable. “So what exactly are you proposing?”

He straightened, his shadow looming over you as if it carried a weight beyond the physical. “Ground rules. For both of us. Simple ones. For example…” He tapped a finger against the champagne flute, the ring of the glass echoing faintly. “No private conversations with anyone of interest. No one-on-one meetings without prior notice. And no touching—intentional or otherwise—unless absolutely necessary.”

Your brow arched, your lips tightening. “No touching. That’s… excessive.”

“Is it?” he shot back smoothly, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. “Think about it. Even the smallest gesture—a hand on the shoulder, a brush of fingers—can be misconstrued. Especially when it’s you.” His gaze flickered, a flash of something unspoken. “People notice you. They watch. And they talk.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back slightly against the balcony rail. “Fine. But if we’re establishing rules, they go both ways. You don’t exactly have a reputation for restraint.”

His grin widened, amusement flickering in the depths of his eyes. “Touché. Consider it mutual, then. No unnecessary interaction, no inappropriate proximity. Strictly business.”

“And why now?” you asked, your voice measured, almost detached. “Why bring this up tonight?”

For a moment, something flickered across his face—an almost imperceptible crack in the facade. But he recovered quickly, his grin sharpening. “Call it foresight. With the families involved, things get messier. More eyes, more pressure. We can’t afford to slip.”

You studied him, your silence stretching just long enough to make his fingers twitch against the railing. Finally, you inclined your head. “Fine. If that’s what it takes to keep this convincing, I’ll play along.”

He exhaled, a sound that was almost a laugh but carried none of the humor. “Good. I knew you’d see reason.” He lifted his champagne glass in a mock toast, the liquid catching the starlight like liquid fire. “To flawless performances.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to the city below. The cold bit deeper now, but you didn’t shiver. Behind you, his gaze lingered, heavy and unrelenting.

The ground rules were set, the game clearly defined. But as the night pressed on, the sense of control he so carefully clung to felt like it was unraveling thread by thread.

And it wasn’t the rules that haunted him—it was why he felt the need to create them in the first place.

———

He leaned casually against the railing, but his posture was deceptively loose, the sharp intelligence in his eyes betraying his calculated intent. The champagne glass in his hand caught the faint glow of the city below, though he hadn’t touched a drop.

“So,” he began, his tone laced with a playful edge, “while we’re ironing out the details, there’s another area I think we should revisit. Physical affection.”

Your eyes snapped to his, cold and narrowed. “What about it?”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly as though considering his words carefully. “Let’s be honest. Right now, the way things are? We’re convincing, sure—but just barely. The hand-holding, the occasional arm around the waist? It’s surface-level. Anyone with half a brain can see through it.”

“That’s the point,” you replied, your voice calm but firm. “It’s enough to maintain appearances without crossing unnecessary lines.”

His grin widened, but there was an almost imperceptible edge to it, a flicker of something darker in his expression. “Enough for who? The nosy old ladies at brunch? Sure. But for the vultures at this level? Not a chance. They smell weakness. And right now, what they see screams ‘contractual convenience,’ not passion. We need to up our game.”

You folded your arms across your chest, your stance unmoving. “Define ‘up our game.’”

“Well,” he said smoothly, setting the untouched glass on the railing, “kisses, for one. Not just the casual kind. Something real. Convincing. Hell, even a few heated moments in public wouldn’t hurt. And behind closed doors?” He gave a mock shrug, his grin turning teasing. “Who knows? Maybe even a little noise for the sake of appearances.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall from your skull. “You’re joking.”

“Am I?” he replied, his tone maddeningly reasonable. “Think about it. The way things are now, people will start talking. Rumors of a weak marriage. Arranged out of convenience, not love. And with you being... well, you—” his gaze flicked over you, deliberate and lingering— “it won’t take long for people to start circling. People like to test boundaries when they think they can get away with it.”

“People already talk,” you shot back. “That’s inevitable. But none of this changes the fact that this is fake. I’m not pretending that far.”

“Why not?” he countered, his grin sharpening. “You’ve already agreed to exclusivity. This is just the logical next step.”

“It’s unnecessary,” you said flatly. “The exclusivity rules make sense. This? This is overreach.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost coaxing tone. “Is it, though? Think about it. If we don’t convince them, it undermines everything we’ve built. You don’t want to spend the rest of this arrangement fending off speculation and propositions, do you?”

“Speculation is manageable,” you said, your voice cool and steady. “And propositions are irrelevant. I can handle myself.”

“Of course you can,” he said, his tone light but his gaze intense. “But why should you have to? Why not just nip it in the bud? Make it clear to everyone that you’re untouchable.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, your patience fraying. “I already am untouchable.”

His grin didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something else beneath it—jealousy, sharp and bitter. “Sure. But people don’t see that. What they see is opportunity. The kind that comes from a woman who’s too beautiful, too brilliant, and too unattainable for her own good.”

The words were teasing, but the way he said them made your skin prickle. There was something possessive lurking beneath the surface, something he tried to bury beneath layers of logic and charm but couldn’t entirely hide.

“This isn’t about logic,” you said, your voice steady but edged with steel. “It’s about control. And I’m not giving you that.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin turning mischievous. “Touché. But hey, I’m just saying—when the rumors start flying and the vultures start circling, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You turned back to the city, dismissing him with a sharp glance. “Noted. But the answer is still no.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. “Fair enough. For now.”

———

The cold of the night pressed against your skin, biting and relentless, but his body, wrapped tightly around yours, was an oppressive heat you couldn’t shake. The weight of his arms on your shoulders felt heavier than it should, his fingers grazing your arms with a possessive slowness. He leaned into you, his chest firm against your back, his breath warm and invasive against your ear.

“You know,” he murmured, his tone as smooth as the glassy city lights below, ���this hesitation of yours—it’s fascinating. Almost charming, in its own way. But... I can’t help but wonder.” His voice dipped lower, a silken purr laced with something darker. “What’s got you so hesitant? People do this all the time, don’t they? Even when it doesn’t mean anything.”

You stiffened, your gaze locked on the sprawling cityscape, refusing to turn. Your neutrality was a fortress, built brick by brick to withstand his probing. But his persistence was a battering ram. Slowly, deliberately, he dipped his head closer, inhaling deeply near the curve of your neck, the action intimate enough to send a shiver rippling through your body.

“Unless,” he mused, his lips curving into a smirk you couldn’t see but could feel like a knife at your throat, “it’s because of them. You know, the one who got that first kiss of yours. Was it them?”

The question hung in the air, venomous and cutting. For a fraction of a second, the apathy on your face cracked—a millisecond’s slip in the armor you wore so flawlessly. Your hand twitched, and your lips parted as though to respond, but no words came. Instead, your expression hardened once more, a glacial mask snapping back into place. Silent. Untouchable.

But he had seen it.

That brief, fleeting moment of vulnerability had told him more than you ever could. And though his smile remained, it was stretched too tight, his teeth bared in something that wasn’t amusement. His fingers dug into your shoulders, just a little too hard, before softening as if to mask the momentary lapse in control.

“Ah,” he said, the word slipping out in a low exhale, almost inaudible. He pressed closer, the air between you suffocating. “So it was them. That explains so much.”

His tone was still light, teasing, but the undercurrent of tension was unmistakable, coiling tighter and tighter beneath his practiced facade. His lips ghosted near your temple, the proximity a calculated weapon, and his fingers trailed down your arms, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

“You know,” he continued, his voice honeyed but sickly sweet, “whoever they were... they must have left quite the impression to make you this way. But I’m curious—did it mean anything to you? Or was it just... a moment?”

Your silence was deafening, a dagger plunged into the space between you.

He chuckled softly, though the sound was hollow. “Not that it matters, of course. You’re here now, with me. That’s all that really counts, isn’t it?”

But his grip tightened imperceptibly, his smile curving into something dangerous, something that betrayed the storm raging just beneath the surface. He didn’t let go. If anything, his hold on you became stronger, his presence more invasive.

And though he kept his composure, the truth was a venomous whisper in his mind, sinking its fangs deep and twisting.

Not fucking happy at all.

────────────

He didn't bring it up again. Any of it, anymore.

But, the room still felt colder than it should have. The air conditioning hummed low, but the chill that seeped into your skin wasn’t mechanical. It was the kind of cold that came from within, from the way your fingers gripped the edge of the desk too tightly, from the rigidity in your spine as you pretended not to notice the man leaning against the corner with the practiced ease of someone who could read you too well.

He’d been watching you for too long now, his gaze like a scalpel, peeling away layers you’d tried so hard to keep intact. He shifted, breaking the stillness with a deliberate, exaggerated sigh.

“You know,” he began, his voice carrying that maddeningly playful lilt, “if looks could kill, that desk would be in pieces by now. What’d it ever do to you, baby?”

You didn’t answer. Of course, you didn’t.

He moved closer, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the sterile air. The sound of his footsteps was soft but deliberate, a hunter’s tread. “Still giving me the silent treatment? Harsh. I’m starting to think you don’t appreciate my charming company.”

“Go away,” you said, your voice clipped, devoid of emotion. Your fingers tightened on the desk, a small tell he didn’t miss.

“Aw, come on,” he said, his grin audible in his voice. “Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to help. You know, as your incredibly dedicated, selfless boyfriend.” He leaned closer, his hand resting on the back of your chair. “And let’s face it, I’m the only person who’d put up with you when you’re like this.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t look at him. It was exactly the reaction he wanted.

“Seriously,” he continued, his tone shifting to something softer but no less teasing. “What’s going on? You’re more wound up than usual, and that’s saying something.”

“I’m fine,” you said, the words flat, a wall slamming down between you.

“Sure you are,” he said, circling around to lean on the desk beside you. He crossed his arms, his smirk unwavering. “You know, for someone so icy, you’re terrible at hiding when something’s bothering you.”

“I said I’m fine,” you repeated, your tone sharper now.

“And I said I don’t believe you,” he shot back, his voice light but with an edge of persistence. “C’mon, Ice Queen. What’s eating at you? Work? Family? Or did someone finally dare to make eye contact for more than three seconds?”

You ignored him, your focus locked on the papers in front of you, but he wasn’t deterred. He crouched slightly, putting himself in your line of sight.

“Look, I get it,” he said, his tone almost mockingly serious. “You’re all about the whole ‘strong, independent, untouchable’ thing. Very admirable. But newsflash, sweetheart: nobody’s that stoic all the time. Except maybe statues. And even they crack eventually.”

You pushed back from the desk abruptly, rising to your feet, but he didn’t give you space. Instead, he moved closer, his hand brushing your arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re really not gonna tell me, huh?” he said, his voice dropping to a murmur. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “Not even a hint? A clue? C’mon, I’m dying here.”

You stiffened, stepping away, but he followed, his persistence like a shadow clinging to your every move. His hand caught yours this time, his grip firm but not forceful.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head with a smirk that was all sharp edges, “this whole ‘bottling it up’ thing you do? It’s kinda cute. Annoying, but cute. But it’s also not healthy. So spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill,” you snapped, finally turning to face him. Your eyes were cold, your voice even colder, but he wasn’t fazed.

“Liar,” he said simply, his grin widening. “You’re terrible at it, by the way. And you know I’m not going anywhere until you give me something.”

You glared at him, your jaw tightening, but he just leaned closer, his fingers brushing against your arm. “Is it work? Someone bothering you? Or—” His tone shifted, sly and teasing now. “Wait, don’t tell me. Is it me? Did I finally get under your skin?”

“Always,” you muttered, pulling your hand free and turning away.

He laughed, the sound warm but with a sharpness that didn’t quite match. “Good. Means I’m doing my job right. But seriously, baby girl, if someone’s bothering you—besides me, obviously—you’d tell me, right?”

You didn’t answer, and for a moment, the teasing dropped from his voice entirely. He straightened, his gaze darkening as he watched you retreat to the far side of the room.

“You don’t tell anyone anything, do you?” he said softly, almost to himself. The words weren’t a question; they were a statement, heavy with an emotion he refused to name.

You paused, your back to him, but didn’t turn.

“Fine,” he said after a moment, his usual bravado snapping back into place like armor. He grinned, stepping toward you again. “Keep your secrets. But just so you know, sweetheart, I’m very good at getting what I want. And you? You’re not as unreadable as you think.”

The way he said it—soft, teasing, but with an undercurrent of something darker—sent a shiver down your spine. But you didn’t respond, and he didn’t push further. Not yet.

────────────

The glow of his laptop bathed the dim room in cold, blue light. The muffled sounds of the city filtered through the cracked window—a distant hum of engines, the occasional wail of a siren. But none of it reached him. His focus was absolute, his fingers ghosting over the keyboard with a precision that bordered on surgical.

Lines of text blurred and refreshed, tabs multiplied, searches refined. It was nothing. It was nothing. Just... research. A precaution, really. Something any diligent professional would do in his field.

"Due diligence." The phrase rolled through his mind like a soothing mantra as he adjusted his search parameters. Business students did this all the time, didn’t they? Gathering information on potential clients, tracking leads. It wasn’t unethical—it was smart. Practical. Just like he was.

His brow furrowed as the screen refreshed again, yielding nothing new. No personal social media accounts. No tagged photos. Everything you had out there was airtight—pristine. Your LinkedIn was polished to perfection, clinical and devoid of any personal flair. Your work email was meticulously professional. No footprints, no cracks.

You were a fortress, an enigma wrapped in ice, and it was maddening.

"Not even a stupid Instagram," he muttered under his breath, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing a hand through his hair. His other hand hovered over the touchpad, fingers twitching with a restless energy he couldn’t quite contain. He hated how good you were at this, at keeping the world at arm's length. It was infuriating.

And yet, it only made him more determined.

Because how else was he supposed to help you? Protect you? It wasn’t like you’d talk to him, let alone open up. You were a steel door slammed shut, your apathy the lock, and your sharp, biting tongue the key he could never quite reach.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t stalking,” he murmured, as if saying it aloud could make it true. “This is... protecting my investment.”

He winced at the word. It felt wrong somehow, but logical. The contract between you two was the foundation of your relationship, after all. If you didn’t want to share your problems with him, fine—but he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. That wasn’t who he was.

“People research celebrities all the time,” he reasoned, his voice low and even, the rhythm of his own words calming. “Background checks, public records... It’s normal. It’s not like I’m invading her privacy. This is just... strategy.”

But even as he said it, a part of him bristled.

It wasn’t just strategy. And he knew it.

The truth was, it gnawed at him—the not knowing. The mystery of you was a drug he couldn’t quit, the unanswered questions keeping him awake at night. Who was the person who kissed you first? Why did your walls feel so much higher, so much thicker, lately? What the hell was going on in that brilliant, maddening head of yours?

He leaned forward again, fingers flying across the keyboard with renewed purpose. If he couldn’t ask you, he’d find out on his own. He told himself it wasn’t because he needed to know, wasn’t because the thought of anyone else touching you—or knowing you—made his stomach twist with something cold and acidic.

No, it wasn’t jealousy again. It was logic. Rationality.

But as the hours ticked by and the search grew colder, that logic began to crack.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. He glanced at the screen—one of the boys from the garage had sent a message, probably another joke about his “domestication.” He ignored it, returning his gaze to the screen.

Nothing. Again.

“Damn it,” he hissed, slamming the laptop shut with more force than necessary. He sat back, running both hands through his hair, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

You were impossible. And that impossibility—it thrilled him. Infuriated him. Tore at him like a splinter buried too deep to pull out.

But he wouldn’t stop. Not until he had answers.

Because protecting you wasn’t just part of the job anymore.

It was everything.

Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend & Cheating Bitch

Novella 1 : Friction & Fire

She wasn't looking for love, but love wasn't asking for permission.

Some truths are better left buried.

♡ A/N. Not me only realizing recently that this was a FINISHED work that I never posted. My drafts in Tumblr are a mess I tell you. It's like the various requests, fandoms, and works in general are mixing wahaha. YOU KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE???? It's like I'm universe hopping in the multiverse, going to different fandoms and worlds to bring the content you all want. And, just like someone with multiple jobs and side hustles; if it's not recorded or arranged right, it gets lost to the void I tell you. wahhhhh

♡ Masterlist. If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.

♡ Tag List. “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring , @lilyalone , @theogborjie , @ne7zach , @songbirdgardensworld

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[wisecura]

Closer

College AU: somewhat enemies to lovers/fwb

Katsuki Bakugo x f!reader 3.3k

Summary: as long as you’ve known him, Bakugo has been your least favorite person. He’s loud, arrogant, and you’re his favorite target to mess with. And how you ended up at the same frat party, on the same night, in the same closet—you’ll never know.

Warnings: enemies to lovers trope, ex boyfriend, you aren’t completely aware how he feels, you hate him, semi-public sex, fingering, kissing, choking, degradation, belittling, pet names, not so nice names, your horny, aren’t we all?, breeding, claiming, jealousy, did I miss anything?

AN: Am I putting off my Sheets series to write another short fan fic? yes. Is that a bad thing? maybe. Should I stop?...*huffs indignantly* no.

Needed a change of pace for a minute so thank you for reading! This is entirely educational for me. I’m still new to writing and need a better grasp on writing out these scenarios and scenes. Thank you for giving this a shot and let me know how it is! Sorry if the proofread is a bit off!

The look in his eye was downright nasty.

Nothing short of plain cruel as he glared down at you.

How on earth you found yourself stuck in a damn near locker-sized closet was a mystery. And how you managed to find yourself squished against your absolute least favorite person, Katsuki Bakugo, was a goddamn anomaly.

“Can you get the hell off my foot-“ You shush him quickly, your ear peeled to the door.

“Don’t shush me. You’re the one who dragged me in here like a damn lunatic. You wanna play seven minutes that badly?”

You glare up at him in the dim closet, his stupid cocky smirk barely visible in the sliver of light from the cracks in the door. He was so smug it was almost unbearable standing this close to him. You’re already kicking yourself for acting so impulsively. Your voice hushes out in a whisper-“Oh, please. I’d rather be stuck in here with a rabid raccoon than you.”

“Tch, you’re practically clinging to me right now. You sure about that, princess?”

Your cheeks flush as you realize just how close you actually are to him, your chest brushing against his every time you breathe. The cramped space offers no room to move away, and his broad shoulders make it feel even smaller. “I’m not clinging to you, you idiot! There’s no fucking room in here to not be touching you.”

He chuckles lowly. The sound reverberating in his chest. You don’t know if it’s the stale beer running through your system or the fact that you hadn’t gotten laid in two months. It’s annoyingly attractive, and you hate the flush that settles across you face. Sure he was handsome as hell—6’2, chiseled body, handsomely sharp features. Deep red eyes that drew you in and that windswept blonde hair. And of course—what ruined everything for you—that mouth.

“Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” Words dripping with a condescension that he reserved solely for you.

And those fucking pet names—You’re about to snap back when you hear the muffled sound of voices outside the closet. Your heart jumps into your throat as one of them catches your attention—it’s your ex. Just the one person you were trying to avoid. He was chatting with someone but it was muffled—“Yeah, I swear I saw her come upstairs. Someone said she'd be here tonight.”

Your blood runs cold, and your fingers instinctively clench at his chest. You lean in closer to hear him through the door. Bakugo stiffens at first, at your somehow closer proximity, then leans down slightly so his lips are near your ear.

“What? you scared—“ your hand covers his mouth in milliseconds. Effectively shutting up the loud mouthed blonde.

He manages to understand your wordless request…but his breath is so warm against your skin, and you curse yourself for the way it sends shivers down your spine. He notices, of course—because of course he does—and his grin turns downright wicked. In hushed tones—

“Relax, princess. He’s not gonna find you. Though if he does, this’ll be one hell of a misunderstanding, yeah?”

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah? And you’re a real pain in the ass, but here I am, letting you feel me up like your life depends on it.”

You want to shove him, tell him off, something—but the voices outside the closet are coming closer and closer. You press yourself back against the opposite wall, but only at expense of your stability. Those fucking heels that you insisted on wearing tonight almost took you out. Fortunately, Bakugo managed to steady you. And unfortunately, you now have to feel every inch of his chest pressed that much more against you. His hands now grip your waist tightly, and your almost flush with him. “Careful now. You’re starting to look a little flustered there.”

“I’m not flustered. I’m annoyed.”

“Sure, that’s what that is.” You hear your ex speak again, his voice laced with thinly veiled frustration. Now sounding right outside the door. “Where the hell is she? Did she sneak out or something?”

You hold your breath, your heart hammering in your chest as his footsteps pause. Bakugo notices, his teasing demeanor shifting slightly as his gaze flicks to a sliver in the door. For a moment, he looks almost serious. Before long, the footsteps retreat, and your ex’s voice fades as he heads back downstairs. You can hear his laugh echoing the hall.

The silence in the closet was deafening. You realize you’re still leaning against him as you attempt to move back. You don’t get far though, your legs are basically tangled at this point. Trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

“Don’t. Say. A word.”

Bakugo leans back against the wall, and you know he’s about to push every button you have. This was an awkward situation to be in. And all by your own doing.

“What, about how you were clinging to me like I’m your knight in shining armor? Or how red your face is right now?”

“I swear to god, I hate you.”

He pauses for a second. “Seriously, what’s his deal, though? Why the hell is he looking for you so damn bad? Thought you two were done.”

You glance up at him, your head spinning. The buzz you had was still going—not enough to consider yourself drunk, but enough to make the cramped closet feel warmer than it should be. His sharp crimson eyes are locked on you, his expression a little too serious. Once again he just looked pissed off. You have the mind to feel embarrassed about the situation. The two of you were never close, arguing more than anything.

“I don’t know. He’s…weird like that. He doesn’t like losing, even when he doesn’t actually want me.”

“Tch. Sounds about right. He’s always been a piece of shit.”

Your eyes narrow at him, even though deep down you know he’s right. His abrasive and blunt nature always grated on your nerves. Though there’s something about hearing it now, in this moment, that makes it hit differently. You'd never been one to back down from one of the many fights you shared with him.

“Oh, and you’re so much better? You’ve never been nice to me once, Bakugo.”

He snorts. “Yeah, maybe I’m not nice. But at least I’m not out there screwing around behind your back. You sure know how to pick 'em.”

His words sting and you feel your brows furrowing. You open your mouth to spew the nastiest insult on your tongue, yet before you can get it out, he leans in just enough to make the cramped closet feel all the more smaller. Now sporting some heavy bedroom eyes, his smug looking face come within inches of yours.

“Do you ever close that damn mouth of yours? That’s probably the real reason you and that asshole aren’t together anymore.”

Irritation bubbling over—half from indignation, half from the way his voice drops lower, rougher, like he’s daring you to argue. Why this turns you on so much, you aren’t sure. You felt your thighs clench slightly. Tying to steady your breathing.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to talk so much if you weren’t always such a jackass!”

You expect him to snap back, to argue, to yell—but instead, he tilts his head, his smirk widening. Knowing. He shifts against you, spreading out all the more, making you hyper-aware of just how close he is. Your heart pounds, the buzz of alcohol mixing with you shit sense of judgement.

Then it happens—you feel his leg between yours, grazing high up on your inner thigh, and a small, involuntary whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it.

Your hand shoots up to your mouth in horror. Embarrassment washing through your very being. The sound hangs in the air, and you instantly wish you could take it back. His eyes widen slightly, obviously a little surprised, before narrowing again. Of course, he leans into it, the teasing his smirk turning downright predatory.

“What the hell was that, princess?”

Your face burns, and you try to turn away, but there’s nowhere to go in the tiny closet. He pulls you closer, the balance on your heels easily teetering you towards him. You try and scramble off his chest—out of the closet, embarrassed and unnervingly needy. But he pulls you towards him again, your hands planted on his chest. You sure as hell couldn't stand the thought of him being the one to throw you a bone tonight. His voice dropping to a taunting whisper.

“Now—hey, hey, where you goin? You just whimper for me? Never thought I’d hear you make a sound like that.”

“I—I didn’t—shut up! and let go!” You hate how breathless you sound. The warmth of his body between your legs was overwhelming, and every inch of space between you feels like too much. You really fucking hated him. Yet the way he looked tonight was so tempting. But that was just the alcohol talkin.

“Nah, I don’t think I will. Not when you’re lookin' at me like that.”

You try to look anywhere but at him, but there’s not much to see in a dim closet, is there? He leans in just enough that his lips are inches from your ear, his voice a low rumble that makes your knees weak. Thank god he was holding you up, right?

“Guess you’re not as tough as you like to act, huh? Or maybe…you just like being put you in your place.”

You open your mouth to argue, to tell him he’s wrong, but the words die in your throat as his hand brushes up your side, slow and deliberate, groping you above your dress. He’s toying with you, and the bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s infuriating how your body betrays you, leaning into his touch. Your fingers grip at his shirt. Your pussy clenching around nothing. His head is firmly planted in the crevice of your neck now, in a far too intimate gesture.

“What’s it gonna be, princess? You gonna tell me to stop? Or are you gonna admit you don’t hate me as much as you think you do?”

You don’t have a second to answer as he nips at you, trailing small kisses in his wake. You feel your hands tremble as you wrap your arms around his neck. You pull him closer.

Bakugo's grip tightens on your waist as you lean into him involuntarily. His cock twitches at the feeling of you pressed against him, as he grinds himself into your sopping core. Your hitched dress making it all the easier. “At least she seems to like me.”

You gasp at the sudden intrusion of his fingers rubbing you through your panties, your eyes rolling back as he expertly plays with your clit. His lips continue their bruising pace, sucking, marking, biting until he finally captures your lips in a brutal all consuming kiss. You whimper against his lips, the punishing pace on your clit has your head spinning. He pulls back, a wet string connecting your lips.

"Fuck you're so wet for me already. Practically drippin'."

He pulls his fingers back, dragging them across his lips, sucking you down till he was clean. His eyes remain on your dazed expression. Yours trail the movement, absolutely feral, practically begging for more. It’s been to long.

"'N you taste so fuckin' good too." His gaze darkened as he watched your hips move against him, seeking some kind of friction. You could feel the heat through his clothes, his dick pressed right up against you. You so badly wanted it inside you—your mouth, your tight hole, hell—anywhere.You couldn’t help but be angry at the loss of his fingers.

"Such a needy little thing. Mmm princess, you're killing me.” You all but whimper at his words, and his restraint snaps. With a damn near animalistic growl, he pins you back against the wall, effectively caging you in place. His head dips, capturing your lips again in another hungry kiss while his free hand hikes your dress up further. He all but rips your panties off, the loud ripping of fabric echoes in the confined space.

You barely notice him slotting them into his pocket, as his fingers finally delve into your slickened folds. His cocked throbbed almost painfully in his pants as you completely melt against him.

You moan against his lips as his fingers slide into your slick heat, a filthy sound escaping you as he starts pumping them in and out roughly. He curls his fingers inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that makes you tremble and whimper even more. He feels your walls tighten around his digits, your body begging for release. He pulls away, looking down at your flushed face, heavy breaths fogging the air between you.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Instead of any coherent response, you let out a needy whimper, trying to avoid giving him the satisfaction of you begging. As if his fingers weren't knuckle deep in your cunt, making you light headed. As if he weren't inches from giving you the best orgasm you've had all year.

"Not good enough, princess. Tell me how much you want my cock inside you." He nibbles your earlobe, his fingers increasing their pace, pushing you closer to the edge. He was being mean. You know he's just taunting you. But you hated the way his words made you gush.

He could obviously feel your body tensing up, he knew you were close. But you know he won't let you come until you said what he wanted. He bites down harder on your earlobe, eliciting a yelp from you. His other hand grips your hip tightly, steadying you as he thrusts his fingers in deeper. Your slick coating his hand, dripping down your thigh. "Say it," he growls, his voice low and demanding. Your body writhes against his touch, your whimpers and whines picking up. "Come on. You know you want to. Beg me to fill you up." You getting wetter and wetter, gushing around his fingers as they slid in and out effortlessly.

"Please Katsuki…fuck me…please…" Finally, rewarded with your broken plea, he smirks triumphantly before pulling his fingers out of you, leaving you damn near foaming at the mouth.

"About time," He growls, savoring the sweet sound of your desperate panting before he roughly pushes your legs further apart, hiking one leg up. His fingers bruising your thigh, spreading you open for him. His fingers are replaced by something far better—his hard cock. His head falls back with a strangled moan leaving his lips when he finally buries himself in your sloppy cunt. Bakugo doesn't take his time, no, he fucks you like he owns you.

Hard and fast, like a man starved. His movements are rough and animalistic, his hips slamming into yours with groans and grunts of his own. You're sure people outside can hear you, even over the loud music. But you're so cock-drunk, mind hazy that you don't really fucking care who hears you—you just want him.

"You're so goddamn tight, princess." He mutters, his voice husky, and sounding almost impressed. You let out a choked moan, nails digging into his shoulders. He grasps your hip roughly, his pace picking up. Thrusting deeper, faster, harder, until all you can hear are your wet squelches filling the closet. Your tight little pussy clenching around him like a vice. He groans against your neck, teeth digging into the tender flesh.

"Such a greedy little slut, aren't you?" You aren't able to respond—his cock bullying your cervix at every thrust, oh so deliciously. Each word bringing you closer and closer, as you practically drool at the thought of his cum buried into you. You meet his thrust with your own small grinds as he gives you another throaty moan. "Oh fuck yes—" His grip on you tightens, sure to bruise indents forming under his fingertips, as he drives his fat cock into you g-spot repeatedly. "Is this what you wanted? Wanted my big cock to full you up?" thrusting harder with each word. "Fucking needy little thing, you wanna cum for me?" His hand winds up to wrap around your neck, as you clench harder around him. He hisses at the feeling, "Or should I just leave you unsatisfied like that worthless ex of yours?" He smirks down at you and you cant help the gasps coming from your wet lips. "He ever make you this wet, sweetheart? You ever had such a good cock?" You shake your head, quickly, always eager to please.

"No, I fucking thought so." His tone drips with satisfaction. He thrust into you with a brutal ferocity, clearly enjoying the way you whimper and squirm under his touch. "You always did have shit taste in men." His grip tightens on your neck, not enough to suffocate you, but enough to make you gasp and dip your nails in deeper. "But that ends now, princess." He growls against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "I'm gonna be the only one fucking you like this from now on. You hear me? Should I tell you what I'm going to do to you? How I'm going to fill you up—make you mine?" His words are hot against your ear, his breath fanning over your flushed skin. That dick hitting every sweet spot that makes you see stars. "Or maybe I’ll just show you."

His fell grip on your neck tightens just a fraction, making it more difficult to breathe as he slams into you even harder. You hear people in the hallway, but he doesn't seem to care. "I'm gonna fuck you so good you won’t even remember your own name, let alone his." His words boarded on venomous, and if you didn’t know any better—you’d say he was jealous. His hips grind against yours in a punishing rhythm. "Then I'm gonna cum inside you, fill you up with my seed." His voice drops to a low growl as he whispers his intentions into your ear. "I'm gonna breed you. Make you mine." He can feel you tensing around him, your orgasm building fast. "Say it, princess. Say you want me to breed you." He thrusts his fingers into your mouth, coated in your own juices. "Say you want my cum inside you."

"Please, Katsuki…fuck, please, please cum inside me…breed me—" he lets out a low groan at that. "Such a good girl, so fucking good for me." That's all the encouragement he needs. With a growl, he slams into you one last time, his cock pulsing as he fills you up, long streams of curses filling the small space, telling you to take it, take it, sucha good girl. Your walls contracting around him, milking him dry as your orgasm crashes over you, spasming around his cock. His grip on your neck loosens slightly as he pulls back, watching as you ride out your climax. Your eyes are glazed over, mouth open as you try to catch your breath.

"Fuck, princess. That was…goddamn." He pants, resting his forehead against yours. For a brief moment, his expression softens, but it's gone as fast as it appeared. He withdraws from you slowly, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. You can feel his cum pooling between your legs, dripping down. He reaches down, pushing it back up into you, plugging you up.

"Mmm, look at you. Such a mess for me." He says, voice low and husky, before leaning in and licking a long, possessive stripe on your neck. His body pressing in against yours. Your cheeks ignite at the intimate gesture. It’s felt too—too intimate now. Too much. You finally have some clarity at the situation, "Hey, uhm—" and suddenly there was a knock. Both of your eyes shoot wide open in panic. Bakugo straightens up, pulling himself back leaving you cold, before tucking himself back into his pants. You watch in mortification, tugging your dress back over you legs. You panties missing—somewhere.

Fuck

come home

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

ex boyfriend!dick grayson is distraught.

it’s been two weeks, three days, ten hours, and seven minutes since the two of you broke up. not that anyone is counting.

his days are spent with him walking around like a zombie.

batman has to practically yell into the comms link to even get a reply during patrol. dick’s not even sure he’s been putting his suit on properly. two nights ago he only went out with one escrima stick. he almost lost a fight with some goons, and one of them asked him if he had a death wish. he went home bruised, his lip bloodied, wondering if maybe he did have a death wish.

he tried going out to the store. he was out of shaving cream and eggs. dick made it as far as the produce section. he had a staring contest with the apples for ten minutes, and left without buying anything.

the first week he kept wearing hats. seeing his hair in the mirror practically made his eye twitch with the memory of you running your hands through it. he could almost hear you cooing over how nice it looks long.

“dick, you look so handsome! are you growing it out? dick, you look so handsome! are you growing it out? dick, you look so handsome! are you growing it out? dick, you look so handsome! are you growing it out? dick you look so—”

he cuts it a week later, sick of his brothers making fun of him for the hats and sick of your voice in his ear.

he barely touches his hair now, his hands nothing compared to the way yours felt on his scalp. almost every other night he cries in the shower, thinking about the way your eyes would flash when you’d offer to wash his hair for him. you’d always bite your lip in this cute way when you slicked all his hair back, the soap fluffy in your hands. you’d wiggle your eyebrows and call him distinguished, and then pull it up into a mohawk and tell him to call up jason and ask to join the outlaws. a few nights ago he made the mistake of looking at your razor, still on the shower caddy. he cried so hard his head hurt the next morning like he’d had a hangover.

his family stops whispering when he enters rooms, their worry and concern growing more obvious by the day. alfred won’t stop feeding him. bruce keeps looking him over, his eyebrows furrowed. jason left at least four self help books on his coffee table and in his cubby in the batcave. tim took over all of the video surveillance batman had assigned him, waving him away when dick tried to insist it was okay, and that he could do it. steph wouldn’t stop high fiving him? cass hugged him, at least three times. wally tried to get him to go out, but dick drank one beer and left, walking home in the pouring rain like he was in a music video. wally took the hint, but started texting him good morning, every day. even damian stopped picking on him, instead asking to spar just so dick would have something else to think about. it didn’t work, obviously, but he’d mussed damian’s hair, giving him a wan smile on the way out of the practice room. he’d left immediately after.

he spent the rest of the day at home thinking about how he’d always let you win when the two of you would play wrestle. you had this expression you’d make right before, where your eyes would squint a little and the corner of your mouth would turn up. the whole time you’d dated, dick was never able to figure out if it was because you were about to play fight or fuck. he loved it.

his nights are full of tossing and turning.

he spent the first week not washing his sheets, sleeping face down on your side of the bed. the second week he washed his sheets every night, trying to rid his nose of the phantom smell of you. the pillowcase you used is shoved deep into his linen cabinet. he now sleeps on the couch. he had to wash all of his t shirts too, the ones you’d steal to wear to bed with nothing under. he rummaged through his dresser in his old room in Wayne Manor hoping to find ones to wear that didn’t smell like you. ones that didn’t make him think of you pulling them off in the middle of the night, to then sink down onto his cock. you’d toss it onto the ground while you straddled him, smiling down at him.

he couldn’t sit and watch tv without thinking of all the times he’d gone down on you on the couch.

couldn’t brush his teeth without seeing the last time he’d bent you over the sink, thrusting into you while your breath fogged the bathroom mirror.

he couldn’t go out to eat at any of the restaurants by his apartment without seeing the two of you at a table, you stealing one of his fries or swapping sandwiches to try the other’s order.

he still couldn’t go to the little family-owned grocery store, not when the old couple that ran it knew both of you by name.

couldn’t look at his keys without seeing the keychains you’d bought him.

his every waking moment was spent with thinking of you, all you, always you.

you were everywhere,

he thought about how you’d beamed when he’d first asked you out, your eyes shining when you’d nodded yes.

how surprised you’d looked when he finally told you he was nightwing, and how you made him pinky swear to be careful.

he couldn’t appreciate enough how you had always been gracious when he’d show up late to dates, bruce always needing his help with something or other.

he thought of the way you’d looked washing the dishes, up to your elbows in suds when he’d roll in from the window, coming up behind you to kiss you and push you over to the couch while he’d finished the dishes, still in his nightwing suit.

what you’d looked like when you opened the promise ring he got you, and showed you his matching one. you’d both gotten teary eyed then.

the way you tried to hide the fact you’d been crying when he came home from patrol one night.

when your expression would change after he’d tell you he had to miss a family dinner at your mom’s house. you thought he wouldn’t notice but c’mon, he was trained by batman.

how your face had crumpled like his heart did when he had realized what he needed to do. when he had said he loved you more than anything, but knew that you deserved to be treated better, and that he couldn’t give you that right now. couldn’t give you all of his time like he wanted to.

you’d accepted it, nodding while tears slipped down your cheeks silently, walking out of his apartment to go stay at your mom’s house.

it’d been two weeks, three days, ten hours, and seven minutes, yet dick hadn’t accepted it. and your toothbrush was still next to his. so he didn’t think you’d really accepted it either.

but yet, you were now nowhere.