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vaguely-yandere · 2 years ago

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scream apologies in advance this ask is gonna be horny as hell OTZ

When you were talking abt endurance training w big bad yandere my mind immediately went to orgasm control + edging. I mean espec after darling discovers them.

Teasing them with their fingers and asking if they’re *really* going to cum from just a little fingering then they surely can’t handle darlings cock/strap. and of course big bad Yandere being immediately shaking their head and trying in vain not to buck their hips. they’re embarrassed and 100% humiliated of their sensitivity around you so I can literally imagine how certain types of darlings (definitely not me haha ;)) might take advantage of that <3 it’s just so fun keeping them all desperate!! Squirming and squeezing their thighs and whimpering every time your skin brushes theirs… mmm

also: strapping a vibrator to their genital and leaving them on edge. It doesn’t take long for them to break, twisting and bucking their hips… their constant pitiful whimpers and little cries of pleasure </3 when you go to turn it off they’re practically catatonic, coherence gone out the window with their words.

ok TW this part is a little mean dkkskdkfkfjf OTZ. but imagining finally fucking them w ur dick/strap and you ask to tie them down because they’re sooo strong and can’t seem to help themselves with too much sexual stimulation like they’re previous exercises show. and they agree of course— look a second heartbeat has pretty much made it’s home in their crotch their brain functions are out long ago LOL.

you’re nearing Orgasm with them and they can feel it, god they’re right on the edge… and then you ruin it (your choice how/how extreme). big bad yan sobs/cries out with frustration (that bed frame be creaking rn LOL) you make fun of them for being greedy/not being satisfied with that </3 ok I’ll stop here because I know I can be vvvv kinky dkkskdkfkfkfk and I don’t want to push anyones boundaries OTZ. anyway food for thought

- 🐓anon

🐓 darling,,,,,, you've finally captured the essence of the big bad yandere.

poor thing, ya know? goodness! their darling really has to be sadistic enough to keep up with them! i mean, who else is going to slowly, gently finger them with as much love and care in the world and whisper praises to them, kissing their body, watching them squirm and whine and MOAN, desperately trying to get off and when they rock back? try to fuck themselves on your fingers?

"am i not doing good enough, baby? am i not satisfying you enough?"

god, you'd kill them. this'd go on for hours. never speeding up, never going rough, treating them like glass the entire time, the only degrading being a sad, passive aggressive comment that basically calls them a slut without calling them a slut and it just isn't enough.

they try to make it enough. they try so hard to cum, to be satisfied by just two fingers and a slow, loving pace but it's not enough. it's not hard enough. it's not degrading enough, it's not fast enough, they need more and all they have to do is admit it's not enough. that they need more than just vanilla. if they don't, they will eventually cum but it will be sad and not enough and it will just drive them over the EDGE that they simply can't just suck it up and be normal.

you end up fucking their brains out of course. if you bottom, they'll struggle not to buck into you and maybe even snap the ropes holding them together from how hard their straining to not cum early because after all that teasing, it's just so so much!!

and if you top, they'll be a drooling, overstimulated mess before they can even properly cum, moaning about how good you feel inside them, almost completely forgetting their previous embarrassment and shame about cumming early but not enough to keep them from desperately shaking their head when you ask if they're close.

either way, they're a giant mess of tears, sweat and overstimulation!

and if your into orgasm ruining? you could be cruel and insult them properly, going as far as to say they aren't strong or compare them to others but that'll just completely turn them off. you could also pull out and stop touching them completely! if your extra cruel? start getting dressed, untie them and tell them you two need to get ready to go somewhere! doesn't matter where as long as you don't acknowledge how turned on both of you are and act like this is completely normal and if they beg you to let them cum? tell them they can afterwards. you could do this for hours, days, even weeks if you wanted to! the longer you do it, the weaker and hornier they'll get, legs always shaking until they're on a hair trigger and just you putting your thigh between theirs for them to grind on sets them off. it's embarrassing and unsatisfying (for them) but it's so fucking hot seeing their desperate grow and grow, making them more depraved, desperate enough that they subconsciously grind against anything.

'why don't they just masturbate?' good question! they know they're not allowed to cum without pleasing you first <3 they're well trained to the point where if they did orgasm without you or your involvement, it just wouldn't work. they could orgasm! but the pleasure and release that comes with that will never come(lol) and just leave them more unsatisfied. they could masturbate in front of you! but we all know you don't allow them to cum and without you saying it's okay, it's not gonna happen.

so well trained!!!

#asks #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere smut #big bad yandere #🐓 darling

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deedilyfields · 7 years ago

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Spring 2018 Smutfest: Prompt 1

Summary: This submission is the second part of the two-shot fic I started on the previous smutfest, under the prompt Guilty Pleasure: Lectures on Phonetics. In this second part, we finally have accomplished college student Bulma being taught a lesson on phonetics by her strict professor.

Rating: 18+

Warning: Student/Teacher relationship

I hope you like it @tpthvegebulsmutfest !

2. Consonants

Heart galloping in her chest and struggling through shallow breaths, two distinct urges warred inside Bulma’s blurred mind. Her domineering ego demanded her denial of his proposition, claiming that she didn’t need any of his lectures. Her pride reaffirmed her brilliance: a genius, she should be the one giving him a private lesson, not the other way around.

However, as the condescending professor carefully brushed her locks aside, coarse fingers ghosting over the exposed slip of her neck, a rival instinct emerged victorious — her submissive need to turn herself over to his ministrations, sucking up every drop of what the professor’s rugged body had to teach her, eager to please and be pleased. Her logical reasoning had no other choice but to retreat, a final coherent thought flashing in its wake.

I’m doomed.

If she was being honest to herself, she became a goner the moment his domineering gaze fell on her feisty one in class, halting any argument that she might have come up with, a brow arched, daring her to fight back while simultaneously commanding her to submit. For the first time in the heiress’s life, words —hell, her breath failed her. Faced with his callous methods and impressive intellect, the brilliant student felt humiliated… and excited. She knew he saw that, thrived on that.

Now, as the end of her second semester under his tutelage approached, the usually level-headed, independent young woman found herself again perched on that infamous desk, pale legs clinging desperately to his waist, hands braced on his clothed pectorals as dexterous fingers swiftly unbuttoned her blouse. Lolling her head back, the accomplished student bared her throat to her superior as he pushed the garment open and down her arms, avid mouth latching onto the newly exposed skin without missing a beat.

If Bulma was the stuff of dreams, Vegeta was the fabric of sin.

Every touch of his, as small as it may be, set her ivory skin alight, feeding the flames brewing in her core, the ones only him seemed able to ignite. The heiress had never needed anything —or anyone— like her body, her whole being craved his. As he lavished her neck, a frantic hand darted into his wild mane, aching for more proximity, more of him. His dark chuckle fanned over her humid skin, prompting gooseflesh that ran all the way to her toes.

“Eager to start, are we?” he husked in her ear, taking her lobe in his wet lips. Struggling through the heady haze she stuttered a moan of affirmation. “Very well.”

Drawing back to fix his dark gaze on her flushed face, he looped an index under the latch between her breasts and flipped, popping open the lacy navy-blue brassiere deftly. Even being thoroughly used to his expertise by now, the young student couldn’t help but gasp at the move, prompting the cocky curl of his lips. Forget her sanity, this man would be the death of her.

“On to consonants, then.”

Even barely able to make sense of his words, the observant student didn’t fail to notice his ominous gaze falling to her breasts. Another jolt of arousal coursed through her at the attention, hardening her nipples, to the dominant professor’s delight. Yes, his desire for her fueled the temptress inside of her and Bulma found herself bracing both hands on the desktop behind her, jutting out her chest — another submissive response he always managed to evoke from her.

It was all the prompt he needed.

A flash of pearly whites and his calloused hands were on her, cupping, testing the weight. The young woman had to bite her lip hard not to moan at the ministrations, her dazed gaze captured by his teasing one. He pinched one nub; she mewled. That cocky smirk once again took hold of his face as he worked her nipples, deriving pleasure from each gasp and moan he drew from her.

“Let’s start with the fricatives…” he murmured, mouth again against her collar, his lips leaving a tingling trail in their wake, making it harder for the clever student to pay attention to his words.

She had no intention to give in so easily, especially when he seemed so taken by the lecture, but it was difficult for her to focus. Shutting her eyes with a frown, she tried to pull from her memory the information he was referring to. The college girl had just taken a test on this, it was still fresh in her memory, no matter how hazy her mind currently was— it was still the mind of a genius.

Bulma had just managed to recall the appropriate phonemes when he descended on her tits, fastening hungry lips on a tumid nub, caressing it lightly with his tongue while his hand flicked the other. Her mind drew blank.

“FFFFFF…UCK!” she whined, head thrown back from the shock of pleasure. He chuckled hoarsely against her chest, her now wet nipple popping off his mouth. “Vvvvery good.”

Before she could process his praise, however, came the swift reward: the doting professor opened his mouth wide and seized one breast, sucking most of the soft flesh in vigorously. A breathy moan left Bulma’s red lips as the contact prompted a steady pulse between her thighs. As good as his teasing was, she was needing some relieve, his attention from before had already left her wet and servicing him had only made it worse.

Somewhat desperate and driven by instinct, she fisted his hair and pulled, trying to get him to look at her. Unfortunately, all she got was a muffled groan and a bite, to which she replied with a gasp. Fuck, she needed him elsewhere.

That was when it hit her.

“Vulva!” exclaimed she, digging her heels into his back to pull him against her, pressing her needy flesh against his hardening member, hoping to get her message properly across. Maybe even a bonus for keeping to the subject. This time her breast slipped out of his mouth with his groan, hips thrusting back against her.

“Right…” he huffed out, eyes narrowed and a quirk to his lips. The professor straightened himself up and ran his hands down her sides to her thighs, pulling her closer. “Time to move on, then.”

A hum spilled out of her mouth when once again he massaged her calves and she leaned back on the desk instinctively, sweaty palms bracing her weight on the hardwood. Bulma couldn’t help rolling her hips when his strong hands pulled her legs wider apart, her skirt inching up to her waist. That’s what she was talking about!

Her satisfaction and expectation didn’t go unnoticed by the cunning professor — it rarely did. His face was tantalizingly close to hers, his dark eyes focused solely on her as his hands worked their way to her center.

“You’re such a teacher’s pet, so eager for my next lesson…” he hushed out, eyes falling to her lips as his minty breath ghosted over her face.

She then felt the roughened pads of his fingers brushing against her as he pulled her underwear to the side, anticipation drawing her eyes closed with a breathy sigh.

“Is that what you want, Miss Briefs?” he hushed against her lips, knuckles rubbing against her folds as he played with the lacy blue fabric, sending flutters through her core.

“Yes!”

“Yes, what?”

He pushed the offending piece of clothing fully to the side and cupped her womanhood, middle-finger circling her tight entrance. She tried hard to find her voice.

“Yes, Mr. Ouji…”

“There you go…” he mouthed along her jaw, the vibration of his baritone working wonders on her tingling fresh. Then he started rubbing three fingers against her, spreading her natural lubricant thoroughly, and the arms that were keeping her torso upright trembled precariously.

Weak moans slipped past her lips, before they were once again covered by the professor’s voracious mouth as he steadily increased pressure. Her collar bone was next and finally, her breasts. As he lavished them with his tongue, now rubbing furiously at her center, waves of pleasure washing over her midriff increased in length and she moaned continuously at the feel.

Hazily, Bulma wondered if the callouses on his fingers were from too much writing or something else, before deciding to thank the gods for their existence anyway, as the rough surface only heightened the feel.

“Let’s. Go over. Laterals.” He murmured against her chest, punctuating the statement with licks to her nipples and a light graze of teeth that made her yelp.

“Hmmm…”

“Tell me…” he started, halting his movements, and lifting his gaze to her flushed face, eyes narrowed inquisitively. The attentive student whined lightly at the loss, but focused doe-eyes on him nonetheless. She wouldn’t dare ignore one of his lessons. “Their manner of articulation.”

With the arch of one of his black brows, challenging gaze trained on her, he slipped a finger inside. Her eyes rolled into her head as she threw it back with a gasp. Fuck, that wasn’t fair.

“How…” the brilliant student whined, facing him accusingly before being interrupted by the pump of his dexterous finger. “How am I… supposed to answer li-like t-that?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…” another finger joined the first and Bulma’s arms gave out. She was now lowered onto her elbows on the desk. “I’m disappointed in you, Miss Briefs.”

Raising her gaze from his ministrations to his attempt at hiding a smirk, she gritted her teeth in an attempt to steer her thoughts in the right direction. The jerk was trying his damnedest to scramble her brains, but the heiress wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction, not without a proper fight. Her perfectly lined eyebrows hunched closer as she thought.

“I know that!” she griped, her pitch breathy-high. “It’s-”

A third finger was added to the mix and the connection between her mouth and brain shortcut, nothing but keen wails spilling from her lips.

“Clearly you don’t.”

Bulma swallowed her protest once she felt his lips on her navel. Was he…?

“Maybe…” sharp teeth punctured her left hipbone; she squealed. “You need a demonstration.”

Vegeta straightened, hooking fingers under the waistband of her panties and pulling them down her legs in one quick motion, quickly discarding them to then spread her thighs on the desk once again and kneel before them.

Mouth agape, chest heaving, and one blue tendril glued to her forehead with sweat, the student watched over the expanse of her torso as the strict professor pulled her lips apart slowly with dexterous fingers and brought his mouth to her, dark gaze never leaving hers. The moment the clammy tip of his tongue made contact with her core she arched heavily, her whole body sparking to life as if struck by lightning. It was like an out of body experience, she couldn’t even recognize the drawn-out moan that crossed her lips as hers.

She felt him sweeping his palate up her slit to then curl the tip at her clit, rubbing it deliciously before restarting the process. It started out painstakingly slow, but he eventually picked up enough momentum to be chin-deep in her, the furious strokes of his tongue inside her having her writhing atop his desk, the hardwood slick with her sweat.

At some point her hand had once again found purchase in his unruly mane, gripping the coarse locks tight between her fingers, pulling him closer, the other one hanging off the desk above her head, which darted frantically from side-to-side. No coherent thought crossed her mind, nothing but hedonistic urges and broken commands of Faster, More!

Not that the professor needed any of those to know what to do in his unrelenting pursuit of her climax. She felt as if his tongue would be forever imprinted on her walls, his aristocratic nose brushing roughly against her pleasure nub every time he dug deeper before curling back out. She wouldn’t be lasting much longer now. The pressure was building.

She choked on her moans.

“Ve-vegeta!”

Pulling out to curl his tongue against her clit, he thrusted three fingers inside, and that was it.

Light exploded behind her eyelids in a myriad of colors too bright for her to follow, her whole body spasming as her walls clenched desperately around his still-pumping fingers. She felt herself soaring weightless as she rode the crest of her pleasure, thighs smothering her teacher, back arched and face contorted in the purest expression of elation. A soothing warmth took hold of her chest.

While his gorgeous student was still riding the orgasmic high, pleasantly disoriented, the cunning professor lost no time in getting back to his feet, bringing those slender thighs of hers with him and securing her feet over his shoulders before burying himself inside her in one harsh thrust to the sound of a sharp gasp, her juices easing his way in.

“Fuck.” He gasped.

No matter how good it felt to fuck her mouth, no feeling would ever compare to being buried to the hilt in her, tight walls squeezing his cock almost painfully. Through hooded eyes he watched as her mouth contorted into that ‘o’ that he loved, a discharge of extra adrenaline rushing straight to his dick upon the sight, and he started pulling out of her, reveling in every inch of mind-blowing friction as he did. Gripping her ankles to pull her lower back up and off the desk, repositioning at her entrance, he rammed into her again, the new angle enabling him to hit that sweet spot inside of her that had her keening, palms splayed on the desktop, eyes wild with pleasure, walls clenching blissfully around him.

This-this must be what heaven felt like.

Having found the perfect angle, Vegeta picked up his pace, soon slamming into her without mercy, his balls slapping against her butt as he sank into her again and again, claiming every part, every inch of her to him. The end of the semester meant nothing, she’d always be his. Feral eyes sweeping over pleasure-taken features, the professor brought his mouth to her right ankle, the left one gripped tightly in his hand as he leaned over her, bending her further while pulling her left foot to the side, near her head. He wanted to completely cover her lithe body with his, brand her with his heat.

“ah-ah-ah-ah-ve-vegeta!”

He reached for one tit with his free hand, squeezing it tight.

“What did you call me?!” he growled to her panting face.

“Pro-professor!” she stuttered in a moan.

“Professor what?!” he demanded, snarl in place as he beat himself fiercely inside of her, the desk rocking with his thrusts. “Say it!”

“Professor Ouji!” she wailed in a broken voice. “I’m-I’m cu-mminnnnng!”

He could feel her walls clinging to him, sucking him back in desperately every time he pulled out, he could sense his own dam so close to overflowing, all that pent-up frustration from his day, all the aggression and sexual tension accumulated between them in class today; it was close. They were close. Forcing her legs further against her torso, hitting even deeper than before, Vegeta brought his lips to her ear:

“Come for me, miss Briefs.”

It was as if she had only been waiting for his command, his permission to release wave after wave of euphoric pleasure, her whole body convulsing in spasms too grand to fathom, tipping him over the edge as well, howling her name with abandon, muscles tightening over her in a desperate urge to become one, to assimilate the other into themselves, her arms wound around his shoulders, begging him, not to ever let go.

They rode the high together, bodies moving in tandem as if they had been made for this sole purpose, eventually dialing down to languorous moves and then sagging against each other, completely spent.

“So…” Bulma was the first to break their comfortable silence, dragging one finger up his spine and nuzzling his shoulder. “Do I pass?”

Letting go off her legs and settling comfortable on top of her on the desk, foreheads and noses touching, gaze fixed on her bruised-red lips, the demanding professor smirked, one hand reaching up to brush back wild aqua locks.

“You aced it.”

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If you’d like to check out the first part you can either click on the ao3 link at the top or here, to go to my scribbles page and check out my attempt at fanart as well!

#tpthvegebulsmutfest #day1thebutterfly #2018 Spring Smutfest #the prince and the heiress community #scribbles

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