#x male reader imagines

[zaceouiswriting]

The Football Stud

Character: Gabe x male reader, (mentioned) Scott McCall

Universe: Teen wolf

Warnings: Smut: degradation, humiliation, choking

Author's Note: I finally finished one of my smaller works, and for some reason, it had to be smut—though that's a problem for another time. Since I haven't written smut in a while, I'd love to hear from you all if it's okay and if you liked it as much as I hope you would.

You were bent over the counter by the sinks in one of the school's bathrooms, your head pressed against the surface by strong, immobile hands. At the same time, hard thrusts from behind slammed you in a harsh rhythm against the same counter. You would surely be bruised soon enough, but you didn't care.

"Fuck," a deep voice yells from behind you. "Why are you still so damn tight?" he asks, a smug tone in his already arrogant voice.

That was a good question. He's been forcing himself on you for months now, ever since he caught you staring in the locker room after gym class one day. You couldn't take your eyes off his perfectly muscular body or the big, thick, limp penis he unashamedly showed off to everyone before you got in the shower.

Back then, you never thought he would fuck you, or any guy, for that matter. But you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it in some ways; feeling his hands all over your body, his sharp, brutal eyes constantly staring at you, even in class, only for him to tap your desk in the middle of class as he passes by, signaling you to follow him so he can fuck you wherever he wanted.

"You fucking faggots are all the same!" he continues, his humiliating, degrading words driving you to the brink of lust-fueled madness. "You stare at me and drool over my body like I'm just a piece of meat," his words become a little slurred, "but I'm not like you, nothing more than a hole that needs to be filled by a real man!"

You couldn't deny his words. After all, you were desperately attracted to him. You were in the same class your entire school career, watching him grow from this scrawny, whiny little boy to this handsome, muscular flirt. Rumor has it that he's a real stud who apparently fucked his way through the cheerleading squad and most of the other girls in school, something you never could have imagined.

Even though he is brutal to you, you feel honored to be the one this man completely destroys. And even though you are the same age as him, you don't feel like you deserve to be called a "man" compared to him.

While you were lost in thought, the other suddenly grabbed the back of your head and pulled it upwards so that you had to look at him through the mirror while your upper body was still pressed to the counter surface by his big, strong other hand.

"Look at yourself!" he commanded, his face grim, as if he were doing something disgusting, but his rhythmic thrusts did not let up or slow down in any way. His rock-hard cock pulsed violently against your inner walls. "What do you see?"

When you finally did as he commanded, you saw your eyes red with tears, your mouth wide open, and your head was in complete euphoria. The sheer size of his cock alone gave you more than just pleasure, although it still hurt a little, but not as bad as the first time when he almost ripped you to pieces when he fucked you dry. You couldn't walk for nearly a week after that.

If you were honest with yourself, you felt and looked pathetic for letting yourself be taken advantage of by this stud who will surely play college football and maybe even go pro. Yet all you cared about was being his toy, even though you wanted more. You were satisfied that you were at least something to him, even if it was just his sperm vault that was regularly filled with his hot cum. But as a side effect, he was also fucking your brains out at the same time, which made you wonder who was really taking advantage of whom.

A sharp pain, worse than the cock trying to stretch your inner walls, snaps you out of your thoughts. As your eyes focus, you see a large red mark on your face. It's not the first time he's hit you, but you've been a good boy, just like he wants, so this time, it hurt you more than just physically.

"Don't look at me like an innocent slut!" His harsh words make you even sadder. Suddenly, he holds you tight, grabs your hair roughly, and pulls you towards him. "You know I hate it when you don't look and act like my little whore, so what's wrong?"

With tears in your eyes, you didn't want to, but you spoke anyway. "Why did you hit me?"

With a look of contempt you've never seen before in his mysterious dark orbs, he looks down at you like you're an idiot. He rolls his eyes in annoyance; it's almost playful, only to push you back to the surface harshly, immediately picking up his rhythm but thrusting into you harder than before. He was so brutal that you cried out involuntarily, only to see him grinning like a psychopath in the mirror; then you knew it was all intentional.

“That’s right, bitch, scream my name,” he yells euphorically, visibly happy about the pain he is inflicting on you.

Contrary to what he thought you would do, you gathered all your strength and covered your mouth with your hands, visibly angering him. Even though you knew he would punish you for it, you thought it was fair since he didn't answer your question. But when you saw him gritting his teeth, you almost broke down and did it anyway because you wanted nothing more than to be his good boy. After all, he always treated you nicely when you were good to him, but you had to make something clear right then.

He, on the other hand, was already at the end of his tether, slamming his hands onto your bare waist and holding it in a grip that would undoubtedly leave you with more bruises. But you didn't even care, too scared because you already knew what was coming next.

Slowly he pulls his cock out of your abused hole, all the way to the tip, and with a devilish grin, maintaining eye contact, his hips suddenly snap forward. The force pushes you to the mirror while the pain causes your arms to fall like cooked noodles at your sides. You didn't even notice how you finally let out a primitive scream, as your brain was already mostly incapacitated.

“Gabe!” You finally shouted so loudly that everyone in the surrounding classrooms could hear it, even if you didn't know it yet.

“Louder!” Gabe orders you in an icy tone, perfectly concealing his prior pure excitement.

And as ordered, you scream his name so loudly that your voice breaks. Through a veil of tears, you see Gabe's grin in the mirror; it's eerie, almost dark, like the smirk of a murderer.

But suddenly, Gabe leaned forward; his thrusts became a little sloppier. His hot breath tickled your neck, but despite the way he treated you, you were not afraid; on the contrary. If he ordered it, you would worship the ground he walks on. Carefully, he took your chin between his fingers and forced you to make eye contact with him again.

"Now tell me," his deep voice echoed in your soul, sending not only shivers through your entire body but your brain exploding in pure ecstasy, "who owns this hole?" He moved his cock slowly in and out, making it clear that he meant your loose asshole.

Feeling his cock suddenly throb viciously, you moaned his name. As you watched his face become even more smug and confident, you realized what a stud he had become, knowing full well that he was superior to everyone else. Your already rapidly beating heart nearly jumped out of your throat.

"And who owns you, slut?" He pronounced the degrading name prominently and slapped your left butt cheek so hard that you knew you would have another bruise there in the morning.

Immediately after the slap, he stopped his thrusts to hear your reaction, knowing without a doubt that your response would not be the result of pure lust controlling you.

Out of breath, it took a while, but when you saw Gabe's waiting look, you swallowed hard. 

"You, Gabe," you finally managed to choke out, your words almost drowned out by your heavy breathing.

To you, your whispered words felt like a promise, an invisible contract that you will probably never be able to escape. Yet you didn't mind.

"Who?" Gabe asks again, his grin becoming sinister, his hand tightening around your chin while his other hand quickly begins to clamp around your throat.

"You, Gabe!" you squeaked with all the strength you had left. Your voice echoed through the bathroom, but you couldn't stop; you repeated his name like a mantra.

Even Gabe seemed surprised when you started to cry. It wasn't because of the pain, at least not physically. Although you never minded being just a hole for him, something inside you broke in that moment; you suddenly realized that there would never be anything more, no matter how much you wanted it to be.

Even with all your heartache, a moan suddenly erupted from you. Your mind became foggy almost instantly as something struck deep inside you.

Through the mirror, you saw Gabe standing upright again, his letterman jacket hanging halfheartedly over his shoulders, his perfectly fluffy, styled hair in disarray, but most striking were his facial features, stern but compassionate. Despite his look, he first gently ran his rough fingertips—due to all the training he does—over your soft back until he forced you where he always said you belonged: bent over and wide open for him. Like a good, obedient slut.

“You’re so tight for me,” he murmurs, his voice slightly trembling.

Just from his voice, you knew he was close to coming, even though he hadn't fucked you in almost a minute. Suddenly his thrusts became faster, distracting your mind from your emotional turmoil as he endlessly pushed his cock against your prostate to the point you couldn't control yourself anymore. Your hands twitched at your sides, clenching them as if you were searching for something to grab onto; you gasped like a bitch in heat until your limbs fell back onto the counter, your head bouncing off it a second later.

"Fuck, I'm close... I'm clo- Fuck!" Gabe's deep voice echoed off the bathroom walls as his body stiffened.

You felt copious amounts of cum filling your insides to the brim as his sweaty hands pressed deeper into your flesh.

But as you feel this wonderful, warm, thick sensation, your body gives in to exhaustion and knocks you out on the spot.

When you awoke from your short nap, you saw a shadow standing over you. You looked around anxiously and found yourself on the floor, lying on his letterman jacket. When you felt the soft fabric under your overstimulated cock, you came a third time in less than twenty minutes.

As you turned your head ever so slightly, you saw something you never thought possible. There stood Gabe, wiping your ass. He looked disgustingly at his hand as he wiped his cum off and out of your hole. However, when he caught your eye, his annoyance turned to anger.

"Fucking faggot," he mutters, clearly dissatisfied. "Can't even take it up the ass without passing out, pathetic whore."

A feeling of shame began to grow within you. It only worsened when he stood up, washed his hands, and simply walked towards the door. You could have sworn you heard your heart breaking at that moment.

“Your jacket.” Your voice was just a whisper, but Gabe halted anyway, his hand already on the doorknob.

"Don't think anything of it," he presses through clenched teeth. "I don't want your worthless sperm on it." He pulled a disgusted face again and even went so far as to spit right at your feet. "I would never want anything back from such an easy slut like you."

You lowered your head and nodded, understanding that he didn't want anything you touched. But despite everything, he didn't leave the room. Gabe sighed heavily. You saw out of the corner of your eye how he wiped his face, looking somewhat displeased and defeated simultaneously.

"Tomorrow morning, same time, same place," he mutters dejectedly. Your head snaps up, unable to believe you heard him correctly. You're amazed at the warm face he showed you for the first time. But he must've realized his mistake as his face twisted to anger again. "You're just a better slut than most girls, but if you pass out again, I'll hand you down to the rest of the football team. Got it?"

You nodded happily, unable to hide your euphoria, which caused Gabe to chuckle darkly, but you didn't care. For the first time, he actually saw you as more than just a hole, upgrading you to one of his sluts, which was better than being just a piece of meat, and maybe there's hope for much more in the future.

Lost in your dreams, you didn't notice Gabe finally leaving the bathroom. You lay there for another minute before finally gathering your clothes strewn throughout the room and putting them back on, even though they were gross.

The second you stepped out of the bathroom, Scott was outside the door asking if everything was okay.

You knew he meant well, but it pissed you off. He's always on your case, wanting you to give up on Gabe, but at the end of the year, you were both going to different colleges anyway, so you wanted to use this time to at least get fucked properly. With a scowl on your hardened face, you told him you were great, pushed past him, and went to find your friends, ignoring all of Scott's attempts to pry deeper into your business.

[Masterlist]

[zapreportsblog]

↱ stop toying with her ↰

➘ summary : billy and Stu are toying with Sidney so much she runs off and escapes, right into the arms of the third ghostface

➘ a/n : such a misleading title but oh well, this was inspire my this post by @dominantslasherking ooh and I’ll be writing a fem version of this too

➘ poly ghostface x male reader, stu marcher x male reader x billy loomis, ghostface x male reader, slashers x reader

Stu and Billy stood in the dimly lit kitchen, their eyes locked on Sidney, who was backed into a corner. The tension in the room was palpable as they prepared to reveal their true identities and the reasons behind their terrifying actions.

Sidney's heart raced, her mind filled with a mix of fear and confusion. She had known Stu and Billy for years, but she never could have imagined that they were capable of such horrors. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she demanded answers.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" Sidney asked, her voice trembling.

Stu smirked, his eyes glinting with a twisted excitement. "Isn't it obvious, Sidney? We did it for the thrill, the power. We wanted to be remembered."

Billy's cold gaze shifted towards Sidney, his voice calm yet filled with a chilling certainty. "We're Ghostface, Sidney. The ones behind the mask. The orchestrators of this deadly game."

Sidney's eyes widened in disbelief. She had heard of the Ghostface killer, the terrifying figure responsible for a string of brutal murders that had plagued their small town. But to hear that it was Stu and Billy, her friends, was beyond comprehension.

Stu continued, a sadistic grin spreading across his face. "You see, Sidney, we were tired of being nobodies. We wanted to be at the center of attention, to become legends. What better way to achieve that than by being the ones who terrorize our own town?"

Billy nodded in agreement, his eyes burning with a twisted sense of purpose. "We meticulously planned every murder, every scare, every torment. We wanted to make sure we left a lasting mark on Woodsboro, and on you, Sidney."

Sidney's mind raced, trying to process the enormity of what she was hearing. "But why me? Why target me specifically?"

Stu's eyes narrowed, his tone filled with a mix of mockery and resentment. "Oh, Sidney, you were simply the perfect choice. The final girl, the one who always survives. We wanted to test your strength, break you down, and make you realize that no one is truly safe."

Billy stepped forward, his voice dripping with malice. "We wanted to see the fear in your eyes, Sidney. To witness your vulnerability and watch as you fought for your life. It was all part of the sick game we created."

Sidney's anger began to replace her fear. "You're sick, both of you! How could you betray our friendship like this?"

Stu chuckled, his voice tinged with a hint of madness. "Friendship? Oh, Sidney, friendship is just a tool, a means to an end. In the end, it's all about power, control, and the thrill of the chase."

Billy stepped closer, his eyes locked on Sidney's. "We wanted to see if we could outsmart you, to prove that even the strongest can be broken. And now, Sidney, it's your turn to play our game."

As Sidney stumbled back, her heart pounding in her chest, she quickly turned and rushed away from Stu and Billy. Panic consumed her as she desperately tried to find an escape route, her mind racing with fear and disbelief.

As she turned a corner, Sidney collided with a strong, sturdy figure. She looked up, her eyes filled with tears, and found herself falling into the arms of a big, husky man. He held her firmly, providing a sense of security that she desperately needed in that moment.

"They're the killers! We have to leave, now!" Sidney pleaded, her voice trembling with fear.

But to her surprise, the man just stood there, his expression impassive and unmoving. Sidney's heart sank as she wondered why he wasn't reacting, why he wasn't helping her. Was he in shock? Did he not understand the gravity of the situation?

Before she could fully process her disappointment, Stu and Billy appeared around the corner, their smirks widening at the sight of Sidney being held in place by the mysterious man. Stu's voice dripped with sadistic delight as he called out to the man.

"Babe, grab her for me," Stu whined, his tone filled with a sickening mix of entitlement and cruelty.

Sidney's eyes widened in horror as she realized the truth. The man she had hoped would help her was working with Stu and Billy. Her cries turned to sobs as she struggled against his grip, feeling betrayed and helpless.

"(M/n), please, don't do this! Help me!" Sidney pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

But the man, known as (M/n), remained silent, his grip tightening around her. Sidney's heart shattered as she realized that she was alone in this battle for survival. She had put her trust in the wrong person, and now she would pay the price.

As Stu and Billy closed in, their smiles twisted with sadistic pleasure, Sidney's determination resurfaced. She refused to let them break her spirit. With a surge of strength, she fought against (M/n)’s hold, desperately searching for a way to escape.

"Why are you doing this?" Sidney's voice trembled, muffled by the fabric of (m/n)'s shirt. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her breaths came in short, uneven bursts.

“It’s always that fucking question!” Billy groans out as he and Stu stood a few distances away.

(m/n)'s grip tightened slightly, his fingers gently stroking her back as he whispered, "Because I understand what it's like, Sidney. To feel like you're drowning in your own thoughts, your own darkness."

(m/n)'s gaze held a mixture of empathy and vulnerability. "But, for the first time, I've found someone who doesn't recoil from my own struggles, my own demons. Someone who doesn't see me as a broken puzzle that needs to be fixed or a problem that needs to be solved."

Billy brows furrowed, "You’re not broken, (m/n). You're not a problem."

A soft, sad smile tugged at (m/n)'s lips. "See Sidney,” he says glancing downward at the smaller female, “That's exactly what I've always wished someone would say to me. You see beyond the surface, beyond the facade I've carefully built. They accept me for who I am, even the parts I've kept hidden away."

Sidney's voice quivered as she pleaded, her eyes wide with desperation, "Please, (m/n), just let me go. I promise that I won’t tell anyone it was you!”

(m/n) held onto her tightly, his expression resolute as he shook his head. "No, Sidney. There's no use in running. We have to end this movie now."

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she struggled against his grip, her voice cracking, "I can't. Pleasure, I'm scared, (m/n). I can't do it. Please don’t do this, I know you’re a good guy!”

His grip on her didn't waver, his eyes holding a mixture of sympathy and determination. "I know you're scared, Sidney. But running won't change anything. The movie's over now. The main character has to die to protect the killer's secret."

Sidney's gaze locked onto his, confusion etched on her face. "What are you talking about?"

(m/n) let out a deep sigh, his fingers gently wiping away her tears. "I mean, we can't outrun our problems, Sidney. Just like in the movies, sometimes the hero has to make a sacrifice to ensure that the truth remains hidden."

Her breath hitched, realization dawning upon her. "You're going to kill me?”

(m/n) nodded solemnly. "Exactly. Now listen, don’t let fear control you. You have to stand up to it, face it head-on, and accept that this is where and how you die.”

As Sidney absorbed his words, she felt a mixture of fear and determination welling up within her. Slowly, her struggles ceased, and she leaned into (m/n)'s embrace, his presence was always a calming one even now as he held her against her will.

Just then, the room echoed with cheers, Billy and Stu grinning from ear to ear. "Way to go, (m/n)!" Billy exclaimed.

Stu joined in, laughing, "Yeah, you tell her! It's the final showdown!"

“Break her neck babe!” Stu spits out with a grin, “No just stab that little bitch up,” billy counters with his own idea.

“How troublesome,” mumbles (m/n) grabbing the knife from out of Sidney’s hand. From the moment she had been grabbed by him he was surprised she hadn’t retaliated against him and stabbed him but then again she might’ve forgotten all about it, after all he had that effect on people. Making them forget their surroundings and get lost in his presence.

Grabbing her swiftly by the sides of her head he twists her head swiftly, and drops it back down towards his sides as Sidney’s body goes limp on the floor.

Stu and Billy exchanged triumphant looks, and then they turned their attention to (m/n), their eyes filled with affection and pride. In unison, they stepped closer to him, their smiles widening as they wrapped their arms around him in a tight hug.

"Congratulations, babe," Stu said, his voice filled with admiration. "You did it. We knew you could."

Billy nodded, his own hug warm and supportive. "Yeah, you really showed them. We're so proud of you."

(m/n) felt a surge of happiness as he hugged them back, their closeness radiating comfort and love. "Thanks, you guys. I couldn't have done it without you by my side."

Stu and Billy exchanged a knowing glance before turning back to (m/n) with playful grins. "And now, for the victory kiss," Stu announced, leaning in to capture (m/n)'s lips in a sweet, celebratory kiss.

Billy joined in, his lips meeting (m/n)'s in a tender kiss that conveyed their shared joy and affection. As they pulled back, their smiles remained, and they locked eyes with (m/n) once more.

"We're always here for you, no matter what," Stu said, his voice sincere.

"Exactly," Billy agreed. "We've got your back, just like you've got ours."

(m/n) felt a deep sense of gratitude for the two people who had stood by his side through thick and thin. Their love and support were unwavering, and in that moment, he realized how lucky he was to have them in his life.

"Thank you," (m/n) said softly, his heart full. "I'm so glad I have you both."

Stu and Billy shared a fond smile before pulling (m/n) into another tight hug. The three of them stood there, basking in the warmth of their connection, knowing that their bond was unbreakable and their love was something truly special.

[nosyrobin]

Teddy bear!reader who’s trapped in the Wayne household.

Teddy bear!reader who’s practically some weird cuddly entity that resembles a teddy bear with a human form

Teddy bear!reader who has to endure all the venting, ranting the batfamily has to tell them. They can’t help but frown as it starts to get draining.

Teddy bear!reader who’s always hugged when seen. They can’t get out of the tight hold the boys get them into to. Even Bruce doesn’t let them go easily.

Teddy bear!reader who has a chip in them, shocking them when they don’t keep up the “happy bear” facade. You’re supposed to be the cute teddy they love.

Teddy bear!reader forced to be into human form so one of the boys can take them out and spoil them. But it’s only to show others that you belong to them if you somehow escape them.

Teddy bear!reader who’s starting to crack. The cuddly teddy is starting to be a grizzly bear.

————-

But that only stops when you get shocking pain in your neck. You roar, clawing at your own skin and fur. You transform between bear and human. Dick frowns as he hold the controller down. Damian could only hold a scowl watching his beloved animal act out.

Jason sits watching you beg for the pain to stop, Tim could only smile. Bruce has a hand on Dick’s shoulder. He squeezed it seeing you about to pass you. Dick stops the shocking pain.

You whimper, holding your arms. You feel your claws poke your own bruised body. Bruce kneels down, lifting your head as you flinch at his touch. “Our poor teddy….” He says lowly, he shows pity more than guilt.

It makes you sick as you try and roar at him, growl. Anything. But in the corner of your eye, you see Dick ready to press the button. You immediately stopped trying to fight. “You seem cranky..” Bruce says, he then helps you sit up as Damian moves by his father.

“Father, maybe it’s time for them to eat some honey?” He questions.

Honey…it’s not honey. It’s a drug to make you loopy. To make you obey them. To make you happy and do anything they wish to do to you.

To make you their perfect little teddy bear.

A/N: UH OH??? DID I EAT? OR DID I EAT🗣️‼️

[shortnsweetsposts]

Child!Damian: *Trying to hug Bat!reader*

Bat!reader: Leave alone, baby.

Child!Damian: *Looked up at Bat!reader with them big ol'eyes*

Bat!reader: ...

Bat!reader, starts ugly sobbing and hugged child!Damian back: YOU'RE MY BABY. YOU'RE MY BABY AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

Batfam: Oh wow

[starboye]

imagine drunk dancing on olderbf!simon in a bar after you told him you wouldn't get to drunk, now rocking your ass on his crotch and begging him to take you to bathroom and fuck you like he's mad at you, but he couldn't possibly treat you like that (while drunk that is because any other day he would do that in a heart beat)

so seeing as you're not going to let up about this whole fucking you dirty in the bathroom he gets a better idea, taking you out the back door to some more private alley and pulling out his cock, stopping you just before you dropped to you knees and placing your hand around his thick shaft

basically giving you permission to jerk him off to satisfy your lusty needs, your hand starting off slowly and speeding up until you had simon panting and whimpering outside the bar, and at this point you've milked a load or two out of him and he's trying to get you to stop

his thick hand wrapped around your wrist trying to stop you but he looks to good moaning and begging so what would be the harm in pulling out one or two more

[ofourlee]

megumi x reader

you nudge megumi softly, your head nestled against his chest, the warmth of the blankets making the quiet night feel even cozier.

“i want ice cream,” you whisper, your voice barely louder than a breath.

megumi groans, not bothering to open his eyes. “baby, it’s 1 a.m. you don’t really want ice cream right now.”

megumi’s arm tightens around you, as if to convince you to stay put.

but you’re not so easily deterred.

you shift, sitting up just enough to give him that wide-eyed, innocent look you know he can’t resist.

“i do, though,” you say, a playful pout on your lips. “please, gumi?”

he cracks one eye open, staring at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“first of all, it’s the middle of the night. second, you didn’t call me baby. third, we could literally just go tomorrow,” he mumbles, trying to close his eyes again, but you can see the grin starting to creep up.

you lean closer, resting your chin on his chest, your lips just inches from his.

“but it won’t taste as good tomorrow,” you tease, drawing out the words, “please, baby. i want ice cream now.” you bat your eyelashes dramatically, giving him that final, over-the-top pout

he sighs, dragging it out like he’s in real agony, before he finally opens both eyes. “you’re impossible,” he groans, tossing the blanket aside.

but before you can respond, he’s already reaching for his keys, muttering, “ice cream at 1 a.m. i can’t believe i’m doing this.”

you grin, unable to hide your excitement as you grab his hand, practically bouncing. “you love me,” you sing-song as you head out the door.

megumi chuckles, pulling you close as you step out into the cool night air. “yeah, yeah. lucky for you, i do.”

[skyrigel]

Everyone who knew Simon thought him out to be a freak who didn't like to be touched, or talked to, or even looked at.

It was only you who knew how much of a starved bastard he was.

He's always touching you, personal space was crumbled up like a tissue ball and thrown in the trash while Simon was with you.

His hands would mindlessly find you, but with adoration of every atom of his soul, to scratch at your scalp and murmur sweet words, to coil your hair between his fingers, watching your strands slip and tugging them to earn a fond frown, his lips gliding on your warm skin, mouthing and biting and sucking. The simple joy of your hand in his. Big palm resting over your thigh before he begins to grope you in the middle of the movie.

 How at nights there would be huge weight lunged over you, arms wrapped around as if you would be taken up by a ghost. Sweet kisses places all over your face as soon as he would wake up. 

Simon who wouldn't utter a word when outside but the moment he's alone with you, that man would never stop. His eyes that were rumoured to be soulless would light up like brilliant stars, and he'll talk and talk, smiling and fondling, hands shooting up in gestures, in tales of Afghanistan and dubai. He jokes and makes you laugh until your eyes crinkled, and moistened while your stomach does swoops around in anticipated giddiness that takes over both of you in each other's presence. That's your man.

And oh lord, how much he wants to be seen, only by you.

Even after years of being together, Simon would take pride in trying to seduce you. He would walk out of the shower with his huge biceps on display, as water would slide down in tiney drops — towel wrapped lowely around his waist, his navel where a rush of hair darker than his roots disappeared, and the smug look he would have. And in the way he would make you look at him while shooting ropes of cum inside you, eyes lost in eyes, seen. Or the way Simon would look up with dazed eyes when he's home between your legs. 

Because he wants to be seen in a way that makes you all his, and him all yours.

Masterlist

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Yakuza

When your brother gets himself deep into debt, one yakuza is surprisingly willing to help you get him out. Word Count: 4.3k

When your brother asks you to visit him in Tokyo, something about his voice makes your big sister instincts buzz.

He's great at putting on a show, but there's a twinge of nervousness to him that you've seldom heard before.

You spend your first week in the city with your hackles raised, trying and failing to figure out what he's hiding from you. And you might never have figured it out.

But then he showed up.

Yandere! Yakuza who kicks open your brother's door at three in the morning, a cigarette in one hand and a baseball bat in the other.

You scramble out of bed, convinced you're about to be murdered. And it's only your brother's hand hastily slapped over your mouth that keeps you from screaming bloody murder.

"Relax, I know these guys."

Despite his words, your brother doesn't look relaxed at all. His eyes dart around the room and he balls his fists into his jeans. It's a habit he hasn't broken since childhood and before you know it, you're stepping between him and a dangerously scarred yakuza.

Your Japanese is beyond rudimentary and your course didn't exactly cover how to have conversations with members of an organised crime family, but you tilt your chin back and try to keep your voice steady.

"Naze anata ga koko ni iru no ka? [why are you here?]"

Yandere! Yakuza who shamelessly leers at your tiny summer pyjamas. He pulls at his cigarette and when he speaks, his English is heavy with an accent.

"Came to collect what he owes us."

Of all the possible answers he could have given you, that was one you don't expect in the slightest. You turn to your brother and the way he avoids your eyes is answer enough. God, how could he be so stupid? Didn't you teach him better?

Yandere! Yakuza who came prepared to smash furniture and rough up a stubborn debtor suddenly finds himself at the mercy of your glare. You're at least a foot or two shorter than him and somehow it feels like he's the one being overpowered.

"How much does he owe?"

"Sis really I can-"

Yandere! Yakuza who scoffs and names a number much, much larger than you expected. It takes every ounce of will power not to scream at your brother right then and there. How could he get himself into such a mess? He's barely been here more than six months!

Yandere! Yakuza who watches the emotions flicker across your face and has to admire the way you fight them back. The only sign of your fear is a slight tremble in your hand.

"How much do you need tonight?"

The amount he names is just about everything you have in savings. You bite your lip. One look at him tells you everything you need to know. This isn't some small time crook. The pin on his suit jacket is clear as day, even to a foreigner like you.

You pull your coat over your pyjamas and grab your handbag.

"Let's go then."

When you step out into the hall, you're met with two other Yakuza. How didn't you notice them?

You meet their eyes, trying your absolute hardest to seem unruffled. Predators get violent when they sense fear, right? So don't like them catch that smell on you, no matter how fast your heart is racing.

The night air nips at your skin as you head to the nearest ATM.

"Sis it isn't that bad, I swear -"

"We'll talk about it later, ok?"

Yandere! Yakuza who walks close behind you. You can catch the smell of his cologne - something woody and pleasantly sharp.

When you slip your card into the ATM, he leans against the wall next to you and pulls out another cigarette. He watches you while he lights it, the flame throwing his cheekbones into sharp relief.

"You got a boyfriend?"

You're genuinely surprised. Your relationship status isn't exactly on your list of things dangerous criminals should be concerned about.

"No. I don't."

He let's the smoke curl up between his teeth.

"Good. Pretty girl like you shouldn't bother with relationships."

"Why not?"

The ATM spits out your cash before he can answer.

He doesn't take the money immediately. Instead, he let's his eyes roam down your body, like he can still see what's underneath your bulky coat.

"You're never gonna pay it off at this rate."

"You're offering me advice? Didn't think that was part of your job."

"Sōde wa arimasen [it isn't]. But what kind of man would I be if I didn't help you out?"

He digs in his inner pocket and you catch a glimpse of the gun holstered under his jacket.

He pulls out a business card and scribbles something at the back of it.

"He hasn't told you, but we've got his passport. He can't leave until he's settled what he owes."

You suck in a sharp breath at that. How much worse could this situation get?

He holds out the card. "Come work for us and maybe we can work out a better deal, yeah?"

You scoff. "Does that deal involve selling my organs?"

He smiles a little at that. "Īe - no. It's easy work. Come by tomorrow and see for yourself."

You look down at the card and the hand offering it. His tattoos peak out of his sleeve, blue-black and twisting in patterns you can't recognise. Better to not offend a gangster, right?

You take the card.

"Iiko [good girl]."

He turns to go, his baseball bat slung over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow hanī [honey]."

He's barely out of sight before you're grabbing your brother's ear and dragging him back to the apartment.

You spend the rest of the night talking to - or more accurately, interrogating - your brother.

"Gambling? What the hell where you thinking?"

"I was drunk, okay?"

You hiss and rub at your temples. And the worst part? The yakuza was right. You can't pay it off. Not without a very well paying job.

His card glares at you from the kitchen table. An easy job, huh?

The address on the card leads you to a hostess club in the middle of the Red Light District.

He isn't going to kidnap you in the middle of the day in the middle of the city, right? Slightly comforted, you make your way into the club.

It's cool and dark, lit by colorful lamps more than anything. You show the card to the bartender and a few minutes later your yakuza is sitting across from you and ordering you both drinks.

Yandere! Yakuza who wears a suit in the slouched, lazy way of a school delinquent. Shirt unbuttoned so you can see the edge his tattoos and the gold chain gleaming at his neck.

He gestures at the bar and the room around you, his cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers. "The Family owns this place. And my kyodai manages it."

He studies you while he smokes, eyes dipping to your chest and lingering. "You can work as a hostess here. Make good money and we'll take a cut of it to pay off what your brother owes."

You take a sip of your drink to avoid answering him. The sake leaves a tingle on your lips.

"But I'm not exactly fluent in Japanese. How am I supposed to entertain customers?"

He grins wolfishly at you. "Just wear something tight and you won't have to talk at all."

"Perv," you mutter into your drink.

On the surface, you can't see anything wrong with his offer. It makes perfect sense - the club gets a new girl they barely have to pay and your brother's creditors don't need to keep tracking him down.

But he's a yakuza and you'd be a fool to trust him.

"Fine. I'll work here, try my hardest to learn Japanese and sell drinks."

You hold his gaze. "But I'm gone the second I think you're being shady. Got it?"

Yandere! Yakuza who smiles like he's won the lottery. "Wakatta [got it]."

When you show up later that evening, he's your first customer. He orders you a bottle of champagne and keeps topping up your glass without ever touching his own.

A few drinks in you manage to finally loosen up enough to hold a conversation. He asks you endless questions - about your childhood, your hobbies, the movies you've been watching.

But in return, he dodges any question you throw at him. "Don't ask about my family." "My childhood was boring. You don't want to hear about it." "Hobbies? Does puss-"

"No."

"Then no."

He's surprisingly fun to talk to. And when he gets a call and has to leave you, there's a pang of disappointment that you can't quite mask.

He grins and flicks your forehead. "Don't miss me too much."

When you pick up the bill, you realise he left you a hefty tip. You stare at it and then at his retreating back. Just what is his angle?

Yandere! Yakuza who's back the next day and the one after that. He sprawls in the booth like a spoiled prince, his arms thrown across the headrest and his legs spread.

"Let me teach you Japanese."

You perk up. A native teacher would be so much easier to learn from compared to the dense textbooks you've tried using.

"Repeat after me. Onegaishimasu. It means 'please'."

You try and imitate his intonation. He walks you through a few more common phrases with moderate success.

"Need to work on your accent, but that was decent. Ready to try something longer? Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne [I think you're very handsome]."

"Anato wa...wa totemo hansam... hansamudesu ne."

He smirks at you over the rim of his glass. He seems immensely pleased.

"What does it mean?"

"Just another way to... greet someone. Kinda tricky though, so you should just use it on me."

He spends the rest of the day explaining kanji and grammar. You take notes on the back of a receipt and promise to rewrite them when you get home.

Your shift is practically over when he finally stands to leave.

"Say goodbye like I taught you."

"Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne."

He grins at you again, his voice a bit sweeter when he replies. "Anata mo totemo kireidesu ne [you're pretty too]."

You tilt your head, struggling to understand. You don't recognise the phrase, but he's gone before you can ask what it means.

Yandere! Yakuza who requests you almost everyday. Until the house mother snaps at him to give it a rest, there are other clients who want to talk to you.

He scoffs and throws back his drink, Adam's apple bobbing like he's swallowing down his anger too.

"If they want to talk to her so bad, they should get here earlier. Watashitachiha kono basho o shoyū shite imasu [we own this place]. So go and get me my girl."

When you finally make it to his table, he's back to being all smiles. The only person who notices his jealousy is the house mother and she's far too busy to mention it.

"My head is killing me. Give me a massage please?"

He flops down into your lap before you can say no.

You sigh and run your fingers through his hair, trying to remember where the pressure points are.

Yandere! Yakuza who practically purrs at your touch. When you lift a hand away to take a sip of your water, he barely waits for you to swallow before he's dragging it back.

There's something very strange about having a deadly gangster in your lap. With his eyes closed, you can almost forget just how much he scared you when you first met. Can forget how he still scares you.

He opens his eyes and catches you studying him. He reaches up and catches your hand as you draw away from him. His touch is gentle, softer than you would expect from looking at him.

"Go on a date with me."

You aren't sure if it's an offer or a command. There's something so intimate about the way he looks at you, the club lights carving hollows into his cheeks, eyes dark and sweet.

And God help you, he's so close. Only the thin fabric of your stockings between his skin and yours.

"Okay."

His lips quirk into a half smile, boyishly handsome.

"Good. You'll like it."

By the next evening, you're already regretting your decision. What kind of idiot goes on a date with a yakuza? You blame the alcohol and the closeness of his body and your stupid, stupid hormones for getting you into this.

But when he picks you up, you find yourself smiling. He actually knocks on the apartment door this time and you open it with the full intention of teasing him.

"My brother's landlord-"

Your words die in your throat. You always knew he was handsome but the man waiting for you takes your breath away.

His hair is slicked away from his face and a sparkling cross dangles from one ear. His lazy suits are gone, replaced with a suit that's pressed and tailored. Hell, even his shirt is buttoned up properly.

He looks good. Dangerously good.

He takes you in, eyes lingering at your curves. You swallow and try not to blush. You do your hair and makeup everyday for the club and he's seen you in this dress before, but he looks at you like it's all new to him, like he wants to drink in every inch of you.

You somehow manage to find your voice and it has none of its usual bite. "You look good. Really good."

He smoothes a hand over his hair self consciously. "Arigatō. Shall we go?"

He offers you his arm and you take it, your heart thundering. He opens the car door for you and helps you in like a proper gentleman. You catch a whiff of his cologne - the same woodsy scent from the night you met.

He takes you to a skyscraper restaurant and sits down right next to the window. The city is a sparkling sprawl at your feet.

"I didn't think you'd be into a place like this," you say.

"What? You think I don't got class?" He grins and points his fork at you, "I've got the best damn taste in this whole city."

"Explains why you asked me out then."

"Obviously." He leans forward. "Only the best for my girl, yeah?"

"I'm your girl? Since when?"

"Since..." He makes a show of checking his watch. "Since the night I met you. You just didn't know it yet."

Ah, now that's one way to make a girl fall for you. And despite your better sense, you feel yourself falling.

You can still taste the lingering sweetness of dessert when he walks you back to his car. His leans against the car door and loops his arms around your waist.

"You had fun tonight?"

"Yes. More than I expected honestly."

He pulls you closer to him, softly enough that you can step back at any point. You don't.

"Gonna give me a kiss to say thank you? It's a very important part of our culture."

You clasp your hands together behind his neck.

"You liar."

He grins that boyish half smile of his. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

He doesn't feel like a gangster or a creditor or a customer. In that moment he feels like just a man - someone strong and handsome that you desperately want to kiss.

Your gaze flickers down to his lips and then back to his eyes. You pull gently at his neck and his head dips lower. You stay like that for a moment, lips almost touching. Too nervous to make the final move.

His hands move to cradle your waist and he closes the gap between you.

You pull him closer, your hands slipping from his neck to his jaw. His stubble scrapes your palm and makes your whole body tingle. He tastes of wine and sugar.

When you finally pull away, you draw your thumb across his lower lip. His eyes are half lidded and when he moves, it's with a sluggish reluctance. Like he doesn't want to let go of you.

He keeps one hand on your waist and draws out a stack of cash with the other. When he speaks, his voice is husky.

"How much for tonight?"

"What?"

His draws his hand up your waist to rest against your sternum. Like he wants to dig his hand into your heart.

"How much to take you home?"

A bucket of cold water would have been less shocking. You pull away from him, your mind racing.

God, why are you such an idiot? Of course he only wants to fuck you. He's just a thug, what did you expect?

And worse, you feel like a small part of your heart is breaking. Why be so sweet to you, why go out of his way to spend time with you, if all he wants is a one night stand?

"Are you serious?"

"Obviously. How much do you charge?"

You act without thinking and slap him right across his face.

The sound of it is terribly sharp in the open quite of the parking lot. It leaves your palm stinging. You freeze, terrified of what you've just done.

He doesn't move, his head turned to the side from the force of your slap. Slowly, he touches his fingers to his cheek. His expression is unreadable.

Oh, you're so dead. You just hit a yakuza. A guy who probably breaks faces everyday, who has who knows how many felonies to his name.

Your first instinct is to apologise, say you weren't thinking and that you're so so sorry. You lift your chin and squash down that part of you.

"I'm not for sale."

The quiet stretches out, tense and dangerous. He turns away and opens the car door for you. He doesn't meet your eyes.

"I understand now. Gomen'nasai [I'm sorry]."

The drive home is terribly quiet. You keep expecting him to lash out - hit you or humiliate you for daring to slap him like that.

He doesn't. He just keeps eyes on the road.

When you reach your building, he follows you to the door and rests his hand on the frame above your head. You can feel him behind you, close enough for his breath to tickle the back of your neck.

"I can't buy you."

"No."

"But I want you."

You pull in a shuddering breath. "Earn it."

You shut the door without turning back.

He doesn't show up at the club for the next week. At first you're on edge - what if he gets you fired? Or worse, does something to your brother?

But your boss doesn't mention anything and your brother keeps coming home in one piece. Slowly, you relax. Tell yourself that he's done with you now that you won't give him what he wants. You try and ignore the way it hurts.

When he does finally show up, he's dangerously tipsy. He yanks you out of your booth in the middle of a date and leaves the house mother to bow and apologise to the customer.

You try not to make a scene as he pulls you along behind him. But you look about desperately for any of the other yakuza. Where the hell are they when you need them?

Finally, he drops you in a booth in the corner of the club and collapses across from you. His hair is messier than you've ever seen it and there's a feverish wildness in the way he looks at you.

"Fine. I'm here. Let me earn your love."

You rub your arm and scowl at him. "Your idea of winning me over is to leave a huge bruise on my arm?"

He runs his hands through his hair. "Hell, I don't know. I've never had to win a girl over before."

"Yeah right. I've seen the girls you go out with. There's no shortage of women in your life."

He looks you in the eye. "Bought and paid for." He gestures at the table and at you. "Not like this. Not like you."

That gives you pause. It makes sense. Gangsters don't exactly have the time to go on Sunday morning brunch dates or meet the family.

"So why not just pay someone else?"

You don't say it out loud but the rest of your question is clear. Why me?

"I...I don't want to. Setsumei suru no wa totemo muzukashīdesu [It's so hard to explain]. But I don't want anyone else."

A confession from a yakuza was not at all on your list on fun and lighthearted tourist activities. You're not entirely sure how to deal with it.

Your sense is screaming at you to be smart. And when is dating a criminal ever smart? You're supposed to get yourself and your brother away from the underworld, not get roped deeper in. And what happens if you want to break up? When has a man with a gun and too many scars ever taken a heartbreak well?

And yet...

You want him. Stupidly, against all sense, you want to be with him. He's dangerous. He probably only wants to fuck you. He has too much power over your life. He might never let you leave him.

And still you want him.

You take a deep breath. "Come over tonight and I'll cook you something. And if my cooking doesn't change your mind then... then we can talk about it."

He smiles at you and the wild look in his eye seems to finally dim.

"Anata ga watashi o oidasou to shite mo dekinakatta [Baby, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried]."

You weren't lying when you said you were a terrible cook. When he finally arrives, the rice is somehow both burnt and slightly undercooked and your curry is severely under-salted.

You scrunch your nose when you take a bite. "This is awful."

"You cooked it." He takes another bite. "And I hate to say it, but I've had worse."

You push your bowl away and mutter, "I didn't think rice could be so complicated. I followed the instructions and everything."

He takes another bite. "I can make decent rice. And udon."

"So between the two of us, there's only one good cook? Shameful."

He adds some salt to his bowl. "Neither of us ever has the time to cook anyway, so I don't know why you're surprised."

You shake your head and watch him. He's halfway through your abysmal culinary concoction and somehow not green in the face.

"You never talk about yourself," you tell him.

He avoids your eyes. "I'm not that interesting."

"But I am?"

"Yes." There's a quiet fierceness to his answer that makes your heart stutter.

"Tell me a secret about yourself."

It's his turn to study you. "A secret."

"That's what I said."

He considers you for a long moment before reaching up and undoing his shirt buttons. He turns his back to you and let's his shirt fall away.

You gasp. His tattoo covers his entire back. It's every bit as intricate as you suspected - there's lotus flowers between his shoulder blades and a spider inked below his ribcage.

But it's the snake that takes up most of the space. It curls and unwinds across his back, every scale painstakingly inked. It's hissing mouth rests on his shoulder blade, opposite his heart.

He flinches when you touch him, but doesn't ask you to stop. You run your fingertips up his back, tracing the snakes coiling body.

"It's incredible."

He doesn't answer you. Eventually your fingers come to rest on his neck.

He reaches back and takes hold of your wrist. He draws it forward and tilts his head to press a kiss against your pulse. You wonder if he can feel the way your heart jumps when he touches you.

"Do you want to know the real secret? I go home at night and lie awake thinking about you."

You lean forward and rest your forehead against his bare back. "What do you think about?"

He inhales sharply. "Your voice... your lips... your body."

You laugh a little and your warm breath on his skin makes him shiver. "You're shameless."

"Mattaku hajishirazuna [totally shameless]."

You tilt his head towards you and kiss his cheek.

You can feel him smile against your lips. When you pull away, he turns to you and cups your jaw.

Your Japanese has gotten better, but you don't understand what he whispers before he kisses you.

"Watashi Kazu anata ni koiwoshiteiru, soshite watashi wa tomaranai [I'm falling in love with you and I can't stop]."

He presses his lips against yours, so much hungrier this time. His hand slips from your cheek to the nape of your neck to pull you closer to him.

"My girl, my pretty girl. Hanaretakute mo hanare rarenakatta [I couldn't let you go even if I wanted to]."

He presses hot kisses against your throat. His grip on your neck almost painfully tight.

"Hitsuyōniōjite, anata no kyōdai ni wa nan-nen mo shakkin o showa seru koto ni narudeshou [gonna keep your brother in debt for years if I have to]."

The rest of his sentence is little more than a growl. "Nanrakano hōhō de anata ni watashi o aishite morau tsumoridesu [gonna make you love me back one way or another]."

The one downside of courting a yakuza is not understanding everything he says. But maybe it's safer that way.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied noncon, break-up, toxic relationship, crazy ex-boyfriend, intrusive thoughts, anger issues

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about gamer boyfriend who doesn’t know what he has before it’s gone…

You told him you were leaving, but it didn’t dawn on him that’s what you’d meant. He was deep in-game—he couldn't pay attention to your whining. He figured you went out to the store or something, but later, after midnight, he realized he was hungry, and you were nowhere. Not in the kitchen making dinner, not in his bed sleeping, and not in the bathroom either. 

Did you go home? He wonders, standing alone in the dark, empty silence—feeling a little put off at the sight of his room—how even in the dim light, it’s a clear fucking mess. You usually tidy up a bit for him, but you hadn’t this time—no, there’s old underwear and socks everywhere, shirts and hoodies too, empty cans and pizza boxes. It’s a bit gross, actually, he admits while scratching his neck. 

The drawer he’d dedicated to you in his dresser is open and empty. Did you take everything to get it cleaned? You are a bit of a neat freak—unlike him. Suppose that would be something you’d do. Weird of you not to take any of his laundry as well, though.

Oh, well. He shoots you a “gn bby” on his phone, then collapses on his bed and falls asleep—smiles a bit as he does so—it’s nice not having you here to tell him to undress and go shower first. Yeah, you can be such a nag sometimes.

He wakes up late in the day. You’re not there. Usually, you come over to wake him with some breakfast. He checks his phone—you didn’t reply last night. It isn't that weird—you were probably already asleep at that point. But why didn’t you answer when you woke up? There’s no way you’re still asleep, right? 

Fuck, he’s hungry.

“gm,” he sends—contemplates asking you what’s up but doesn’t. You must be busy with something not to have checked your phone yet.

The entire day goes by, and you still don’t answer. He doesn’t take it too hard. But he won’t deny being a bit miffed.

It’s when three days go by that he’s well and truly confused. He’s sent you several texts at this point, even called you a few times, getting a little worried something had happened to you before he got the message that he’d been blocked. 

What the fuck’s going on with you?

He thinks back to the last time he saw you. What did you even say? He can’t remember. Something about being tired—something, something—I’m leaving.

He swallows thickly. No… No way, that’s what you meant, right? No, can’t be. You love him. You’re his pretty girlfriend. The one that comes with his food and later comes back for his bowl. The one that sucks his dick under his desk as he goes on a kill streak. The warm pillow he uses when he finally drags his bad posture to the bed and falls asleep.

No. Where the fuck are you? Are you sick or something? Yeah, must be, right? So delirious you’ve managed to block him somehow. You were probably only trying to call him back. You were never so tech-savvy—a fever must have worsened it. He should go to you. He can bring his pc. Or no, he can get you and bring you back here. Yeah, that would be easier.

He calls your roommate, tells her he’s coming, and asks her to let you know to get ready.

“What are you talking about?” she says through a piece of gum—her voice all dull as if bothered to have picked up the phone. Or, rather, she sounds a bit drunk. There’s music in the background. “Girl broke up with you, didn’t she?”

His blood runs cold at that. A lump forms in his throat—a thick, unmovable lump that makes him think he’s about to throw up. “N-no, she didn’t.”

“Hey!” she calls out, not to him, though—she’s covered the mic with her hand. He only hears the muted distortion of voices and bass through it before your roommate comes back to him. 

“Sorry—she’s telling me a different story,” she relays, popping her gum in his ear before sneering—or, at least, that’s what he pictures. “Honestly, how long did you think she was gonna put up with cleaning up after you anyway? I know I wouldn’t last half as long as she has.” The lump in his throat grows thicker, swelling up until it's choking him. “Anyway, good luck.”

She hangs up, and he drops his phone. There’s a crack as it hits the floor. And then something wet on his face. Something hot. Something searing as it tracks down his cheeks and drops off like acid onto the floor. 

What should he do? What do you want him to do? To tidy up? He can do that! He’s not some imbecile like your friend makes him out to be who can’t even do the basics of chores. Of course, he can! And so that’s what he does—hands shaking as he tidies. 

It feels foreign, and he’s not even sure where to start. And it quickly proves to be a lot worse than what he’d thought. Beyond stinky clothes and dirty dishes, there’s trash, rotten food, sticky surfaces, and other things he can’t even put a name to. It’s gross, actually. Downright disgusting. How long’s it been like this?

Even after everything’s put in order, there’s a smell that lingers and no end to the dust he has to clean—cringing at the little insects that come crawling out of their hiding spots. Geez—has it really been this bad?

He falls asleep on the floor at some point—having completely forgotten to eat—then wakes up feeling awful the next day. The kitchen is barren, and so he orders take-out. Eats and then goes back to cleaning. There’s still a lot left.

It’s barely recognizable once he’s done. Nice and bright and tidy and clean. There’s a sum of a dozen large black trash bags in the hallway he needs to take out, but other than that, everything’s perfect—perfectly presentable to have you come over again.

Still, he gives it a couple of days. He knows you. You’re going to change your mind. You’re too sweet to be breaking up with him. Too nice. You wouldn’t just leave him, not like this. Yeah, you’re only trying to teach him a lesson—after a while, you’ll come back on your own. You’ll be ecstatic over what he’s done with the place—apologetic even as you tell him you were wrong about him—and then everything will go back to normal. Make-up sex and everything. 

But you don’t. No. You’re nowhere to be seen or found—even after a week’s passed. You’re still gone. And he’s starting to believe you might just be gone for real.

No. He sees what this is. You’re waiting for the grand gesture, aren’t you? He never knew you could be so petty—but it’s actually kind of cute. Fine then. He’ll play along—come crawling to you on his hands and knees with the best apology you’ve ever heard. And then you can end this whole thing.

And so he finds himself at your place, pressing the buzzer, not knowing if he’s catching you at home—if not, he’ll just try again tomorrow, and so on until he does. He hears someone at the other side of the door—they must be looking at him through the peephole. It takes a while before the locks click and open.

“Hey…”

It’s you. 

“Hi,” he smiles in return, happy to see you. He’s been so nervous, but somehow, your face and voice are enough to calm him down.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Oh, of course. You weren’t expecting him. Still, it feels weird of you not to gush happily over the surprise and rush him inside. It’s not every day he goes outside—you should be a little impressed.

But no, of course, you’re playing the part of fed-up girlfriend—acting hard-to-get. He’s got you—he’ll play his part, so don’t worry.

“I wanted to apologize,” he announces. “I haven’t been a good boyfriend—I see that now. But I’ll be better from now on, I promise—come over, and I’ll prove it to you.”

As far as apologies and promises go, he thinks that sounded pretty smooth—not too desperate, not too demanding. Pretty slick, if he can say so himself.

And so, why aren’t you smiling? He can understand being nervous—so is he—but why do you look guilty?

“That’s really nice. And… I’m really happy you’re looking better. But…” you start, and his gut’s already wrenching. “I think you need more time for yourself to just… enjoy what it’s like to be independent, you know?” 

No, he doesn’t know. What are you saying? And why are you holding onto the doorknob like that? Holding it steady as if you’re planning to shut it as soon as you can—why?

“Thanks for stopping by. It was nice seeing you—it really was. Take care of yourself, okay?”

It’s shutting—his plans—disappearing right before his face. He knows he isn’t owed a second shot, but this isn’t fair. You can’t be serious—are you?

“What? No, wait—” He stops you, weighing his own hand on the door, keeping it open. “Listen, I’m good now. I’ve pulled it together, you’ll see—I’ll come in, and we’ll talk about it.”

You resist, using both hands to almost push the door back on him. “I have company, so—”

“What’s up?” another voice announces himself—deep and presentful. He comes into view behind you—taller than you, taller than him—looking down his nose at him with a raised brow. “Who’s this?”

You look a bit panicked—no, embarrassed. “Oh, uhm—”

Why are you embarrassed? “Who’s that?” The bitterness in his voice surprises even himself—loaded with the same type of spite he seethes with when players use cheats to win.

“He’s an old friend, but he was just leaving,” you say, but you’re not speaking to him. No, you stroke a hand over the guy’s broad chest, looking up at him apologetically before turning back to him again, voice strict in a way he’s never heard, “Bye.”

“But—”

You shut the door. On him. In his face. 

His skin crawls—goosefleshed and chilled. Was that a date? No, right? You have a brother, don’t you? Yes, must be. No way you’re dating. There’s no way, right? It’s only been a week… no way you’ve moved on in only a week, right?

You looked really nice—wearing that sweet blouse with all the little bows and that cute little skirt you’d always wear out on dates. Damn, when was the last time the two of you went on a date? Must be months ago, if he can’t even remember. 

Come to think of it, the two of you would always have sex when you wore that skirt. Yeah, it’s your fuck-me-skirt. Are you going to fuck this guy too now? On the first date? Is it your first date? No, probably not—who has their first date at home? That’s more like a third or even fourth or fifth date, right? Were you dating him while the two of you were still together? Have you been cheating on him all this time? Laughing at him behind his back—talking shit with your bitch-roommate? About what a pathetic loser he is? About how he’s a slob who can’t take care of himself? How he needs you? Have you!?

He shouldn't be texting you all this from a random number. He knows that, but the full realization doesn’t dawn on him before it’s too late, and he’s sent you over a hundred messages, some small and others at such a length they take up more than what the screen allows. What the fuck’s he doing? He’d bought the new sim so that he could contact you in an emergency, not to spam you with accusations like some crazy ex. 

He starts deleting them—in some desperate wishful thinking, with the hope you wouldn’t see them, but then the dotted line starts beating, jumping in taunt. His eyes are wide as he stares at it, holding his breath. Ten seconds pass before it disappears—no message sent.

You blocked him again. And he can’t blame you.

And yet, he can’t let you go, either. 

He spends the first few weeks hauled up at home—his flat becoming as trashed as ever as he doomscrolls all your socials through a fake account. You’ve deleted all the pictures of him—even the ones of yourself when you’ve been with him. There’s no evidence the two of you were even dating.

How could you do this? How could you erase him like this?

He has questions, and he needs answers. You can’t just do this—the two of you haven’t even had the talk—he hasn’t even got to say his side yet!

He just wants to talk to you—why won’t you let him? He just wants you to hear him out. He deserves that much. But since you’re not giving him any option of contacting you, he’s had to resort to medieval methods—lurking outside your apartment like some creep, eyes peeled on your building’s entrance, waiting for you to show.

He’s there for hours, patiently—refusing to go home—thinking he’ll be there all night if he has to.

But then there you are—coming out of the complex, stepping down the alley, dressed all nice for the night. You seem to be in a hurry—are you on your way to another date? Well, wherever you’re going and whoever you’re meeting, they can wait.

“I need to talk—” he doesn’t get the words out.

You’d noticed him following you and tried to out-pace him—make him lose interest. But the area your flat’s situated in is a sketchy one—at least for girls, and you’d made the decision long ago that you’d never walk outside unprepared. And so, as soon as feeling the stranger's hand on your arm, you whip around to maze him right in the face.

“Argh!” he screeches and stumbles back, hands covering his eyes. “Fuck—ow-fuckin’dammit, shit—what the fuck did you do that for? Fuck—”

You were going to make a run for it, but the familiar voice has you halt—wait a minute…

You call his name, and sure enough, it’s him who looks up at you through the teary redness of your pepper spray assault. 

“Oh my god, shit—I’m so sorry—I thought you were a—” you stop yourself. “Fuck—never mind. Come—” You link his arm with yours and lead him back inside the apartment you just left. “I’ll help you rinse—I’m so sorry.”

You rush him to the bathroom, seating him atop the toilet lid as you wet a cloth and start soaking his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it was you—” you apologize again. “Are your eyes okay?”

“Not really,” he hisses through clenched teeth, though steals himself soon after. “But they're getting better…”

His face unswells after a good thirty minutes, after which he’s able to keep his eyes open again—sore and no doubt bloodshot, yet fine, if not for that. You’ve moved him into the living room instead, having done what you could to rinse off your attack—having provided him with an apologetic glass of water. Now sitting with him, waiting for the effects to wear off.

It feels nice to be with you again despite the circumstances—but it’s awkward how you don’t speak.

“You look nice,” he says—trying to break the tension. It’s not as if the two of you are strangers, and so you shouldn’t act like it.

“Oh, I’m going to a party—roomie’s already there, so…” you say, sitting at the edge of your seat. “If you’re okay, I should probably head out… soon.”

A silence fills his head, as well as the room—a heavy stillness before a single word leaves him. “What?” His face sinks—part confusion, part offense, and something else—something that makes his voice come out accusatory and outraged, “You maze me in the face, and you’re just gonna fuck off to a party?”

Your eyes widen.“Well… it’s—”

“No—what the fuck?” He stands abruptly. His head’s so empty except for the blinding darkness slowly overtaking it—leaving him feeling boiling and all but nuclear. “That’s all I get? Are you fucking serious?” He’s shouting now—and then he’s on you, with one hand fisting your pretty dress and another around your throat. “First, you dump me without warning, assault me like some maniac, give me a lousy apology, and then tell me to fuck off? What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

You splutter his name and push, but it’s like fighting a wall.

“Where are you actually going dressed like that, huh? What’s so fucking important? Is it another date? What, with that same oaf I saw here last time? Or is it someone new already? I know how flighty you can be. I mean, fuck, I knew you were a little freaky, but I didn’t know I was dating a fucking slut!”

His strength comes as a complete and utter devastating shock. You’d think sitting in a chair all day would make any muscle obsolete—but the hands holding you don’t right now is more than anything you could hope to fight against.

“Stop! Get off me—” you cry, thrashing hopelessly as he lifts your dress and rips your lace panty down your thighs. 

A growl in his voice and nothing but rage on his face.

“If anyone can get it—I might as well help myself.”

♡ INSPO

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Denki, Kirishima ♡ BLLK – Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[reiyaus]

imagine construction worker! toji being in the crew who’s helping you build your dream home.

visiting every week to almost everyday because it was your only way to see him, the thought of just asking him out never came to mind. you weren’t exactly as slick as you thought, however.

it’s when you only approached him everytime you had a question did he realize you had a thing for him. not that he minded, though. he liked how flustered you’d get when he’d flex his biceps or when he’d grunt extra loud if he sensed you getting near.

the way you took so much time to prepare talking to him was cute too. how your throat bobbed up and down before clearing your voice; gently poking his arm (intentionally) before muttering his name.

toji would pretend not to hear at first, and ask you to repeat until you were practically yelling- only because he liked the sound of his name with your voice.

if honest, he didn’t actually know the answers to half of your questions. like how you didn’t know what the stuff you were asking him about meant anyways. for both of you, it was just an excuse to hear each other’s voices a little longer, and to see each other before your house gets complete.

it’s so obvious to his boss and co-workers that you’re absolutely smitted, like he is with you. it frustrates them when the building process fails to meet the deadline, having to work overtime because of a little work romance.

it doesn’t bother you though. there was nothing wrong with staying at your grandma’s a little longer. and he had no problem ditching his friends to have lunch with you.

yet, when the house does get finished, you felt a sense of loneliness, failing to remember that you can still contact each other outside of work. he becomes gloomy too, but watching you walk around and surveil the interior made him proud to have taken part in making your life better.

you’re about to thank all of them when he pulls you aside and brings out a little flip phone, almost like a bread crumb in his hands. his lockscreen was a low-quality photo (fitting to his ‘old-man’ persona) but 3 figures were you able to make out: two furry friends and one young boy in between.

it takes you some time to realize that the picture isn’t him as a young boy, but rather this child. you glance at him, his face practically sweating bullets and a shaky grin on his lips.

“this probably isn’t the best time to say this but, do you want to go on a date… someday? an actual one this time- i mean. i’ll introduce you to my son, and hopefully we can take things further now.”

[kruegerspillow]

sleeping with simon riley includes...

a bunch of coughing and groaning in the middle of the night (yeah... he needs to stop smoking)

random muttering and mumbling from him/you

nightmares. he will literally jump out of the bed which causes you to be startled sometimes (he offered to sleep on the couch due to his nightmares....)

his hands roaming around your body as if he wants to memorize every part of you (he does)

cuddles of course !!! it doesnt matter if hes the big or small spoon he just needs to be with you.

either of you falling off of the bed, at least once in a while

the blankets being left aside because simon says its gonna be 'too hot' (no, he just wants to be your personal heater lmao)

laying on top of each other. yeah, you might end up sleeping with your head resting against his chest.

HAIR STROKING. will stroke your hair until you fall asleep soundly

sigh... drooling. he drools a bit sorry to break it to you guys

a lot of admiring. he'll admire you as you sleep, its the only view that helps him doze off

FOREHEAD KISSES. either you or him. if he stirs awake he'll just give you a small forehead kiss before holding you closer to him (if thats even possible) and dozing off once more

nuzzling. he loves to nuzzle into the crook of your neck :(

tangled legs. his legs are gonna be intertwined with yours oooor one of his leg is going to be on top of yours.

kruegerspillow © 2024 — reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[zaceouiswriting]

The Master of Fulfillment

Character: Jason Todd (Wayne) x male reader, Dick Grayson (Wayne) x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in DC

Warnings: Smut, degrading, slurs, cuckolding, Master/Slave, choking

Read it with the thought that Dick and Jason aren't adopted brothers but blood brothers, which makes it all the more intense.

It was an odd sight. Jason and I come to this cafe almost every day as his work takes up most of his time, and it's right across the street from his workplace. My work is easy and gives me a lot of time. It mostly means that I'm constantly alone without my loving boyfriend. At this point, I can't even recall seeing him naked for more than five minutes or him bending me over for more than a moment.

The saddest part? I wasn't even mad about it. Because a quicky with him is really... quick. Not only is it dissatisfying, but it also makes me feel a kind of angry resentment. Since the first few months of our relationship, he hasn't taken the time to make me cum just by fucking me like he used to. He promised it would be a short thing, but three years have passed, and nothing has changed.

We've been drifting apart for a while because he just doesn't seem to care anymore. Sometimes I think he's aware of it, but then again, he doesn't change it. That's probably what annoys me the most. For a few months now, I don't even give him a quickie without rolling my eyes in annoyance. He stopped asking about it, which obviously made him unhappy as well. Yet, still no change.

I lost my sex drive a long time ago. Or I thought so. Because the strange sight, which is completely different from any other visit we have made here, makes me feel things I haven't experienced in a long time. A tight-fitting shirt, bulging arms big enough to crush my head if they want to. An obviously well-trained chest and an eight-pack under the cloth. But the most important thing besides his perfectly square face and impeccable haircut? His damn tight pants. With a nice firm butt. But the most cloth hugs, his massive bulge. It looks at least twice as big as Jason's. I could immediately feel jealousy rising in me for the person lucky enough to be the partner of this god.

I can feel my own pants tightening. I had to take my eyes off this man made of pure sex.

Logically it shouldn't be a strange sight to see a cop, not even a handsome one, at a coffee shop, but he was strangely alone. Usually, they are never alone buying coffee or something to eat for all their colleagues.

I've tried to ignore his existence, but every now and then, my eyes would wander to him, his well-built body, and whenever he shifted his stance, I would stare straight at his massive bulge. He's been there a lot longer than he should have been. But who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Just as I was thinking about it and staring at the back of his head, he suddenly turned around with a scowl plastered over his face, but as soon as our eyes met, his face strangely relaxed. But soon, his eyes wandered up and down my seated body. I could only feel like a piece of meat under his gaze. A grin appeared out of nowhere on his devilishly handsome face, showing off his perfect pearly white teeth and, in particular, two sharp upper teeth.

A bright red blush appeared on my face, so apparent that even Jason couldn't miss it. "Are you all right, babe? Are you sick?” he asked worriedly. He even went so far as to stand up, leaning slightly toward me, and to put his rough, warm hand on my forehead to take my temperature.

His loving touch made me sick. "Maybe you should go and splash some cold water in your face? It might help,” he told me softly but firmly. There's something strange in his eyes, but I can't quite put my finger on what. Somehow I feel compelled to do as he told me. But before I could leave - shortly after I got up - he pulled me in a quick, smooth movement, very close to him. He definitely could feel my hard cock on him. But he ignored it. Instead, he kissed me deeply. He even went so far as to stick his tongue in. His love is on full display.

For a second, he felt like old Jason, the high school football captain I fell in love with, so rough and domineering. But as soon as we parted, he shyly looked away. My stomach turns with disgust.

Without saying another word, I walk away from him without looking at him again. But the cop - I daydreamed so much - got a look from me. Why? I have no idea. Surprisingly, he already looks at me with hunger in his dark blue eyes and lets them run over my body again before I finally disappear into the bathroom.

I lean against the closed door, breathing heavily. Why does this man make my heart beat so fast? Why was my body sweating so much? And why can't I answer any of these questions?

For a moment, I was so lost in my own thoughts that I forgot this was an open toilet. Quickly, before someone tries to open it and maybe knocks me over, I move away from the door.

I'll go over to the sink, open the water, and splash it in my face as Jason told me to. But why am I doing what he told me? Maybe it was the tone of his voice… so demanding it felt like old Jason.

I shook my head, knowing better. He's gone soft. Too soft.

I remember Jason standing over me in the locker room after one of his team members fucked me for the first time. Jason was so jealous. He was so deliciously rough. He treated me brutally. He didn't care if I got bruises from his treatment. Once, he even gave me a black eye. I vividly remember cumming hard that night: no one else could make me cum like this.

A strange feeling on my face snapped me out of my head the second time. Glancing slightly up in the mirror, I discover a single frustrated tear. But at that moment, I realized something: I still love this soft idiot.

I need to talk to him to find out what's changed! Just as I turned around, the door to the restrooms suddenly opened, startling me a little. For a second, I think it might be Jason to fulfill a long-forgotten sexual fantasy of his. But when I could see the blue of a police officer's uniform, a certain sadness came over me. However, this feeling only lasted a second before a strange excitement came over me.

Confused as to what to do, I rush to the urinals. I quickly pull my pants open and get my cock out. Nervously I tried to pee, but nothing came out. Even though I could feel my bladder filling up out of nowhere, I couldn't let a drop out.

The intimidating footsteps of the cop only make it worse. I hope he would walk down as far as possible. Best at the other end of the room. I decided to keep my eyes closed and pray; until I could no longer hear his footsteps. Despite all this, he came to stand right next to me.

Suddenly my heart started beating faster again. Frightened, I open my eyes only to glance sideways and see the intimidating statue of this muscular mountain of a man. But his eyes were forward and closed just like mine a second ago.

He deftly undid his fly without looking and fished something out, seeming to have some difficulty with it, commenting with annoyed little noises. The depth of his voice shocked me to my core. I look up for just a moment at his sharp, masculine features. But even from the bottom corner of my eye, I could see beige skin sticking out of the front of his pants.

And when my eyes noticed whatever it was, my mouth went dry. "Fuck!" I exclaimed loudly. Involuntarily I would like to add! It was just a reaction.

Even after I could hear a deep laugh, I couldn't take my eyes off this huge hunk of meat. His cock is thicker than my wrist and even limp as long as Jason's hard cock. Jason isn't small by any measurement, but this cop's cock is on another level.

But nothing could intimidate me like the sudden powerful jet of water that this man let out, completely occluding my bladder. It's so aggressive that I know he's doing it to intimidate me even further. And it's an eternity before he finally shakes off with a deep, low, satisfied groan.

He pulls back his foreskin and waves it to get the last drops out. But even then, he didn't pack it up again. Instead, he stroked it lazily. It scared me. Not because it wasn't damn hot to see this man do something like that, but because he might notice me staring at him.

A quick glance upwards is enough to see that he is looking down at me. The hunger in his eyes is darker now. "So you're a fag?" he asks with a malicious grin. He seems to know exactly what he's doing. Because for some reason, I could feel some kind of lust tightening in my stomach or wherever.

He boldly steps back from the urinal and holds his semi-hard cock in his massive hand, which would take him at least two more to completely enclose his cock. My eyes widened at the realization that this man wants me, not only wants me but might even want to destroy me, considering his... question.

“I-I-“

"Don't be shy," he mused. He comes closer with his feet straight and pushes me further back. "Touch it," he commanded me. Although his voice sounded sweet, I could feel the pressure of authority pressing on me.

Before I know it, I hold out my shaking hand. Soon I'm touching the fat cock head and feeling a wetness on it. The urge to try it rose in me. But I couldn't! I have a boyfriend! That thought, thankfully, brings me back to my senses. I quickly try to withdraw my hand. But before I can do that, something inside me stops my movements for some reason. I look up anxiously and look the officer straight in the eyes. He angrily stares down at me.

"I see you want more, don't you? Greedy little fagot!” His dark, murderous eyes are now paired with an equally sinister laugh that startles me so much I stumble backward. I almost fall to my knees from sheer weakness. "Get on your knees!" he suddenly orders me.

“Wha-“

"I'm not repeating myself!" he growled right in my face.

"I-I can't! I ha-have a boy-boyfriend!” My teeth are chattering from fear.

All he does is mock me. "You mean that guy out there? The one you flinched from when he touched you? Can't he satisfy a whore like you? Is he that pathetic?”

A sudden surge of caution washes over me. Finally free of this moment, I pull my hand away, even though I mentally curse myself for it. "It's not like-"

"You already cheated on him just because I took out my obviously bigger cock. It's only a matter of time how long it will be before you're begging to take it up your little bitch hole!"

He grins down at me so arrogantly that I immediately believe he is the case and then some. I don't seem to be his first victim of lust. That much is clear. But if you look like him, are built like him, and have a cock like him? Who can blame him for using it to his advantage? I would do the same if I were in his place.

A thick, awkward silence falls over us for a long moment. He just stares, seemingly trying to understand me. But then his face suddenly twists into pure disappointment. Tightened, he clicked his tongue dismissively. Right before me, he tucks his monster cock back into his pants and pulls up his fly. He gives me one last dissatisfied look before turning around.

Suddenly a pang of disappointment comes over me. But why? Is it because a man like him wants me? Do I want to please him? Do I want to please him more than being faithful to my loving boyfriend?

Everything goes so fast, and all these thoughts shoot through my head within seconds of him turning around. He only took two heavy steps, and it is impossible not to miss him. Even his footsteps showed a tremendous amount of authority. They are so powerful that I wish he would step on me.

At that moment, my mouth opens: "Stop!" I call after him, out of breath. For a moment, I did not realize that I'd said anything.

Before I know it, my back hits a wall so hard it takes my breath away. It was hard to focus again. But when I finally managed to come back, a broken moan escaped my lips. A massive hand gripped my throat and cut off my windpipe. But I don't care. After all, it's this man. His eyes were even darker than before.

His mouth opens, and he even says something, but the only thing I can focus on is his hand which I wish would beat me red and blue. I've never seen so many veins in a hand or forearm as he does.

From one moment to the next, my ears start ringing as my head flies to the side. For a second, I feel like a star hit me - literally.

"Are you back, bitch?" he asks smugly. He seems to know that everything about him makes me lose focus.

As pathetic as I am right now, I try to talk, but all that comes out is a choked sound. At that moment, I realize that his hand is still around my neck. So I nod submissively.

"Good," he says, still as smug as before, "because now you're going to listen to me carefully, understood?" Again I nod. "We don't have time for all the fun, so I'm going to turn you around, get you ready for a moment, and then fuck you stupid, got it?"

Unable to do anything else, knowing I'll do anything to feel his hand on me and not wanting to disappoint him again, I nod. Still grinning, he takes his hand from my throat. Instead, he cups my chin between his thumb and index finger. Carefully, gently he slaps my face. 

"Good boy," he whispers huskily in my ear.

Never in my life has my cock become as hard as it is at this moment. I squirm under his intense gaze. His callous hands trail down to my chest. So out of fear, I close my eyes, enjoying his full attention, only to be carelessly grabbed and thrown around. I soon find my face crushed against the disgusting white tiles of the bathroom.

He presses close to my back. I can feel his hardening cock poking against it. This man is just too big... in all regards. But he doesn't let that bother him. Instead, he uses the big body size difference to masturbate with my lower back.

His head is so close and yet, so far away that he has to bend down to let his breath tickle the hairs on the back of my neck and the fine hairs on my ears. For a second, I think he's going to kiss me. His lips are this close to my skin. "Are you clean?" he asks suddenly.

Confused by this question, I try to turn my head to look askance at him. Before I can do that, though, he pushes my head back to where he wants it. I fearfully gasp for air. "Yes," I answer him. Hoping he means if I'm healthy.

An intrusive feeling snaps me out of my thoughts as I feel a long finger poking through the crack in my ass. My eyes shoot down in shock. My pants are on the floor, around my ankles. How did he do that? I neither felt nor heard anything. I didn't even feel the cold breeze around my bare legs like I do now!

"And your hole, bitch?" His breathing gets ragged, hopefully with excitement, as mine does.

It feels so personal, too much, if I'm being honest. On the other hand, I'm standing in front of him half-naked, ready to take anything he wants to give me, just like the slut he thinks I am. And I can't even blame him for that. Then that's precisely how I'm behaving in this moment.

"I-I never ga-gave up my special diet," I choke out as his finger circles my tight hole. I realize how much I need a real man to touch me there and use my hole like it's his.

"Hmm..." he hummed contentedly. "What a good boy you are," he muses again, the smug grin evident in his voice.

As he calls me that again, my resolve shatters. My knees give out. Before I can move too much, though, his hands are on my waist. "Don't worry, I've got you," he murmured, "you're not the first whore to go weak in the knees. Although it usually doesn't happen until they find out how long my tongue is."

I'm gasping for air, confused as to what he could mean. But suddenly, his head is gone. Even more confused, I gather all my strength and press my hands against the wall to get my head off it. I can barely move my head, but my eyes immediately take in what is happening. This god of a man crouches behind me, his head level with my butt.

"Nice ass, I'll give you that," he says absently. With his hands, he kneads my perfectly round ass cheeks. A slap ripped a big moan out of my throat. "A perfect jiggle." At this point, he's just mumbling. He smacks my ass a few more times, though.

Until his voice suddenly gets even lower, with which he says a single word after a particularly hard slap on my ass: "Fuck".

Both together lead me to the most humiliating experience that I have ever happened to me in my entire life. With no warning or ability to stop it, I groan loudly.

It would certainly have been less humiliating if it hadn't snapped the cop out of his horny trance.

"Are you really that needy, bitch? Well, then maybe we should start?” 

Of course, that's not a question because only a second later, I feel his wet tongue on my hole. It's not hard for the tip to break through, considering his fingers have already made me pretty loose.

But he quickly pulls out the tip of his tongue just to lick my hole up and down, teasing it with the tip only to give it a big lick again. Honestly, he has driven me crazy within seconds. With my arms flat against the wall and my head banging against it, I let him do as he pleases.

He pays more attention to my needs than Jason has in years. For years he just fucks me until he's done and then leaves. But this cop? A man I've never met before - I might add - really knows what he's doing, like a pro.

I should soon find out what he meant by the comment about his long tongue because everything in his regard seems to be... extraordinary. I even believe that his tongue alone could get into my stomach. Of course, it can't. But he reaches in extremely far and covers my insides with his spit. He even goes as far as to spit deep inside me once or twice. Preparing me to take his monster cock without lube.

The once cool tiles no longer comfort me. The officer's hot, wet tongue gives me pleasure like no one has before. Not even Bryan, who before the officer was the best fucker I've ever had. And the officer still has to give me what I really want. What I desire, since I have noticed him.

But apparently, he won't give it to me without a fight. Because all he does is please me with his powerful tongue.

Soon, however, even the thoughts that, not so long ago, fill me with fear and disappointment in myself for giving myself to another man and the desire to please him.

All I can do now is fixate on the tongue deep in my greedy hole. The bumps on his tongue massaged my sensitive insides. But what really gets me going is the flexibility of his tongue. Suddenly, he rolls his tongue and uses it like an icebreaker to penetrate me even deeper.

For a second, my mind is blank. When I come to, I'm lying flat against the wall, a hand behind my back holding me tighter against it while an arm around my knees keeps me upright. I can feel the arrogant smirk on my butt, but at this point, I know he's right. I might not like it, but he's a sex god who can turn even something as simple as a rim job into a feast of pleasure.

The tingling sensation of his tongue going deep into areas previously reserved for cocks is just too nice. His tongue is obscene, as are the moans he can filter out of me. I'm already on cloud nine… no, wait, cloud eleven. He gets me high just through my lust.

My brain is so slow I don't feel his tongue leave my hole and gape like a fish out of water. It even takes a moment before he realizes he's spitting in, only to have his long fingers push it in deeper. And it takes even longer before I realize he's talking to me.

I slowly take in his words and somehow find the strength to turn my head slightly. I look at him with blurred eyes, the area around his lips shows a slight reddishness, but it's almost imperceptible.

"I don't think I can do it," I murmur almost silently.

"But a really good boy would do that for his man."

“You aren-“

"Do I have to punish you?" His voice suddenly drops again, and his eyes, which gleam with lust, are filled with anger and disappointment.

With new tears forming in my eyes, I shake my head. It puts back a smug smile on his full lips. "Good," he says before he takes my hand and puts it on his crotch.

Why he wants me to undo his fly again is beyond me, and with my shaking hand, it's no easy task anyway. It takes a while before I can even get my hands on it and even longer before I can open it. But the man doesn't care. He's patiently waiting for me to obey his commands like I'm his whore.

He still helps my hand reach into his pants and leans forward again before I can pull him out. So I can only jerk him off a little over his underwear. "I've never seen a fag like you, who is more like a whore than a regular fag and is falling apart so damn easily. You haven't even tasted my...dick." The last word lingered for a while, seductively.

One moment he's praising me, and the next, he's demeaning me, but unfortunately, both kind of turn me on. I've never bothered with either of them before have only done them to my partners, but now with him? With this man? I want to hear it from him, over and over again, both. Maybe it's his soothing, authoritative voice or his body and what he represents.

“I-I-“

"Try not to think too much," he says, still smugly. "I'm going to fuck you now whether you like it... or not. You asked me to do it, so I'll do it, and if I like your sweet little hole, I might make it mine."

A thousand things go through my mind, but mostly Jason, my faithful, loving boyfriend, who's still at the cafe...alone...waiting for me, and I'm here, with another man, no. .. a real man, someone who can give me what I need. "I can-"

Just as I begin to speak, a sudden pressure is applied to my not yet opened wide enough hole. The pain races through my body, but my mind is too busy to react immediately. On the other hand, the man behind me is more than ready. Before I know it, a hand blocks my mouth, and another arm pulls both of my hands behind my back and holds them there, just to be safe, I suppose.

"Now be a good little boy and scream!"

Without a second thought, the officer rammed into me. It overwhelms me. It feels like he's splitting me in half. While at the same time not giving me much time to understand what he's doing. Then, just a moment after ramming as much as he could into me, he pulled back completely. Every sound I want to make gets stuck in my throat. I just couldn't get it out.

I can feel an intense gaze on the back of my head. With his head far away from mine, his deep voice suddenly roared, "I told you to yell for me, you stupid fag!" After saying this, the officer, annoyed at my uncooperative, aims and rams his massive dick back into my hole.

Finally, muffled screams echo through the room, and tears run down the officer's rough, large hand. Almost as soon as those painful screams come from me, I hear a loud moan of satisfaction behind me.

"You're a lot tighter than I thought...Your boyfriend is even more pathetic than I thought...Shit, so fucking tight!"

Even though he's using me like a fucking toy and doesn't seem to care how much pain he's causing me, I admit it's exactly what I need. I might not be able to walk for a few days and perhaps even bleed because the cop suddenly opens my tight hole so wide. But I already know I'll be needing something like this more often. I would prefer it if he never pulled his cock out again.

I'm so far gone after he pushes himself back inside me that my screams soon become bubbling noises.

Almost as if he's waiting for something like this to happen, he removes his hand from my mouth without breaking his rhythmic movements. "Did you try to say something?" he asks smugly. His breathing is even as if this is something normal to him. Remembering his massive, muscular physique and thinking that he's not just a gym rat but an athlete through and through gives me my answer to my unasked question. Somehow it made this situation even more erotic.

"Roem, a ened erom," I tell him. Everything is right in my head, and I tell him I need more. But when I hear my own words, I am deeply embarrassed.

He chuckles darkly, knowing as well as I do that he's already broken me after just a few moments of him fucking me. Suddenly, a strange, unfamiliar glow appears in his eyes. Just as it appears, he forcibly turns my head and pulls it back, arching my back. As he smiles down at me, terror courses through my veins. Whatever's going on in his head, it can't be good.

Suddenly something wet hits my face. Barely able to open one of my eyes, I see that his smile has grown, and a string of spit is hanging out of his mouth. Shocked and disgusted, all I could do was gape at him.

But he seems to take this as an invitation, so he quickly slaps his hand on my cheek and massages his spit into my skin, two fingers even wiping a bit into my mouth.

Unable to comprehend what is happening, I close my mouth around his fingers and lick them like an obedient whore.

“Fuck!“

His hand on my face suddenly pushes my head down while his other arm pulls me back. Thinking he wants to bend me over and press me against the wall, I move as much as possible to help him with my aching body.

But to my utmost shock, he goes even further. Instead of against the wall, he presses my head close to the bottom of the toilet, into which he has just urinated without flushing. I can smell the strong smell. He almost pushed me in. But I can barely get my hands on the toilet to prevent that.

I choke on the disgusting stench and almost throw up. The officer keeps me there even after hearing about it. "You'd do anything to get that cock back, wouldn't you?" he asks menacingly. Even without hearing anything else, I'm split: on the one hand, I would do anything to feel him again. On the other hand, I have my own pride. And I don't like that shit.

So I gather all my strength to draw a line. I cling to the toilet with an effort, undeterred by his powerful attempts to push me back down.

It takes a while, but once I move away from that smell, I grab onto the top of the toilet and turn my head. "Fuck you!" I tell him in a moment of clarity.

"Feisty." He's not even confused by my sudden action, which confuses me more than anything else. "I like it. A tight fucking hole, handsome, and not easy to bend." After that, there's a long pause, but I can see he's about to say something else. "Then come here and see how much punishment you can endure!"

It's the only form of warning before he pulls me flat against his massive chest, lifts me in the air, grabs me in odd places, and twists me with his monster cock inside me. When I finally get a close look at him, he's pinning us against the wall, with both of my legs resting on his left shoulder because of my pants binding them together and staring down into my eyes.

Not long after, I realize that his warning is no idle threat. He starts pounding me like a beast without breaking eye contact. Even though he's the most handsome man I've ever seen, I didn't feel like kissing him like Jason... Jason does. Shit, I'm cheating on my loving boyfriend.

When the man sees something is wrong, he pushes me harder against the wall. "Don't think about that loser. I'm fucking you, not him! Remember this!"

With that, he goes all in and even starts to sweat a bit. But that doesn't last long as all the pressure of the moment finally takes hold of me. My sensitive cock starts moving, and the officer has to hit me only one more time to make me cum again. This time, however, I scream Jason's name loudly.

But deep anger comes over him when he hears Jason's name slip from my lips. He starts to brutally fuck my hole, which makes my head go blank.

When I come to, the officer slumps on top of me, my hole drenched with his cum.

"You c-came inside me?" I ask him, my fear evident in my voice.

"Of course," he says smugly, "your hole is mine now!"

As if to make his point even clearer, he quickly pulls himself out of my sore hole, sets me down on the floor, and kicks me in the back of my knees, causing me to fall on top of her. I look up at him in confusion in my delirium. Before I could ask what he's doing, he opened my mouth slightly with his thumb. Still confused, I just let him do what he wants. But as the saying goes, if you give some people a hand, they take your entire arm.

Before I know it, he's cramming his first five or six inches down my throat, not without my teeth scraping his skin because of the surprise.

Thankfully, when I look up at him in shock, he doesn't look unhappy. More smug than anything. "Yeaaaah...uhh...oh damn! This hole is mine too!” he says firmly, not caring if I want it... or not. He simply decides for me.

At this point, I don't want to mention Jason anymore or think of him for fear of being punished again. "Clean that damn cock up, fagot!" He grins down at me. It makes me weak enough to see past what he just did. So push him back slightly to get a little control. With both hands, I lightly jerk his semi-hard cock, sucking his cock head clean and licking the rest of his monster clean as well.

When I look up again after cleaning him fully and dropping his cock, I see a happy glow in his eyes.

“Put it back in!“ 

Without further inquiry, I did as I was told, taking his now limp cock - still massive - and shoving it back into his pants, pulling his underwear over them, and pulling his fly back up. I place my hands on his large thighs for a second longer to catch my breath.

As I breathe, one of his large hands caresses me almost lovingly. His smugness is now completely gone. "Don't cry. Isn't it as bad as you might think," he told me cryptically. "Open your mouth."

This time I'm more reserved and only stare at him. He quickly realizes I won't do what he told me to do. He rolled his eyes, grabbed the back of my head, and pulled my hair. For a second, it hurt so bad that I opened my mouth involuntarily. He quickly stuck two fingers in and put something in my mouth.

I try to bite him, but he pulls his fingers out fast enough. As I glare at him, his smug smile is back. "Don't worry," he waved dismissively, "It's just a peppermint." Still, after telling me that, he gets dangerously close to me again. His smug grin turns predatory again. "You don't want your useless little friend smelling a real man on your breath, do you?"

His words hit all the right spots. He knows my guilt and bathes in it like a psychopath.

I push myself away from him, and instead, I crash into the tiled wall, not hard enough to hurt myself, but my dignity was injured nonetheless.

"Next time, I don't want to feel teeth on my cock, got it... bitch?"

He doesn't wait for an answer before going to the sink, washing his hands, and exiting the toilet without a backward glance.

He left me here...alone, with my face in my hands. Finally, the realization of what I've done comes into its own. How could I do that? Jason loves me, and I-I love him too. This will destroy him!

Though sadness overwhelms me, I somehow stand up. To do this, though, I put my hands on the side of the urinal to use as leverage, as my legs were more jelly than anything. Standing isn't any better, my whole back hurts like hell, and my ass is on fire. Somehow, however, I manage to get back to the sink.

When I see my reflection in the mirror, I'm not shocked to see myself completely disheveled. After all, my whole body just got destroyed by this arrogant fucking cop so annoyingly smug... I want to... fucking punch him in the face!

As my anger mounts, I realize it's my fault. A desperate sigh escapes my lips. I activated the water, splashed more water on my face, and cleaned up as best I could in a cafe toilet.

I could remove almost all the accumulated visible sweat and even save my hair to a certain extent. Only the redness on my face and slightly swollen eyes still told me something had happened.

I wait another minute, just hoping I don't seem too suspicious. When I'm happy enough with how I look, I walk to the toilet door and open it with a trembling hand to confront the man I love and just betrayed.

Extra:

Jason is happily sitting at our table while doing something on his phone. When I walk towards him or limp, he thankfully doesn't sense my presence until I've reached him and already sat down again.

"Are you all right again?"

Why is he ignoring my obviously different appearance? I look all messed up, and he doesn't react at all! Somehow it makes me angry. Is he even looking at me?

Suddenly he focuses on one point. As my gaze wanders to this point, terror fills my veins; A fucking semen stain, already crusted. But Jason just pulls out a tissue, looks around, and pulls my shirt up slightly to carefully clean my stomach. I can only sit there in horror.

“I-I can ex-explain I-„

Jason gives me a bright smile and just shakes his head. Which immediately silences me.

I can only wait until he's ready to talk and embarrassedly enjoy the attention he's giving me. I haven't felt this good in years! Even if the overshadowing feelings of guilt are getting stronger.

Even after he let my shirt drop, he's still smiling.

“I really need to tell-“

"Jason!" a sudden voice calls out to my boyfriend. One that I know only too well because a few minutes ago, the voice humiliated me and, at the same time, made me feel like a worthy sexual partner.

As I feel the blood drain from my face, I can only watch in horror as the same cop comes to our table, ruffles Jason's hair like he's done it a million times, and sits beside me, putting his arm too close for comfort.

He grins at me, making it painfully clear that something has happened between us.

"How do you know each other?"

With his still smug smirk, the cop switched between Jason and me before focusing on my boyfriend. "He's my little brother. I still can't believe he never told you about me. After all, we hang out together all the time!”

As soon as the words that his dirty mouth uttered registered in my brain, I almost fainted.

“Bro-Brother?“ I ask both men for clarification.

“Yeah,“ Jason admitted in a lowered voice.

Again the cop looks back and forth between Jason and me and can obviously sense the awkward atmosphere around us increasing as best I can feel it.

"Well, nice to finally meet the 'perfect guy' as Jason always flaunts you to me. But I have to go,” he tells us loudly, only for him to lean against me. "Remember, I like you tight," he whispers in my ear while his hand presses softly against my throat again.

But the moment breaks just as quickly as it has come. Jason's brother gets up and walks away, leaving me speechless.

"We can talk about this in the car," Jason says suddenly.

Tears well up in my eyes in a whirlwind of emotions. I don't want to let them fall in public, so I plainly nod. Oddly enough, Jason takes my hand and lovingly draws circles on the back.

But I'm far gone in my head. I now fully realize the gravity of what I've done. Maybe he could have forgiven me for cheating on him if it was some random guy, but his brother?

With a heavy stomach - that almost makes me throw up at our favorite coffee shop - Jason leads me straight to his car. He carefully helps me into the passenger seat and brushes a few strands of hair out of my face. Out of nowhere, he plants a nice, long kiss on my forehead.

I know, Jason! He's not so stupid that he didn't recognize the situation. So why is he still so loving?

It doesn't look like I'll be getting an answer to my silent question any time soon. Because as he gets into the car, he starts it and drives off. I have never experienced such silence, heavy and suffocating.

“I met Bryan again over two years ago.“

When he suddenly starts speaking, I jump a little. Maybe even a high-pitched squeak came out of my throat.

Jason doesn't even give me a sideways glance. He just starts talking again. "By that point, I could already sense that you were no longer sexually happy with me. I asked him if we could have a beer in the evening, and when we met, I asked him how he could keep you happy for so long. He was uncomfortable talking about it because he is actually married now after getting his girlfriend pregnant. But I got it out of him, and...let's just say it wasn't what I wanted to hear."

If someone had told me that my first ex could tear my whole world apart, even if we parted on good terms or as I thought it was on good terms, I wouldn't have believed it. But here I am, fighting against the only guy stupid enough to tell anyone's boyfriend stuff like that.

I gently place my hand on Jason's leg and try to get him to look at me so I can explain, but he doesn't react.

"I always thought I could be the guy you want and need. Maybe I'm the guy you want but not the guy you need. I felt insecure before speaking to Bryan because our sex life had already dwindled, but from what he told me, I felt... inadequate. And how could I not? His cock is huge... he showed me a picture. But the worst? That he could be something I can never be. A master."

My cheeks burn with embarrassment. Jason and I, of course, talked about our preferences. But I never mentioned my greatest. Yes, in the beginning, Jason was a dominant male, but around the same time, I realized it was just a facade. But I was willing to do anything to be happy with him.

“But Jason, I love you and what I did is not-“

"For once in your life, can you shut up?" He yells, gazing into my eyes angrily. I wanted to say something, and he could see that. "I set you up!"

“W-What?“

"I set you up with my brother," he finally admits. "He stopped by two weeks ago when you weren't there. I've been thinking about breaking up with you to give you a chance to find someone you need. All my ex-boyfriends have cheated on me with my brother at some point. He always told me beforehand. But this time? After he reminded me of the love you and I share? I-I asked him to be the one to give you what you need.”

"I don't understand." I'm breathless. I couldn't breathe! What's wrong with me?"

Jason doesn't seem to be doing any better, however. "I asked him to wear the most tight-fitting uniform he has, knowing he would draw your attention. Afterward, he told me that if we both had healthy sex lives, you would never have considered his advances. But he could tell you were starving for brutal sex.” 

It must be difficult for him to admit his deepest worries. Because now I'm just someone who chose his brother over him.

“He's actually in to make this into something regular. And I have already agreed.”

"W-What? Don't I have a say in that too?” I ask him perplexed.

"I'm your boyfriend! That is never going to change! But I can't dominate you as much as you need to. It's the other way around... actually. I want you..."

His last words hang in the air like a lifeline. Yet I cannot really comprehend what he is revealing. A plot to cheat on him, but not to cheat him, but what for? Strengthen our relationship? Or getting me also into a relationship with his brother?

“What does all of this mean, Jason?“

He took a deep breath and took my hand into his again. He looks straight into my confused eyes. "My brother will be your only lover. And I want you to be dominant in bed with me."

I'm stunned, and it will probably take me a moment to really understand what he's saying. This is why we continue driving in silence until we arrive in the underground car park of our apartment building and come to a stop. Where everything suddenly hits me like a rock.

“Jason?“

“Yes, my love?“

“Are you a cuckold?“

It seems I hit the hammer on the head because his frozen reaction, unable to meet my gaze, speaks volumes.

"So you want to watch me get utterly destroyed by your own brother?" The question hangs heavily in the air.

“I-I don’t-I-“

"It sounds really... hot. I can imagine him fucking me silly while you stare at me with jealousy, and my face is contorted with ecstasy... I can imagine us doing that.”

I must have shocked Jason to the core because he fell silent. But he still holds my hand tightly in his. However, that didn't stand with me. I aggressively pull my hand out, stunning him even more.

Without saying a word, I get out of the car, walk around it and yank open his car door. He looks at me so perplexed that I want to cuddle with him and apologize.

“Get out!“ I order him.

He looks at me with wide eyes, a kind of pleasure in them, still trying to understand what I'm doing.

"Eyes down and follow me. You don't touch or look at me, understand?” Jason nods submissively. Grinning, I cup his face in my hands and give him a small kiss on his lips. Only to slap him in the face the next second with a cold expression on his face. He shudders under my gaze and quickly lowers his eyes.

I have a sinking feeling that this agreement will not go as planned. But for now, I'll try to make Jason happy.

[Masterlist]

[zapreportsblog]

I want to know if you can do a Garrett-x-male reader. Where the reader is a Naiad (freshwater nymph) that was founded and adopted by the Cullens as their adopted son/brother. People say that he is the kindest and most beautiful/attractive out of his siblings, and people are always surprised that he does not have a spouse or a lover, yet even his family says the same thing, to which he just replies that it's just not the right time. But in reality, he is afraid of falling in love because his last relationships either ended with the guy he loved dying or breaking his heart. So he tries to keep his distance from love. One day, when Garrett and his covenant came to the Cullen's residence, the vampire immediately set his eyes on the reader, knowing that he was his mate and falling head over heels for him. But each time he gets close to him, the reader always pushes back. After a long while, the reader breaks down, asking Garrett why he keeps pursuing him. The vampire replies about how he fell in love with him. The reader tells him that he's just going to go away like the others, but Garrett holds him, telling him he promised to stay with him to leave his side, making the reader fall in love with him. (Sorry for it being long)

❝afraid of love❞

✭ pairing : garrett x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (M/n) is the recent adopted member of the Olympic Clan, he isn’t a vampire like the other members but instead a Naiad - or in other words a fresh water nymph. He was rescued by Doctor Carlilsle when he was found injured by some fisher men and the rest is history.

✭ twilight masterlist

In the quiet town of Forks, nestled amid the lush forests of Washington, there lived a rather unique family. Carlisle Cullen, a compassionate and knowledgeable doctor, had taken it upon himself to care for those in need. This included not only humans but also some rather extraordinary individuals. Among them was (M/n), a young male naiad, a freshwater nymph.

Years ago, when (M/n) was but a vulnerable and injured young boy, he had been discovered by Carlisle after a group of reckless fishermen had harmed him. Carlisle, with his unwavering commitment to helping those in pain, took (M/n) under his wing and raised him alongside the other remarkable children he had adopted.

The Cullen family was unlike any other in Forks, a small town where people knew each other's names and secrets. Alongside (M/n), Carlisle had adopted Edward, Jasper, Alice, Emmett, and Rosalie, each unique in their own way.

However, (M/n) stood out among his siblings, not because of his origins as a naiad, but because of his incredible kindness and willingness to engage with the humans of Forks. When he first started attending Forks High School, his fellow students were immediately struck by his gentle and sweet nature. The nickname "Forks Sweet Boy" quickly spread through the school, a testament to his reputation.

(M/n) didn't mind the nickname at all. In fact, he embraced it with a warm smile. He would often be seen chatting with classmates, offering a helping hand, or simply listening to their concerns. He had a way of making everyone feel heard and valued, a true gift that endeared him to the hearts of the townspeople.

His siblings admired (M/n)'s ability to connect with humans so effortlessly. Edward, with his telepathic abilities, often marveled at the pure intentions he sensed in his brother. Jasper, an empath, felt a sense of calm and contentment whenever he was near (M/n). Alice considered him a genuine friend and confidant. Emmett and Rosalie, though initially skeptical of having a naiad in the family, had come to love (M/n) as their own.

As the Cullen family lived their peaceful and quiet life in Forks, (M/n) continued to be the embodiment of kindness and compassion. His presence, like a cool stream in a tranquil forest, brought solace and harmony to those who had the privilege of knowing him.

Forks High School buzzed with the typical energy of a school day. In the bustling cafeteria, (M/n) found himself sitting at a table surrounded by a group of students, including the new girl, Bella Swan. He was known for his friendly and welcoming nature, always eager to make newcomers feel at ease.

As he chatted with Bella, he offered her a warm smile. "So, Bella, if you ever need help navigating this place or have any questions, just let me know. I'm here to make your transition smoother."

Bella looked genuinely grateful for his offer, appreciating the kindness radiating from the boy with bright eyes and a warm demeanor. "Thank you, (M/n). That's really sweet of you."

The other students at the table couldn't believe their eyes. (M/n) was a Cullen, part of the mysterious and enigmatic family that had captured the town's curiosity for years. They had expected him to be sitting with his siblings, not mingling with regular students.

Jessica, who had been trying to catch (M/n)'s attention, decided to take her shot. She leaned in closer, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. "You know, (M/n), you're even more attractive than your siblings. I bet your partner is very lucky."

(M/n), however, seemed oblivious to her advances. He chuckled politely. "Oh, I don't have a partner."

The revelation raised eyebrows and sparked whispers among the students, all curious about (M/n)'s relationship status. They couldn't fathom why someone so kind and attractive would be unattached.

With a serene smile, (M/n) deflected the curiosity. "It's just not the right time for me."

Just as the atmosphere at the table was growing more curious and perplexed, Edward, with his usual air of authority, approached the group. His expression was stern, his eyes locking onto (M/n).

"(M/n)," he said stiffly, "Carlisle called. We're leaving school early. He needs us all at home."

(M/n) nodded, his friendly demeanor momentarily replaced by seriousness. "Of course, Edward. Let's go."

As (M/n) rose from the table, Bella, the only one who didn't question his actions, offered him a supportive smile. She could sense there was more to (M/n) than met the eye, and she was intrigued.

The rest of the students watched in bewilderment as (M/n) and Edward along with the rest of the siblings left the cafeteria together, leaving behind a sense of mystery and a flurry of unanswered questions.

The Cullen family arrived home, their footsteps echoing through the spacious house. The atmosphere was tinged with curiosity as they all caught a whiff of a foreign vampire's scent in their home.

Carlisle and Esme were waiting in the grand living room, engaged in conversation with a tall, dark-haired vampire named Garrett. The Cullens entered the room, their eyes immediately drawn to the mysterious guest.

Carlisle, ever the gracious host, stepped forward and began introductions. "Everyone, this is Garrett. He's an old friend of mine. I'm sorry I pulled you all out of classes early, but I didn't want you to be alarmed by his scent and mistake him for a foreign vampire coming into Forks."

The Cullens nodded in understanding, their expressions relaxing as they realized the situation. However, (M/n) remained in the background, observing the newcomer with keen interest.

As Garrett and Carlisle continued their conversation with the rest of the family, (M/n) watched from afar. There was something about Garrett that piqued (M/n)'s curiosity. Their eyes met across the room, and in that instant, Garrett felt a powerful, inexplicable pull.

Unable to resist the magnetic force drawing him, Garrett excused himself from the group and approached (M/n) with a charming smile. "I know we've been introduced, but I wanted to say hello personally. My name is Garrett."

(M/n) smiled back, the corners of their eyes crinkling with warmth. "Nice to meet you, Garrett."

In a gesture of old-world chivalry, Garrett bent gracefully and kissed the back of (M/n)'s hand. The contact sent a shiver down (M/n)'s spine, and they couldn't deny the sudden connection that had formed between them.

The rest of the Cullen family watched with curiosity as the two exchanged pleasantries, unaware of the deeper connection that had instantly sparked between (M/n) and Garrett.

Garrett had been persistent in his efforts to spend more time with (M/n). He invited him on walks through the lush forest, took him to scenic spots, and even suggested romantic dinners. Yet, no matter how much effort Garrett put into pursuing (M/n), there remained an emotional distance between them.

One day, after another attempt to engage in conversation with (M/n) ended with (M/n) excusing himself, Garrett decided it was time to confront the issue. He cornered (M/n) in the garden, his expression a mix of concern and determination.

"(M/n)," Garrett began gently, "I've noticed that you've been keeping your distance from me, and I can't help but wonder why."

(M/n) hesitated for a moment before finally opening up, their voice laced with vulnerability. "Garrett, I've seen your efforts, and I want you to know that it's not because I don't appreciate them. It's just that... I can't return your feelings."

Garrett's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why not? What's holding you back?"

(M/n) took a deep breath, bracing themselves to share a painful part of their past. "Before I came to live with Carlisle, I was a naiad, a freshwater nymph, living out in the open sea. I met someone, another of my kind, and we fell in love. But one day, I had to watch as he was killed by fishermen. It was a brutal and heart-wrenching experience, and ever since then, I've been afraid to fall in love again, afraid of losing someone I care about."

Garrett's heart ached as he listened to (M/n)'s story, understanding the deep pain and fear that lingered within them. Without hesitation, he pulled (M/n) into a comforting embrace. "(M/n), I can't promise to be there forever, but I can promise that I'll cherish every moment we have together. I'll make every moment special, and I'll do my best to show you that love can also bring joy and happiness."

Tears welled up in (M/n)'s eyes as Garrett's words washed over them. They buried their face in his chest, allowing themselves to release the pent-up emotions they had been holding back for so long. Garrett held them close, offering silent support and understanding.

As (M/n) finally looked up at Garrett, their eyes met, and in that moment, all the unspoken feelings they had kept at bay surged forward. Garrett leaned in, capturing (M/n)'s lips in a tender and passionate kiss. It was a promise of love, a vow to cherish each other, and a declaration that, despite the pain of the past, their hearts were ready to embrace a new beginning.

[rxmye]

" 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐂𝐊 — a confident athlete who turns into pathetic putty at the thought of you . . .

nsfw / sixteen + content / smut / gender neutral reader / yandere content / sub!yandere / masturbation / pervert yandere (he literally breaks into the locker room for your shit) / olfactophilia/osmolagnia (scent/smell kink) / dacryphilia (kink for crying) / breath play / yandere oc x reader

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: haven't wrote smut in awhile, so im a bit rusty . . .

Lucas dangled the keys in his hands, a grin playing on his face as he walked towards the locker room—using the key to unlock the door—it was pretty easy grabbing the keys from the janitor's room, not that this school was particularly secure with their locks. It would be pretty easy breaking in, if he tried hard enough . . 

Lucas scanned the area, looking through each locker trying to find which one was yours . . he had your lock combination memorized, though he did get a little help from a friend in order to figure it out.

His hands reached for the clothes that you had left in your locker, lifting it up to his face, eyes going half lidded as he inhaled your intoxicating scent, he felt his face growing warm and his body growing weak. Lucas leaned down onto the lockers for support, almost losing balance as he slid down onto the floor.

Lucas pressed the flimsy piece of clothing further onto his face, engulfing himself in your smell—so much so that he could almost taste you—all the while his other hand travelled downwards, clumsily unbuckling his pants in a hurry . . hasty movements contradicted his rational mind, not bothering to care if he'd get caught.

He slid his pants down, just enough to reveal his semi-hard cock—a soft whine escaped him at the feeling of the cold air—his free hand now teasing his tip, as he relaxed his body, closing his eyes shut . .—imagining how disgusted you'd be seeing him in this pitiful state— . . that really turned him on, he cussed under his breath at how pitiful and pathetic his thoughts were . .

Lucas wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, slowly moving his hand up and down—his vision growing hazy—as he let out breathy sighs of pleasure—whines growing louder when he moved his hand faster.

Lucas stuffed the clothing he took, and pushed it into his mouth—drool escaped the corners of his mouth—blocking his ability make a sound, as he moved his hand faster around his cock—little tear droplets stinging his eyes, as he felt his legs shake slightly at the sheer pleasure—he used his now free hand to pinch his nose, closing his only source of air . . .

All he could taste was you, the clothing taking away all the moisture in his mouth, as tears begin to escape his eyes, saliva escaping the corners of his mouth, dripping onto his clothing—his legs began to convulse—his back arching slightly, as he finally came, all over the floor . . .

Lucas spat out the fabric, "fuck", the bell rang . . How is he gonna clean up this mess fast enough? . .

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@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[starboye]

imagine loser!simon with hypersexual!reader, it's to much for that man to handle, as much as he wants to fuck you all the time you're just to much for him, you ride him dry all the time and damn when he tries to take a break you give him those cute begging puppy eyes and he's right back down

but sometimes you can be rather... wild with your urges, on several occasions price has caught you both getting it on (his words not mine) in the storage room and every time he has to lecture you both about work place decency but guess who cant even think right now because your jerking him off under the table, if you guessed simon you would be right

watching how he has to bite down on his knuckles to stay quiet and answer price at the same time as you tease his tip and edge him so much, by the end of the lecturing he's just nodding his head to whatever price was talking about to get out of the room quicker

once he's out of that office he's taking you to his room and begging you to ride him, you teasing him about what price was just talking about and how you could both get in trouble but at this point he just wants to cum and he knows you want it too

(wait i kinda like this pair up, might have to dive deeper)

[ofourlee]

megumi x reader

principle 1: date a guy with glasses so you can straighten them after a makeout session!

your lips pull away from his, and for a second, the only sound is the shared, uneven breaths between you.

megumi’s glasses are completely askew, sitting crooked on his nose, one side pressed higher against his cheek while the other hangs low.

the lenses are fogged, blurring the warmth in his eyes that still linger on your face.

a laugh bubbles up from you, soft and a little breathless, as you reach up to straighten them.

your fingertips brush his skin, delicate as you adjust the frames back into place.

you nudge them up the bridge of his nose, and he stays still, letting you take your time like it’s a part of the intimacy, the way you touch him even in these small moments.

��there,” you murmur, inspecting your work, thumb tracing along the edge of the frame. “better?”

megumi blinks, the world coming back into focus, and gives you that familiar, lopsided grin, the one that always makes your heart skip.

“much better,” he replies, his voice low and soft, still thick with the closeness you just shared.

his hand slips to your waist, pulling you in again, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you teasingly push his glasses up one more time for good measure.

“just making sure,” you say, but before you can say more, his lips are on yours again, and this time, the glasses stay perfectly in place.