yanderewritingdump

[yanderewritingdump]

Gaz being Gaz

[yanderewritingdump]

yandere church boy x gn reader smut ;; semi public/risky, sacrilege, religious imagery mentions (takes place in a church broom closet during service), unintentional edging

it was a miracle the two of you hadn't gotten caught yet. how many times have you ended up like this just this week alone?

despite abraham's attempts to keep you quiet, clasping his hands around your mouth and keeping his own whiny moans just soft enough that only you could hear them, he just couldn't keep himself from ramming into you. every thrust was so hard that it rattled the door you were pressed up against — anyone in the hall outside of the closet would easily figure out what was going on inside.

"you feel so good," abe whimpered in your ear, "s-so soft— oh, god..."

your breath hitched when he pulled you backwards and thrusted into you harder. thank god the sound of the choir picked up just then — abe's hands could do little to muffle your cries. he was way too deep, it felt like he was in your stomach at this angle! but your pushing at his hips did nothing to stop him from fucking into you even harder.

so many people, so nearby, just a few meters down the hall. the thought of getting caught fluttered through your mind. what would they think of of you, getting fucked by the pastor's boy when *** was surely watching?

abe's incoherent whimpering interrupted your thoughts. he was trying to say something to you, and though the words were unclear, you knew exactly what he was trying to say.

so you expected it when his thrusts came to a disappointing stop, his hands slipping from your mouth to grasp and plant your hips against his own. you felt his cock twitching in you, just as desperate for release as you were, despite abe's unwillingness to let himself have it.

you let out a whine of protest as he stammered out his apologies, planting messy kisses along your neck and shoulder. you knew he wouldn't leave you unsatisfied, but... how many times would he do this before you actually got to cum?

luckily, you didn't have time to wonder. within moments of stopping, abe was pulling you back against him and moving his hips again, the feeling of him fucking you again while you were already so sensitive driving thought from your mind.

[yanderewritingdump]

All he wants to do is have a cute little home with you.

MDNI, delusional male yandere, implied kidnapping, breeding kink/unprotected sex, reader is called a housewife once

He wants you. Has to have you. He needs to be surrounded by you all the time. (Reality and fantasy are starting to blur in his mind with how often he's thinking of you and all the time he's working to make money for you and keep those homewreckers away.)

Visions of you hanging pictures on his walls, smiling and laughing as you make his home yours haunt him. He imagines he sees you curled up under his covers when he comes home too late and too tired. (He knows you tried to wait up for him. He's sorry he was working so late, but you understand he wants to make a good life for his pretty housewife.) He knows exactly how he'd make your coffee for you in the morning after waking up wrapped around you.

He buys the same detergent as you, just so he can imagine that you washed his clothes and his sheets. (Your ironing skills are awful, but he appreciates that you tried. Even if you ironed and starched wrinkles into his button-ups.)

Soon he'll have enough money tucked away to buy that pretty little cottage that he saw you cooing over with your friends outright. (He knows how loud you get when he ties you up. The walls are nice and thick, and the neighbors are too far away to hear anyway.)

He likes the place too. He honestly likes whatever you like. The sitting area outside is nice, and his mind wanders to sitting in front of a crackling fire with you in his lap as you listen to the frogs and the cicadas serenade you. (He loves the way your head nestles into the crook of his shoulder and the way your waist and thighs feel in his hands as he keeps you secured. You promised you weren't sleepy, but he knows from the way your breath is puffing against his neck that you're out cold. He wants to stay like this a little longer, and then he'll carry you to bed.)

The kitchen is a little outdated. He thinks it might be a fun project to redo it himself. Especially if he can get your opinions. (You love watching him make your house into a home. He loves that the counters are the perfect height for him to bend you over and yank his too big shirt up over your ass.)

He doesn't know if you want kids, but he thinks you'd be a good parent if you do. It might be nice to raise a family with you. (He doesn't want to share you with anyone, not even his own brat, even if it would be another thing that tied you to him forever. But how could he deny you when you begged him so sweetly to put a baby in you? He loves the way your legs lock tight around him so he couldn't pull out even if he wanted to. He never wants to.)

[yanderewritingdump]

Something keeps visiting you in your dreams.

MDNI, AFAB/fem reader, pet names, non-human partner, dub-con, threats of kidnapping

As always, I'm flying by the seat of my pants, but I think this one might turn into one that has more than one LI if I keep on with it. It's more high fantasy based than modern day. Tell me what you think!

You were aware of the grip he has on your hips, fingertips digging in to drag you back into him. In the pitch black, it’s hard to tell if you’ve been blindfolded or if all the light in the room is gone. The first few times, you had brushed it off as a strange dream from too much time on your own, but you knew that it was something more than that now.

His body gave off no heat as it curled against your back, firm in a way that human skin just isn’t against yours. It felt like pressing against your desk or the walls instead of another living being. Your hands reached out -you don’t know if you mean to push him away or just to touch him-, but he grabbed your wrists, holding them firmly against your chest.

“I thought I told you couldn’t touch after that stunt you pulled last time,” he sighed, cool breath puffing on the back of your neck. His voice was different this time, no longer the gruff, low voice he had presented you with previously, but something smoother with an accent that made you think of academia.

You pushed against his hold, at least trying to keep his hand away from your breast. Logically, you knew that it would do you no good with how much stronger he was than you. “I thought I told you to stay away from me,” you hissed back, kicking at the leg that that was tucked against yours. Argos took the opportunity to worm his leg between yours instead of at least feigning injury.

He really did your pride no favors.

His face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “I can’t stay away from you. You know that, songbird,” he cooed.  You tried to squirm away as he inhaled deeply despite knowing it was futile. You had to put up at least a token fight now that you knew he was more than something your mind conjured up. With your wrist pressed against your chest, his leg between yours, and one of his hands still free, you were effectively pinned against him. “I know you didn’t mean it anyway.” His free hand wrapped around your hip, urging you to rock against his thigh as his blunt nails dug into your skin. You tried to remain stiff against him, but Argos would not be denied.

“Do you know what people would do to me if someone found out you’ve been visiting me?” you hissed, trying to ignore the insistent press of his firm, slender thigh between your own.

His grip tightened to something just shy of painful as he pulled you tightly against him, and you could feel him bare his teeth against your shoulder. “I would destroy anyone who was a threat to you.” His normally soft, even voice was a low, deadly growl that sent shivers down your spine. There was a moment of disorientation in the dark as you found yourself flat on your back, wrists pinned above your head and legs draped over his thigh as he hovered above you. “You know I would do anything for you. I’d give you the king’s head on a silver platter. I’d destroy armies. I’d burn the world down. Just don’t ask me to leave you alone.”

His mouth was on yours before you could make a proper retort, as demanding as the man himself as his tongue wormed its way into your mouth. You bit it, trying to ignore the way it made him groan and the strangely sweet taste of his saliva. His body weight pressed down on you, and you could feel every inch of his skin pressed against yours. Even with such intimate contact, his body still stayed cool. Argos smeared kisses down your cheek and jaw to your throat, nudging your head up with his to get a better angle.

You worried he would leave a mark on your throat like he had on your thighs and hips before. “Argos,” you started in an angry, warning tone, but he cut you off.

“Don’t tell me to stop, songbird,” he panted. “Let me taste you, let me hear you sing for me. It’s been so long.” He sounded desperate in a way that you had never heard, boarding on whiny as the hand not holding your wrists kneaded your thigh. “Wrap your pretty legs around my head, and let me hear you,” Argos begged. He was still panting against your throat when his tongue stretched and stretched and stretched until it was wrapping around your nipple.

Against your will, you were arching into the touch, letting his grip on your thigh urge your legs open. “Argos,” you tried again, but your voice betrayed you as his fingertips rubbed softly high on the inside of your thigh and his textured tongue played with your nipple. Both of you knew that you would give into him. He knew your body too well, knew how lonely you could get in this remote place with only the company stationed and the maintenance staff who limited their interactions with you for various reasons. He knew that you craved these interactions even if you couldn’t see him or touch him back.

Argos seemed even more desperate than you for these moments. Especially with how he groaned when his finger dipped further down between your thighs, almost shy and hesitant in a way he never was before. His teeth scraped lightly against you, sending a shiver up your spine as you bit back a noise.

You were angry with him. Upset that he was endangering you. Your life depended on keeping a low profile and staying on people's good sides, and here he was using forbidden magic to show up in your dreams to what? Feed on you? Use you?

But he sounded so scared of your rejection. Desperate for you in a way you hadn't seen him before as his fingertips stroked soft circles on to your clit and his tongue worked against your skin. It was either him or the way his low groan vibrated against you that made you arch into his touch against your better judgement.

You might have already been damned. It was pointless not to enjoy it then.

Taking that as a sign, he sighed in relief, fingers working against you with just the right pressure and speed. He panted against your skin, whispering your name softly as he seemed to work himself into a frenzy with you, and you almost didn't notice when his hand let go of yours. You wouldn't have if his breath was still puffing against you.

He seemed to be holding himself up above you. It was like he was watching you in the pitch black, even with his tongue still on you. You clenched at the bedding to keep yourself from reaching up to find out, and he rewarded you by sinking two long fingers into you, a rough noise leaving him as you clenched around him.

"I want to really feel you. This isn't enough," he muttered as your thighs moved restlessly against his. His fingers seemed much longer than a human man's as they curled to press against something delicious in you. "You feel so good against me. You taste so good. This isn’t enough anymore."

You were too focused on chasing his fingers and your orgasm to really pay attention to what he was saying. Your eyes were scrunched shut as you rocked into him as best as you could on your side with one of his thighs pressed against the inside of your knees. Meaningless words and pleas were starting to flow out of you as you lost yourself to the feeling, and he rewarded you by giving you what you wanted and moving his fingers faster and firmer against you and inside you. "Fuck, you sound so pretty, songbird. I want to make you sound like this all the time. Think you could sing for me like this in the pretty cage I'm making for you?" His mouth was on your neck, pressing soft, sucking kissed into your skin as he whispered to you. "I'll take such good care of you. You'll never have to worry about anything."

Your stomach clenched, thighs quivering as you threw back your head. Memories of how he'd already had you mixed with buried fantasies, your thighs over his slim shoulders as you rode his textured tongue or tied to the bed as he worshiped every inch of your body with his lips and fingers flashed through your mind. Just you and him intertwined forever. A noise you'd never heard yourself make left you as you let the orgasm roll through you, crashing over you in seemingly never-ending waves as he kept his pace even and unaffected despite how the thigh your legs were wrapped around trembled.

[yanderewritingdump]

Your shy neighbor definitely knows you heard him through those thin walls. (Part 1)

MDNI, no pronouns used but implied female reader, no smut this chapter but Reg is thirsty. Mention of a mouse.

I've got no clue where I'm going with this tbh.

Reg knows you heard him. Every time he sees you now your face flushes such a pretty color and you can't manage to look him in the eye when you greet him the handful of times you've crossed paths in the past week.

He'd feel embarrassed about it, but the way you were eyeing him in the rarely working elevator door's reflection makes him want to do it again. He’d make sure that you got to hear your name loud and clear while he got off. He especially likes the way your eyes linger on his hips and thighs. He wasn’t the most muscular man by any means, but he knew he was strong enough to manhandle you and fuck you any way you asked.

And he wanted you to ask.

Some part of him pondered on the how it was kind of messed up that he found it harder to say anything to you than have you listen to him through the wall while he came, but he was kind of messed up. That was the only way he could explain how he needed to find a reason to be outside of his apartment to look at you every time it sounded like you were about to leave yours. He was starting to wonder about putting some sort of plant out in front of his door just to have one more reason to be out there. If he grew flowers, would you make a comment to him and tell him how pretty they were?

Reg watched you sneak glances at him in the doors’ reflection two more times. He was too mesmerized by the smell of your perfume and soap swirling around him to be subtle about how he was looking at you. He wanted to cup your ass as perfectly as your dark pants. He wanted to see how pretty your new lipstick looked when it was smeared from his kisses. What would your carefully applied makeup look like after he buried his face between your thighs until you pushed him away? He might frame the stained bedding just so he could look at it and think about the feeling of your thighs pressed against his ears and how you taste. He wanted you, in his life, in his arms, in his bed. He wanted you like he wanted his next breath.

It was only once the elevator dinged for your floor that he noticed your flushed face pointedly turned away and caught sight of his dark, intense look. His long, disheveled hair and the sleepless, sunken look of his eyes made him look more threatening than inviting. Especially with the way he was gripping the railing on either side of his hips hard enough to make his knuckles blanch and his vein to pop. At least the thick fabric of his jeans and rumpled shirt lessened how obvious his growing arousal was.

It was not a picture that made him look safe. Or sane.

He was cursing himself as you hurried off, taking long strides to reach your apartment faster without looking back at him. He wanted to chase after you, tell you that he would never hurt you, but that would probably make it worse. Maybe he could knock on your door later and say that he had gotten too many of your favorite cupcakes from a client and couldn’t eat them all to make you think he was nicer. Not that you needed to know that he kept a batch in his freezer just because he had heard you complain to a friend that they were so good but too expensive for you to get regularly.

Obviously, he messed up somewhere, and he would die if you started avoiding him or thought he was dangerous to you.

He set the cupcakes out to thaw once he slunk into his own apartment. It would be more plausible if he didn’t hand you cupcakes that were frozen solid, right? He should probably shower and shave too, make a slightly better impression on you than when he was staring at you and fantasizing about how your makeup would stain his bedding.

About the time he had decided on his plan and taken his shirt off, you screamed.

You were potentially a little too easily startled. Typically, you could manage to just yelp or jump a little, but realizing something small and fuzzy happily gnawing on the snack you were reaching for on your counter was enough for an actual scream. You were having a stare down with the small rodent you thought might be a mouse. Clutching a hand over your chest, you wondered if your housekeeping had given you a rodent problem, when your front door slammed open. There was your neighbor, shirtless and even more rumpled looking than he had been when he looked like he was undressing you in his mind. His dark eyes were wide as he found you standing in the kitchen unharmed.

“Are you okay?” he asked, scanning your body before looking around your cluttered apartment. That might have been the first time that he had actually spoken to you in the three months that you’d lived beside him, and the low, husky quality of his voice caught you a little off guard.

You felt the embarrassed flush start creeping up your neck as he took in the state of your apartment. “Uh, yeah,” you managed weakly, trying to keep your eyes away from dangerous new territory available to you. “Yeah, sorry. I got surprised by an unwelcome guest.” You chewed your lip, looking back at the rodent, who surprisingly seemed undisturbed by the noise as it turned back to the bag of dried fruit it had chewed open. Your neighbor made a noise of understanding when he followed your gaze to the little brown creature gnawing away. You glanced back at him, flustered at his presence in your home after the frankly pornographic noises you had heard last week, the look he had given you minutes ago, and the fact he had burst in. Now you would have to ask him to get the rodent out of your apartment like a wimp because you really, really didn’t want to have to touch it and get potentially get bitten because you didn’t know how to handle it or what it may have had. “I-I hate to ask, but do you think you could get it out of here?”

You didn’t want to seem lame. He was attractive in a messy, sleep derived way. And . If he’d seemed any more approachable, you would have flirted with him.

He nodded briskly, squeezing past you into the kitchen. His chest brushed against yours, despite his best intentions it seemed, and heat and the smell of coffee wafted off of him. He scooped the creature up with a practiced hand, and you back out of the way, mystified as he walked out of your apartment and turned in the direction of your other neighbor. He didn’t say a word as he knocked on the door and handed the creature to a girl that looked to be in middle school. He did manage to grunt out, “You’re welcome,” when she cradled the animal and thanked him for finding “Minnie.”

Of course it was a pet mouse named Minnie. You were just glad you hadn’t had a more violent reaction to finding it and that your neighbor had known about it.

You lightly caught his elbow as he moved to go back to his home. “Thank you. I probably would have set Minnie outside to be hawk food if I had caught her,” you murmured, hopefully low enough for the girl not to hear you.

He shrugged, dark eyes looking down at you a little too intensely for a moment. “It’s nothing. Here’s my number. Next time something happens, call me. I’m good at getting rid of pests.”

[yanderewritingdump]

I've read too many COD fics, and now I'm stuck on scary military dudes who use their skills/resources inappropriately to keep an eye on you.

AFAB reader, female pronouns/gender language used, MDNI.

AN: I would like to share that I know squat about the military/guns/technology, but I think they're neat in certain fictional setting. Most of my information on the world of COD/military on has come from either watching my brother play it more than a decade ago, unwillingly listening to various people rant, and social media thirst traps. Please suspend your disbelief and forgive any inaccuracies you may find.

It was too much of a habit to pull up the camera feed of your back porch, watching you rock gently as you diligently worked at what must be your latest project. Something was taking shape in your hands, but his knowledge of things outside of war and death tended to be a bit spotty. He thought it looked vaguely like a thin, holey scarf. It was the third color he’d seen you use in the last two weeks as you tried to teach yourself from the book next to your rocking chair. He wasn’t exactly sure what you were doing with the ball of twine and weird plastic tool, and he was pretty sure you were terrible at it from the way you grumbled and picked it. The breeze rustled some of the pages, lifting stray strands of hair into your eyes, before picking up and shutting the book gently on the delicate beaded chain that you had put together. That really got you muttering, and he huffed a soft laugh.

Your hair caught the light of the afternoon sun, shining and soft looking. The desire to run his fingers through it, to grip a fistful at the back of your head and pull you into his kiss thrummed through him. He wanted to suck your lip into his mouth for his teeth instead as you chewed on it in thought.

That was too common of a thought. You were always focusing intently on something, a million miles away as you gnawed on your poor lip and thumbs.

He shouldn’t watch you enough to know all these little details, to have all these little fantasies that are ingrained in him with simple habits of yours. But some nights it was the only thing to ease his troubled thoughts half a world away. He was just as addicted to you as his captain was to his cigars, and he was even less to give you up even if the others managed to find out about you.

It's hard not to notice a hulking man sitting in the far corner, no matter how much he blends in to the shadows. At least, it was hard for you and your friend where you were propped up on the bar with your drinks and dinner. When Caden spotted him, he nudged you in the ribs, not so subtly nodding at him as the normal Thursday night crowd milled around you. "Aren’t you in the market for a fun time?" he teased, “because that looks like a fun time.”

You elbowed him back harder in an attempt to hide how flustered you were. "Shut up," you hissed. You risked a glance towards the far corner table, the second of what would probably be at least a dozen more as the night went on. Even in the dimmest part of the bar, he seemed massive, sprawled out with his arm slung over the back of the chair and his legs spread wide into the aisle as he slowly sipped his liquor. The fuck-off vibes radiating off of him were clear even from this distance. “I don’t think he’s looking for company tonight anyway,” you said with a little disappointment. Caden rolled his eyes at you, and it devolved into your familiar bickering as he tried to convince you to approach him and you grumbled at him for trying to live vicariously through you.

He rarely indulged himself in these little trips to see you in person when he wasn’t on a mission. It felt too risky. He shouldn't be seen frequenting the same places as you, staring at you for hours on end. Normally, he wouldn’t even let himself be seen, but something was making him either bolder or stupider when it came to decisions about you. How was he supposed to resist pressing you into the cheap lacquered wood of the bar and leaning down to breathe in the smell of your hair and perfume? How could he not see if your hips felt as good in his hands as he imagined they would? It would be impossible not to press against you and see what sort of sounds you'd make with his lips pressed against your throat.

But he liked catching you looking at him, lip caught between your teeth for a brief moment as you flushed and looked away. Maybe if he were a different person, a more normal person, he could buy you a drink and flirt with you. Instead, he had camera covering every inch of your home and more than one pair of your underwear hidden away in his belongings.

The others would laugh at him if they saw how he was almost drooling over you.

You were in a heated conversation with your friend, heads close together as you whispered intently back and forth before he seemed to have to last word at the way you angrily got off your stool. From his spot, it was easy to tell which profanities you were hissing at him as you grabbed your drink. He was amused by it all for a moment until he realized you were tentatively approaching him instead of finding a different chair for your friend's partner, as was generally expected of this frequent ritual.

He knew what he looked like. A giant of a man drinking alone in a dingy, poorly lit bar did not generally get any positive interest. Apparently, you were braver than he gave you credit for. As badly as he wanted to actually interact with you, he wasn’t sure he’d actually be able to reign himself in if you tried to flirt with him. He really didn’t want to have to turn you down. If his pretty girl wanted him, he would let you have him because he had no self-control when it came to you.

Maybe that’s why he ended up letting you flirt with him and buying you another drink. It was definitely why he let you lead him to your home, pretty, soft hands occasionally reaching back for him in the cool winter air as you giggled at his terrible jokes.

It made you seem even more like a dream than you already did.

He let you hook your finger around his, leading him into your cozy, two-bedroom home. He knew all about it, had access to all the cameras that your parents and family friend insisted you setup around the older home, and had even set up other cameras to cover the blind spots you had missed. Knowing all of that was different than you leading him by the hand inside.

Not that you knew what you were inviting inside your sanctuary.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to press you against your front door, letting his fingers dig into your waist to finally, finally let himself know what it felt like as he presses his mouth to yours. The soft, sweet noise of surprise that fades into a pleased hum satisfies something inside him. He would take care of you tonight, and he’d make sure to ruin every other man for you while he did it.

The gentle way you lace your fingers through his hair and crane up to meet him while he dominates your mouth was adorable. You were pliant against him, letting him drag you that much closer to his body with more soft, pleased noises. How could you be so soft and yielding to a man like him?

You make him crazy, he decides, letting his hands slide down to your thighs. The way you cling to his biceps, nails digging into his hoodie and as he yanks your thighs up around his waist make him smirk against your throat. “Which door?” he murmured against you instead of sucking bruises into the thin, delicate skin like he wanted to.

Fuck, it was hot how strong he was, you thought, locking your ankles around him. He hadn’t even made that discouraging grunt as he just wrapped you around his waist. Only one arm was supporting you as his other hand crept under your shirt to rest on the small of your back. Your back arched, pressing more firmly into him and the kisses he was lavishing on your throat. Each step he took made him grind against you, and you dug your nails in harder at the sheet size of the bulge against you. “Fuck,” you hiccupped when he nipped your throat.

“Which door, sweet girl?”

Surely there was a bruise forming now from his incessant, sucking kisses. “Left door. Kind of a mess. Sorry.”

He shrugged as he set you on a clear area of the bed, laying you back and caging you in for a moment with his body as he devoured your mouth. One of his hands was keeping your hips firmly anchored to his, grinding you against him while the other worked under your top to unhook your bra. When your hands tug at his hoodie, he sat back and yanked it off, letting your ass rest against his firm thighs for a just moment. You didn’t get to enjoy the view of his well-muscled chest for long before he was leaning over you again to divest you of your own top.

Propping himself on his elbow above you, he takes a moment to enjoy the view. You were flustered and flushed, lips plush and shiny from his rough kissing. You looked like you wanted to cover yourself and hide from his scrutiny, but you settled your hands on his sides, biting your lip and looking at him shyly. “So pretty,” he rumbled appreciatively before he was diving down to drown himself in you again. He nipped down your throat to your breasts, gently biting and licking one nipple as he worked your pants open and slipped his hand inside.

He wanted to skip ahead, throw your legs over his shoulders and fuck you until both of you were puddles on the bed. He couldn’t let himself see you against after this, though, and he knew that you wouldn’t be able to take that kind of treatment.

You were impatient to be kissed again. Hand tugging at his hair as you urged him back up your body. He let himself be tugged until his face was even with yours but just out of reach. “Patience, pretty girl,” he scolded smugly. That smugness turned into a groan with him dropping his head into the crook of your neck when he felt how wet you were for him. His fingers were practical dripping as he tried to mimic how he’d see you touch yourself. “Fuck, did you like my kisses that much, sweetheart?” he asked.

You whined, arching into the touch as best as you could under his body. His voice was sinful, low and gruff with a certainty that told you he was used to being listened to. Between that, the confident manhandling, and the way he kissed you like he couldn’t live without you, how were you supposed to stand a chance. “I want more,” you moaned instead of answering. “Vince, please.”

He huffed a laugh that registered as a little dark and sinister to some distant part of your brain as you tried to rock against his finger faster. “Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart,” he rumbled, dragging you to the edge of the bed. Before the surprise had worn off, your pants were gone and he was on his knees with your legs over his shoulders. His arm was like an iron band across your hips, preventing you from jolting away at the first hot swipe of his tongue. Both of you moaned.

It seemed to set off something animalistic in him. The low grunt and groans rumbled through you as he sucked and licked at your clit with a single-minded determination. You were lost in the sensation, trying to grind against his face despite the way he held you down, and your hands fluttered between gripping his hair, his arm, and the bedding.

If he didn’t know better, he would have thought he was in heaven. How else could he explain how it felt to hear you moan and chant his name like a pray as your thighs clenched around his head? The noise you made when he sank his fingers into you must have been the sweetest thing he’d ever hear. He was glad the camera he’d set up in the bedroom had good audio.

Your nails were digging into his arm, leaving pretty little marks that he wanted to tattoo into his skin. Your walls were fluttering around his fingers, thighs trembling against his ears as you tried to stutter out a warning that’s cut off by every muscle in your body clenching. He loved the way your body tries to pull his fingers deeper and the way your clit pulses against his tongue as he sucks on it. He only let up when you whine his name, trying to wiggle away from his grip.

He let you, taking mercy on you just this once. He couldn’t have his pretty girl tap out before the fun even started when she had begged him for more could he?

You were panting, arm thrown over your eyes to block out the light of the room. “Fuck. I didn’t know I could come that hard.”

The bed creaked as he climbed back on, manhandling you on to your stomach and shoving pillows under your hips until he deemed them in the correct spot. “Oh, darling,” he rumbled against the back of your neck, ignoring your yelp of surprise, “that sounds like a challenge to me.” Something in you clenches at the dark promise in his voice.

The bed creaked as he climbed back on, manhandling you on to your stomach and shoving pillows under your hips until he deemed them in the correct spot. “Oh, darling,” he rumbled against the back of your neck, ignoring your yelp of surprise, “that sounds like a challenge to me.” Something in you clenched at the dark promise in his voice.

His forearm was planted on the bed beside your head, supporting him as he ground his cock through the mess between your thighs. “Do you have a condom?” you manage to ask. “I’m not on anything, and I wasn’t planning on bringing anyone home with me.”

There’s a bit of panic bubbling in you, ruining the nice little high you were coasting on before he flashed a small foil packet at you. “Wasn’t exactly planning on going home with anyone myself, but how was I supposed to say no to such a pretty girl flirting with me? Just want to enjoy feeling how wet I’ve got you before I put it on.”

He didn’t like the panic in your eyes when you asked, but something in him preened at the implication that you couldn’t help but want to take him home with you. You knew he’d take care of you, didn’t you? He tore the packet open with his teeth, trying to memorize the way you looked under him even as he mourned not being able to have the full sensation of fucking you.

It was a tight fit despite how wet he had gotten you, and he held your hip to keep you in place as he eased inside you. Your soft, pretty noises as you tried to rock back into him were not helping him stay in control. “Fuck, you’re tight, sweetheart.” He was breathing deeply, head pressed between your shoulders as he reigned in the wild urge to pound you into the mattress and the clench of his balls.

“Fuck me, Vince,” you whined, struggling to push back against him. None of your toys had filled you quite like he did, and you clenched around him in an effort to get him to move.

He growled something against your shoulder, forcing your knees to open more with his own before he was plowing into you. His grip on your hip and the weight of his body pressing into you kept you pinned in place as he started up a steady, hard rhythm that had his balls tapping your sensitive clit with each thrust. It had you moaning curses as your hands wrapped around his wrists in a vain attempt to do something. “You wanted me to fuck you, sweetheart. Now be a good girl for me and take it,” he said, hot breath ghosting across your overheated skin before he was sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder.

His firm hold hadn’t relented, forcing you to take what he gave you and scramble to hold on to something. There was already a tightness building in your abdomen, and it only grew faster as he found the perfect angle. “Please don’t stop. Shit. Please, please, please,” you hissed, eyes squeezed shut tight as you chased your orgasm. As if solely to be cruel to you, he pulled away. “No, no, no, no. Fuck. Please, Vince!” You looked over your shoulder at him to try to see why he was leaving you high and dry just in time for him to flip you on to your back and sink into you again.

He looked smug and rumpled in the best way as he found his rhythm again. His dark eyes smirked down at you while that thick, calloused thumb found your clit. You wrapped around him, trying to make sure he couldn’t do that again. He kissed you for a moment, and you could still taste yourself on his tongue. “Hush, pretty girl. I’m going to take care of you. I just want to look at you when you cum.” His shot straight through you, and it was just enough to send you over the over the edge.

Your thighs clamped around his sides, nails scratching down his back. He watched you throw back your head, whispering a choked off version of his name as he tried to keep his rhythm steady. It was hard with you clenched around him so tight and the feeling of finally having you under him. “That’s it. That’s my good girl,” he murmured, petting your waist gently. He managed to keep it together until your thighs relaxed against him and you started making that needy overstimulated noise even as you arched into his touch and rocked up to meet him.  

He wasn’t sure that he had ever cum that hard or that much. It seemed to go on forever as you kept grinding on his ridged body.

He managed to roll off of you before he collapsed, taking a moment to let his bones solidify again before he got to work cleaning both of you up.

[yanderewritingdump]

Someone is knocking at your door... You carefully check who is it through the peephole and you see a man wearing a skull mask staring at you.

You guys can see the continuation on Ko-Fi!

[yanderewritingdump]

[yanderewritingdump]

I've got a bit of brain rot about your shy neighbor who's just a little too into you.

AFAB reader, currently no pronouns used, MDNI

(Part 2)

Somehow- no matter when you decided to creep down to the basement of your apartment complex to do laundry- you always managed to run into your neighbor. He was slouching up the stairs with grocery bags dangling off his toned arms or he was propped up next to his front door as he smoked into the open-air hallways and scrolled aimlessly on his phone.

Polite habit had you offering a smile and a greeting. He was your neighbor after all. Not that you knew his name or anything about him aside from the fact he kept a weird schedule and always looked like he had rolled out of bed. Still, he always returned your greeting with a nod that seemed a little warm.

This time, he was leaving the laundry room with a laundry bag thrown casually over a broad shoulder, almost bowling you over as he swung the door open and stepped through. You scrambled back in the small space of the landing and managed to catch your foot on the last stair behind you. The only thought you had was that landing would hurt before he was stepping forward, free arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you upright.

You blinked up at him, flustered a little at how close he was to you. “Sorry,” he grunted, voice low and rough as he squeezed past you to climb up the rickety stairs.

It was torturous enough sharing a thin wall with you and hearing everything, but touching you and having you pressed against him for however brief a moment right after a shower in your thin, skimpy pajamas was absolute hell. What was a man supposed to do?

Well, he probably wasn’t supposed to snatch the shirt that fell out of your laundry, but Reg was already up the three flights of stairs with it in his hands before he had thought better of it.

Which lead him to here, laid out on his bed- which pressed against the wall right next to where he knew yours was- with your shirt pressed against his face and his sweatpants shuffled down just far enough to wrap his hand around his cock. He knew what you sounded like when you used your toys, stifled gasps and soft moans as the bed creaked. It wasn’t hard to imagine you making them as you rocked above him, hands pressed to his chest as you took your pleasure from his body. He wondered if you’d be louder as you rode him, soft skin bruising under his fingers as he pulled you down to meet his thrusts once he got too lost in the feeling of you wrapped around his cock and watching you. Or would you bury your face in the crook of his neck to muffle yourself until he managed to find just the right angle to make you swear and clench around him.

The thought of you digging your nails into his biceps as he fucked you, leaving a pretty mark for him to look at later made him moan. He wanted to leave marks on you. Suck pretty bruises onto your throat and hips and thighs before he ruined anyone else for you. He wanted to make it so you always came to him when you wanted to cum, to make himself synonymous with pleasure and satisfaction in your brain. Swearing, his hand worked faster, and the lewd, slick noise filled the room and mixed with his low moans and whimpers.

There was no hope for him to quiet himself or slow down as the noise of you coming into your own bedroom registered dimly. He hoped you heard him loud and clear. He hoped you liked how noisy he was as his muscles flexed and tightened with his impending orgasm, because he like the thought of you muffling him with your tongue in his mouth, ass bouncing obscenely in his hands as he fucked his cum as deeply into you as he could.