✧࿔⊹✎heizouxide is not a request blog, sry! i mostly use this account to read/write casual filth that pops into my brain. feel free to add on to or use my ideas. (tag me, i wanna see it too!)
dni: 1) if you engage in behavior that is harmful to others whether you are the abuser/bully or encourage/support abuse/bullying. [dark content blogs get a pass, i’ll block if i get uncomfy]
2) under 16=dni, nsfw content will be labeled as such :3
Lowkirk thinking about Akademiya Zandik fucking you raw on the rainforest floor while out on a field study
MDNI
You two were already roommates prior to this, and while you weren’t officially a thing, you’d definitely toyed with one another in the past. All casual sex, you swore up and down.
You felt bad for him, honestly. He was so obsessed with broadening his knowledge and spent so much of his time tinkering with ancient technology that he never really made a proper friend before you, much less get laid.
So, when you took his virginity one fateful night in your shared dorm, you knew you had to make the most of this guy…and his unexpectedly huge dick.
Now, students at the Akademiya were required to go out on two field studies per year that were relevant to one’s darshan. Zandik, of course, do not belong to any one darshan, so he got free rein over where he went.
Subsequently, he chose yours, because, duh, you’re his only real companion! Who would accompany him through long hours of tireless field work (and take care of his occasional boner)?
It was the morning when you both awoke before the three other people who had accompanied you on the journey. You were deep in the muggy rainforest, the croaking and crooning of various frogs and wildlife echoing between towering trees, marshy, uneven grass swallowing your feet with each step.
Neither of you said a word, but both simultaneously decided to explore the forest a bit before everyone else could join you. Zandik’s hair was a bit messy from sleep, his uniform rumpled and his face still flushed with his tiredness.
You should’ve known then that this excursion wouldn’t last 15 minutes.
Honestly, you had no idea that Zandik was capable of this.
A hand clamped tightly over your mouth as your screams were muffled by nothing but skin and bone while Zandik rearranged your guts from behind. Your chest was pressed into the ground, the dew of the grass seeping into your top while your knees braced yourself against the brutal thrusts he was delivering.
His teeth sank into your shoulder, a series of desperate whimpers tumbling from him as he fucked himself into you. His whole body was hunched over yours, free hand clutching your own that dug into the ground beneath you.
The camp was only a couple hundred feet away, and if anyone were to wake up and walk out right now, they’d see you both for sure, on the ground fucking like rabbits.
Fuck, Zandik was so close. He could feel you tightening around him, spasming with every punishing thrust that hit your g-spot just right. His hand wasn’t going to be enough to shut you up anymore.
Quickly, he resorted to pushing two of his fingers past your lips, feeling you gag around them. Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes, which begun to roll back from how good he was fucking you right now.
Just then, the rustling of a tent opening caught both of your attention. Without warning, Zandik pulled out, hoisting you off of the ground in one fell swoop.
You both disappeared behind a large tree just as one of your field study partners exited their tent, directly in your line of sight.
Zandik lifted your thighs to wrap around his waist, leaning in and claiming your lips in a deep kiss as he guided himself back to your entrance, filling you all the way up with one thrust that literally knocked the air out of your lungs.
He used one arm to support you as he started fucking into you again, his thumb circling your clit in quick, sloppy motions.
Your combined moans melted between each others’ lips, turning into breathless gasps as you both crested onto the edge.
Zandik surged his hips forward, his head dropping to your shoulder as he clamped his hand over your mouth again, muffling your loud, wanton scream as you came on his dick.
He quickly pulled out, his orgasm splattering all over your bare tummy, dripping down to your thighs as you both caught your breath, staring back at one another with the adrenaline slowly leaving you.
Just then, you heard the voice of your field study partner.
Nsfw Akademiya!Zandik drabble (continuation of this post)
For someone who seemed so cocky, Zandik was such a little bitch in bed.
The two of you loathed each other, probably even more than most people already hated him. Every time either of you caught a glimpse of the other, you were at each other’s throats.
You argued that he was too headstrong and arrogant, whilst he argued that you were too narrow-minded and argumentative. But no matter the circumstances, there was somehow a reason to fight. People even began to place betting pools on who was more likely to win the next fight that you picked.
To make matters worse, you two shared a dorm.
Zandik gave unwanted criticism with a sneer and upturned nose, and you marked his research with a red pen for “feedback” as revenge. With each passing day, tensions rose higher and higher until the air felt so thick neither of you could breathe.
One night, however, seemed to be the last straw. The argument started with something small, as usual. A missing paper, a snarky insult, a backhanded compliment, who knows? But things escalated much faster than either of you realized until you had struck him across the face.
A loud crack resonated throughout the cramped dorm room as he cupped his glowing red cheek, staring at you wide eyed. It was surely quiet enough to hear a pin drop as you stared back at him with contempt, continuing to argue your point about god knows what. It was only when his cheeks flushed and brows knitted did you notice the rapidly growing tent in his pants.
Suddenly, you too got quiet as your expression contorted into one of cruel amusement. Zandik looked both shameful and mortified as you unabashedly gaped at his raging boner, almost shrinking into himself. “So you get turned on when you get hit? Is that it? That’s what gets you going?” you mocked viciously. “Excuse you?” he mumbled pitifully. You could tell that he was trying to stand his guard, but he was executing it very poorly.
The atmosphere in the room had changed in an instant. Just a moment ago, the two of you were itching to bash each other’s heads into the walls. But now it felt….careful, tedious.
The two of you just stared into each other’s eyes for a beat, then two, until both of your lips were on each other hatefully. It wasn’t anything sweet like the romance movies that people spoke fondly of. It was tongues and teeth and venom.
Hastily, you broke apart the kiss before roughly shoving him against his own bed, only to put your mouth back on him like an animal seconds later. The mattress squeaked exhaustedly as he was roughly thrown on the plush material that broke his fall. Both of your tongues were fighting for dominance, sliding between each other whilst sharing spit as he bit your lip until the skin broke.
“Mghhn..!” Zandik whined as you ground your hips against his pelvis, his brows knitting together. Feeling compelled to do so, you ran your hands along his chest and played with his pecs as you listened to him whine and beg. It was impossible to ignore the way he pathetically jutted his hips upward as he ground against you in reciprocation. You could even feel his length through all the layers in your uniforms.
“Fuck, pleasepleasepleaseplease….” Zandik whimpered. “Please what?” you murmured beguilingly, feigning your innocence to keep him talking more. If you thought his face wouldn’t turn any more red, you were sorely mistaken. The flush that deepened on his countenance made him look as red as a valberry, much to your satisfaction.
“Want you to ride me…..” he mumbled, barely audible to your ears. It was still easy to hear him, but it was obvious that Zandik felt thoroughly embarrassed. And how could you pass up the opportunity to pester him? “Hm? I didn’t quite hear you,” you teased, trying to further fluster him as you intensely stared at his carmine eyes.
“Oh, for fucks sake…I know you heard me,” he ground out, cheeks flushed and dick hard. “Is it so wrong for me to want to hear you say it? You’re always so sure of yourself,” you said slyly, reaching downwards and gripping the sides of his shaft through his uniform. Zandik pathetically whined at the grip you had on his cock, eager for more.
”Fine, I’ll indulge you this once,” you replied begrudgingly. As much as you hated to admit it, you wanted this as much as he seemed to. And you didn’t to wait as just as much as he didn’t. Teasingly, you took as much time as possible to slide his pants off and release his cock from the confines of his undergarments. Much to your dismay, he was…much more adequately sized than you had expected. Zandik writhed under the touch of your hand, his slit weeping and needy as he stared at you with wide eyes.
You experimentally gave his shaft a few long, slow strokes as you listened to him breathe out heavily, obviously affected by your ministrations. The pace you delivered quickened and slowed, tightened and loosened, before abruptly removing your hand as he threatened to come too early. Zandik even whined in protest before you chided him frustratedly. “Oh, would you just be patient?” You only received a glare in return.
Lazily taking off the bottoms of your uniform, you gave him a thirty second strip-show as your sex was finally exposed to the cool air of the dorm. You couldn’t help but wince ever so slightly as it quivered under Zandik’s gaze. It was clear that he was utterly fascinated by the way it glistened with its wetness, to the point you could even hear him stop breathing for a moment.
Grabbing his shaft in your hand, you raised yourself just above his lap and guided his length near your greedy hole. You could feel the way his cock twitched in your hand eagerly, almost as though it had a mind of its own. It made you give pause to look at his face, but his eyes were solely focused on his weeping dick, anticipating the feeling of your warm walls around him. You only smirked at his expression before hastily filling yourself to the hilt with his cock.
Zandik moaned loudly at the sensation. If you weren’t so attentive, you wouldn’t have noticed the way that his mouth fell open in a perfect ‘o’ shape as he struggled to catch his breath. You didn’t give him the chance. His lashes fluttered quickly as he stared up at you, quickly becoming the poster-boy for submission in your eyes. Fuck, you’d be thinking about this for weeks to come.
Within an instant, you began to bounce up and down on his thick shaft with a hand coming up to squeeze his left pec, efficiently steadying yourself. It was now that you realized he wasn’t very experienced, if at all. You could tell in the way his hands confusedly searched for a place to rest before settling on your hips, you could tell in the way his moans and whimpers spilled between his lips shamefully, and you could tell in the way that tears brimmed the corners of his eyes.
Wet sounds filled the room as you expertly rode his cock, the combined sounds of your pleasure clear to anyone who might pass by. You silently hoped no one would, though. The few groans that slipped between your lips didn’t go unnoticed by Zandik, the sound only heightening the sheer volume of his moans.
“Oh- Ohhhwh…. -yeah, keep doing that, I’m going to come….” Zandik breathed, gripping your hips tighter as he thrusted his own lap upwards, attentively watching your chest bounce with each twitch and jerk. You rode him faster in response, almost in an attempt to escape his focused eyes. “You’re going to come for me? How sweet.” you said between gritted teeth.
At the sound of your praise, faked or not, you could feel his warm cum shoot into you with a groan as you breathed out shakily, admittedly as aroused as he was. But you didn’t slow down for him, no. You continued to bounce on his cock without pause as you listened to his moans become breathier and high-pitched, his cheeks now streaked with tears as you rode him into overstimulation.
Zandik’s thighs shook and quivered at your reluctance to stop and eagerness to drain him dry. The bed’s menacing creaks only became louder and louder as more moans began to spill from your own lips. The room smelled of sex as you desperately zeroed in on your own orgasm, now crashing over you in waves as Zandik’s come slowly trickled out of you at the ridges of your hole.
You finally ended your relentless bouncing as you slowed to a stop atop his dick, both of you panting heavily as the realization slowly dawned on both of you of what you’ve just done. Zandik winced as you came up and off of him, still laying on his lap with your hands on his pecs and his hands on your hips.
“…Fuck you, I still hate you. This doesn’t change anything.”
warnings: public sex (lmk if you see anything else!)
Note: hehe i loveee akadeymia zandik and had to whip up something… excuse the smut i haven’t fully written smut like this in 2-3 years so it’s quite rusty i apologize || heavily unedited
Enrolling in the Akadeymia was one of Zandik’s greatest accomplishments. He vowed that he would take advantage of the school’s vast resources in hopes to pursue his own research (even though some could say his interests were.. teetering the line of ethical and unethical)
He was aware that one of his classmates would continuously make comments to him about his work. You believed that he was some maniac that the higher ups somehow managed to let in (even thinking his parents paid a great sum for him to be enrolled but of course you were not aware of his past)
Without a doubt, at least once per day, you and Zandik would get into it over each other’s research. He constantly said you were like some animal that followed blindly and never thought for yourself, while you, of course firm in your beliefs, thought of him to be a few screws loose in the head.
However, each time you would bicker, you couldn’t help but find yourself.. attracted towards your classmate. You’d take note of the veins that could appear in his hands whenever he’d ball up his fists at his side, or the way he raises his chin slightly and stares down at you in a way to assert his dominance (maybe he did, or didn’t)
You certainly felt fluttering down in between your legs when he would clear his throat before nagging you on. The most prominent feature you noticed was the way his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, which was followed by a deep sigh of frustration. Sometimes it felt as if you wanted to pick an argument with him.
-ˋˏ༻❁༺ˎˊ-
“You’re so fucking annoying.” You moan out, leaning your head against the tall glass window of the upper level in the library.
“And you don’t think that I feel the same way about you?” Zandik grunts in your ear, an occasional soft moan emits from his lips. His head finds refuge in the crook of your neck, his blue locks grazing your skin and gives a ticklish sensation.
His groans are muted thanks to his mouth latched onto your supple skin, earning a small cry of pain from you when his canines sink in.
One of his hands holds your bare thigh around his waist, while the other rests on the window against your head to stabilize himself. Your uniform was bunched up on one side as if someone was in a hurry (in reality, you both were).
Your hand slithers up his chest and reaches behind, tangling itself and gathering a fist full of blue locks. You yank his head back and he curses under his breath. From this angle, red eyes stare at you from hooded eyelids with nothing but lust residing in them.
“Y-You bitch.” He whispers breathlessly, digging his nails into your skin and pulls out with nothing but the blunt head of his cock nuzzled up in your cunt. A high pitch whine escapes your parted lips at the loss of being full of his cock. “Zandik…”
“You expect me to just give you what you want, just like everyone else does here?” He asks you, licking his lips as he eyes you like his prey.
You, someone he argued with daily, finally fell into submission before him. Your lips were swollen from his roughness, and mouth parted in the perfect shape as you gasp for air. Your hair that was once neat was now disheveled from him tugging and his rough movements. The normal look of annoyance that he knew too well was replaced with desperation, practically screaming at him to finish you off.
“P-Please Zandik,” you whimper, moving your hips forward to take the inches back inside. “Need you..”. Yet he doesn’t stop you. Your hand drops from his hair and grips onto his shoulders as you balance yourself.
He gazes down where you’re connected and groans. Your pussy swallows him whole with each movement. Your slick shines on his cock and he could feel it dripping down his balls from how wet you were.
Suddenly his hips snap forward and he’s greeted with a cry of his name and arms wrapped around his neck. His grip on your thigh tightens as he has his way with you. Your cunt generously accepts him and squeezes around him once he hits that special spot.
All worries of being caught are thrown out the window. You moan out a string of curses followed by repetive use of his name.
“Z-Zandik!” You whine, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. “Feels so good..”
“I know baby,” he moans into your ear, his hips beginning to stutter as his core starts to tighten. “You’re such a good girl for me.”
You nod at his words, unable to form any to repeat back to him. All you can focus on is the amount of pleasure from the man in front of you. Each rut sends sensations throughout your body. Your toes begin to curl in their shoes as your chest begins to heave faster than before. Zandik notices this and pulls your head back by your hair and presses his lips onto yours, and immediately sticks his tongue in your mouth.
You absolutely hated Zandik, but you were loving the way he was using you. Perhaps this could be the start of… something between the two of you.
here is part 2 to the segments having their way with you with Zandik’s permission !!
warnings: mirror sex, mentions of overstimulation, face fucking (lmk if you see others!) || heavily unedited
characters: 35 & 45 || part 1 || part 3
35
Omega. The most selfish and self centered segment of them all, even higher than 25, which says something. The Doctor’s prime in life. Highly successful in every aspect you could imagine.
Omega was not shy when it came to his advances. He typically always made some type of move when Zandik wasn’t present. It started with lingering touches. You handing him his tools and gloved fingers would brush against your knuckles ever so slightly before pulling away, or the pinch of your hip when you just happened to be in his way.
When his desires began to grow more, his actions also began to become more perverted. He would press his bulge up against you from behind when trying to reach for something on a higher shelf. Sometimes his hips would grind into the curve of your ass and love the small gasp you’d produce. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy his little antics.
Omega seemed to have no shame at all. Unlike 18 and 25, he would jerk off to you while you were sleeping. His hand would pump over the tip of his cock, using his pre-cum as lube to fasten his motions. You usually slept in no shorts, much to his approval. He’d stare between your legs intently, wondering how warm you must’ve felt, how tight you were, how much your pussy could take. All these thoughts and those wandering eyes of his helped push him over the edge and he’d finish on your blanket (he would’ve rather it been your face). In the morning you were curious about a specific stain on your blue blanket, but thought nothing much of it.
When given permission from Zandik (finally), he was quite overjoyed but never showed it and you would never admit it as well.
In the prime stage of his life, everything to Omega felt as if he was on a continuous hunt for a new hypothesis in hopes to gather more data for a new conclusion that was far better than the first. So naturally, he takes this as an opportunity to see how much you could take.
He takes you to a room with a huge mirror in front of the bed. The thought of getting fucked in front of a mirror by one of your beloved’s segments was enough for a small wet spot to appear in your panties.
35 has you on the bed, completely nude with him behind you with your legs spread open. This position causes embarrassment to wash over you, but the way his hand rubs your clit in small circles is enough to forget about your emotional predicament.
He continues to play with you, cooing in your ear about how you’re aiding him so much in his study. He praises you for being his good little subject while three of his fingers are pumping in and out of your aching cunt, but you can’t answer. All you can muster is moans of his names and the occasional whimper and “feels so good..” orgasm after orgasm is drawn out from your tired body and even the smallest flicks of your clit has you wailing to him. Oh you looked so pretty in the mirror he can’t help but grin and imagine how fucked out you’d be on his cock.
He may be selfish and care about his own pleasure, but he was more obsessed with your pleasure and wanting to draw out as much as possible. He takes you from behind, holding your wrists behind your back with one hand and uses you as leverage to fuck himself deeper into you. From this position, he’s able to abuse that spot. Each rut of his hips causes your breast to bounce and he loves it. His other hand rubs fast and sloppy circles on your clit and that’s enough to make you cum for the nth time. If you weren’t focused on the mirror, he’d grab your chin and force you to stare, a mask staring at your reflection. Even if you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew they were washed with lust, maybe more than yours.
He may be the most selfish and care about his pleasure only, but he definitely cares about your own (in the name of science of course).
45
This segment was on the opposite end of the spectrum when it came to selfishness, which you came to the conclusion that age was a factor in this.
45 is more of a charmer. He’s way more talkative (in a nice way) and is able to hold simple conversations with you. The one thing you love about him is how attentive he is to you. Sometimes if you were in lab with all the segments and you tried voicing something, the segments were too busy arguing with one another to listen, but he would always give you his undivided attention.
If you weren’t in lab, he would greet you with a kiss to your hand. Not often, but it was a sweet gesture on his end. Unlike the younger segments, he never made physical advancements on you, he would however continue to make flirty or… inappropriate comments.
He always gave you compliments. He complimented if you did something new with your hair, or your outfits (which was usually standard lab safety outfits) or whatever stood out to him. However, his favorite thing to compliment was your intelligence. In his eyes, nothing was more outstanding than a beautiful woman who was highly intelligent. And that was dangerous.
When it’s 45’s turn, he’s sure to let you know how overjoyed he was. You knew he was not one for physical advancements, but he surely becomes touchy now. His hands roam all over your body when he has you in his bed. He squeezes at your breasts and swallows your moans when kissing you, moving his hands down the rest of your body to your ass before giving a firm spank.
He has you on your knees, a gloved hand tangled in your hair and moving your head to meet in time with his thrusts. Strings of curses and praises leave his mouth and his words cause your thighs to rub together in anticipation. “Someone so beautiful and intelligent on her knees to suck someone’s cock, you love that, don’t you?” The tip of his head hits the back of your throat and with a whimper, he holds your head with both hands on the side of your face and holds you in place, finishing with a loud groan and head tilted back.
He doesn’t neglect you at all, which was one of his best qualities. His face is deep in between your legs, his nose nuzzled against your clit as he breathes in your scent, moaning about how good you smell. His tongue does wonders from sliding in between your folds, to barely putting the tip in your cunt before moving up to your clit. His motions aren’t rushed like 18, but planned and executed with purpose.
When he was satisfied with how you looked, he helps you get on top of him. Strong arms are wrapped around your back as your breasts are pressed up against his chest, your head falling into the crook of his neck. He thrusts up into you, the head of his cock bumping into your cervix. It’s so much, too good, it doesn’t help the fact he’s whispering in your ear and blowing hot air.
His thrusts are so rough, his balls slap against your skin that leaves stinging sensations. This segment is obsessed with his lips on yours, and probably the only segment that kisses you while fucking. It’s not romantic in the slightest, but your mouths together form a melodic song that turns him on even more if possible.
Once 45 finishes inside you, he pulls out and sticks two fingers into your pussy, a sick grin forming on his face when you moan about it being too much, but of course like the smart woman you were, you took it. He’d pump his fingers, curling them just right that caused your back to arch in response, your tits displayed right in front of his face. He wanted to ensure his load would be deep enough so he could continue pumping his seed over and over again <3
Trying different flavors of lip-smackers with segments!
Warnings: Making out? Kinda smut? (not with 8 years old one of course, its a cheek kiss for him.) Humiliation kink(idk)?
It's kinda long eheh. Also, I couldn't make the text smaller in some places, so I apologize if it looks strange.
Assistant reader!f (in her +20ies) x Dottore Segments
(Another assistant reader if you wanna read!)
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ summary: You buy a pack of lip-smackers and you try each flavor with one segment at a time, which is best done by kissing them.
8 years-old (a kiss on the cheek!) cherry-cola You found him in your room again, it was his usual spot when he escapes from olders’ bullyings. Curled up near the edge of your bed with his notebook resting against his knees, scribbling down something with that tiny serious expression he always wore whenever he thought too hard. He barely even noticed you entering.
“I bought these a few days ago,” you said while dropping beside him onto the mattress. You held up the little package of lip smackers in front of him. “I still can’t decide which flavor to try.”
The eight-year-old glanced up briefly. "And…? I don't see the problem that relates me here?"
“Hm. Fair point, Doctor.” You liked calling 8 years old one Doctor a lot, and deep down he liked it too, made him feel important among them.
You looked through them dramatically before pulling out the cherry one.
“This one then.” He watched carefully as you applied it, quiet as always. Probably trying to understand your reasoning.
Then before he could ask anything, you leaned over and pressed an exaggerated kiss against his cheek.
“Mwah.” A loud one.
He blinked. Slowly, his fingers touched the spot you kissed. Then he sniffed faintly, brows furrowing in curiosity.
“…Cherry?” You smiled immediately.
“Yeah, aren’t you a smart cookie?”. “I’ve never seen a cherry flavored one before.” He said while ignoring your teasing.
“Well,” you answered while nudging his shoulder lightly, “that just means there are still lots of things left for you to research, Doctor.”
Then he quietly pulled his notebook a little farther away from you, to hide his face before you could try kissing the other cheek too.
18 years-old, lemon-fanta! Finding the eighteen-year-old was always funny because he acted like he wanted to disappear while leaving the most obvious trails possible.
With a pile of stolen books from other segments, and dragged chair to the corner of the library he builds a castle from books and then tries to hide himself in them.
And somehow, every single time, you still found him.
He even once told you:“You can find me whenever you want. I only find you when you want.”
You approached quietly, fingers brushing over his shoulder. He startled immediately.
Actually jumped a little.
His head snapped toward you before he tried recovering his dignity by looking back down at the book in front of him.
“…What are you doing here, handsome?” you asked with a teasing tone.
“Ugh…Nothing.”
He answered with that sappy-sulky voice.
“Why did you even come here and disturb me?” he muttered while turning a page he clearly wasn’t reading anymore. “Don’t you have things to do? Be a useful assistant and maybe bring me coffee.”
The moment he saw you, he always tried acting annoyed first.
But you knew him too well.
“Oh, of course I have things to do,” you said. “And I should probably bring you your coffee too.”
He hummed with agreement.
“But before that,” you continued while stepping closer, “I need to do something else first.”
That finally got his attention(which was actually long lost the moment he heard your voice).
He lifted his head from the book slowly, chair sliding back just a little as he looked up at you with obvious curiosity hidden behind forced indifference.
“…What thing?”
You leaned down before he could think too hard about it and kissed him.
Bright lemon flavor spreading instantly against his lips from the gloss you had applied earlier.
He reacted immediately. He never misses his chance. One hand grabbing at your hip so fast it almost made you laugh, like he’d been waiting for an excuse all day. Eager.
And then you pulled away. A quiet, frustrated whine escaped him before he could stop it. This made you burst into laughter instantly.
His face went red so quickly he covered half of it with his left hand, glaring at you from behind his fingers.
“Just because I’m not as scary as the others,” he muttered bitterly, “doesn’t mean you can tease me whenever you want.”
You stood up again, pretending not to notice the way he tried to cover the immediate bulge occured when you sat down.
“I don’t know,” you said lightly while fixing your sleeve. “I think I’d love to see you act all crazy and scary too.”
His eyes widened slightly.
And before he could recover enough to say something smug back, you were already leaving the library laughing while he sat there completely flustered in the middle of his little book castle.
25 years-old, sprite! The twenty-five-year-old’s room was always quiet in the most unwelcoming way possible. He had papers scattered across the desk, lots of half-written reports, open books etc.
The faint scratching sound of his pen moving across paper that you could hear behind the door. You knocked twice against the door.
“You can’t come in,” he answered immediately.
You leaned against the doorway dramatically. “I mean, there was something urgent I had to ask you.”
“Well then,” he replied flatly from inside, “go find someone less bothered by your existence. I’m busy.”
You rolled your eyes.
“The earlier you help me, the earlier you’ll get back to your report.”
A long groan came from behind the door. But since he didn’t actually tell you to leave again, you pushed the door open anyway.
He didn’t even look up at first. “You’re too stupid to figure out your own unimportant problems?” he asked while continuing to write. “Why do they even keep you as their assistant? You clearly lack the ability to assist anyone.”
You barely reacted anymore honestly.
Every segment had their own way of being awful. His just happened to involve constant humiliation wrapped in distinct wording with attractive voice. So instead of getting offended, you simply smiled and walked over beside his chair.
“I don’t lack the ability to assist,” you corrected lightly. “You’re simply too good to require assistance.” That made him glance up.
You leaned your elbow against his shoulder, close enough for him to smell the sweet artificial citrus from your gloss.
He huffed quietly under his breath.
Then suddenly his hand grabbed your waist and pulled you directly into his lap.
You yelped softly from the force of it, which made him enjoy more.
“I’ve never seen anyone as interested in being bullied as you are,” he muttered near your ear while squeezing your thigh harshly. “It’s almost concerning.”
“Well,” you said sweetly, “if it’s coming from you, who am I to reject it? I am your assistant after all.”
His fingers tightened briefly before he leaned back in his chair with obvious annoyance.
“Whatever you needed, ask quickly,” he sighed. “I’m too busy to deal with your lame ass.”
Instead of answering, you kissed him.
He reacted instantly to that. One hand gripping your hip harder while he bit down lightly against your lower lip in that mean way of his that was always more provoking than affectionate.
You were kissing him with that sprite flavor he would definitely despise.
You almost laughed into the kiss. Especially when he started to make you lean back towards the desk like he intended to keep you there much longer.
Before he could though, you pushed against his chest lightly and stood back up.
He looked irritated immediately. “Well, I was actually going to ask about my new lipstick,” you said while fixing your clothes. “But I guess you didn’t like it?”
He stared at you for a moment.
Then grinned slowly.
“I hate it.”
35 years-old(Omega), vanilla-cola! Omega’s room was usually quieter than the others and with Nod-Krai trip approaching, the atmosphere had only gotten worse. Documents scattered across the desk, unfinished calculations glowing faintly across screens, reports waiting for signatures. You’d spent the last hour helping him organize materials for the trip without daring to distract him even once.
The moment you entered earlier, you had planned to greet him properly.
With a small kiss, you know.
But the second he started giving instructions, you abandoned the thought immediately. It felt too risky making him wait over something so trivial.
So instead, you focused entirely on being useful. Exactly what his assistant should be, as you could feel that he likes you most when you show usability. So, you barely even remembered the vanilla-cola you had applied beforehand.
Until... “Why,” Omega said suddenly from somewhere behind you, “am I smelling vanilla?”
Your fingers immediately flew to your lips.
Right. The new lipstick.
You turned toward him with a small smile. “Oh, I tried a new flavor earlier. Didn’t realize the scent was that strong.”
His eyes settled on your mouth instantly. “Get up.”
You obeyed before thinking twice. The chair scraped softly against the floor as you stood, and Omega stepped closer without another word. Then his fingers slid beneath your chin, tilting your face upward carefully. Neither gentle nor rough. His gaze stayed fixed on your lips with a level of attention that made your breath catch embarrassingly fast.
“I don’t think you wear these because your lips are chapped,” he said calmly. “They always look shiny regardless.”
Your eyebrows lifted slightly. You didn’t realize he paid attention to things like that or maybe you simply weren’t supposed to know?
“Well,” you answered softly after a moment, “of course I applied this for you.”
That earned the faintest smile from him. Then he leaned closer.
Close enough that you could already feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. If either of you moved even slightly, the distance would disappear completely.
You waited but Omega stopped there.
“It smells lovely indeed,” he murmured quietly.
Then he released your chin, turned away from you entirely, and continued gathering the papers for Nod-Krai like nothing had happened.
Leaving you standing there like that, made you think that everyone was somehow getting a taste of his cruelty.
45 years-old, strawberry-fanta! The meetings of the Harbingers were sometimes unbearably long. So, even after an hour passed, you were still waiting. Despite the fact that he specifically told you:
“If it takes too long, leave.”
You sat quietly on one of the hallway benches outside the meeting room, legs crossed while absentmindedly applying the strawberry-flavored gloss you had bought earlier. Mostly just to distract yourself from boredom.
Then finally you heard the doors opened. You immediately stood up as the Harbingers began leaving one by one. Voices echoed through the hallway, coats brushing past marble floors, conversations overlapping carelessly.
You spotted him instantly. But before you could approach, you overheard Pantalone’s amused voice.
“After you’re gone, perhaps I should steal that assistant of yours,” he said lazily. “Even someone like you seems interested in her. There must be something exceptional there.”
Dottore laughed softly. “Well, ask her after I leave. If she wishes to join you, she may.”
Then he glanced toward you briefly. “Though, for your sake, you should know she only shows interest in me. I doubt she’d perform quite as enthusiastically under your supervision.”
Your lips curled into a smile before you lowered your head slightly to hide it.
Eventually the hallway emptied, leaving only the two of you. You approached him quietly and took the bag from his hand before he could object, naturally falling into step beside him as you both walked down the long corridor.
“I told you not to wait if it took too long,” he said after a moment. “Why are you still here?”
“Because I’m your assistant,” you answered simply. “If you had to stay in that room for twenty-four hours, then I’d stay here for twenty-four hours too. I’ll wait whenever you need me.”
That made him smile faintly.
The two of you continued walking side by side. Then suddenly he spoke again. “Am I hallucinating,” he mused lightly, “or do you smell like strawberries?”
You smiled immediately. “Nothing escapes from you, hm, Doctor?”
Compared to the other older segments, he was surprisingly easy to talk to. Easier to tease too. But he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.
“Well, if I fail to notice the changes in my lovely assistant,” he said calmly, “or the little shenanigans she keeps pulling, then I’d simply be ignorant of my surroundings.”
Slowly, you linked your arm with his as he allowed it naturally.
“So?” you asked while looking up at him. “Is that a bad thing or a good thing?”
He turned his head toward you fully then. “You shouldn’t ask such obvious questions.”
And before you could reply,he suddenly pushed you gently toward the wall beside the hallway. You let out a surprised sound as your back touched the cold surface behind you. His hand guided your arms down instinctively so he could cage you there easily.
For a second, you just stared at him. And then he kissed you.
The strawberry flavor mixed between you instantly while his hand rested against your waist with terrifying ease. He made you feel overwhelmed in a completely different manner. Like standing too close to someone entirely aware of their own charm.
When he finally pulled away, you almost stumbled forward from how weak your knees suddenly felt which caused a laughter from him.
“You know,” he mused while watching your expression carefully, “I think I understand why the eighteen-year-old is so obsessed with you.”
You immediately smiled back. “Oh?” you teased softly. “Is it only him?”
He extended his arm toward you again patiently, waiting for you to take it.
“No,” he answered after a moment. “I don’t think it’s only him.”
65 years-old, fanta! You found him exactly where he always was. Sitting near the large window of his office with a book resting in one hand while the other tapped slowly against the armrest of his chair. The room was quiet except for the ticking of some old mechanism nearby.
He acknowledged your presence immediately but didn’t look up.
“You’re lingering,” he said dryly. “Which usually means you’re about to become troublesome.”
You smiled to yourself and walked closer. “Maybe only a little.”
A quiet hum escaped him at that. You had applied the Fanta flavored one earlier, and honestly, compared to the others, you weren’t even sure if he would tolerate it. He always acted above things like that.
Still, you leaned carefully against the side of his chair.
“So, what are you reading about? Maybe something interesting?”
He answers back without waiting, “Not everything we read needs to be interesting, sometimes you just read to… read.”
Which caused a small nod from you. To change the topic, to make him talk to you more, “I bought something new today,” you said casually. “Though you’ll probably hate it.”
That finally made him glance at you over the edge of his book.
“Probably.” You laughed softly.
“See? You're too uncurious for a research doctor.”
“Experience allows me to predict disappointment accurately.”
“But no matter what, don’t you think you should try first, there’s always possibility for a different outcome.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. He already understood what the new item was you found. Of course, it wasn’t a dagger or an elixir you came up with. The smell of orange was too heavy to not to notice.
You slowly reached toward the lower edge of his mask then, fingers brushing lightly against the material. Waiting, giving him enough time to stop you if he wanted.
Surprisingly enough, he didn’t. Instead, he sighed quietly like you were exhausting beyond reason.
“Ridiculous girl,” he muttered. But he tilted his head upward anyway. Just enough for you to slide the lower half of the mask away and reveal his lips.
You were not seeing his eyes but you were aware that his gaze stayed on your face the entire time as you leaned closer. “You always act like you’re above these things,” you whispered softly, “but you indulge me every single time.”
“Someone,” he replied calmly, “has to tolerate your nonsense.”
And then he kissed you. The citrus flavor lingered between you while his hand rested briefly against your jaw, keeping you there for just a second longer than necessary before he finally pulled away.
You blinked at him quietly afterward. And he simply lowered the mask back into place with complete composure.
“…Didn’t you have something else?” he said after a moment. “That’s too sweet.”
You stared at him in disbelief. “That’s your review?”
“That was your objective, was it not?”
80ies, OG Zandik, coca-cola! When Zandik first took you in, he noticed very quickly that you liked flowers and though he never commented much on it, a greenhouse had quietly appeared not long afterward.
At first, it was yours. Then eventually, somehow, it became his too. Now half the plants inside were labeled with small notes in his handwriting, some altered for experiments, others growing under strange conditions only he understood. The greenhouse smelled less like a garden these days and more like a research facility pretending to be one.
Not that you minded. You found him there again that evening, standing beneath the warm glass ceiling while examining one of the glowing flowers near the center table.
“You’re stealing my greenhouse,” you complained lightly while approaching him from behind. “It was never yours exclusively,” he replied without even turning around. “You simply lacked the intellect to use it efficiently.”
You smiled. There he is, you thought to yourself.
The old man carefully adjusted one of the leaves between his fingers before speaking again. “The western section requires watering tomorrow. You’ve been neglecting it.”
“Wow, Im surprised that you noticed.”
“I notice everything.” You moved closer until your shoulder brushed against his arm. He didn’t move away. At this point, Zandik tolerated your clinginess with the same exhausted acceptance one would have toward a persistent cat.
Your gaze drifted toward the flowers surrounding him. “You know,” you murmured softly, “I think you spend more time here than I do now. Perhaps green makes you feel at ease, hm?”
With dodging your last words, he speaks “That is because unlike you, I possess consistency.”
“But you’re also turning my flowers into experiments.”
“They should be honored.”
You laughed quietly under your breath before gently taking his hand and guiding him toward the nearby table set. He looked mildly annoyed the entire time, but he still sat down, and after a second of hesitation, you settled carefully onto his lap sideways, arms slipping loosely around him while resting your head against his shoulder.
The old man let out the deepest sigh imaginable.
“Hopeless girl.”
Yet his hand still rested against your waist automatically. You smiled against his doctor coat that smells like… science!
The cola-flavored gloss still lingered faintly on your lips, and eventually he noticed too. “That scent,” he muttered after a moment. “Artificial. Overly sweet. Also, very unpleasant.”
You looked up at him innocently. “Maybe it tastes good though.”
His eyes narrowed immediately. “You cannot know without trying it, right?”
For a long second, he simply stared at you like he was debating whether or not you were worth the trouble. Then his hand moved slowly to your jaw and despite all the criticism, he kissed you anyway.
The faint cola flavor mixed between you while the greenhouse remained completely silent around you except for the soft hum of lamps overhead.
When he finally pulled away, his expression remained perfectly composed.
“…Still artificial,” he decided calmly. You burst into laughter instantly and though he clicked his tongue in disapproval you still caught the faint amusement hidden beneath it. He was now, too tired to deal with you, but still managing somehow.
I’m so happy people are talking about incel Zandik more ugejehshehd BUT
May I present the version of him who is both a nerdy asshole roommate AND he’s like, the best fuck you’ve ever had?
MDNI
Imagine knocking on his bedroom door down the hall near your own just to hear him groan a very gravelly, unenthusiastic “what” through the other side. You come in and politely tell him you’re just coming to take any dishes and he’ll just point at the various cups, plates, bowls, and silverware scattered about his desk space, scraped clean of the food you prepared for him (though he’d never admit he liked it). You could hear him clicking furiously whilst playing a game, cussing someone out through his headset every few seconds.
He was rude, a slob, misogynistic, had no life direction, and generally was not the kind of person you ever pictured yourself sharing a living space with. Still, the bills were paid on time and groceries were in the fridge, even if it came at the cost of Zandik demanding a second dinner at 11pm. He had literally zero regard for anyone but himself.
STILL, to your dismay, he was sexy as all hell. You could hear him stroking his cock through the walls every night, muttering under his breath about pornstar tits. You’d accidentally seen him naked when he forgot to fully shut the bathroom door before a shower. He was hung like a fucking horse. You hated him for it.
But you so loved to touch yourself on the opposite side of the wall in time with him, having memorized his sounds and breathing patterns enough to sync up your orgasms <3
And of course he would catch onto this eventually because your noises were distracting him from his gooning sesh (god forbid🙄). You’d hear irritated footsteps thumping down the hall and your bedroom door would fly angrily open, his sweatpants hanging low at his hips where you could almost follow his lil happy trail down to the goods.
But then he’d see you scrambling to cover yourself and this eerie calm would wash over him, like, oh, this slut wants me bad.
He’d spend that next hour plowing you into the mattress so good it would leave you wondering where the fuck he learned to do that and how the fuck he knew exactly where the clit was when you’d never seen him remotely near a female that wasn’t yourself. The condom finally conceded and broke after about 20 minutes of straight fucking with no stop.
And he’d take so much advantage of having a live in fucktoy roommate that was into him like that! He’d put you on his lap and have you ride him while he “dealt with noobs” on his game, making sure to pick up your moans in the mic. He’d shove you beneath his desk to choke on his cock when he was feeling lazy, tilting your chin up with his fingers just to spit into your mouth after you swallowed his load. He’d use you as a way to blow off steam after shitty matches, folding you into the couch without having muted in his vc.
Of course, this didn’t make him any nicer to you. In fact, you now had a man demanding dinner with his hands all over your thighs and ass, pressing you into the counter. And, though it felt a little wrong, you kinda didn’t mind.
testing the limits ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ a valentines special
genshin men in different s*x tropes || part one
ᡣ—𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅— neuvilette, dottore, zhongli
note !! MAJORITY of it was written gender neutral, except for dottore (afab!reader for his parts) , NSFW, m!receiving (zhongli), f!ngering (dottore), different plots for each character some are placed in genshin universe some are not! enjoy!
it was a simple contractual obligation. stay married for a year until you can make yourself powerful and known within noble society. meanwhile neuvilette could get all the forceful mothers and constant begging of other nobles off his trail, plus the divorce would make him undeemable in society. who would ever want a divorced man?
It was a simple marriage. straightforward goals for you both. you to place revenge on those who have deemed you wrong, all while he offers aid and assistance as a grand duke.
it was supposed to be a simple marriage, so why does he feel himself wanting more after your one and only kiss since your wedding?
it was supposed to be a contractual marriage, no love, no strings attached. so why do you see him in your dreams, embracing you in your chambers while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear until your waking up in sweat and soaked undergarments?
"forgive me for my insolence..." is what neuvilette mutters under his breath, patience wearing thin all while his hunger grows ever more. next thing you knew, the hand that once tugged him back from leaving your room is now being pulled in his direction. soft lips crashing against yours full of despair, consumed in the ardor he had impatiently held from within.
large hands encasing your waist, while his foot forces the door shut. he's consuming your very being, its feverent far from the softness and gentleness your servants squeal to you about. there's passion rather than the caution he had placed from your wedding day, it's like he was trying to remember every motion for it may fleet away once more.
"mmh- my lord-" your hands weak from sudden discourse finally pushes him away. breathless you're cut off,
"neuvilette." you look up at him in confusion. quesitoning him from what he had just told you.
"I-" his eyes furrow, face inching closer as a warning.
"n..neuvilette... I've never done this before.."
"it's alright darling, we'll go slow..."
...
"mm-! neuvilette! s'too fast!" his face is deep in your neck, nibbling against your skin placing another love bite. you've failed to count how many times his lips covered your body, failed to count how many hours have passed in the night.
it's restless, no sense of patience placed in his thrusts. the pain long gone and instead your drowning in pleasure, but the absolute pace your husband was going at was overstimulating you to the brim. he's chasing another high, you still shaking from your previous orgasm, yet you're about to feel yourself release once more.
"i''ve been dreading for this moment. hah- dreaming of you every godforsaken night- heavens... of you beneath me just like this..." he's groaning as his pace only increaes, you're clawing against his back mewling at him all while you tighten against him. it has him cursing the heavens, cursing the gods for having him wait so long to embrace you.
"you're close darling? hmm?" a kiss is placed on your cheek, urging you for one more high. his hand holding your face as he places his forehead against your own.
"you can do it.. just one more time..." he's kissing you with so much impatience, hips languidly moving against you, addicted to the very feeling you were giving him right this very moment. his thrusts fasten, signalling he was about to release one more time, you're holding him so tightly afraid he may run away.
but neuvillette was far from running away. no, he was gonna keep spending this very moment, remembering every place of your body. every blemish and curve, you were an art piece. his one and only.
and he was never planning to divorce you from the very start.
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ dottore || exes and messes
it's wrong. you know how defile he is. how much he mistreats you, how many lies and facades he's put up in front of you within the duraiton of your relationship.
kept you hidden in the dark from his secrets, his chaos and his insane thirst for knowledge. you couldn't believe him nor yourself for how clueless you were to his experimentations, his mania for information.
how you turned your back to his unfufilled promises of showing up, to the fake pleasantries that he'd be there on your most important achievements at the akedemiya. it's been years since your graduation, years since you finally put your foot down. so why are you here face to face with a sudden dread to cling onto him once more..?
why is it that you feel your heart flutter at more of the lies hes whispering behind your back as his hands trace you from the waist down, sending shivers down your spine.
the doctor having caught wind of you showing up within snezhnaya, he knew he had to get a hold of you one way or another. it was deplorable, how someone so dignified as him is sprawling his hands to take back the person who he believed did him wrong. all he believed that this chase collecting data would benefit you soon enough, as it did him. it just seems you never agreed to his terms.
"you say you hate me. how much you despise me. so why are you here at the doorstep of my labratory way past midnight..? hm? care to explain yourself dearest?" his gloved hands were crossed behind his back, his unique mask placed at the nearby lab bench. those fiery red eyes bore into you for the first time in years as he leaned down at your unreadable stature.
"you don't get to call me that.." is all you could really say in response, because even now you're now questioning as to why your feet have dragged you here.
"really? yet here you are surrendering to my touch. blushing every time your eyes meet mine. you haven't changed at all y/n." now one hand held you by the chin, forcing you to look back up at him. and there you both stood there, looking deep within each others eyes... long enough that you soon both crashed into one another.
next thing you knew you were being pushed against the metal counter while his cold lips melted into yours. the sound of glass viles shattering, the sound of papers fluttering as dottore was pushing everything out of his way from hindering you both. he's lifting you with so much ease, moving in ways like he's done this with you countless of times, when this is the first time in his life he's touching you so indecently.
large, scarred hands encase your face, gloves long gone just so he could feel the very warmth you emanated. he's longed for this, he's never felt so warm in his life, the chills of snezhnayas night now disippating. it's like he cannot get enough of you, he's high off the feeling of just feeling you against his lips.
"I need you zandik..." you moan, hands sprawling to rips off his annoying lab coat and the other layers of his clothes. meanwhile one hand is now trailing down your body feeling you all over.
"hah... really now? I thought you hated me dearest?" he teases, hand now pushing aside your panties feeling the pool of slick that has formed between your legs. your body never fails to deny him and it has him swelling in pride.
he doesn't waste time in pushing in two of his fingers, curling them within you letting you fall in ecstasy. you're consumed in lust and desperation for him and he's giving it all to you on a silver platter. his motions fasten before they stop, edging you from release.
"ah.. zandik please..."
"please what darling? you need to use your words" lips nibbling onto your neck as his fingers are sinking deeper into you. it's insane. this feeling is insane. he's insane.
"more.. i need more..." clawing into his shoulders, his pace increasing by the driven desire to see you absolutely fall by his hand. the sound of your slick along with your breathless mewls for release is like music to his ears.
his thumb presses against your most sensitive part, and your eyes are widening at the sudden surge of pleasure. hes moving in ways as if hes studying your very being in the midst of your high. you're tearing up at how insanely good it feels. it shouldn't feel this good, but here you are pulling him, begging him for more.
you were loving every breath shared with him, and he had no plans of letting you leave him ever again.
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ zhongli || his sweet secretary
zhongli is a boss with strict professionalism. he sticks to the rules, and expresses great mannerisms no matter how difficult a potential business partner or employee might be.
an employee is acting out of line? talking back? he'll simply respond calmly all while having you write up a letter of letting go that very employee. its his "nice" way of firing someone so distasteful.
his demeanor is welcoming yet also one with unspoken boundaries that should never be crossed, at least that's what it always seemed. he's always so gentle when speaking with you, whenever he was off to a meeting—seeing you in the specially built in the office he had just for you. his ever so special secretary—he spares glances your way with a smile that had your coworkers swooning, but one you responded with respect.
but under those gentle responses to his kind gestures was one where you wished you were the one by his side every night. guiltily you've touched yourself at the thought of zhongli dominating you as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. you yearned for him to hold you, wanted him to-
"y/n? did you order the perfume sets to give to our client?" you were currently in his office, laptop on the side of his desk as you sat across from him. he had welcomed you in to eat a lunch with him while you finalized the contracts with the new partners he had recently made business with. yet instead of typing down the requirements and agreements, you were dazing off at thought of zhongli instead.
"oh! uhm yes yes... sorry sir..." you turn pink as you're brought back to reality, hastily typing away the contract. however zhongli places a hand a top yours, stopping you from typing any further.
"if you are tired and need a break, feel free to y/n. there is no need to rush, I do not want my secretary to fall ill now.." he looks at you softly, as if there was 0 desire behind those very eyes. however zhonglis versions of taking a break, turned out to be a bit more twisted.
really, he had 0 intentions to do this at first, especially within his office at this very moment. yet the way you looked so ravishing, so alluring, you were like a treasure he couldn't refuse. Just quietly munching at the sandwich he brought for you to share, full of the ingredients he remembered you liked most. he was cracking beneath his facade.
"could you come closer here y/n?" you nodded, getting up and circling around his desk until you were in front of him. there he rose up before looking deeply into you.
"sir..?"
"may I?" is all he asks and you quietly nod.
it's been an hour since then and now your on your knees beneath him, his white tie loose, pants and belt unbuckled. his length is held within your hands, lips teasing his blushed tip.
you're taking him in so well, his one hand is gripping tightly against your hair guiding your mouth along his cock. the other brushing his hair back so he could relish the view in front of him.
its curved a slight and covered in your messy, half assed efforts of sucking his sheer length. your lips are puffy, eyes welling up from his forceful efforts as he chases for a release. he's pushing your head down, letting you take all of him in.
"oh archons.. you're taking me so well..." he's groaning, your motions are getting messier and needier. the lewd sounds of you sucking him off is echoing within his office. the vibrations of your moans is throwing him into a fucking world of disarray, and it isn't long till he's releasing all over you.
you're gripping against his thighs, feeling his cock pulsate in your mouth as you finally break free from his hold. his cum and your saliva string along from your mouth, those golden eyes look down at you with absolute desire at the sight.
"come here sweetheart", he pulls you up wiping your face with a nearby napkin. you on his lap, feeling him growing hard again at the feeling of your ass against him.
— including. — dan heng, jing yuan, mydei, dr ratio
— warnings. — fem! reader, dirty talk, talking you through it, messy, overstimming
⚝ — DAN HENG
dan heng touches you on places no one else could reach— alas, he was calm only in appearance, but every motion underneath was begging for access— he looks at you, eyes dark, flickering to your lips like they hold some terrible truth he needed to find out as his hands, slightly cold, find your waist.
"you make me say things i shouldn't, fantasize about things that should never be spoken aloud," your moan draws out a helpless tune from him, somewhat between half growl and half sob, "you don't know how beautiful you look, spread out like this, glistening for me, it's maddening," as he presses in slowly, exhaling hard, "that's it… you take me so well, so greedy, I shouldn't like that, but fuck, i do," as his hand trembles, gripping your thighs, holding you open.
slowly, he's memorizing every second, every shape and storing you in some hidden chamber of memory inside his brain to return back in solitude.
but it frays too quickly— dan heng hisses when your pussy begins to squeeze him, forcing him to take him deeper inch by inch until he'd be able to graze at your clit whenever he went fully inside your sweet warmth.
your fingers sink into his shoulder as your back arches off the mattress, fuck, he groans against your mouth in response, soft at first, then deeper, more ragged, "don't stop, not yet," he whines out, voice shredded and low, fucking you while simultaneously watching your tits bounce up and down in tandem with his desperate thrusts.
his hands grip at your thighs like he might drown without the grounding of your skin as he kisses you with the restraint of someone taught to deny himself— but beneath it all, there was hunger, even worse, dark, desperate hunger. despite now, when he finally slides his tongue deeper into your mouth, you found it to be not careful anymore, "you have no idea what you do to me," he says, eyes fluttering shut, your pussy throbbing and soaking him with your slick, "fuck baby— no idea how many nights i've imagined this, your mouth, your noises, how you take me."
you feel him twitch inside you— his hips betraying him, his breath a staccato rhythm of need, "let me, just once— lose control."
⚝ — JING YUAN
"how sweet you're reacting to me, dear," jing yuan points out, calm voice trembling at the edges, the way silk tears under a blade, "shaking like that already? i haven't even started," as he drags his cock along your soaked entrance, slow enough to make you beg.
he smiles, "you know i could keep you here for hours, talk you through every second of it while you cry for more," as his hand cups your face, thumb pressing into your cheek, dragging your gaze up so you'd be forced to look at him.
"you want to be filled, ruined, marked— don't you? say it, i want to hear you, tell me you need me to use this perfect body of yours, tell me i'm the only one who gets to see you like this,"
you don't breathe— you simply cannot— not when he finally pushes back in, slow like cruelty, like a punishment designed just for you as your gasp forms into a sharp, raw tune, desperately torn from your lungs like utter worship, and the sound of it— fuck, the sound of it— it breaks him.
jing yuan fucks not like a man, no, it's something different, something broken open from the inside, teeth bared behind it like violence. he's losing himself, not out of gentleness, but restraint he's had caged behind his heart for centuries.
it's in the way his hips shake, the way his mouth drips spit onto your throat as he pants against it, hot and soaked and shaking.
"tight, fuck— you were waiting for me, knew you’d be like this, soaked and twitching, wanting it filthy, needy thing, aren't you?" jing yuan leans down, panting against your lips, "i'll say everything to you, every little thing i want to do, you want my voice in your head next time you touch yourself? good, because after this, you won't know how to come unless it's to me whispering filth in your ear."
⚝ — MYDEI
mydei doesn't even look away when you shake from overstimulation, in fact, he needs to see it happening, "you poor, sweet thing," he drawls, his thumb pushing through the little hood of your clit before dragging your slick from your folds up to your sensitive pearl like he's painting with it, having fun while being cruel, "this is how you thank me? dripping like a broken thing just because i touched you?"
the man was utterly stimulated from seeing you writhing like this, desperately so as he fucks you with his fingers— slow, wet, curling deep, then changing the entire rhythm and flicking through your clit left right left right.
"keep squeezing me like that and i'll think you're begging me to ruin it, sweetheart, that what you want? you want me to fuck you until you forget your own damn name?" his smile is crooked and mean, teeth flashing like a wolf about to bite, "you hear that?" he growls when you wince out the moment he fucks his cock inches deeper.
"listen to how wet you are for me— nothing but a soaked little mess now, fucking filthy, huh? you were made for me, weren't you?" mydei groans low, his breath hot against your cheek as he smears his saliva from your cheek, jaw and neck, suckling on the swollen flesh harshly.
"gonna talk you through every inch while you're losing your fucking mind," he shoves himself in and pulls out completely, only to push his cock inside more devilishly, your cunt gushing and overflowing with his cum and your slick, "you like that, baby? like when i use that filthy mouth of mine and this cock? then be good and open up for me, i'll make you forget how to walk."
⚝ — DR RATIO
"intellect alone doesn't explain what i want to do to you," veritas was already buried in you, movements obscene, sounds wet and loud, but his voice— his angelic voice— was cruel and saccharine sweet all at once, "if you only knew how often i've imagined this, your thighs shaking around me baby, fuck and your mouth? open in those pretty little gasps, your cunt swallowing me like it missed me, hah," as you cry out when he pulls your hips tighter against him, impossibly close, like he could crawl inside your skin and live there, lusting and downright starved.
"mm baby, yes, just like that, keep clenching, i want to memorize how you tighten when i say filthy things, say more, darling, i'll say everything to make you sound like that," veritas licks a stripe along your jaw, like he's losing his mind with the way you sound, the way you milk his cock and squeeze him so impossibly deep, "you're so far gone, twitching like this, drooling for it, your mind leaking out your ears and i haven't even started talking properly yet."
alas, the man kisses your temple, then says darkly, "i'll speak until your thoughts melt, tell you exactly what your body looks like stretched around me, how i want to stay buried here until it stops being fucking academic and starts being more," as another thrust, this one strong enough that his pelvis rubs on your clit, unfolds your veins and boils your blood as your tits bounce up and down.
he needs you closer— no, closer than that— so close there's no space for thought, for breath, for salvation, he crushes you to him, his veiny hands strong and solid as they drag you in, back and back and back again until your breasts were pressed up against the unbearable heat of his chest— his skin slick, sculpted like sin carved into flesh, his muscles twitching with yearn that's already shattering.
"you understand now, don't you? i'm not stopping until you're crying and still begging for more."
synopsis . In which it takes a total of sixty nine days of living with Choso for the two of you to realize you’re both terribly down bad for one another. He’d been crushing on you hard (pun intended) from the day you moved in with him, and while living with you is easy, being around you almost all day every day like this is turning him into someone he can't recognize. So much so that you should be concerned. Except, you're not?
content . afab!reader, perv x perv, filth, dirty talk, virgin!choso, dub-con (considering all the perversion), switch dynamics, porn w no plot, choso’s down bad but so is reader, pet names, lots of dry humping/humping in general, he watches a lot of porn, loser!cho, awkwardness, embarrassment, premature ejec (he cums a lot), creampies, implied breeding kink, panty sniffing/stealing, getting caught, reader makes him suck a copy of his own dick, possessiveness, manhandling, scent kink(?), oral sex (f!receiving), he's literally disgusting, missionary, he calls reader mommy on “accident” a few times, eventual rough sex, etc.
word count . 11k || author's note: mostly based on this drabble & the many requests i got for this!! banner art from “Lady K and the Sick Man”
Day Two: The Phone Incident.
Choso should’ve known how severely fucked he was from the moment he got hard after handing you your phone.
And yes, that is as crazy as it sounds.
You didn’t even notice it—as you were much too busy trying to get to some phone call—but this was the first time in a whopping forty-eight hours of living with you that Choso had experienced this kinda thing.
Something about holding a device of which your fingers spent the majority of the day wrapped around drove him crazy. Perhaps it was the indirect touch, or the fact that his hand faintly smelled like yours afterwards, but either way—he felt a sudden twitch in his pants that he just couldn’t ignore.
He’d accepted the fact that he was attracted to you when you moved in, but this?
This was absurd. Surely his body wouldn’t continue to react like this around you… right?
After handing you your device, Choso turned away all awkwardly and calmly excused himself into his room for the night. This left you to watch him walk away with slightly confused eyes as you carried on with your call, shrugging off his sudden stiffness and figuring it was nothing too serious.
Which, in a way, it wasn't. The man nearly needed a moment away from you.
A moment long enough to take care of the leaking problem in his pants, that is.
As soon as he enters his room, he lightly shuts the door and lets his head push against it with a soft thump. One hand remains on the doorknob whilst the other is just barely keeping his body standing upright. It was like a switch had gone off in his head or something.
It hasn't even been a week with you yet and there's already one thing running rampant in his mind—sex.
Choso's known you for quite some time now, which is exactly why you moving in with him when he already had a spare bedroom only made sense. But to already be losing his head over something so small makes him feel shamed with the weight of guilt.
He shouldn't touch himself. He should ignore how hard he is right now. And should definitely not think about you if he does decide to act against those two things.
...Yeah, that goes straight out the window the moment he hears you laughing from the living room.
You're still on the phone and you'd have no reason to come into his room and check on him or anything so it should be okay, no? Getting off to you once won't hurt anyone.
Clasping his bottom lip neatly in between his teeth, Choso finally moves a hand down over the fully formed bulge poking out against his sweatpants. Maybe he won't even jerk off. Maybe he'll just rub at his cock until he cums.
That should be fine.
Right?
His hand carefully cups 'n grabs at the outline of his hard shaft, his bottom lip falling loose with a moderately noisy pant breaking free from his throat. "Fuck," Choso sears just under his breath as he squeezes his eyes shut.
He shouldn't be doing this. This is wrong. You just moved in!
His hand slides over slowly, letting the friction of fabric and his palm soothe his aching arousal just a bit.
What would you think if you saw him right now? You're only a few steps away from his door, sitting all pretty in his living room. Would you be disgusted by him if you knew how he rubbed his hand against his dick to the mere thought of you? Taking his other hand—the same one that held your phone and now carries the faintest bit of your scent—and slowly bringing it up to his nose to smell.
His palm reeks in your lotion. You must've used it recently, huh? Probably right before touching your phone for the last time, he thinks.
Choso's other hand squeezes around the head of his dick, feeling something nasty beginning to wet up his boxers. Fuck, he feels gross for doing this. He's all hunched up against his bedroom door, body flinching whenever he hears your voice a little clearer from beyond it, and cock jumping with each whiff he takes of his palm.
His mouth flails open a little and he nearly whines as his hand grips at his length a little tighter, slithering towards his shaft, and then letting his hips roll forward. The hand pressed up to his nose slips down to clasp over his mouth to conceal that pathetic sound, only worsening his situation as he realizes this means the smell of your lotion is practically smushed up to his lips now.
Choso feels his knees going weak all of a sudden and can't even help himself as he ditches the teasing rubbing and finally stuffs his hand down into his pants. His cock meets his hand raw with a throbbing heat he hadn't been expecting.
Quickly, before he starts letting out sounds too loud to conceal, he does his best to work himself up to an orgasm. Because of his hasty movements, it's not long before his hand is cramping up and he's jerkily thrusting his dick into his coiled fingers.
"A-Ah," Choso gasps, his lashes fluttering over something wet that'd unknowingly built up against his waterline.
Then there's a sudden knock at his door.
The poor guy nearly falls over, barely managing to grit his teeth and swallow the next array of sounds that threatened to leave him. His eyes stare down at the silhouette of your shadow under the door and he struggles to suppress a groan.
"Hey, I dunno if you're asleep already but," God, you sounded so sweet—how could he be doing this in thought of you? "I just wanted to let you know we're out of trash bags. Tried to text you but it wasn't going through."
Choso's standing here jerking off like some freak after touching something of yours and now you're standing on the other side of his door telling him you guys are out of trash bags?
How comedic.
Not that any of this stops his hand from moving. If anything, his cock feels wetter as he continues on to the sound of each word leaving your lips. Then he presses his face against his door and murmurs, "M-Mhm, thanks for... letting me know. I'll get more t-tomorrow," He grunts out.
Little did he know, his movements had only become smoother because he already came from the moment you knocked on the door. Now his briefs were filled with cum, his hand felt disgustingly sticky, and...
And you have absolutely no idea. You haven't the slightest clue that he just did something wildly perverted in your name.
Or so he thought.
——
Day Fifteen: Missing Hoodies.
A little over two weeks in and Choso's issue has only gotten worse. On the bright side of things, at least he's not the only one slowly losing his sanity in all this.
Because surely if you weren't losing your mind just as much as he was then you'd have moved out by now. Even though he's sure you're not aware of any of the things he's done so far like steal your panties just before laundry day, stuff his nose into your bath towel mere minutes after you've showered, and even use that same lotion of yours to jerk himself off.
But again, Choso is pretty sure that if you knew about any of those things he's done then you would've been out of here faster than you came in. Better yet, faster than he cums whenever you're in mind.
Which is pretty damn fast.
It's on this fifteenth day that Choso loses his first hoodie. It's a plain grey hoodie, but he noticed it's disappearance rather quickly because the last time he wore it was on the day he last spoke to Yuji—and everyone knows how attentive this man gets when it comes to his siblings.
So imagine his surprise when he's tearing his room up trying to find that hoodie to no avail. A small frown takes over his face and he lets out a long sigh before trudging out his room and towards yours.
Knocking thrice, "Are you busy?" Choso asks carefully, ears slightly quirking up at the distant sound of your bedsheets being shuffled about.
Part of him wonders what you were up to.
"If so, don't worry about it," He adds on shortly after. You hadn't even said anything yet and he was already nervous. "I didn't mean to interrupt—"
The door swings open and you're greeting him with your breath seeming as though it's lost it's way into your lungs properly. "You're not interrupting anything, Choso. What's up?" You hum rather sweetly.
"I was just wondering if you'd seen my uh-," He cuts himself short as his eyes helplessly fall downwards. Perhaps he was dreaming or something because surely you're not wearing the very thing he came looking for? Choso's hand draws up as he unintentionally points at your chest, "Is that my hoodie?"
You look down at yourself and then back up at him and shrug, "I dunno, is it?"
Maybe it was the dim hallway lighting but you swear Choso's face is getting redder by the second, a cute hue of pink flushing out over his cheek and noticeable around the dark ink stretching across the bridge of his nose.
Then his hand flies up to the back of his head, scratching beneath his dark, loose locks of hair, "Well, unless we have the same hoodie... m'pretty sure that's mine." He mumbles on.
"Oh." Is the only warning he receives before he watches your hands meet the bottom of that same hoodie, and then lift.
Oh fuck. Choso's eyes widen and all the hairs at the back of his neck seem to stand up as he watches the way you thoughtlessly pull his hoodie off of your body, revealing the very sheer tank-top you have on underneath and the lack of pants below that.
While living with you was easy, truly, there were times like this where Choso wondered if you even saw him as a man. Or if maybe you were just really comfortable around him. Because in what other world would you take off his hoodie right in front of him whilst clad in nothing more than a tank-top and a dark purple pair of panties that he's all too familiar with?
Not that you knew about the last part of that but, still. He's allowed what feels like a minute of staring and drooling before his face is met with that same hoodie of his!
"Was that all?" You ask smoothly, as if you hadn't nearly flashed him and then thrown his own clothes back at him like it was nothing.
His head nods rapidly from beneath his sweatshirt, refusing to move his body just yet in fear of where his hands may find themselves, and waiting until he hears your bedroom door shut again.
As he's left in the hallway to his own devices, Choso's slow to remove the jacket from his head. He holds it out to inspect for a moment and notices a wet patch near the ends of it. His mind immediately goes somewhere dirty.
Did you... use his hoodie how he wants to think you did?
Choso looks back up at your door and gulps. Then his mouth twitches and before he knows it, he’s smiling rather smug-like. If his thoughts are correct then that would mean you got off to how he smells and—he brings his hoodie up to his nose and inhales—luckily for him, the cologne this fabric in particular is doused in, just so happens to be his favorite.
Which is exactly why Choso goes on to make said cologne his only scent.
Following this little act of his is an abundance of his shirts and hoodies going missing. You only got caught wearing them just that one time but, he doesn’t need to see you in his clothes to know you’re the one stealing them.
It’s quite obvious, in his humble opinion. No matter how many times you come to tell him he must’ve lost it or misplaced it somewhere. As if. The man barely leaves the apartment!
And while that’s nothing to brag about, it is undoubtedly the truth.
——
Day Thirty-Four: Indirect Cumshots.
This is where things really start to go from bad, to worse.
The two of you now have a mutual habit of stealing one another’s clothes. You know for sure Choso gets off with your stuff since he mostly takes your panties, skirts, bras, shirts, shorts, and shoelaces?!—all in that order.
What other use for these items could he possibly have if not for sexual satisfaction?
The same questions travels throughout Choso’s mind whenever he wonders why his shirts, hoodies, and jackets go missing. Except, his only issue with it—outside of it being an inconvenience whenever he needs to dress himself—is that he’s still not fully sure whether or not he’s right about your use for them.
Especially since you’ve worn a few of his clothes around the apartment without a care in the world, blaming it on the mixed laundry whenever asked about it. Naturally he believes you, but he can’t deny the fact that he desperately hopes you’re lying to him.
Just the thought of you having your nose buried into his clothes while your fingers play with the neglected cunt in between your legs, your thighs clenching whenever you get close, and mouth breathing out moans of his name makes Choso’s mind go blank.
He’s never had sex before so he hopes that doesn’t turn you off—wanting nothing more than for it to be you that changes this some day.
Above all that, and back to this whole clothing fiasco, Choso has found another way to satisfy his doubts.
In the event that you really weren’t taking his clothes to fuck yourself in, he had a backup plan. By this point Choso had accepted the fact that he’d become nothing more than a dirty pervert since you moved in. So much so that he figured if he could jerk off to indirect kisses from you…
…He could indirectly cum on you too.
Now, now, he knows that sounds bad at first. But he swears it’s really not!
It technically started when he accidentally came on one of your blankets.
He’d been in the living room—doing what any perv would do—rubbing his bare cock against the last place in which you’d sat on the couch. You weren’t home so he wasn’t worried at all about getting caught, thrusting his dick all slanted against the cushions, and letting his precum smear sloppily all over where you were sitting.
“Nngh-,” Choso cared little about holding back his sounds whenever you weren’t home, this moment being the most prime example of this.
His hand loosely kept his cock from sliding all over the place, thumb lightly hovering over his base so that he could have some sort of rhythm in his movements.
He was bare naked, whole body flushed from how hot ‘n bothered he found himself. You looked especially pretty that day. He doesn’t even remember where you said you were going but he does remember the glimpse of your panties he got when you got up from the couch and walked over towards the door in that unfairly short skirt of yours.
It was the same black pair he fucked his cockhead against just three days ago and now you were wearing them and you didn’t have the slightest clue. That fabric would be hugging your pussy for hours and you were oblivious to the fact that his cum had been pooling against it not too long ago.
Fuck, the thought drives him straight over the edge, causing him to stumble against the couch as he fists at his dick. Choso tosses his head back and begins to fuck his hand imagining it was you—gushy spurts of cum spilling out from his plump head in varying directions before he even realizes it.
Heavy pants departed from his mouth as he stroked himself through his high and let whimpers exit his throat. By the time he calmed down, he looked below himself to see that he not only came all over your seat—the splatter of his cum mirroring the way it probably would if he ever came on your ass—but he also accidentally shot some of it onto your blanket.
The same blanket you bury your face under whenever you two watch a movie that’s a little too gruesome, the same blanket you cuddle yourself under, and the same blanket that sometimes get smothered in between your thighs whenever you have it hugging your body a certain way.
Choso tilts his head a little and that’s when it hits him. Just like the time you two had shared a water bottle and indirectly kissed… him cumming on your favorite blanket is no different than him cumming on you, right?
His brows meet. Is that bad to think? If he cums on more of your stuff, does that mean he’s always cumming on you?
Has he technically finished inside you since he’s done so inside your panties more times than he can count?
Shit.
It’s from then on that Choso begins to purposefully release a load on things you use all the time. And just as doing this to your blanket has been one of the most perverted things he'd done so far, so was doing the same to your favorite mug.
He just woke up with the fattest tent in his pants that morning, he had to do something about it! And you can’t blame him when he ignored the erection and joined you for breakfast anyway, watching your lips mold themself around the rim of the dish, gulping deeply until the liquid inside was all gone...
Choso barely felt like himself after you left. He rushed into the kitchen and searched the sink for the cup you used, pulling his cock out and letting it slap against the porcelain. He’s sure this is your favorite mug because of how expensive it is so he knew he had to be careful.
Even so, that didn’t stop him from dragging his dick around its edges—right where your lips and tongue had been. After which he spent the next few minutes emptying his balls into the mug until it was a quarter full with his seed.
This was by far the most depraved thing he’d done so far.
Only for that feeling to get worse in his chest when he watched you use the same cup the following morning, humming at a slightly different pitch as if a new flavor had been added to your beverage.
He couldn’t bear to meet your eyes afterwards. You basically just drank his cum and you didn’t know.
That’s horrible. You’d totally hate him if—
“Did you buy a new dish soap or something?” Your voice breaks him away from his thoughts of impending guilt.
Choso’s head flies up and his eyes, wide and dopey brown, set on you with that intensive warmth you always enjoy. “Huh?” He gapes.
You grin, “I asked if you bought a new dish soap.” Then you shrug all cheekily, “My mug smells really nice for some reason.”
Yeah, probably because he spent an hour cleaning it after he did something so sinful to it…
Your roommate shakes his head, “No, no, I didn’t buy anything new.” He tells you.
The conversation ends around there as you nod and then return to your breakfast, thinking nothing more of it.
Meanwhile Choso feels guilt in between his legs stirring up again and some weird sense of pride in his chest swelling.
Which is exactly why he doesn’t stop there. Although he always cleans up thoroughly after these indirect cumshots of his—it never fails to fill him with pride when he watches you use the same things he’s soiled.
Forks, spoons, straws—which were hell to clean—your phone while you were sleeping one time, pictures of you, etc. In more ways than one, Choso’s basically marked and claimed you as his own via spilling his seed all over you.
——
Day Forty-Eight: Shame? Never heard of her.
The cumshots were one thing, of course. Starting to see your face in every pornographic video he watches is another. So is lightly stroking himself while sitting right next to you and talking to you about his day.
But fucking your pillow when you’re not home, pretending that it’s you, while playing some random audio of yours in the background? Now that was the final straw.
Choso can't even begin to explain nor understand what exactly has gotten into him.
At least when he'd done all those other nasty things with you in mind, he felt bad directly after the fact—apologizing to you via being extra sweet and kind in ways that'd earn him lovely praises from you in return.
It seems like that's a lost art to him now, though.
The man had walked into your room in search of his headphones, the ones he let you borrow last night and now needs to properly enjoy his porn. He hadn't planned to do anything dirty in your room. No, never.
But when he got in there he was thrown off by you leaving a pair of panties on your bed. Not just any pair though, the red pair.
Now, these panties in particular had a bit of a story to them. Choso knows you only wear them when you go out to hook-up with somebody and if they’re sitting on your bed now, that means you saw someone recently or were planning to.
Either way, he doesn’t really want that to happen.
He hasn’t quite revealed any of his intentions nor feelings to you (or at least he doesn’t think he has), but that doesn’t mean he’s immune to feeling possessive over you. You were his roommate, after all.
Maybe this is why he ends up on your bed, grabbing the pillow you sleep on and hauling it up towards his face for a good sniff. The fumes flow through his nostrils and send a rush of blood straight down to his cock.
Partially because he can smell remnants of his cologne lingering in the cottony fabric, which could only mean one thing—you'd slept in his clothes before. Or something like that, anyway.
Halfway through his pillow sniffing, and with a half-hard cock forming in his pants, he hears his phone chime from within his pocket. The chime in question is one he specifically set for you so he wastes not even a second digging for his phone and pulling it out.
Your contact sits center on his screen as it unlocks, revealing to him a voice message you'd just sent.
Choso gulps.
You've sent him a few voice messages in the past, having felt too lazy to type stuff out, but it never fails to make him nervous before pressing play. And right now was absolutely no different.
"Hey Cho, when you get a chance—hahh, shit." Oh? Do his ears decieve him or was that a breathy pant from you? Rewinding the recording a few seconds, "Hey Cho, when you get a chance—hahh, shit. Sor-," He cuts the voice message off and then follows suit with his phone, turning it over and looking up to the ceiling for the moment.
Did you... have any idea of the things you did to this man?
Tossing the question, he tries again.
"Hey Cho, when you get a chance—hahh, shit." There's a short pause as he hears you taking a deep breath, "Sorry, when you get a chance, can you order takeout from the same place as last week before I get home?"
Takeout, of course. Of course. What else would you have sent him a voice message for?
...Certainly not for what he was about to do with it.
You were out at the gym so that little pant of yours should've been expected but he must've forgotten by the time he played the message. His thumb keeps finding itself repeating the same part of your recording, within the first few seconds when that pant, followed by a sweet curse of exhaustion dares to leave your lips.
It's stupid, really. You made one little noise and said one word he's heard from you a thousand times and yet he's already plopping down on your bed, your pillow still in hand, and his legs slowly spreading out so his poor, hardening cock has room to breathe.
Then Choso saves the message to his phone, not thinking twice as he goes on to edit it within his camera roll so that the few seconds of panting and cursing can replay over and over until he's had his fill of it.
After a good five times of replaying those gorgeous few seconds you'd given him, an idea Choso simply cannot ignore is born.
He doesn't recognize himself at all as he tosses your pillow over, snatches up those panties you had lying around and turns around to hover over the two items.
This is so fucked, and he knows it but it's hard to care. One moment he's starring at the assortment of material he has here and the next, he's got your pillow snug under the fabric of your panties. His thumb traces the edge of it just as it would if you were wearing them, swiping up heavily against the center where your pretty slit would be.
Fuck, he should stop.
His thumb glides back down and he shifts against the mattress, knees digging into the plush of it, and hot breaths tumbling out of his lungs. Then his fingers pinch at each side of your panties before he tugs, cleanly ripping the cloth just enough to create a small hole.
He winces upon doing so, knowing damn well he's getting worse by the second.
Choso pauses for a moment and grabs his phone to open his photos. His thumb swiftly swipes through his camera roll until he finds a picture of you, and along with it, he's managed to have your little panting curse combo playing on repeat.
And that's all he needed because now he's got a hole ripped into your pillow and although it was very cottony wrapping around the head of his dick, he couldn't be bothered to care. His imagination was running rampant and all he could picture was you splayed out beneath him, letting him use your body to strip him of his virginity.
He's so sure of how absolutely warm your pussy would be, despite never being inside one or even setting his eyes on one (in person) before. You'd squeeze him nice 'n tight, wouldn't you? Suck him in deeper even when he knows he can't handle that and tries to pull himself back?
God, he's getting dizzy in his own arousal and his precum is serving as lube inside this stupidly dry pillow of yours. It doesn't even feel good but every time he opens his eyes and sees your panties ripped open, his cock bulging in between where he'd torn them, he cares less and less.
Not to mention how you'll be sleeping on this same pillow soon, so the faster he cums inside of it, the faster he can say he's indirectly spilled his cum on your face.
Which is precisely why his hips are picking up their pace, even as he falls over and ends up having to hold his hunched body up with one very unsteady hand.
"Fuck," The curse falls from his lips in sync with the one that fell from yours in that recording—which is still playing in the background of his misdeeds, by the way. Then his visions suddenly become clearer while his movements grow more janky, eyes journeying to the back of his skull in pure bliss.
He swears he can see you under him right now, feel the pretty walls of your pussy clenching around his cock because it's too big for you to take with the way he's rutting forward right now. You'd tell him to slow down a little, no?
Choso steadies the pace of his pelvis just a faction as he catches his breath, "Gonna cum soon." He whispers to the imaginative version of you he's got underneath him.
How would your hands feel pushing or even pulling at his waist, trying to get him to reach deeper inside you despite his dick being much too big for you? Is it cocky of him to think that?
His bottom lip fwips out a little as he pouts, eyes growing teary from how stimulating this is for him. He's never wanted to fuck someone so badly. All these weeks of teasing and sneaking around to commit the most debauched of acts in your name... when would things come to a breaking point? When would you catch onto the hints he's not even throwing??
Ugh, all these questions leave Choso frustrated. So frustrated that now he's applied all his weight to your pillow, fulling humping his fat cock into the makeshift hole. You'd feel so much better than this stupid pillow but the realization of that does little to stop his fingertips from digging into your sheets as he grits his teeth and then spills his first load into it.
"Fuckfuckfuck-," Choso mutters under his breath as he tugs all his inches back a little before diving them right back in. His seed floods throughout the cottony insides of your cushion, making everything creamy.
He ends up having to bite down on your sheets just to hold back the sounds he begins to let out as he drives himself straight into overstimulation with a lack of halting his movements. You'd let him do this to you, right? Fuck multiple loads into you? Breed you?
Hell, what does Choso—who spends majority of his time thinking and fantasizing about you without ever feeling the sexual touch of a woman—know about breeding?
All these damn questions have had the man so distracted that he never realized how much his hand had bumped into his idle phone screen, having somehow managed to capture all of his past few events—which consisted of him moaning your name out and muttering filthy things he doesn't much understand—on camera.
But, that's not the worst part about all this.
The worst part about all this is that by the time Choso finishes up with properly breeding your pillow, he went to finally swipe his phone up, and in doing so he hit send on everything he just recorded.
Now, bear in mind that you never received any sort of response to your innocent takeout request. So really imagine your shock to hear nearly twenty minutes worth of audio porn from your roommate. Actually, scratch that, imagine how quickly you got wet from opening your text thread with Choso to see a video from him.
Because it wasn't just audio he'd accidentally captured, but an entire production of him fucking your pillow.
Shit.
——
Day Sixty-Nine: The Copy-Cock Incident.
Ever since that day, things have been weird between you and Choso.
You came home and didn't say a word to him, didn't even look at him or acknowledge him, and proceeded to hide away in your room for... the next few days or so.
By the time Choso saw you again, you pretended to be completely normal and made him feel like you'd forgotten all about the video he sent you. In fact, you even talk to him as if he'd never done anything wrong.
Weird.
The man was naturally uneasy around you for every day that followed, feeling his skin crawl with guilt every single time he was in front of you. There was nothing he could do about it either, anytime he tried to bring it up or apologize, you'd shut the conversation down or change the subject. It was almost like you didn't want him to apologize for it.
Does that mean you were silently thanking him for it? Did you perhaps like the video?
Choso's unsure. Like, severely unsure.
If you thought he was nervous and awkward around you before than he's gotten a million times worse after the whole video thing.
But today—the sixty ninth day in which you've been living with him—he's finally given the clearest answer to all his questions. All his awkwardness and shyness flies straight out the window the moment Choso comes home to see you sitting rather weirdly in his designated spot on the couch.
He made small talk with you while grabbing a bottle of water for himself from the kitchen, hearing this notable waver in your voice that he simply couldn't ignore.
What Choso didn't know quite yet was that he'd came home far earlier than you expected him to. So now you were left to maintain casual conversation with him as if there wasn't inches of thick silicone stuffed inside your cunt right now.
"—and they're dropping a sequel too, can you believe it?" Choso's voice reverberates throughout the fine walls of your apartment and your hips squirm slightly.
You don't think he ever noticed it but you always found his voice to be especially sexy. And after you got that video of him fucking your pillow—which you've replayed a concerning amount of times since—you think your attraction to his voice has only worsened.
You never knew someone with a tone that deep could whimper and whine so sweetly. The mere reminiscent thought of it has you lifting your body up an inch or two, before you sink back down onto the dildo you have beneath you.
Then your eyes threaten to close and you nibble on your bottom lip to stop yourself from making any sudden noises.
Clearing your throat instead, "Really? That sounds—"
"Are you okay?" Choso cuts off, having fully entered the living room with you now.
His eyes narrow at you as you make contact with them, watching how he's got a single brow cocked up and one hand at his hip—the other busy drawing his perspiring bottle of water up to his lips. Instead of answering him immediately, you sit there and watch the movement of his mouth for an unhealthy number of seconds.
Choso's lips press against the opening of his water oh-so-effortlessly, his tongue swiping out to capture any liquid that imperils to escape his mouth, and his throat shifting along with each unwavering gulp he takes.
When his mouth detaches from the bottle, your eyes are glued to the small breath he lets out before he tilts his head. Then his hand waves out your way, "Hello?"
You shake out of your little daze and cringe at yourself internally, "Huh? Oh-, yeah, mhm. I-I'm fine."
Choso nods his head slowly as if he definitely does not believe you. Then you see the way his eyes drop down to the blanket concealing your lower half, and his feet move against the floor to carry him over to the empty spot on the couch beside you. "Are you sure? You look a little..." His eyelid lower a fraction and he clears his throat, "Stiff?"
You wanted to move around and reposition yourself to show him that you're totally fine but it was a little difficult to do so when you had a sex toy poking up inside you. "I'm fine, Cho. Don't worry about it," You tell him.
He's entirely unconvinced. After living with you for a little over two months, he can confidently say he knows you and your body language like the back of his hand.
So, he leans back against the couch—eyes still trained on your ever little move—and then rests one of his arms against the backside of it, leaning closer to you. "It's kinda hard not to worry about it when you're looking at me like that."
You blink. "Like what?"
"Like you've been caught doing something wrong," He says with a breathless scoff following, "Did something happen?"
"N-No," You breathe out as quickly as you can.
Choso's gaze gets impossibly firmer on you, "You're lying."
Looking away for a split second, your arms move to fold beneath your chest, "Since when did you become so intuitive?"
"I've always been this intuitive," He tells you.
An uncomfortable beat of silence passes, and unfortunately for you, his talking is not helping your situation right now. Every word that vacates his mouth has you soaking both the item you're sitting on and the couch below it.
"So," His fingers idly drum against the back of the couch, "Are you gonna tell me what's wrong or...?"
You scoff, "Nothing's wrong, Choso."
He waits exactly ten loooong seconds before cracking a smirk, "So move."
"What?" You gasp.
He's still starring at you with the same unconvinced look on his face, "If there's nothing wrong, move."
You wave your arm out in a dismissive gesture before rolling your eyes and turning your head elsewhere, "You're being annoying over nothing."
Choso sizes you up, drinking in every inch of your noticeably rigid frame. "And something's wrong with you but you won't tell me what. Are you in pain? Did you hurt yourself in an embarrassing way? C'mon, if that's the case, I promise I won't make fun of you for it."
God, you hated when he acted like this. Sometimes Choso cared too much for his own good. He almost walked in on you touching yourself one night and wouldn't leave you alone until he set his eyes on your face to make sure you were okay.
You turn your head back towards him and sigh. You knew he knew what was going on here. Otherwise, why would he be pressing you to tell him what you were up to like this?
"You walked in at a bad time, that's all," You admit to him.
Choso's brows scrunch up all cutely, innocence etched into his sight as it softens on you. "What do you mean?"
How the fuck are you supposed to explain that you were in the middle of bouncing up and down a dildo—that's actually a direct copy of his cock—just moments before he walked in, and now the damn thing is nestled inside you??
"Well," You pause, heart racing a mile a minute as he stares you down like you're the only person who's every word has had him on the edge of his very seat. Then you start to fidget with your fingers in your lap and let your eyes drift away, "I was in the middle of something, and—"
You notice his legs spreading apart and his hips rolling up slowly from your peripherals. Before you can even finish, "In the middle of what?" Choso asks.
He knows.
You look at his face, and the way he's staring at you now is enough to make the heat pooling below get impossibly hotter. You can't help but squeeze your legs together, which causes the cock inside you to slip deeper.
Then your face twists up in reaction before you can help it and Choso watches the entire thing—not missing the movement in your thighs, the breathy moan you let out, and the way your fingers curl into the blanket you have neatly clutched over your body.
Oh.
Choso drags his slightly salivating tongue over his lips to wet them and then releases a short, unnerved chuckle. "I interrupted you, huh?" He asks rhetorically, voice husking a pitch deeper.
You nod your head, aching to move your body to satisfy yourself again.
"Are you embarrassed?" He goes on, trying his hardest not to move his legs out of fear you'll finally notice the boner he's been sporting this entire time.
"O-Obviously," You stammer, "But, I don't wanna talk about it. Just—"
"Don't talk then," He huffs, feeling something starved resting all thickly against the tip of his tongue. "And don't let me stop you."
Your breath tangles, "What?"
His eyes glide up and down your body thrice—seamlessly undressing you through those desperately blown-out pupils of his. "...You were playing with yourself, right?" He questions lowly.
"Something like that, yeah,” You reply.
A singular moment passes between you two before he finally says fuck it and looks at your face, "Can I watch?"
Your cunt involuntarily clenches around the dildo and you squirm, "Choso, I..."
He gives you a surprisingly calm, reassuring smile, “You know you can say no, ri—"
"I know that!" You huff, turning away as your face burns from the heat of embarrassment.
Then, without giving him a vocal answer, you finally shift around in your seat. He watches as you lean back against the corner-part of the couch and move your hand to the blankets edge before lifting it.
The first thing he notices as the cover is removed is that you're in his hoodie—the one he just wore yesterday!
You slouch your body a bit and move the blanket to the side as you slip from sitting to laying back, peeling your legs apart nice ‘n wide to give him the most sinful display of that dildo sliding a few inches out of you. Then your hand reaches down to make contact with the base of it and you bite your lip before languidly pulling it out of you.
Your pussy lips hug the silicone neatly whilst it schlicks its way out of your hole and you release a breath you weren’t aware you’d been holding in. There’s a droopy string of your slick dangling from in between the dildo’s glossy tip and your pulsing entrance—all of which Choso’s is left to peer at.
You redirect the toy’s weighty tip towards your clit and roll it around slowly before tossing your head back a little and sighing in relief.
"Ohgod-," Your roommate chokes into the palm he’d slapped over his mouth all of a sudden.
His body jolts and his other fingertips dip and grind into the couch as he tries to steady himself, holding on so tight that the veins trailing his arms begin to protrude out against his muscular arms. Something in between a throaty grunt and a whine had been ripped out of his throat.
You look over at him from beneath your lashes before batting them, "Are you okay? You're the one who wanted to watch..."
He nods shortly, mumbling, "M-Mhm, m'fine."
As if you’d believe that.
You raise a brow and move the silicone away from your cunt before snorting, "Why're you making that face then?"
"Well, I kinda..." He turns his blushing face away from you completely. Voice small, "Watching that made me cum..."
"What?” You lean up a bit, propping your body up more comfortably against your elbows, “I couldn't hear you, speak up."
Choso thinks his cock is gonna hurt after all this. He turns to face you again and looks you dead in the eyes as he speaks softly, "Watching you do that made me cum."
You blink dumbfoundedly as you find yourself unable to stop the amused smile that breaks into your features, "Just like that?"
He nods.
"You didn't even touch yourself..." You snort, looking down at yourself and shrugging as you tap the dildo against your pussy. Speaking casually, "I know you're a perv 'n all but, shit, I thought you'd last a little longer than that."
Choso’s entire world freezes, "Wait, what?"
"Mmnh," You’re busy moaning as you let the tip play with your entrance—teasing yourself shamelessly right in front of him.
The fact that you just admitted you’d known he was a filthy pervert all this time, and then went back to playing with yourself like it was nothing really threw him off.
Not that he has much time to let that sink in, though. Choso is far too easily distracted by the sight of your glistening pussy below, the living room light doing well to illuminate just how pretty your wet, sopping folds look against the head of the dildo.
“O-Ohhhh fuck.” He gasps, already on the verge of pleasureful tears. “You’re…” His hand shoots down to hold his dick as if to control it—squeezing his shaft roughly before pushing at it. "You’re soakedd. Can I taste it?” Choso asks, voice cracking a little on the last word.
You flick your eyes up at him, “What?”
“Wanna lick it,” He's whispering while moving to lean down, and flashing you this voracious look from his half-lidded eyes. “Can I? Please? Can I taste you, mommy?”
The second, “What.” that falls from your lips is flat as you find yourself struggling to process just how quickly he'd positioned himself in between your plush thighs and how smoothly that name just poured off of his tongue.
“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to uh-, call you that…” Choso grumbles awkwardly, looking away to let the moment pass before peeking back up at you, “But, can I please—“
“Why should I let you?” You interrupt rudely.
He blinks. “Huh?”
The sudden shift in tension was rather palpable since you realized it's you who's in control here, and not him. “After alllll the dirty things you’ve done in thought of me," Your head angles off to the right, "Why should I let you taste me, Choso?”
“B-Because I’ll make you feel good,” He tries to promise, his dark eyes locked up onto the unfairly gorgeous display of you—wearing his hoodie and spread out a few inches away from his waiting mouth.
His small promise does little to help his case considering how you tut, “Aw, you think so?”
“Uhuh,” Choso nods submissively.
There's a feral, burning urge inside of him to bury his face in between your legs without permission, but that same urge battles strongly against the equally as resilient urge to be pliant and await your every command.
“That’s cute," You say before holding the dildo towards him, "How about this; if you can make me cum with this, I’ll let you get your taste, yeah?”
For the first time, Choso lets his eyes capture the toy you've been using all this time. The item is... weirdly familiar. Your roommate is many things, but he's not stupid—he knows what his own dick looks like.
Not that he has the mind to question you about it right now, though. there are much more pressing matters to tend to.
Which is exactly why he's not asking you anything as he takes the toy from your hands and then looks down at your cunt. Your hole pulses as if asking to be filled and he thinks his heart skips a beat.
He can see, touch, and smell everything.
Sluggishly, Choso directs the head of the fake cock towards your entrance and applies the faintest bit of pressure before stopping the moment he feels resistance. “Uh, is it.. supposed to do that?” Choso murmurs as he looks up, “Like.. are you supposed to be this tight? Do I need to use lu—“
“Don’t tell me you’ve never had sex before," You cut off.
You've had a feeling for months that Choso was a virgin but you'd never been too sure until now.
He pouts sheepishly, “Well..."
“Just-,” You cut yourself off with a sharp exhale. “Y’know what, you're the one that wanted to taste me so bad. I’m not teaching you, figure it out.”
His chest feels like it's caving in for a moment, “What?” He'd never heard you be so.. mean. Though he'd be lying is he said he wasn't into it, “But you made a copy of my dick, I don’t think that’s fai—“
“I don’t think it’s fair that you’re in between my legs with a toy in your hands and no idea how to use it," You say with a prominent roll of your eyes. “If you wanna taste my pussy, figure it the fuck out, Choso. Make me cum."
Oh, his cock swells impossibly harder.
Then he whines, “Y-Yes ma’am..."
Choso takes a deep breath and returns his attention to your cunt. Leaning down experimentally, his lips press clumsy, open-mouthed kisses against your inner thigh before he starts working his way inward. His nose bumps against your folds a few times, but you keep watching him try his best to piece everything together.
His brows furrow a little before he glides the dildo up and nudges it under your clitoral hood, plucking it away directly after once he notices your body flinching, and then tapping the silicone back down against it in the same way he'd seen you do earlier.
“This is your clit, right?” His question is made with genuine curiosity, but something in his eyes tells you that he already knows the answer to it—he simply wants to hear you say it.
Your head bobs a little and you're already feeling a little dazed from watching him, “Uhuh…”
You could feel his searing breaths flap down against all your wet skin and it was making you more sensitive than normal. The sound of your breathy confirmation made his face light up triumphantly.
Choso waves the tip of the dildo—technically his cock—left 'n right against your clit just to tease you before he lifts it away and lets it push against your hole again. He presses it forward with more pressure than the first time and finally pokes an inch inside you, lifting his eyes to see you bite back a moan.
You were so fucking needy.
He can only imagine how hard it was for you to sit there and act like you didn't have this toy inside you all that time. Now you're more worked up than you probably would be in any normal situation.
He strips your insides of that taunting inch after a few seconds and then repeats this action over and over until he can hear it in your breathing that you're getting frustrated with him. But before you can send him any complaints, he lifts his head and hovers his lips over your clit.
“It’s so pretty, can I kiss it?” Choso asks softly.
“I…” His eyes are all glossy ‘n pleading—too irresistible for you to say no. “Yeah…" You concede, "But no licking.”
“Thank you,” Then he dives in and smothers his lips against your clit, sucking on it lightly without ever letting his tongue make contact with it.
The tip of that stupid silicone continues to pop in and out of your squelchy pussy mindlessly as Choso gets addicted to the feel of your clit against his lips.
Muttering, “S’pretty,” into the twitchy lil’ bud over ‘n over again in between the groans he's letting vibrate out. “It keeps—mwah, runnin’ from me.” He whispers against you, “Sensitive girl—she’s so fuckin’ cute.”
As soon as that praise leaves him, the entire length of the fake cock is thrusted into you and your back is forced into a nasty arch as your hands grab at the couch. A wanton, “Choso!” flying out of your mouth before you can even help it.
He plucks his lips away and glances up at you desperately, “Can I lick her now? Please. I’ll pass out if I don’t—“
“Fine,” You huff shakily, “J-Just... lick her ‘real good for me or I’ll make you stop.”
He doesn't have to be told twice whatsoever.
The next thing you feel is his tongue finally melting against your clit as the dildo is thrusted into you, stretching your saccharine walls out perfectly. Choso only fucks the toy in halfway this time though, pulling it out directly afterwards and then repeating this action many times over as if that's all you could take.
It's at complete random that he decides to fuck the entire length of it inside you, and your body flinches as the sudden gesture is paired with his tongue practically wrapping around your poor clit.
“You like that, princess?” Choso utters with a rasp, sticking his tongue out to show you how he moves it around into spelling out his name, “Like the way I flick my tongue against this pussy? Hm? Am I doin' a good job now?”
“F-Fuck. Hnngh-, yeahhh..” You purr out all softly, hips carefully rocking up to meet both his tongue and the dildo.
You hadn’t expected him to be a talker, especially since he’s never done this before. You assume he’s just saying whatever sounds right in hopes that it works, and luckily for him it always seems to.
In a matter of minutes, Choso's fucking you relentlessly with both his tongue and the copy of his cock. You could drive that toy into you at the same speed of which he's doing now, which is exactly why it's not long before you're whining for him to slow down a little since you didn't wanna cum so quickly.
It felt like he'd only just started!
And if he was doing all this with his tongue glued solely to your clit and that toy thrashing against your g-spot, you could only imagine what the entirety of his mouth would provide for you if you let him.
Even with your pleas of him slowing his pace, Choso wasn't much listening until after you came all over the dildo. He let the toy slip right out of you and held it to the side as he tried to move in and lick at your gaping hole in an attempt of finally getting a raw taste of you.
Sure, he got to savor a bit of you just from licking at your clit but that was far from enough.
You shot a hand down to grab ahold of his hair and yank his head up before that could happen. Panting, “What’re you doing?” as you furrow your brows at him.
Choso whimpers, “Y-You said I could taste you after I made you feel good.”
“Yeah," You smirk, "But not like that.”
You make a gesture towards the same toy he's steadily growing very envious of and his eyes are slow to follow along. Then he frowns because he knows exactly where this is going.
His chocolatey eyes travel along the fake veins trailing the cock and he wonders distantly how you managed to capture every essence of his sex like that. “You… You want me to suck my own…” Choso trails off instead of completing his sentence as the realization settles in.
All whilst you're laying there with the same haughty smile on your face, “You want your taste don’t you?”
A light, defeated groan evades his lips as he watches you go on to grab the dildo and hold it up towards his mouth. The slick, shining toy is absolutely coated in you—your arousal clung to the silicone in glossy streaks, and the evidence of your orgasm fragrant and sloppy against the material.
Choso's nose twitches as he catches the sweet scent of your release oozing off of it before his voice stains out. "Fuck." He breathes, watching a slow bead of your cum slide down the length of the silicone—some of it pooled at the tip where a perfect copy of his own slit had been molded.
The man can't help the way he licks his lips reflexively as he leans towards it.
"Atta' boy," You hum, tapping the head of the toy against his bottom lip and watching your wetness smear across his skin. "Open up and get your taste, c'mon."
There's a war between his pride and his raging need to satisfy your every whim, of which the latter easily wins.
Choso parts his lips and you guide the head inside, his eyes fluttering shut upon feeling your taste meet his tongue. He moans around the toy and you push more of it into his mouth, watching how pretty his lips sealing around the shaft as he begins to hesitantly suck.
"Look at youuu, sucking yourself clean," Your words come out in a breathy purr the more you watch him work his mouth around the copy of his dick. "Good boy."
His eyes open and he bobs his head forward a little more, hips rutting against the couch hard enough for the furniture to inch forward. You watch drool trickle out of his mouth and trail down his chin, feeling yourself throb each time he moans.
You knew Choso was desperate for you but this...
“Mmgh..” He groans around the faux flesh, sucking a little faster once he notices the glow of entertainment in your eyes as you watch him.
“How’s it taste, pretty boy?” You ask in that unfairly sinful tone.
Choso pops his mouth off and gives you a fucked-out little simper, “S’good, mommy.”
Your hand falters against the base of the toy for a moment as you chuff out, “Stop calling me that.”
“Sorry,” He says, not sounding the slightest bit apologetic as he returns to licking his cock clean.
After a long, drawn-out time of him practically sucking and licking the dildo brand new, he pulls away from it with a slippery, wet pop!
Then he gasps, sucking in air, and moves his arm over to wipe off the slick and saliva mix from his chin. There's a disheveled look plastered all over his face and his eyes are hazy when met with yours.
"Was that good?" You ask despite already knowing the answer.
To your surprise, Choso doesn't respond.
He just stares at you like he's debating more things than can currently be expressed through words. Then he wraps his hands around the base of the dildo, snatches it from your grasp, and tosses it across the living room like it's useless.
Halfway-glaring at you with a new look in his eyes, he leans up leisurely. His hands move to the edge of his sweatpants and you see his dick imprint practically staring at you from beyond the fabric—a concerning wet patch darkening the area.
There's something grave in his eyes as he cocks his head over and exhales heavily, “Can I give you the real thing now?”
Your thighs twitch but you hope he doesn't notice it. Trying to distract him from it by shrugging, “You think you’ve earned it?”
“I think,” His fingers dip beneath the fabric and he begins to tug his pants down, “You’re being a brat—acting like you’re not just as bad as me.”
Oh. The switch in his head had most certainly been flipped and you were not expecting it.
“What?” You puff.
“Look at you now,” He reaches out and presses the thick pad of his thumb against your clit, “Swollen, needy, aching… all for me.”
Your thighs try to shut, “T-That’s just because—“
“Shhh, shhh,” He hushes, rapidly swatting his hands over to your legs and forcing them open before you can close them, “Let me show you I’ve earned it.”
He grips at your skin until it feels like you won't move once he extracts his hold on you, swallowing up how pretty you look submitting to him now.
Choso goes to pull his dick out and your breath hitches, entire body flinching as you watch it bob out. His length spanks down against your pussy, meanly spreading your wobbly lips apart and nudging against every sensitive nerve you have there.
Your roommate doesn’t move for a moment and just sits there so you can feel his veins thumping, and watch the crown of his cock drooool silky, wet ropes of mushy cum against your abdomen. He's a mess of his own seed but he doesn't seem to care or be embarassed by it whatsoever.
After all, you're the one who got him like this.
All while he’s panting, sweat running down his skin, and face flushed beyond belief. Hovering over you, Choso tilts his head and continues on with his needy glare, “Can I fuck you now?”
“Yeah,” You don't even hesitate to whisper.
His hand moves to hold your jaw graciously but the way he tugs your face up is quite rough, “Speak up.” He demands.
“Yeah,” You say clearly, “You can fuck me, Choso.”
And that’s all he needs.
Next thing you know and Choso's tucking his thiiiiick, creamy cock into your quivering pussy, throwing his head back from the sensation of feeling you welcoming him in for the first time. He's got one hand clasped onto the couch and the other having moved to grip the top of your head so you can watch him have his way with you.
He couldn't let you miss a second of this by looking away or turning your head because you didn't want him to see how much your face twists up in pleasure. No, no, if you're gonna let him fuck you then you're gonna watch how he does it too.
Every fuckin' second of it.
That initial inch of him sinking into you had your vision blurring. The dildo you had made couldn't even begin to compare nor replicate the real thing. It doesn't twitch the way he does, doesn't end with his hips pressing forward with intentional, punishing slowness as if to get back at you for making the damn thing in the first place, and doesn't make you feel every ridge or rubbing vein against the soppiest crevices of your pussy.
"Look at that," Choso drawls, his eyes locked onto where your bodies meet, "You take me s'fucking well—always knew you would." He admits.
But then he stops halfway with no warning, no nothing. You're left impaled and clenching around him, wanting and needing more desperately whilst he just waits. He watches how your walls flutter around him as if to bed for the rest but he still doesn't move.
Your voice feels broken, "C-Choso.."
"Hm? Something wrong, princess?" He coos innocently, "You want me to keep going?"
You nod desperately and the movement makes his hand grip at your skull tighter by just a fraction. Then he sinks in a little deeper and you deliver a trembling moan in response.
He doesn't even sound like the sweet, respectful Choso you know has he tuts, "I can't hear you."
Through gritted teeth, "Yes—fucking move, Cho. Please, fuck me." you beg.
The edges of his lips curl, "Thaaat's more like it."
And then he's bucking the rest of his plump cock into you, bottoming out just the way both of you have always desired. The fluid motion has air fleeing from your lungs and your back angling up ‘n away from the couch, a shamefully loud cry—that you’re sure your neighbors will send complaints about later—leaping out of your trachea.
Choso sets a nasty rhythm inside you, thrusting without a concern in the world about the way the couch is squeaking and creaking beneath your bodies.
Shit. At this rate the dame thing could just break and he still wouldn’t give a fuck.
His hand tightens within your hair and he pulls at your head, “Goddd, you’ve no idea how long I-, hahh… waited for this. Need you to watch, baby. Watch how I fuck this pretty pussy.”
You feel his stout cockhead flog up against your cervix repeatedly, almost like he means to brand himself into the area and have his cum signing his name across it permanently.
“Can’t believe you got some-, fuck—s-stupid toy to replace me. L-Like m’not right here for you,” He pants, a crisp whine slipping out somewhere in between his words. “You knew you wanted the real thing, knew you needed it. Right? Doesn’t this feel s’much better, princess?”
Your jaw is flailing open at this point and you’re a slobbering, moaning mess underneath him, “Yes, Choso. F-Feels s’good, nngh!”
A particularly puncturing thrust makes your eyes fly to the back of your head and your hand reach over to hold onto his arm, nails scratching across his skin. He smiles once he realizes he’s found the perfect spot to fuck you dumb.
Then he’s doing exactly that, pounding your body straight into the cushions and letting groans pour out of his mouth. He’s so fucked-out that he doesn’t even realize he’s drooling on you as he plows forward.
Your pussy is weeping all over his cock, lugging his every jerky inch in deeper ‘n deeper until he earns a specific twitch from you.
“O-Oh,” Choso moans again, “I found it, huh? You gonna cum on me again?” Once your head goes nodding and your pleasureful cries pitch out into airy whines, he gasps. “Give it to me then. Please? Please cum on me, lemme feel it. I wanna feel it baby—wanna feel you cum.”
His words immediately fade off into whimpers when he feels you doing exactly as he’s begged you to—your orgasm practically crashing through you and causing your body to convulse around him. Choso fucks you through it like his life depends on it, eager not to disappoint.
Then he’s right there with you—even though he technically came again quite some time ago, but both of you were too fucked-out to realize—and you feel globs of his cum gushing all throughout your pussy, the mess of releases getting mixed with one another with the way his hips insistently continued on.
Muttering, “Take it, take it, take it-,” over and over mindlessly whilst your cunt shuddered around him.
It’s not until his hips come to a sharp stop that both of you manage to catch your breath in an synchronized gasp of air. Choso’s body topples down over you and you feel his cock twitching as it goes flaccid inside you.
Your bodies remain still for a minute or two before he lifts his head to look at your face, leaning in to plaster kisses on your cheek and whisper intimate things that your ears don’t quite catch.
When your ears come in tune with what he’s saying, "—and about that video... I wanted to apologize for that. A-And for everything else." you hear him finishing off with.
To which you let out a little dream-like sigh, "Choso… I literally have a camera in my room. I've known about what you've been doing for quite a while now. You don't have to apologize."
"Oh, you-," He pauses and lifts his body. "Wait, what?"
brat taming with choso ! 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯
in which you refuse his princess treatment !? (smut)
you’re on one knee in the hallway, fingers fumbling with the laces of your left sneaker, when you hear choso’s footsteps stop behind you.
“princess?” his voice is soft, confused. “what are you doing?”
you glance over your shoulder. he’s standing there in his usual black hoodie, hair loose, brows drawn together like you just announced you were moving to another country. you finish the knot, double it, and stand up.
“tying my shoes,” you say, brushing your hands off on your jeans. “we’re gonna be late if we don’t leave soon.”
he blinks. “i always do that for you.”
“yeah, well.” you grab your bag from the hook by the door. “i can do it myself today.”
choso doesn’t move. he just watches you, quiet, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. you’re already reaching for the doorknob when he finally speaks again.
“did i forget something?” he asks. “did i do something wrong?”
you pause, turn around. his face is open, genuinely worried, and it makes your chest twist. “no, baby. you didn’t do anything wrong. i just… wanted to do it myself this morning.”
he nods slowly, but the crease between his brows doesn’t smooth out. “okay.”
you make it all the way to the kitchen before he appears again. you’re standing at the counter, pouring cereal into a bowl, when he stops in the doorway.
“princess,” he says again, softer this time. “i made you breakfast already. it’s in the fridge. the good yogurt. the one with the strawberries you like.”
you look at the bowl in your hands, then at him. “i know. i just felt like cereal today.”
he stares at you for a long moment. “you hate that cereal.”
“it’s fine.”
“you said it tastes like cardboard last week.”
you sigh, setting the bowl down. “choso, it’s okay. i can make my own breakfast. you don’t have to do everything for me.”
he doesn’t argue. he just watches you eat three bites of the cardboard cereal before you give up and push the bowl away. he doesn’t say anything when you grab a banana instead. instead, he keeps watching, quiet and thoughtful, like he’s cataloging every small rebellion.
by the time you’re in the car, he’s still quiet. his hand rests on your thigh like it always does, thumb stroking absent circles, but his mind is clearly somewhere else. you don’t push it. you just let the silence sit between you, warm and familiar.
he doesn’t ask again until you’re home that night.
you’re in the bedroom, changing out of your work clothes, when he appears in the doorway. he’s been home for an hour already—long enough to shower, long enough to make dinner and leave it covered on the stove. but he doesn’t mention any of that. he just leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you pull a t-shirt over your head.
“sweetheart,” he says, and there’s something different in his voice now. lower. “come here.”
you turn. he’s still in the doorway, but his eyes have that look—the one he gets when he’s been thinking too hard about something and finally decided what to do about it. you cross the room slowly. he meets you halfway, his hands finding your waist, pulling you in until your chest is pressed to his.
“you’ve been doing everything today,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your temple. “tying your shoes. making breakfast. carrying your own bag. i didn’t stop you. but i need to know why.”
you rest your forehead against his collarbone. “i don’t know. i just wanted to feel like i could handle things. without you doing everything for me.”
he’s quiet for a moment. then his hands slide down to your ass, gripping you firmly, lifting you until your legs wrap around his waist. he carries you to the bed like you weigh nothing, laying you down on your stomach, his body already covering yours.
“you can handle things,” he says against the back of your neck, his voice low and rough. “i know that. but you don’t have to.” his hands are already working your jeans down your hips, yanking your panties with them. “you don’t have to do anything when i’m here. that’s the point.”
you feel him shift behind you, hear the sound of his zipper, feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance. he doesn’t wait. doesn’t tease. just pushes inside in one slow, deliberate thrust that has you gasping into the mattress.
“choso—”
“shut up,” he snaps, his hand pressing between your shoulder blades, pinning you harder. “you wanna act like you don’t need me? fine. but you’re gonna take this cock like its the only thing you need.”
his hips snap forward, burying him deeper, and you moan, your fingers fisting the sheets. “you were so fucking stubborn this morning. tying your own shoes like i wasn’t right there. making that shitty cereal like i didn’t already have something ready for you. what the fuck was that?”
you whimper, your body rocking with every thrust. “i just—i wanted—”
“you wanted to be difficult,” he growls, his hand sliding around to your clit, rubbing tight circles that make your thighs shake. “you wanted to prove something. but look at you now. face down, ass up, dripping all over my cock because you can’t even pretend you don’t need me.” his pace is brutal, each thrust punching a moan out of you. “say it. tell me how badly you need me.”
“i- i need you,” you gasp. “cho, please—”
“that’s right,” he pants, his voice dark and mean. “you need me. you need me to fuck you like this because you can't make yourself cum as good as i can. but you’re still my good girl, aren’t you? my perfect little princess who just needed to be reminded who she belongs to.” his fingers work faster, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, and you’re so close you can barely think. “cum for me. cum on this cock like the needy slut you are. show me how much you need it.”
you cum with a broken moan, your walls clenching around him, your body shaking. he fucks you through it, his pace relentless, his hand still working your clit until you’re sobbing into the pillow. only then does he let himself go, his hips stuttering, his cock pulsing as he fills you.
he collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck. for a long moment, neither of you moves. then he rolls off you, pulling you into his arms, his hand stroking your hair.
“now,” he murmurs, his voice already thick with sleep. “are you gonna be good and let me take care of you?”
you press a kiss to his chest, your body still humming. “okay.”
the thing about my submissive pathetic service top side is sometimes it comes out without me even realizing. it starts slowly, my thrusts stuttering slightly as she moans how good it feels, a whine escaping as her nails dig into my back. she notices it before i do, her eyes opening just enough to look up at me, watching the subtle expression on my face as i resist giving in to it. there's a certain look she gives me, dark and searching, one that tells me my control is slipping. and fast.
i don’t even realize how far gone i am until i hear myself begging. head pressed into her shoulder, eyes scrunched shut, begging her to please please please let me keep going.
time is passing but my head is empty, every fiber of me dedicated to how good it feels to have her like this, fucking into her like it's the only thing i know. she's cum more times than i can count but i can't stop mumbling please over and over against her skin, barely able to get the words out. baby please it feels so fucking good. i'll go slow i promise- icantstop pleasepleasepleasedon'tmakemestop.
she doesn't make me stop. she brings one hand up to the back of my head, nails scratching against my scalp soothingly as she coos at me. she tells me to just breathe, baby. tells me she’s got me. tells me i don't have to stop, i just need to go easy. i nod brainlessly, trying to slow my pace, clinging onto her voice like it’s the only thing holding me together.
i’m speeding up again before i stop myself, words tumbling over each other, slurred and needy. telling her it feels too good, that i can't go slow, that i’ll do anything, god please. please let me- please i’msoclose i’ll be good babypleasecanicum.
and she laughs. smug and teasing as she watches me fall apart. condescendingly pointing out that it's always just so easy to get me like this. it's fucking pathetic. she knows talking like that makes it even worse. that's why she does it. i can feel you shaking sweet girl, you must really need it huh? then be good and cum for me.
the permission is barely out of her mouth before my body tenses up, teeth sinking into her shoulder to try and muffle my whining. if she's still talking, i can't hear it, any semblance of thought completely gone as i collapse onto her, breathless and brainless. she wraps her arms around me and holds me against her, like she knows it'll be a while before i'm able to form a coherent thought. like she understands how badly i've been needing this. like she was waiting the entire time for me to unravel the way i only do for her.
