please keep in mind, i am NOT an irl yandere nor do i want a real yandere irl . . . i also do not condone ANYTHING that occurs in my fics. this is just hornyposting and writing about my ocs for fun/coping and it is all fictional. please know how to differentiate fiction / fantasy from reality before you even interact with this blog . . .
minor = block
donât like what iâm posting? block me.
.âđ â Ö´đ¤ tags Ö´đ¤ â đâ.
regular tags â
#corys.whispers â general tag on everything, plus angst, fluff, and general sfw fics
disclaimer : all graphics are made by me unless stated otherwise.
manhwa credit : kill the villainess
prompt : you visit your dadâs friend, an old southern farmer, to help him do work over the summer. youâre the work heâs doing btw
character : rhett pickett (aha like picket fence)
cw : smut, dom!yandere, sub!reader, reader is gender neutral, reader is afab, older man, yan tendencies, penetration, cowgirl sex position
wc : 1.3k+
a/n : hand hurt, canât draw. i just really like southern older men
the tires crunch against the gravel road as you drive deeper into the countryside, sunlight spilling across the windshield and endless fields stretching out on either side.
your phone rests in the cup holder, lighting up every few minutes with another text.
how much longer sweetheart
i ainât got all day
you can't help smiling.
because, you know that heâll spend hours waiting for you to get there.
just so he can get his hands on you.
if you only knew how obsessed he really was.
your parents don't think anything of your trip. they never do.
spending the summer at the farm has been a tradition for the last three years.Â
of course, heâs invited over to other things.
christmas dinners.
barbecues.
but, the summer is where you really get to be with him.
alone.
because college was taking up so much of your time, your mom thought thisâd be good for you.
thought that itâd be good for you to âget some airâ that didnât involve the musk of textbooks.
"i'm heading out to the farm for a while."
thatâs all you need to say.
your dad barely glances up from his coffee with an acknowledging grunt.
your mom reminds you to drive safely.
that's it.
thatâs all.
no questions.
no pushing.
and, thatâs just how you like it.
neither of them notice how quickly you pack your bags.
or how excited you are to leave.
the familiar wooden fences come into view, and your heart immediately starts racing.
you're close.
the farmhouse sits in the distance, surrounded by rolling green fields and old, wooden fences that seem to stretch forever beneath the summer sky.Â
it's an old house, the kind that's been standing for generations. white paint peels slightly along the wooden siding, and the wide front porch wraps around the entire front of the house.Â
a pair of rocking chairs sit near the front door, worn smooth from years of use, while hanging flower baskets sway gently in the warm breeze.
it looks exactly the same as always.
despite the familiarityâ
âyour stomach still flutters.
you haven't seen him in months.
far too long for both of you.
sometimes he had to restrain himself from driving to your college and picking you up.
sometimes heâd find himself in bed, stroking his thick length with a ferocity that only thoughts of you could manifest.Â
and sometimes heâd drive past your house at night, just to feel the rush of it.
but, he knew better.
he had to respect tradition.
otherwise, thereâd be questions.
and, he didnât find questions very appealing.
you pull into the driveway and barely wait for the car to stop before throwing it into park.
the front door is already opening.
and there he is.
he steps onto the porch, broad shoulders filling the doorway, his baseball cap pulled low against the afternoon sun.
he looks like heâs just finished rooting doing something, dusting his hands and clothes off.
the second he sees you, his face softens.
"there they are!â his country drawl makes your heart do a weird flutter. âcâmon, darlinâ!âÂ
heâs already halfway down the porch steps.
you laugh and jump out of the car.
before he can even make it down the porch steps, you're already running toward him.
"hey!"
he just barely braces himself in time as you throw your arms around him.
a low laugh rumbles in his chest, his beard tickling your ear.
wrapping both arms around your waist, he pulls you tight against his chest.
"you sure took your sweet time,â he mutters.
his deep voice sends vibrations right through you.
you've missed him.
fuck, youâve missed him so much.
you've missed the way he feels.
the way his body has softened from age.
the way his beard tickles your skin.
the way his hands hold you just right.
the way he smells like fresh hay, earth, and sunshine.
he squeezes you even tighter.
"four damn months."
you lift your head from his worn t-shirt, finally meeting his gaze.
âitâs a damn shame,â he continues, shaking his head. âmakinâ me wait all this damn time. makinâ me miss you so much.â
he groans, the sound low and desperate.
âyou canât keep doinâ this to me, darlinââŚâ he chuckles again before pulling back.
his hands never leave your waist.
for a moment, he stops talking.
you donât break the silence, either.
you both just look at each other, gaze raking appreciatively down your frames.
you canât help but grin so hard that your cheeks start hurting.
heâs tried to clean up for you.
itâs obvious.
and itâs adorable.
the flannel heâs wearing? itâs a nicer one than the old faded ones he wears.
his shirt? itâs a newer oneâone that doesnât have frayed sleeves or a stretched neckline.
mingled with his scent which is perfect as is, there are notes of sandalwood and cedarwood.
usually he only wears that cologne when heâs at one of your parentsâ parties.
or, when heâs trying to impress you, of course.
âlord have mercy,â he breathed before pulling you back into his arms, âiâve missed that lilâ smile.âÂ
youâre both silent for another beat.
thenâ
he kisses you.
or, you kiss him.
you both kiss each other.
his hands slide from your waistâ
âto your hipsâ
âbefore settling on your ass.
he pulls you upwards, arms cupping your weight.
when your legs wrap around him, his jeans suddenly feel three sizes too small.
heâs hard.
heâs rock hard.
so hard, itâs almost painful.
he just wants to be buried in that pretty pussy.
heâs done being a gentleman.
heâs about to get a whole lot meaner.
âŚ
he knows he should be using a condom.
but, when youâre over him like thisâ
âbouncing on his cock, moaning his nameâŚ
âŚhe canât form a single coherent thought in his damn head.
âyeahâshit,â he hisses. âride me, darlinâ.â
he stares up at you, jaw tight.
heâs big.
he knows heâs big.
so, heâs taking it easy for now.
letting you get used to his size after four months of nothing.
at least, thatâs what he hopes.
you better not have fucked anyone that wasnât him.
âfuckâ!â you groan, biting your lip so hard that youâre sure youâll bleed.
youâve missed him, yeah.
but, youâve missed this cock, too.
your velvety, slick heat slides around him easily.
youâre so damn tight.
over the years, youâve stayed so damn tight.
all for him.
once you cum, any thoughts of wearing a condom go right out the window.
he spills his semen into you.
thick and heavy, ropes of it fill you up.
youâre overflowingâthe ivory mess pooling around the base of his cock.
seeing you barefoot and pregnant on his porch wouldnât be so bad.
thatâs how he justifies it, at least.
all restraint he had earlier is gone.
itâs all pumped into you.
he sits you on his lap, hips thrusting into you in a desperate pace.Â
his fingers are thick and calloused from years of working, digging into the tender flesh of your hips.
âshiiiihitâ!â you keen, voice catching in your throat with each and every thrust.Â
youâre already about to cum again.
and his thick fingers meanly pinching your nipplesâŚ
âŚhis nose tracing along the column of your neckâŚ
âŚhis lips sucking vivid marks into your skinâŚ
âŚisnât helping with your abysmal stamina.
you scream his name once you hit your peak.Â
your crest washes over you in white hot waves.Â
it makes you convulse and jerk on his lap, your gummy walls clamping down on his pistoning length.
itâs so good that it makes your vision go white at the corners.
âdamn!â he grunts, tone wavering between a moan and a sob.
he bottoms out in you.
his head squishes up against your swollen cervix.
more thick ropes of cum spurt into your greedy pussy.
his face buries into the crook of your neck and he pulls you closer.
like heâs trying his damndest to merge you with him.
youâre both left reeling from the aftershocks, muscles twitching and spasming every few seconds.
the silence is only broken by a hitch of breath or a soft moan of ecstasy.Â
three whole months.
he canât help but think about that while his nose is buried in your sweat slicked skin.
three damn months to ruin you.
to make you his.
heâs going to use every second of each month to his fullest.
and, heâll make you pay for every second you were gone.
disclaimer : all graphics are made by me unless said otherwise.
manhwa credit : revelation of youth
prompt : yandere surf instructor whoâs obsessed wuth you already, tries to help you, who is terrified of the ocean, learn how to swim. youâre too busy thinking about him to really learn anything
character : micah vance
cw : yandere, reader is gender neutral, reader is scared of the ocean, usage if crude language
wc : 1k+
a/n : hand hurt, canât draw. would lick his biceps 10/10
the ocean hates you.
thereâs clearly no other, better explanation for it.
itâs just out to get you.
it knows what itâs doing.
you cling to the floatation board like itâs your lifeline, your nails digging in.
you arenât that far away from the shore.
not really.
your feet can touch the sandy beach floor with your chest on up still above the lapping, calm waves.
but, right now?Â
you feel like a sailor thatâs been thrown off their ship, floating in an ocean of despair and torture and torment andâ
he swims over to you, sun-bleached hair sticking to his forehead in messy strands.
you donât even notice him past your sulking.
he opens his mouth to speakâ
you shriek and scramble onto the floatation board.
of course, it canât handle all your weight and flips you right into the water.
somethingâs just touched your leg. something big and warmâit brushed right up with your calf.
this is it.
this is how you die.
a snack for a shark.
a mere morsel, dare you say.
you flail desperately, sending splashes of water everywhereâ
âhey, hey!â he steadies you with an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. âsorry! sorry, that was me!â
âwhat was you!?â you cry, eyes wide.
despite him holding onto you, you frantically try to swim to the shore.
âmy leg touched you!â he yells over your panicked thrashing.
you pause.
the horror slowly seeps from your face, settling into embarrassment.
ââŚyour leg?â you choke.
he nods, almost solemnly.
âmy leg.â
you frown, staring at the clear, blue water.
thinking back, you do remember feeling something that faintly resembled a toenail brushing your skin.
you go silent before saying a sheepish, âoh.â
you look back up at him and realize heâs trying desperately not to laugh.
âitâs not funny!â you bark.
that only sends him over the edge as he turns his head, hand pressed to his mouth. his broad shoulders quiver with stifled laughter before he takes a deep breath.
heâs not laughing to make fun of you.
heâs laughing because youâre so⌠adorable.
not the kind of adorable that makes him want to coo at you and pinch your cheeks (though, he wouldnât mind doing that).
noâŚ
itâs the kind of adorable that makes him want to scoop you right up out of this water, to hold you in his lap, and to absolutely spoil you.
it makes his heart do a weird little skip.
he feels pride swelling in his chest that heâs the one teaching you.
that heâs helping you.Â
that you trust him.
âŚwell, maybe not trust.
since he kinda is the main reason why youâre even suffering in the water in the first placeâŚ
âŚbut, this is also just way too funny.
ââstick to your new yearâs resolutionâ they said,â you mutter bitterly. ââitâll be fun!â they said.â
your quiet ramblings almost make him break into another fit of stifled laughter.
âŚ
the sun is directly over you.
even with the cool ocean water, you still feel sweat running down your brow.
youâve gotten your lifeline back.Â
that blue floatation board.
heâs helping you float using the board and his own hands to nudge your legs to the surface.
shamelessly, he lets his eyes roam.
prettier than a sunset.
hotter than the summer pavement.
he, very forcibly, pulls his eyes away.
âso, why did you even sign up for this if you canât swim?â he tries to make conversation to keep the atmosphere light.
little does he know, that question is making your stomach drop like a weight.
âi mean...â he shrugs. âusually when people want to surf, they at least have some knowledge of swimming and what to expect in the ocean.â
your face immediately gets hot.
and, no, itâs definitely not the sun.
unfortunately, explaining the real reason would be far more humiliating.
you didn't sign up because you have a passion for surfing.Â
or because you've always dreamed of conquering the waves.Â
or because you're looking for a new hobby.
you signed up because of his arms.
specifically, the photo on the surf school's website where his biceps look less like they were his and more like they were there for you to lick.
you remember staring at that picture for a solid five minutes.
zooming in.
zooming in again.
almost licking the screen.
and then there were the abs.
you gave them the same worshipful looks that you gave his biceps.
and somehow, that convinced you that paying money to almost drownâseveral timesâwas somehow a fantastic idea.
âoh, wellââ you start, gripping the floatation board.
youâre so horrified that youâve forgotten youâre supposed to be scared of water.
your brain frantically searches for an excuse.
anything. literally anything.
what are you supposed to say?
âoh, i only joined because i saw your washboard abs and ginormous biceps and immediately wanted that around my neck.â?
ââŚi just wanted to try something new,â you finally force out.
he raises an eyebrow.
âsomething new?â
butterflies flutter in your belly.
âyeah.â
âeven though you canât swim?â he swims closer to you.
âwell, when you say it like thatâŚâ you rub the back of your neck sheepishly.
his mouth twitches.
you stare at a patch of sand over his shoulder.
âŚthose broad⌠tannedâ
focus.
you internally slap yourself.
this is exactly how you got into this in the first place.
stop thinking with your clit and use your big brain for a second.
focus, dammit.
somehow, against all odds, you survive.
the lesson ends, your feet hit dry sand, and your body immediately decides it's done.
completely.
you take one look at your instructor jogging up the beachâsun-kissed skin, stupid broad shoulders, stupid biceps, stupid everythingâand internally curse him.
this is all his fault.
no, really, it is.
and, no.Â
itâs not your way of deflecting responsibility.
if he wasn't so ridiculously attractive, you would've never signed up.
so, really, itâs his fault for being sexy.
without much ceremony, you collapse face-first into the sand.
you hear him call your name, but your headâs already in the clouds.
you should be dreading next week's lesson.
demanding a refund.
hell, at least have ptsd of any body of water for the next ten years.
instead, face planted in the sand, you find yourself already looking forward to seeing him again.
disclaimer : all graphics in post are made by me unless stated otherwise.
manga credit : tamonâs b side
prompt : bad luck butler rizzed you up by saving you from himself over and over just to get into that prim and proper pussy
character : chance blythe
cw : yandere, reader is gender neutral, reader is afab, penetration, reader is rich or sum
wc : 450
a/n : couldnât draw eye shot hand hurt sorry
queued post because iâm sick again womp womp
âf-fuckâŚâ
you press a hand over your mouth, trembling with restraint.
he pounds into you. a soft huff of exertion follows each snap of his hips.
the bed creaks and complains under his ferocity.Â
ânot so roughâŚâ you hiss out a whisper to him, despite finding yourself yearning for it.
your legsâusually hidden by your modest skirtâare spread by his narrow waist. your toes curl around the air and your fingers uselessly grab onto the bedsheets.
a moan chokes through your words as your head falls back onto the pillow.
his hands roam your body shamelessly.
he squeezes the softness of your belly.
he rolls your tits under his palms.
he grabs your thighs, forcing them apart further.
all the whileâ
âhis hips slam into you faster.
âa-apologies, butâŚââhe chokes on his breath when he feels your pussy spasm and clenchâââŚwith how much iâve done⌠i think iâve earned the right to be rough.â
you squeeze your eyes shut, catching your whimper in your palm.
you donât protest becauseâŚ
âŚwell⌠heâs right.
things that you never thought would happen⌠happened.
and he was always there to save you.
the sword falling out of its display, nearly slicing you in half.
the chandelier breaking from its thick chain, nearly crushing you under it.
hell, the grandfather clock that was sitting in the main room for decades suddenly collapsing, nearly flattening you like a pancake.
he was there for everything.Â
he saved you from everything when no one else could.
the idea of losing that protection, that devotionâŚ
it made your heart do a weird, nervous flutter in your chest.
even thinking about it now, while fucking him, is scary enough.
and, fuck, he loves that you feel that way.
because, that was his plan all along.
make you think you need him.
that you canât live without his service, his protection.
âŚactuallyâ
âhe doesnât need to make you think anything.
even if you donât think you need him, there is no room for argument.
heâs staying in your life, in your routine, in you as much as he wants, when he wants, how he wants.
whether you like it or not.
so, you better get used to it.
he pumps you full of himself as he lets out a low, guttural groan of release.
the mere idea of having such a powerful force under his thumb like this makes the knot snap in his gut.
your cunt is stuffed full.
thick ropes of ivory messâhis messâshoot into you.
youâre practically overflowing.
as you try and catch your breath, you hear his voice.
low, tantalizing, he whispers, âwould you like to go again?â
âi know youâre out here⌠you canât hide from me, zajka moyaâŚâ
cw : horror, yandere tendencies, angst (?), yandere is a tiger kemonomimi, clingy yandere, reader is held captive, reader is injured, reader is gender neutral
wc : 720+
syn : with a broken ankle, an empty belly, and severely dehydrated, you try and run from your hunter.
âŚbut, you donât get far.
you canât.
because, you canât run from an apex predator.
a/n : i looked into a lot of russian to write this fic. mainly because i wanted at least one of my characters to speak their native language⌠apologies if i got any wrong đ
his eyes flutter open.
but he doesnât move right away.
he just lies there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, lostening.
he takes his time.
âŚbecause he already knows.
he knows youâve slipped out.
knows you waited until his breathing evened out.Â
knows you tested the floorboards.Â
knows you thought you were clever.
âŚwell, you are clever.
but youâre also weak right now.
a broken ankle not suited for walling.
a growling belly, empty and aching.
a throat so dry that every swallow mimics sandpaper.
you didnât plan this well.
âŚthough who really plans well when theyâre scared?
but he doesnât mind.
because he loves the chase.
the slow unraveling of it.Â
the careful tracking.Â
the thrill that settles low in his chest.
that thrill when you run⌠and he follows.
heâs a hunter.
an apex predator.
itâs what heâs made to do.
thatâs what he does best.
âŚand you?
youâre his favorite prey.
his favorite prey to play with.
his favorite prey to devour each and every night.
he finally sits up slow, unbothered. he drags a hand down his face before standing. his coat rests on the edge of his bed.
and despite predatory instinct urges him to chase you in his tiger form, to turn the forest into a hunt â he resists.Â
if he started, heâs not sure heâd be able to stop.
âŚand you probably wouldnât be up for a chase when he finds you.
a beat passes.
he shrugs on his coat and pulls on his gloves, leisurely and unhurried.
thenâ
he opens the front door.
the cold bites instantly.
to him, familiar and soothing.
to you, sharp and merciless.
his eyes drift downward.
footprints.
your footprints.
smaller than his.
uneven.Â
dragging slightly on the right side.
he canât help but smile.
âzaaaajkaâŚâ he croons melodiously, stepping out into the blinding snow.
the door shuts behind him with a quiet click.
âi know youâre out hereâŚâ his voice carries, warm and lilting against the empty white. âyou canât hide from me, zajka moyaâŚâ
thatâs the worst part, youâd argue.
the gentleness.
the way he never sounds angry.Â
never raises his voice.Â
control pours from him in the softest of ways.
âŚ
you lie hidden beneath thick bushes and skeletal trees. snow soaks through your clothes. you canât stand anymore. your ankle gave out minutes ago. not out of painâthe cold numbed your injuriesâbut out of sheer exhaustion.
so you crawl.
âŚor you did.
now you just lie there on your empty stomach. you pant, breath fogging in front of you.
your muscles burn.
your head throbs.
you just want to get away.
you just want to be free.
you justâ
snow crunches closer, closerâ
âthen it stops.
a tense pause falls.
you donât look up.
âthere you areâŚâ
your heart drops clean through the ground.
he steps around the brush easily, languidly.Â
like he knew you were here.
âŚhe always does.
he crouches beside you, shadow falling over your trembling body.
âcome now,â he murmurs, brushing snow from your shoulder. âyouâre like an icicle.â
his voice is infuriatingly comforting.
a quiet laughs leaves his lips as his fingers trace the curve of your cheek.
âletâs get you back inside, sosulkaâŚâ
you want to fight.
you really do.
âŚbut when he slides one arm beneath your back and the other under your knees, lifting you bridal style like you weigh nothing at allâ
âyour hands clutch his coat.
your body traitorously melts toward the warmth he radiates.
and you hate it.
you hate how safe he feels.
how sturdy and unyielding his arms are.
how firm and warm his broad chest is.
how his hands hold you just right.
âthere we go,â he purrs, adjusting his hold. âi knew you wouldnât get far. itâs alright⌠iâll make you feel all better.â
the snow crunches as he turns back toward the house.
he carries you like youâre something precious he owns⌠instead of something he caught that was never meant to be his in the first place.
you shiver against him.
you want freedom.
you want to leave.
you want him to let you go.
but despite everything you wantâ
âyou lean closer.
how can you not?
after allâ
âhe is the only predator willing to protect you.
disclaimer : all graphics featured in this post are made by me.
cw : fluff, yandere, reader is gender neutral, reader is afab, reader suffers from loneliness
wc : 960+
syn : you wake up unexpectedly in the early morning hours.
but, with the pain in your stomach and neck, you canât lull yourself back to sleep.
luckily, you have someone to help you.
a/n : fun fact, this actually happened to me except i didnât have a hot vampiric russian to take care of me. so i just scrolled on my phone until i fell asleep
you let out a quiet groan as you roll onto your side.
itâs early.
it has to be.
the roomâs still dark.
you blearily glare at the red numbers on the alarm clock.
5:14AM.
the dull ache in your head pulses in time with the heavier, deeper throb in your lower belly.
itâs not sharp and unbearableâjust a constant and exhausting thrum. it makes you want to curl in on yourself and surrender to sleep.
behind you, the sound of linen. a faint whisper of fabric against fabric.
warm arms slide around your waist, pulling you back against a solid chest.
âdarlingâŚ?â his voice is thick with sleep, rough at the edges. his face presses into the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin. âhas your period started?â
you hum faintly, too tired to form a proper answer.
âŚbut, that would make sense.
itâs embarrassing that he has a better grasp on your schedule than you do.
without thinking too hard about it, you nod slightly.
his hold tightens just a little, tucking your smaller frame into him. his palm presses to your lower bellyâfingers splaying against the supple curveâhand warm and comforting.
more than anything your own hand could provide.
he leans into you further, breathing you in.
âare you in pain?â
you nod again in that faint movement.
he exhales against your neck.
then, reluctantly, his arms loosen.
âstay here,â he whispers.
the bed shifts and he slips away, and the loss of his warmth makes you frown.
despite wanting to stay in bedâ
âyou desperately need to freshen up.
begrudgingly, you climb out of bed. even wearing his oversized shirt does nothing to keep you warm.
goosebumps surge along your skin, bare feet padding against the frigid hardwood.
everything is so neat in the bathroom. you donât have to look for anythingâincluding your pads.
the outer wrapping crinkles as you discard of it before dragging yourself back to bed. you pull the blanket right under your chin, wrapping yourself in theâstill warmâlinen.
you can hear soft movementâdrawers opening, the faint clink of something in the kitchen.
the sounds are distant, almost like youâre half-dreaming it.
when he returns, the mattress dips again. his hands are gentle and he helps you sit up just enough to drink.
âcareful. itâs still hot,â he holds the warm mug for you, guiding it to your lips. âi made something for you.â
the tea smells familiarâsoft, herbal, a little sweet.
you take a cautious sip. itâs warm in a comforting way that spreads across the entirety of you. it eases some of the tightness in your head and neck before slowly sinking lower.
âitâs a special blend,â he adds, searching your face to catch any hint of dislike, âsomething i drink if i have a headache.â
your fingers tighten slightly around the mug as you carefully take it from him.
âitâs really goodâŚâ
his expression softens immediately, something pleased and almost relieved flickering across his face.
âhold on, iâll be right back,â he left you alone again with the steaming mug in your hand.
he comes back holding something in his hand. tenderly, he sets the cup aside once youâve had enough. then, he presses a flat, warm object into your hands.
âhere,â he looks up at you through his blonde lashes. âi got this for you.â
you blink down at it.
a heating pad.
youâve never used one before. not that you didnât want toâyou just⌠never had anything like this before.
he helps guide it against your lower belly, his fingers lingering to make sure itâs positioned just right.
the warmth seeps in almost instantly.
you let out a quiet breath you didnât realize you were holding.
âthat feels great⌠is this really what i was missing for so long?â
he let out a soft chuckle. the sound is warm and comforting.
âonly the best for you, darling,â he speaks that like itâs the standard. but only for you.
begrudgingly, you climb out of bed. even wearing his oversized shirt does nothing to keep you warm.
goosebumps surge along your skin, bare feet padding against the frigid hardwood.
everything is so neat in the bathroom. you donât have to look for anythingâincluding your pads.
the outer wrapping crinkles as you discard of it before dragging yourself back to bed. you pull the blanket right under your chin, wrapping yourself in theâstill warmâlinen.
you can hear soft movementâdrawers opening, the faint clink of something in the kitchen.
the sounds are distant, almost like youâre half-dreaming it.
when he returns, the mattress dips again. his hands are gentle and he helps you sit up just enough to drink.
âcareful. itâs still hot,â he holds the warm mug for you, guiding it to your lips. âi made something for you.â
the tea smells familiarâsoft, herbal, a little sweet.
you take a cautious sip. itâs warm in a comforting way that spreads across the entirety of you. it eases some of the tightness in your head and neck before slowly sinking lower.
âitâs a special blend,â he adds, searching your face to catch any hint of dislike, âsomething i drink if i have a headache.â
your fingers tighten slightly around the mug as you carefully take it from him.
âitâs really goodâŚâ
his expression softens immediately, something pleased and almost relieved flickering across his face.
âhold on, iâll be right back,â he left you alone again with the steaming mug in your hand.
he comes back holding something in his hand. tenderly, he sets the cup aside once youâve had enough. then, he presses a flat, warm object into your hands.
âhere,â he looks up at you through his blonde lashes. âi got this for you.â
you blink down at it.
a heating pad.
youâve never used one before. not that you didnât want toâyou just⌠never had anything like this before.
he helps guide it against your lower belly, his fingers lingering to make sure itâs positioned just right.
the warmth seeps in almost instantly.
you let out a quiet breath you didnât realize you were holding.
âthat feels great⌠is this really what i was missing for so long?â
he let out a soft chuckle. the sound is warm and comforting.
âonly the best for you, darling,â he speaks that like itâs the standard. but only for you.
he pulls you back down with him, settling you carefully so youâre half on top of him, the heating pad tucked between the both of you.
his arm wraps around your shoulders, the other slipping beneath your shirt, resting protectively over your midriff.
his fingers rub in circles against the offending area. they flex and twitch, blunt nails dragging up and down your skin.
heâs sure to press the heel of his hand into your bellyâmassaging and kneading.
his soft lips brush against your temple before he begins to press kisses along the side of your face.
you donât remember feeling this safe.
itâs been a while.
being alone for so long⌠has undoubtedly changed you.
the pain is there, yes, but itâs dulledâŚ
dulled by the warmth of the pad.
by the massage.
by him.
every so often, he shifts, carefully pulling himself from your grasp despite the way you cling to him.
âiâll be right back,â he promises each time, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead like reassurance.
and each time, he comes back.
sometimes with your favorite snack.
sometimes with your favorite drink.
once, with another blanket.
the last time he leaves, itâs to turn on the heater.
you can hear the faint hum of it in the room.
his arms close around you once more, firm and unyielding in their gentleness. his lips, still just as warm, press kisses along your face and the shell of your ear.
all the while, he holds you in that comfy position.
exactly where he wants you.
you donât have to endure any of this alone anymore.
the thought sits heavier than you expect it to.
if it wasnât for him, youâd be alone, still.
suffering alone.
you donât think you can go back to that.
âŚand lucky for youâ
âhe doesnât expect that.
âcâmon⌠promise iâll be gentle this timeâŚâ
disclaimer : all graphics seen in this post are made by me.
cw : oral (reader rec), yan tendencies, bruising, biting mentioned, reader is gender neutral, reader is afab, yan is a kemonomimi, dom!yandere, sub!reader
wc : 810+
syn : after a very rough night with both boys, youâre woken up by the pain in your inner thigh from scoutâs bite.
you decide to grab an ice pack toâat leastânumb the pain so you can hopefully get more rest.
âŚbut, it seems like scout isnât done with you.
a/n : once again, had this idea while trying to continue that smut fic about braxton. itâll get finished one day⌠(probably tomorrow)
âscoutâŚâ
youâre still aching from last night.
clutching your ice pack in your hand, your free one pushes at his head.
your fingers tangle in his dark hair and you canât help but pout down at him.
the tip of his pointed ear faintly twitches from the brief touch of your digits.
âcâmon⌠promise iâll be gentle this timeâŚâ his words donât do much to reassure you.
âŚbut, when he stares up at you with those eyesâ
âyou canât help but crumble.
you groan before opening your legs.
there, on your inner thigh, sits a purpling bruise. its shaped exactly like his jaws.
he begins to kiss your skin gently, almost tentatively.
starting at your knee, his lips drag along your leg.
he reaches your supple thigh with a sigh.
when he feels your legs try and twitch closed, he simply holds them open with his hands.
âah, fuckââŚâ you wince.
he drags his nose along the sore spot before beginning to kiss at it.
you squeeze your eyes shut. goosebumps surge along your skin, making your skin prickle and that sensitive bruise just ache even more.
his nose nudges up against your heat now. taking a deep breath, he groans.
your scent is heavenly.
muskyâŚ
almost sweetâŚ
always addictingâŚ
âfuckâŚâ he rasps.
his voice trembles.
like heâs barely holding himself back.
you donât stop him.
you donât think you can.
he keeps his word.
gentle kisses are pressed to your pantiesâright over your clit.
you canât help but watch as his long tail twitches and curls behind him.
he gazes up at you.
just for a moment.
thenâ
his teeth catch on the edge of your panties.
he nudges them asideâletting them catch on the crease of your thigh and cunt.
having a set of jaws so sharpâ
âhaving them this close to your sensitive spotâŚ
youâd be lying if you said it didnât make your breath catch, your heart skip a beat.
you try and sit up.
just to get into a better, more comfortable position.
he shuts that down faster than you realize it.
he pulls you forward again.
your legs rest over his shoulders.
you donât even have the time to protest before heâs burying his lips into your cunt.
you taste so good.
he can taste braxton faintly along your folds, his tongue sticking to them.
he groans approvingly into your cunt.
itâs so hot against his face.
like itâs going to burn him if he lingers in one spot for too long.
he just wants to worship every inch of this cunt.
he needs to worship every inch of this cunt.
your breath comes in short, gasping hitches. your muscles tense and twitch.
his hair lightly tickles your bruise.
not there enough to hurt.
but, present enough to feel uncomfortable.
he catches your clit in between his lips, sucking on it.
the tip of his tongue circles the hooded bud.
his brows furrow and knit together.
and another pleased groan rumbles from his chest.
he doesnât need to look at anything.
he wants to get wrapped up in it.
wrapped in your scent, your taste, your warmthâŚ
he wants to get wrapped up in you.
âscoutââŚ!â gone is the edge of caution in your voice. replaced by a desperate, breathless keen for more.
his eyes flutter open. he gazes up at you through half-lidded eyes.
you swear you can see a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth that isnât busy with your cunt.
and without warningâ
âohâfuckâ!â you barely manage to choke out.
he speeds up.
the tip of his tongue flicks and laps at your pearl.
his lips create a seal around it.
it feels like his mouth is getting hotter and hotter.
(or that could just be your own body.)
you grow more and more sensitive.
instead of words, itâs overstimulated babble mixed with desperate moans.
you push at his head lightly before trying to scramble backwardsâ
âbut, heâs faster than you.
his fingers grasp your hips, hard enough to cause more bruises.
like you need anymoreâŚ
âfuuhhhck, shihihhitâ!!â you gasp and roll your hips.
your eyes flutter and threaten to roll back.
âi-iâm cuâcummââ
your words taper off onto a strangled moan when your high hits.
your body convulses and tenses.
you can feel yourself trembling uncontrollably.
your mind goes fuzzy and blank.
your vision blurs into red at the corners and your ears ring.
your cunt gushes against his mouth. it clenches and pulses around nothing and your head lolls back.
he greedily swallows your essence, licking his lips.
long, pleased moans are drawn from you.
delicate yet heavy like a silken fabric.
you slump back against the cushions, panting heavily.
but, heâs not done with you.
not by a long shot.
he wants you addicted to him.
to both of them.
and, heâll do anything it takes to get you there.
disclaimer : all graphics featured in this post are made by me.
cw : penetration, yandere tendencies, reader is gender neutral, reader is afab, manipulation, dom!yandere, sub!reader, dubcon
wc : 850+
syn : your therapist just wants to help you.
âŚor at least, thatâs what you tell yourself to feel betterâŚ
youâre not really sure what to think⌠but, he hasnât hurt youâŚ
maybe he really is here to help.
a/n : had this idea in the middle of writing smut about braxton⌠i just missed dr. hollis đĽš
âs-stop, waitââ
your voice is quieter than it usually is, tight with apprehension.
he pulls back.
the feeling of his lips pressed to the column of your neck clouds your mind.
âwhat ifâ what if weââ you start, lips trembling.
your face burns with a fierce blush.
his thumb is quick to push its way into your mouth. the pad of it presses down onto your tongue.
you canât speak now, even if you wanted to.
âshhhâŚâ his breath is hot against your face, âyou canât deny this⌠you must feel the connection we have, tooâŚâ
you hesitateâ
âjust a little too long.
long enough to make him frown.
âhas anyone ever understood you like this? listened to you? made you their world?â
the questions are uncomfortable.
they make you squirm.
but, when he tightens his hold on you, you relax.
like you belong in his arms.
you swallow thickly.
you try and mumble something past his thumb before resorting to shaking your head.
he continuesâpushing even more.
âyou donât want to lose that, do you? lose me?â
you vigorously shake your head as much as you can.
you couldnât bare the idea of losing him.
the only thing keeping you going.
the only thing youâre looking forward to now.
the only constant in your life.
you canât lose him.
âthenâŚâ he murmurs, voice gentler, softer, âlet me have youâŚâ
gone is the clinical and professional edge to his voiceâ
âreplaced with unabashed emotion.
your breath catches in your throat.
he presses kisses along your jaw, down your neck.
his tongue darts out, tracing the faint edge of your collarbone.
goosebumps pimple your skin.
an involuntary shudder coursed through you.
his handsâsettling on your hipsâsoon began to roam.
one presses into the small of your back.
it forces you to arch.
the other slides lower until its cupping your ass.
he kneads and gropes the firm cheek with a low groan of approval.
it feels⌠good.
âŚbut it feels wrong, tooâŚ
two completely different feelingsâ
âwarring in the same space.
wait, stopâŚ
fuck, keep goingâŚ
not there, pleaseâŚ
shit, right thereâŚ
heâs supposed to be helping you.
itâs helpingâŚ
right?
right.
it is⌠itâs just⌠too much.
âdr. hollis, pleaseââŚâ your voice trembles and hitches.
and before you know it, youâre sitting on his desk.
that same desk where he usually takes notes, stores his papers all about youâŚ
your arms wrap around his broad shoulders.
you bury your face into the crook of his neck.
each thrust into you forces out a huff, a whimper, a moan.
his cock throbs eagerly in you.
like heâs been waiting for this exact moment for so long.
he buries his face into your hairâtaking a deep whiff of your scent.
his hands grope your supple thighs before moving upwards.
you can feel the way his girthy length stretches you out.
you can feel it rubbing against your walls.
you can feel how full you are.
âfuckâŚâ he hisses into the top of your head.
you stifle your scream when you cum.
the pleasure is like nothing youâve ever felt before.
your toes curl and your body tenses and convulses in his arms.
but, even after you cumâ
âheâs not finished with you.
your back hits the desk.
the world is flipped upside down as your head dangles over the edge of it.
he practically folds you in half.
your feet catch on his shouldersâtoes curling with each thrust.
he bites and sucks on your inner thighs.
one of his hands bares on the desk.
the other presses into your supple belly to feel the way his cock shifts and moves in you.
you let out a strangled moan with each snap of his hips.
heâs so deep.
heâs too deep.
deeper than anything youâve ever felt.
better than anything youâve ever felt.
fuck, heâs better than everyoneâŚ
youâre sure youâll slide off the desk at any given moment.
but, heâs always there.
to pull you forward.
to pull you out of whatever rut you find yourself in.
your orgasm hits in scorching waves of pleasure. your cunt clamps down on his cock, gushing, squirting around him. making such a mess for him.
your jaws stretch in a silent scream before your eyes squeeze shut. tears prick the corners of them.
you try and babble something out.
but your orgasm has turned your tongue into mush.
his hips jerk unevenly, before heâs hunching over you.
âs-shiihhtâfuhhck, fuckâŚ!â he swears.
he pumps you full of himself. hot semen shoots into you in thick, sticky ropes.
thereâs so much of it.
it pushes its way out past his cock and your tight entrance in globs.
your poor cunt canât handle its own appetite.
itâs stuffed to the brim with his cum.
âŚbut, he canât help himselfâŚ
he wants to fill you more.
heâs here to help.
heâs here to help.
your brain repeats that over and over.
it clings to that one thought desperately.
like itâs the only thing keeping you sane.
and, for a momentâŚ
a fleeting momentâŚ
you believe it.
of course, you, of all the students on this damn campus, get stuck with the cutest boys on campus.
disclaimer : all graphics seen in this post are by me.
cw : ridiculous amounts of fluff, kemonomimis, yan tendencies, reader is gender neutral
wc : 1.7k+
syn : living with roommates in a dorm should be cheaper. your bank account got that memo.
you just hope your roommates are manageableâŚ
âŚbut, it seems like your roommates didnât get that memo.
a/n : for contextâi had a dream that braxton was a really, really clingy dog boy and scout was a really rage-baity cat boy, and them being kemonomimis was just⌠normal on the campus and no one questioned it⌠so i wrote about it.
you thought this would be easy.
that they would be easy.
living in a big dorm with two other roommatesâŚ
how bad could that be?
as long as they arenât weirdos, right?
âŚoh, how wrong you were.
when you walk inâ
âyou freeze.
because of course!of course you, of all the students on this damn campus, get stuck with the cutest boys on campus.
the type of boys that look like throw parties every weekend.
the type of boys that wouldnât look at you, even if you begged them to.
the type of boys that just have⌠it.
you donât know what âitâ is, but you know you donât have it.
you donât have any idea how you couldâve ended up roommates with boys like them.
they⌠maybe, possibly, perhaps had⌠an idea of how you got here.
âŚbut, you didnât need to know that.
the larger boy has floppy golden ears that look like theyâd bounce when he walks too fastâ
âa long, bushy tail swaying lazily behind him.
everything about him screams âgolden retrieverâ.
the smaller boy has pointed black ears that twitch at every little soundâ
âa sleek tail that flicks only when braxtonâs hits his.
him?
he gives⌠âblack catâ.
other than that⌠they look human enough.
no dog food.
no scratching posts.
they walk on two legs just fine.
they talk instead of barking or meowing.
when you quietly clear your throat over the drone of the television, they both turn to look at you when you stand in the doorway, clutching your bag like its your salvation.
âwhich one isââŚâ you trail off, trying to remember their names before he finishes for you.
âmâbraxton. thisâ scout,â the puppy oneâbraxtonâgrins, gesturing lazily to the other.
scout gives a grunt, half acknowledging you, half trying to rip into his smoked salmon again.
âgee,â braxton drawls, eyes raking over you slowly, deliberately, âyouâre real pretty, toots.â
your face burns.
ââŚthank you.â
you walk away before you manage to embarrass yourself more without even speaking much.
the first day is normal.
âŚwell, first half of the dayâŚ
you find your room, unpack your things, decorate it until it finally feels like yoursâŚ
âŚbut it doesnât stay like that for long.
you wake up in the middle of the night.
you huff.
was it this hot when you went to bed?
you try to reach to wipe the sweat off your browâ
âŚyour arm completely numb.
you blink, forcing yourâstill groggy and half-asleepâeyes open.
braxton is sprawled right on top of your arm. his face is buried into your shoulder, nuzzled too close to your neck. one of his floppy ears keep flicking every time your breath hits it. his other hand is lazily wrapped around your waist.
you stiffen before realizing scout is in your bed too.
his head rests on your chest, perfectly settled like he belongs there. low purrs vibrate through youâsteady and warmârumbling straight into your bones.
you blink again.
okay, you canât feel your arm.
thatâs⌠probably not good for you.
you try to move your arm.
braxton lets out something close to a whine, akin to a puppyâs. to your dismay, he shifts closer instead, tightening his hold like youâre his favorite person.
you freeze, a pang of guilt washing over you.
ââŚsorry,â you whisper, though youâre not even sure why since heâs the one cutting off circulation to your arm.
he settles down instantly.
you glance down at scout again, whoâs still sleeping.
you donât want to risk waking him, eitherâŚ
âŚyou guess youâre stuck like this.
as days pass⌠it doesnât stop there.
it gets worse.
(âŚor better. youâre still deciding.)
besides the pins and needles you feel every morning in some limb on your body, youâre learning how clingy braxton is.
he waits outside the bathroom every time you go in it.
every. single. time.
you start locking the door.
sure, it doesnât stop him from waiting, but at least itâs not like before.
because before, he would just walk in like it was nothing.
his reasoning?
âi missed you.â
with the biggest puppy eyes he can manage.
itâs more than just the bathroom, though.
itâs everywhere.
he⌠likes being near you.
maybe a little too much.
he sits close.
he stands close.
he walks close.
he even breathes close.
itâs hard to ignore, despite you trying to.
how can you?
nearly two hundred pounds of puppy leaning into you constantly isnât really an everyday experience.
when you stand up from the couchâ
âwhere yâgoinâ?â he looks up at you with those big, curious eyes that nearly donât fit in his sharp framed ones.
you pause, looking down at braxton.
âthe kitchen.â
âoh,â he looks down at the floor, âiâll come.â
thatâs what you mean by âhe likes being near youâ.
it keeps happening.
every time you leave a room, every time you shift positions, every time you even look like you might go somewhereâ
âheâs there.
heâs even less subtle with touching. (if thatâs even possible.)
though, you learn quick that subtly is not a strength of his.
youâre standing in the kitchen one afternoon, trying to make a lunch for yourself that didnât include obscene amounts of meats or fish.
thenâ
you jolt with a gasp as something grabs you from behind. youâre basically pulled into a bear hug, lifted off the floor. your feet dangle as you crane your neck to look at braxton.
âhi,â he speaks like he didnât just sneak up on you and lift you. his chin drops onto the top of your head. his tail wags happily behind him.
you blink, hands still clutching your spoon and slice of bread.
ââŚwhat are you doing?â
âhug :],â even if he doesnât yell it, the tone of his voice around that one word shows it means the world to him. âi missed you.â
you blink.
âwe just talked thirty seconds ago.â
he frowns.
âyeah⌠i guess.â
he⌠doesnât let go.
you donât bother asking him at this point.
scout is⌠different.
you would say easier, but⌠neither of these boys are easy.
he leans into you.
from behind, from the frontâdoesnât matter.
and not in the way that braxton does it.
no, all his weight presses into you while he purrs, loud and unashamed.
sometimes you try to protest.
âscoutâget off! youâre heavyââ
he just hums, clearly pleased, and leans even more.
itâs obvious he doesnât care.
if anything, he likes it.
he likes hearing you complain.
that way, he can hear your voiceâeven if it is in the tone of annoyance.
you start noticing things that arenât just about you, too.
braxton, sitting on the couch, staring at the television mailman with a look that feels a little too⌠personal.
you watch the mailman do his job on the show. he greets the neighbors before happily walking to the next house.
for some reason, that makes braxton unreasonably angry.
âhate that fuckinâ guyâŚâ he mutters, fists clenched.
âŚokay, so no mailmen.
got it.
scout, knocking things off shelves, counters, or the table top.
cups.
pens.
random objects.
it doesnât matter.
anything near an edge doesnât stand a chance.
you frown in dismay at a spilled glass of water before glaring at him.
âstop,â you say, grabbing paper towels before crouching down and beginning to clean up the water.
he stares down at you. his tail flicks and curls.
you sigh as you reach up from your position from the floor, placing the empty cup onto the counter.
thenâ
the cup clatters back to the floor.
you flinch at the noise before glaring up at scout again.
âwhy?â you groan, grabbing the cup again.
he shrugs.
ââcause.â
âââcauseâ what?â you push, voice tight with annoyance.
the silence is enough to make you look up at him.
he blinks down at you slowly.
you stare silently.
âŚyou donât think heâs going to elaborate.
whatever.
at least heâs cute.
then thereâs how they act with each other.
sometimes you look over and see them piled on top of one anotherâscoutâs head nudged under braxtonâs chin. all the while, braxton absentmindedly nibbles on the tip of scoutâs ear.
sometimes you walk into a room to see them wrestlingâbraxton usually always on top of scout, nuzzling into his neck. even as scout protests against it through his laughter.
and, you canât lie.
sometimes it is nice to get a break from them.
then comes the affection they expect from you.
braxton is the most obvious about it. heâll flop onto the couch, lift his shirt, and look at you with those wide, hopeful eyes. all the while, his tail wagging excitedly behind him.
âcâmon,â he urges, patting his belly.
the first time he did this, you were⌠admittedly a little puzzled.
here was this cute boyâwith a âcoolâ personaâlaying down on the couch and lifting his shirt for you, expecting⌠belly rubs.
it was⌠surreal.
now?
itâs routine.
âtummy time?â you sit down.
you call it âtummy time.â
it was a joke at first, butâŚ
he pats his belly againâthis time with both handsânodding.
your hands press against his warm, taut skin. you can feel the muscles in his belly flex and twitch under your palm.
you start slow, rubbing circles while he practically melts under you. then, you speed up and he dissolves into giggling and the sound of his tail thumping against the cushions excitedly fills the air.
you donât stop until your arms are trembling and aching.
he just looks soâŚ
so⌠adorable! :D
scout is simpler.
not less obvious, but much more⌠direct.
he lays his head in your lap and just waits.
he doesnât ask nor does he explain.
he doesnât have to.
because itâs routine, now.
the first time, you had the same exact puzzled initial reaction.
now, youâre used to them being this clingy after just a week.
you thread your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly behind his ears, and he immediately starts purring, eyes half-lidded.
morningly routines arenât safe, either.
they revolve around them now.
they sleep with youâin your bedâsomething you never agreed to but seems like the default.
it isnât something that happens every week or so, no.
they do it just about every day.
every morning youâre woken up by scout nuzzling into your neck, his tousled hair tickling your skinâ
âor braxton licking at your cheek, or lightly nibbling at your ear like youâre his favorite treat.
your face scrunches up and you laugh, soft and sleepy.
despite everythingâ
âit feels⌠nice.
you donât find yourself⌠hating it.
you just never thought you⌠well, that youâd be here.
âŚyou could get used to this.
you had to.
âyou. wearing his things. even if itâs small, itâs enough to make him want to claim you even further. the jewelry isnât enough.â
disclaimer : all graphics seen in this post are made by me.
cw : penetration, possessive tendencies, reader is afab, reader is gender neutral, sub!reader, dom!yandere, wall-fucking, tongue gagging, belly bulge
wc : 1.6k+
syn : youâve made the very distracting habit of going to the beach every weekend. even when there is no lesson to be held. and seeing you like this, wearing his jewelry, adorned with the ocean⌠he canât hold back anymore.
a/n : friend suggested the idea of the reader wearing some of the jewelry based on some art i drew. wouldâve never had the idea without them, so credit goes to @eroqista for that
sunlight fills the room.
pools of whatâs like liquid gold covering the floor. dust motes catch the light, mimicking flecks of gold.
he leans his weight forward over the desk. the wood creaks faintly beneath his elbows, like itâs just as tired as he is.
one hand props up his cheek, fingers pressed into skin. the joints ache from being in that same position for so long.
the other holds a pen, fingers wrapped firmly around the length of it, but unmoving.
he taps the pen against the paperâ
ânot with any real rhythm or goal.
the hollow but sharp drumming of the pen fills the quiet air, only accompanied by the sounds of the ocean lapping at the beach.
his eyes stay fixed on the same line on the insurance form. heâs been staring at it for ten minutesâmaybe longer.
he blinks, dragging his gaze along the page towards a doodle of a dragon setting a palm tree on fire.
a second sheet sits underneath, half-filled.
the equipment log.
the date is scrawled messily at the top.
three boards accounted for.
one still blank where he was supposed to write something but seemingly forgot.
thereâs a few other doodles littering the page: flowers, sharks, a dog.
he exhales slowly through his nose, cheek pressing deeper into his palm.
âŚhe could be out there instead.
the thought drifts into his head like lazy waves of water.
he knows heâll be happier out there.
out there in the place that feels more like home than any house heâs lived in.
he swears he can almost feel it: the blue waves lapping at his skin, salty and sharp. the pull of it on his body, just like it pulls at his mind.
and⌠you.
your touch, your laughter, your voice.
just he, you, and the ocean.
thatâs all he needs.
nothing to keep track of.
nothing to worry about.
because, all his thoughts would be stuck on you.
for a moment, the weight of responsibility feels as if itâs been lifted off ofâ
âmicah?â
he blinks before looking up.
your voice easily drags him out his daydreams.
he can see your mouth moving.
but the sound of your voice is muffledâlike his ears are waterlogged.
he knows he should be focusing.
but, fuck, you make it so hard.
youâre just a tease.
and, you probably know it.
it feels impossible to tear his gaze from you.
to go back to working.
âŚso, he doesnât.
in an instant, heâs standing over you.
âwhatââ you donât even get the question out before his hands are grabbing onto you.
youâre pulled flush against his frame. your soft belly presses up against his rigid torso. you can feel the unmistakable hardness of hisâŚ
you swallow thickly.
his hand finds your face, fingers tracing the curve of your cheek.
his touch is gentleâ
âuntil itâs not.
he kisses you so hard that youâre sure youâll drown in him. his thumb shoves into your mouthâkeeping your jaws open.
the choked whimper you let out sends a jolt of arousal straight to his cock.
his other handâwhich found its home on the small of your backâgrabs onto your ass.
his grip is firm, unrelenting.
hard enough to leave bruises
your hands grab onto his armsânails digging into the dark skin. you leave crescent-shaped marks that redden and sting.
his hot breath mixes with yours.
you smell so goodâŚ
he needs to taste youâeven if it is just your mouth.
the hot and slick muscle pushes into your mouth. it laps at every corner and crevice before tangling with yours.
he moans into your jaws, wrapping a hand around the back of your head.
itâs ferocious and intense.
his tongue pokes dangerously close to the back of your throat.
you try not to gag around it. a muffled groan catches in your throatâeyes squeezing shut and cheeks growing hot.
reluctantlyâ
âhe pulls away.
a long strand of saliva is caught on your kiss-swollen bottom lip and the tip of his tongue. only broken when he licks his own lips.
his nose drags along the column of your neck.
he can feel the way your pulse races under your skin, the way your body trembles with hunger.
his hands slide down your body.
his lips begin to kiss, suck.
his teeth bite.
his tongue cools the sting.
before you can even protest itâhis fingers are peeling off your bottoms.
you try to babble out something.
to say anything.
but any words you try to form just turn into shuddering moans.
his shorts are next.
dropped to the floor and pooled around his ankles.
you feel his cock brush your inner thighâhard, pulsing. that only serves to make you wetter.
his breath is unbearably hot against your skin.
then, with one movementâ
âyour feet are no longer touching the floor.
in an instinctive move, your arms wrap around his neck and your legs around his torso.
his large hands cups your ass.
his biceps strain and flex with effort.
you bury your face into his shoulder, inhaling deeply.
his scent is just as intoxicating, just as heady.
it makes you dizzy, like you might pass out in his arms.
you can feel him pushing into you.
hot inch after hot inch.
it fills you upâstuffing you full and then some.
the small space is quickly swallowed by him.
you choke out a moan. your eyes flutter. you canât take a breath without it stuttering in your chest.
âfhhâŚfuhhckâŚâ he starts, voice tight, âfuck, yâfeel⌠so goodâŚâ
he stays in that position just for a moment.
he can feel the way your gummy walls flutter and clench around him.
he can feel the way the bulge in your belly presses against his body when he bottoms out in you.
he wants this so bad.
noâ
âhe needs this.
needs you.
and, you need him.
so, whoâs he to keep what you need away?
his hips rollâtip shoving into your cervix.
thenâ
he starts to thrust.
each one leaves you breathless and aching for more.
the sound of skin hitting skin fills the air, mingling with the quiet soundtrack of the ocean.
you moan in time with each plunge of his cock in your syrupy heat. burying your face into his shoulder, your fingers interlock.
âfuckâdonât stopââŚâ you hiccup.
his cock twitches in you once he hears that. a low moan rumbles through his chest and straight into you.
hearing you say thatâdespite him knowing itâis a whole other part of heavenlyâŚ
hearing that whine in your tone.
that little way your voice pitched up with each moan.
he pulls you tighter against his frame, thrusts growing uneven and irregular.
he wants to cum.
he needs to cum.
to fill you, to claim you.
to do everything he possibly can to you.
âmâgonnaâshhhiihitt!!â you whine. âgânna cum, gânna cum, gânnaââ
you canât stop yourself from repeating that over and over.
it feels so goodâ
âtoo good.
to the point where you canât think of anything else to say.
your eyes flutter, threatening to roll.
your head lolls back, drool peeking at the corners of your mouth.
his thrusts grow even faster.
your heartbeat thrums in your head.
youâre practically seeing red.
with your neck exposed, he begins to kiss and suck at the skin greedily. he leaves more marks along the column of it.
you can feel him groaning and whimpering desperately into it.
you scream once your high hits.
your body lurches, hunching over.
âfffuHHUCKâ!!â you gasp and choke.
convulsing in his grasp, your legs tighten around his waist, your fingers claw and tear at the skin on his back.
he doesnât even get a word out. a long moan is drawn from him. he feels your walls clench and flutter around him before clamping down with a staggering finality.
he smashes you between the wall and himself.
he can feel his cock pumping molten ropes of semen into you.
his hips jerk and jump erratically with each thick load.
the pleasure is blinding, deafening.
it makes your ears ring, your vision swim, your throat raw.
your cunt gushes.
its nectar drips all over his bare legs.
it mixes with his ivory messâglobs of it splattering in small, rounded heaps onto the floor.
by the time you finish, youâre left quivering uncontrollably in his arms.
your muscles feel loose, useless.
but, despite being finishedâ
âhe isnât done with you.
âŚand you know for yourself that you donât want him to be.
âi ainât need that much from you. but this? iâm needinâ this.â
disclaimer : all graphics featured are created by me.
cw : penetration, yandere tendencies, reader is the mayorâs child, reader has western dialect, this entire fic is in western dialect, edging, oral (reader rec), reader is afab, reader is gender neutral, dom!yandere, sub!reader, pillow princess treatment
wc : 940+
syn : youâre the mayorâs kin. harvey is friends with your father. ever since then, heâs had his eye on you. your father is just a means of access.
a/n : horngy
âs-sheriffââŚâ
there you go, moaninâ and whimperinâ. your voice catches in your throat, makinâ you sound real pretty for him.
and, heâs right there with you: groaninâ into that delicious pussy.
heâs lickinâ and suckinââplayinâ with that sensitive pearl of yours.
your nectar is stickinâ to his chin, thighs twitchinâ âround his head.
âf-fuckââŚâ your fingers tangle in his hair, pullinâ him even closer. grindinâ and rollinâ, your hips rub up on his faceâcatchinâ his stubble. âfuckâ iâ mâgonâ cum, sheriffââ
you choke the words outâbreathinâ tight and chest achinâ with need.
need for his cock.
need for him.
who is he to be denyinâ you that?
thatâd just be plain cruel.
he chuckles before pullinâ back. lickinâ his lips, he drags his gaze along your body, your curves.
youâre lookinâ so perfect like this, so perfect for him.
skin shininâ with sweat, chest heavinâ with pantsâŚ
he could keep you like this forever and never get tired of seeinâ you like this.
his olive eyes are hungry, eager.
his trousers already tight and cock twitchinâ, jumpinâ.
you shudder, eyes fluttering shut. you never reached your high. that coil in your gut is still there, just⌠quieter, softer. thrumminâ instead of poundinâ.
âwâŚwhyâd you⌠whyâd you stopâŚ?â your voice is soft, tinged with that same need from before.
he stands, hands grippinâ his belt.
âyâknow, iâd reckon mâan easy man to satisfy, darlinââŚâ the gold buckle of his belt jingles as he begins takinâ it off. âi ainât need that much from you,ââhe pauses, unbuttoninâ his pants and lettinâ âem drop to the floorââbut this? iâm needinâ this.â
your eyes follow the way his pants go fallinâ to the floor.
they settle at his anklesâboxers cominâ next.
you swallow the lump in your throat.
heâs big.
bigger than you fantasized.
before you can go thinkinâ too hardâ
âhis hands grip your waist.
youâre beinâ rolled over onto your belly, face hittinâ one of the many pillows piled on your bed. you grab onto oneâjust knowinâ youâll need it.
âmy daddyâs gonâ kill you ifââ
he shuts you up by rubbinâ his cock against your drippinâ heat.
âyour daddy ainât gonâ find out shit if yâstay quietâŚâ
you let out a shudderinâ moan. your cunt clenches and fluttersâtryinâ to suck in anythinâ it can.
he grips the base of his cock, strokinâ his length once before anglinâ the reddened tip towards your cunt.
you bite into your pillow, mufflinâ your moans.
you can feel the way his girthy cock is pressinâ up against your cunt.
can feel the way itâs tryinâ to slide in.
itâs so bigâ
âmaybe too big.
youâre beginninâ to question if heâll even fitâ
âshitâ!â he gasps before bitinâ his tongue.
with one thrust, with one move, he shoved his cock into you.
your fingers grip the pillow, breath hitchinâ in your throat and stoppinâ the scream bubblinâ in your chest.
he doesnât even give you a moment to adjust before heâs movinâ.
he sets a mean pace, hips rollinâ so you feel every ridge, every vein, every part of him.
he hits that spotâthat special little spotâover and over.
that spot that makes your eyes roll, your toes curl.
youâre seeinâ stars.
the edges of your vision goes red.
youâre moaninâ and gaspinâ into the pillow. itâs mufflinâ you real good.
with a huff, he shifts his weight. leaninâ over you, his cock starts hittinâ deeper. he ainât planninâ on beinâ nice with you. one hand grips your pudgy waist, the other pressinâ down on your head.
you donât resist.
you canât resist.
he pushes your face right into that cushionâ
âstrugglinâ to breathe through it but still feelinâ every part of him inside you.
a keeninâ cry is drawn from you.
his cock is leavinâ you feelinâ useless, helpless.
each thrust knocks the wind out of you and you canât catch your breath. itâs makinâ you feel light-headed and dizzy.
your cunt begins flutterinâ again.
that familiar feelinâ.
that feelinâ you felt earlierâŚ
âŚexcept more.
itâs hotter.
nearly molten.
itâs feelinâ so goodâ
âtoo good.
heâs hittinâ his own limit.
his hips start movinâ faster, faster.
skin slappinâ skin fills the air.
and despite wantinâ to stay quietâ
âhe canât find a single reason to go carinâ âbout that right now.
not when heâs claiminâ you like this.
when heâs markinâ you as his.
your orgasm crashes over you and you canât hold back anymore.
that scream that was bubblinâ in your chest forces its way out, turninâ into a shriek.
your ears are ringinâ.
the pleasure is white-hot.
searinâ, burninâ.
your bodyâs on fire, convulsinâ and twitchinâ under him.
your cunt gushes and clenches around his plunginâ length, gummy walls suckinâ him in.
he lets out a long, drawn out groan when he hits his high. his body goes rigid and his hips stutter.
thick spurts of semen begin to fill your cunt. ivory glob after glob stuffs into you, leakinâ from around his cock and drippinâ onto your sheets.
slowly, the ringinâ in his ears comes to a stop.
his body feels loose and unsteady. his softeninâ cock clings to your sticky walls before he pulls out.
you gasp and groan into the pillow â still quiverinâ. your cunt gapes and clenches.
his cum slowly oozes from you. it makes his cock stir.
he wants ti ruin you.
to pound into this sweet pussy âtil you canât walk.
âŚbut, heâs already overstayed his welcome.
and he doesnât want to lose his easy access to you.
leaninâ over you, his hot breath tickles the nape of your neck.
âtell your daddy⌠i said âhowdyâ, darlinââŚâ
âi ainât talkinâ âbout people. iâm talkinâ âbout you. yâainâtâyâjustâ yâainât sâpposed to get sick.â
disclaimer : all graphics are made by me.
cw : fluff, angst, hurtcomfort, reader is gender neutral, reader is sick, yandere tendencies
wc : 1.2k+
syn : youâre sick. scoutâs gone out to buy you medicine. and braxton doesnât seem to be taking your sickness very well.
a/n : wrote this while laying in bed while sick
itâs hot.
too hot.
your dorm is usually the perfect temperature.
but not now.
not when youâre sick like this.
sweat sticks to your skin, your clothes.
your stomach aches.
you feel queasy.
youâre half buried under your blankets, sheets nestled just under your chin.
your limbs are hot and heavy.
âyou canât just eat nothing, againâŚâ you remember scout saying.
not like you have a choice â if you could eat, you would.
but just thinking of food, of eatingâŚ
it makes your stomach turn.
itâs funnyâ
âyou never thought of scout as the nurturing type.
braxton was quiet.
even when scout spoke to him, he wasâŚ
âŚoff.
maybe he was secretly a germaphobeâŚ
âŚor maybe you just never looked close enoughâŚ
scout offered to grab you some medicine quickly from the store.
wellâŚ
decided to grab you some medicine.
because despite the amount of times you denied his âofferâ â you watched helplessly as he left you in your dorm.
as he left you with braxton.
this was the first time youâve been alone with just one of them.
but, you didnât mind.
at least he was being quiet instead of cracking some stupid joke.
you could finally get some rest.
finally have some time to yourself.
âŚ
you feel a weight settle on your belly.
your eyes snap open.
your stomach aches, reminding you of your state.
your eyes drag down slow and careful.
braxtonâs head lays on your belly.
his eyes are unfocused, almost distant.
you donât say anything.
you canât think of anything to say.
so, you lift your own gaze back up towards the ceiling.
you stay quiet.
âŚbut kneeling like that must hurt his kneesâŚ
ââŚyou know you donât have to stay there, right?â you mumble, voice scratchy.
braxton drags his gaze up ti yours. his sharp eyes narrow before they go back to staring blankly past you.
a beat passes.
âare you mad at me?â
he doesnât answer.
you try again.
âdid something happen?â
he doesnât answer.
âwhy arenât touââ you start.
âquit askinâ me questions,â he interrupts you. his voice is low and rough. âyâsoundinâ terrible, yâlookinâ awful, so just stop talkinâ.â
another pause settles.
thenâ
âis your stomach still hurtinâ?â
you blink, confused at the sudden change in attitude.
âyeah, i guess. why?â
heâs silent for a moment.
âno reason.â
and, for a moment, you believe it is for no reason.
âŚhis large hand slides under the layers blankets, fingers splaying across your belly. he begins to rub the skin slow, practiced.
like heâs done this before.
âŚyou doubt that.
you tense, goosebumps plaguing your skin. unable to stop yourself, you squirm under his ministrations.
he scoffs, shaking his head.
ââcourse youâre fuckinâ ticklish.â
âyou say that like itâs my faultâŚâ you protest but make no move to stop him.
he canât help himself. his face cracks, a smile splitting it. playful and fond.
âprobably is.â
you groan, unamused.
he missed this.
missed talking to you.
missed smiling because of you.
âŚthen he remembers youâre sick.
youâre so⌠frustrating.
how dare you get sick.
how dare you worry them.
how dare you be vulnerable enough to get sick.
how dare you.
ââŚi donât like it when youâre sick,â he mutters tightly.
you blink, surprised.
âwhat?â
âwhen yâwere askinâ what was wrong,â he continues, âwhy i wasnât talkinâ⌠i donât like it when youâre sick.â
silence falls.
tense.
heavy.
âplease donât get sick anymoreâŚâ his tone is⌠different. uneasy and quieter. one you canât recognize from him.
you donât get the chance to answer him before heâs speaking again.
ââcause when yâdo, i start worryinâ and my mind starts thinkinâ andââŚâ he scoffs out a sigh, interrupting himself. ââs stupid.â
his cheek rests on the blankets covering your belly â his hand still slowly rubbing it.
braxton⌠worrying?
about you?
itâs strange to say the leastâ
âmore so combined with his tone.
like he has to force the words out.
ââŚbrax,â you finally murmur.
your hand settles on his head before you can stop it.
he grunts softlyânot quite a response, but close enough.
your thumb rubs his scalp through his hair.
slow, careful.
like youâre handling something fragile.
âŚwhich is still strange considering it was braxton youâre talking about.
âpeople get sickâŚâ you start, âitâsââ
âi ainât talkinâ âbout people. iâm talkinâ âbout you,â he interrupts your quiet reassurance. âyâainâtâyâjustââ
he pauses, exhaling through his nose.
âyâainât sâpposed to get sick.â
thereâs a long pause.
you frown a little.
âthat⌠doesnât make any senseâŚâ
âyeah, well,â he shifts slightly, cheek pressing deeper into the blankets, ââŚit does to me.â
his hand has slowed down significantly.
his thumb makes absentminded little circles along the center of your belly.
you hadnât even realized that the pain eased a little because of it.
âŚbecause of him.
your own fingers continue scratching his scalp, fingernails grazing the skin.
âyâknowâŚâ he starts slowly, looking up at you, âi ainât the only one worryinâ. scoutâs just the same.â
you blink down at him.
âscout, tooâŚ?â
he makes a face.
âyou askinâ that like we donât care âbout you. yeah. âscout, too,ââ he huffs out a quiet laugh, seemingly amused. âsâcute seeinâ him so carinâ, though. used to care for me when i was sick, yâknow. said if yâtried pushinâ yourself that i should stop you.â
you blink.
âi didnât hear when he said thatâŚâ
he snorts, entertained.
ââcause he didnât want yâto, doll.â
âyouâre such a traitorâŚâ you groan quietly.
âoh, relax,â he mutters, ânot like yâgot anywhere to go.â
he slides his hand higher, fingers splaying over your upper belly.
you practically melt into the mattress.
this is the most comfortable youâve been.
the most relaxed.
âŚthe most safe.
the slow motion of his hand is leisurely.
slow and hypnotic.
the warmth of it soothes you.
âŚbut you still canât help but worry about himâŚ
âyouâre still kneelingâŚâ you mumble after a moment. âyour knees are going to hurtâŚâ
âdonât care,â he curtly replies.
you frown.
ââŚwell, you shouldâŚâ
he ignores your words.
âsleep.â
your fingers slow in his hair.
you open your mouth to try and argue.
to try to say something else.
âŚbut the exhaustion weighing down your limbs wins.
you faintly feel your hand slip from where it rested, settling on the bed.
your breathing evens out.
you drift off before you can even think to protest.
his hand stills.
âthere we goâŚâ he whispers.
his thumb resumes those slow circles, watching your face carefully.
making sure youâre actually asleep.
âŚ
the dorm door creaks open a while later.
itâs enough to alert braxton from his spot on the couch.
scout steps inside, plastic bag rustling softly in his hand.
his eyes land on you instantly.
ââŚthey sleepin?â he whispers.
âyeah,â braxton mutters, glancing at you again.
he crosses the room before scout has the chance of overthinking again.
scoutâs jaw clenches.
ââŚi hate this.â
braxton pulls scout into his arms. he presses a kiss to his temple.
âhey. sâokay. i told yâtheyâd be fine.â
scoutâs silent for a long moment.
âyeah⌠i know.â
how many dabloons would you take for reader to peg simon teeheeâŚ
-đŚ
character : simon rook
âfuckâyeah, thatâs itâ⌠haahâdonât you dare stopâŚâ
disclaimer : all graphics seen here are made by me.
cw : pegging, dom!reader, sub!yandere, hand job, finger in butt lmao, edging, reader is afab, reader is gender neutral, use of strapless strap-on
wc : 1.2k+
syn : you try out pegging with your perverted and pathetic airBNB owner. thatâs it. thatâs the plot.
a/n : my search history is done for after writing this fic ;;
âplease, i-iââ
a shuddering moan interrupts his words.
his face is buried into the sheets, hands clinging to them. like heâs afraid if he lets go, heâll disappear.
his cock twitches.
the head weeps for you.
for your attention.
for your praise.
âŚbut, youâre not focused on his cock.
youâre focused on the spot that he hides.
the spot that makes him squirm.
the spot that makes his pale face red.
your fingers knead the globes his ass roughly. red marks quickly bloom across the skin.
his puckered hole flutters when you trace a finger along the opening. his cock drools with precum.
so ready and so eager, just from your touch.
itâs pathetic.
it really is.
âyouâre sensitive hereâŚâ you croon. you press your finger insistently against his tight hole. âis this the spot that you love so much? that youâve been waiting for me to touch?â
he whines.
no real words come out.
you lean over him, finger pushing into his ass.
âuse your wordsâŚâ
he gasps and tenses. a whimper escapes himâthe sound going straight to your heat.
âyesâ! yes, yesâfuhhckâplease touch meâpleaseââ he hiccups, looking up at you from his position.
he feels the finger inside of him.
your finger.
your finger is inside of him.
he nearly cums from that alone.
a satisfied groan escapes you before you can stop it.
your finger begins to move before your brain catches up. you can feel the way his ass grips around itâjust as needy as he is. and for a moment, you explore the area.
poking around.
feeling his hot, sticky walls.
the satisfying slip that the lube gives.
you know what will make him tickâ
âyouâre just not giving it to him yet.
he moans into the pillow under his head. his face is hot and his cock throbs. weakly, he reaches a hand towards his aching shaftâ
you slap his hand.
âno. no touching yourself.â
he whimpers, looking back at you.
âplehheaseât-thisâthis isââ his words are cut off by a needy moan, tip drooling onto the sheets.
âgood boys listenâŚâ your free hand tangles in his messy hair, pulling his head up. ââŚand, youâre my good boy, right?â
he nods his head. he swallows down another moan.
âi-iâmââŚâ he pauses with a shuddering breath, âiâm your good boyâŚâ
your good boy.
those words make his heart jump.
not only are you hisâ
âbut heâs yours.
you can feel your restraint slipping away.
you canât hold yourself back.
âŚso you donât.
you stroke that smooth, firm spot that makes him see stars.
âfuhHCKâ!!â he gasps, biting into the pillow.
the cloth swallows his moans and whimpers. he can feel that familiar tightening knot in his gut. his muscles flex and strain and his ass flutters around your finger.
your free hand settles under his twitching length, letting the precum collect in your palm.
thenâ
you set a brutal pace on his cock. you feel it throbbing in your grip desperately, needy.
he moans into the pillow, turning his head to the side. he begins rolling his hips. occasionally, they jump and stutter, just as his breath does.
pulling your finger out, you spread his ass open, watching the hole pulse with need.
licking your lips, you spit a large glob onto the tight ring.
a beat passes.
âffUHHCK!!â
his eyes snap open and his muscles tighten. he feels two fingers nowâstroking and teasing his sweet spot.
you didnât even warn him.
didnât even give him a second to breath, to think.
âohhh, ghhhââŚâ he moans, eyes nearly rolling back.
you continue the pattern.
stroking that sweet spot while pumping his cock.
your hand is nearly covered with his precum. it pools onto the bedsheets. it sticks to his and your skin.
the sloppy and wet squelches of your hand sliding up and down his cock is the only thing he can think about.
he trembles, breath tightening and toes curling.
âpleaseâsâtoo muchâ!!â he warns, body going rigid. âi-iâm gonnaâmâgonna cumâ!!â
he feels his high.
feels that knot in his gut.
feels it coming.
feelsâ
âŚyou stop.
heâs left moaning on the bed, squirming desperately for stimulation. his length aches and throbs painfully, twitching and jumping in the air. his balls are heavy and tight.
he needs to cumâ
âbut youâre not going to give that to himâŚ
at least⌠not that easily.
âŚ
your cock is the only thing he can think about.
stretching him out.
pounding against his prostate.
vibrating inside of him.
the sound of skin slapping skin fills the charged air.
âf-fuckâ feels soâ..â his words are cut off by a whimper. drool threatens to run down his chin, chest heaving with each bounce on your cock.
you moan, toes curling against the sheets.
âiâ⌠c-can feel how tight yâareâŚâ
you can feel the way his ass grips the silicone shaft. your hands hold onto his hips as he rides you.
âlook sâgood on top of meâ aahhâŚâ you praise, voice tight with arousal.
the pad on the dildo laps at your clit.
the bulb vibrates against that spongey spot that makes your eyes roll.
you can feel each push and pull of him.
each rolling motion of his hips.
âfeels sâgoodâŚ!! it feels sâgood!â he mewls, leaning back to get a better angel. âsâtoo goodâfuhhckââ
he rolls his hips faster, harder.
he needs more.
needs you.
âfuckâyeah, thatâs itâ⌠haahâdonât you dare stopâŚâ you hiss.
you raise your own hips to thrust into him, matching the pace of him. you watch the way his cock bouncesâprecum clinging to his and your skin.
âmakingâshitâmaking such a messâŚâ you reach a hand forward.
you squeeze the sensitive, dripping head with your thumb and forefinger. you make tight circles against the slit.
his back arches and his toes curl.
he feels it building againâhis orgasmâwhite hot and blinding.
his hips never stop movingârolling, bouncingâhe canât stop them.
you can feel your own orgasm coming, too. you can barely take it. you feel your cunt flutter and spasm around the vibrating bulb. those mean, tight circles on your pearl donât stop.
and they wonât stop.
not until youâ
âsimonââ you mewl, squeezing his hips. âi-i think iâmââ
your words get stuck in your throat as a moan forces itself in the way. you choke, heat washing over you.
itâs blinding.
your ears ring.
âmâgonnaâgonna cuhhuumâfuuuhhckââ he gasps unevenly.
you can barely even hear him past your own high. your back arches and your silicone shaft pushes right up against his prostate.
gushing around that engorged bulbâyou screamâclawing at his skin so hard that youâre sure heâll wake with marks.
he hunches over, the same white-hot ecstasy washing over him.
the thick ivory mess spurts out his cock in uneven pumps.
you feel it before you see it.
the hot warmth settling on your stomach.
before you can even think to say anythingâ
âhis tongue drags across your skin.
lapping up his own mess.
cleaning it before you can even think to order him to.
and, fuck, that makes you want to do it all over again.
to bring him to his high over and over.
to watch him unravel on your cock.
you wantâ
noâ
âyou need to see him like that again.
OMG welcome back! I'm so sorry to hear you had the worst two weeks ever. Food poisoning is seriously no joke. I was going to start spamming your inbox with positive comments and "are you okay's?" but I'm glad you're back! Stay safe and stay healthy/pos :D
AWWW đĽš
thatâs seriously so sweet tysm dude
that genuinely means so much
especially when i was feeling so yucky ick
i will definitely try to stay safe (and healthy, please stay healthy đŚ) but i also want to focus lots on my writing and drawing since thatâs what i was mainly doing while and after being sick (and taking fucking tests.)
. . . youâre not leaving after âjust one more dayâ . . .
song sptfy link (for vibes) : ON THE FLOOR! removeface, xoni
alt yt link (for vibes) : ON THE FLOOR! removeface, xoni
(made by me.)
(all graphics, animated and static, have been created by me. please do not use any of them.)
cw : oral s (male rec), penetration s (reader rec), overstim, reader is gender neutral, reader is afab, possessiveness, smut, sub!reader, dom!possessive ex, vib stim
wc : 6.1k+
syn : your friends invite you to the club to help you forget about your possessive ex: jaxon.
little do you know, heâs in that exact club youâre in.
âŚand, heâs far from letting you go.
a/n : this is a gift for my friend. (@z0mbiibyt3s) technically not a yandere, but close enough. a challenging write definitely. not used to writing this many words but iâm really proud that i managed. câ: also i donât know how fores work because i do not have a peenar. so i did my best with research
he loses his breath.
there you are.
you.
he goes still without meaning to.whoever he was talking to fades into nothing, like they were never there at all.
his blue eyes find youâand stay on you, locked and unwavering.
like he doesnât know how to look anywhere else.
they trace the slow sway of your hips, perfectly in time with the music.
the flicker of strobe lights, catching your skin perfectly.
your clothes cling in all the right places, like they were made for himâ
âfor him to notice.
and he does.
fuck, he does.
his heart jumps into his throat and butterflies fill his belly. his face grows hotter the longer his gaze lingers. you make his pants tight and his jaws clench.
and the worst part?
you donât even realize it.
youâre an ex.
âŚnoâ
âyouâre his ex.
still his, still belonging to him.
itâs a history that was never supposed to be.
a feeling that never fully let go.
something unfinished, no matter how much time has passed.
he knows you feel the same.
âŚyou just need to be reminded of it.
you donât even see him coming.
one second youâre lost in the musicâ
âand the nextâ
his arms slide around your waist, sudden but sure, pulling you back against the firm heat of his frame.
âmissed me?â his words come out as a low, velvety purr, his breath curling warm against your ear.
it shouldnât affect you. youâre over himâor trying to, anyway. despite that, heat creeps up your neck anyway. it settles on your cheeks, making them burn and tingle.
you canât bring yourself to turn around. instead, you stare down at the way his arms hug you close.
the way his muscles tense under the skin.
the way his fingers splay possessively over your waist.
you donât lean into itâ
âbut, you donât exactly discourage it eitherâŚ
silence stretches too long.
âi thought i said we were done,â you say at last, voice quieter than you mean for it to be. your head dipsâtrying to avoid his gaze.
âŚbut, like your blush, your eyes betray you.
you catch him in the edge of your vision.
and there it is.
that same lookâintense, aching.
that same look that you know too well.
that same look that makes your own heart jump.
âoh, you ainât mean thatâŚâ he drawls, certain and easy. like he has you all figured out.
your mouth twists before you can stop itâan embarrassed, irritated little pout pulling at your lips.
âyes, i did⌠iâŚâ you hesitate, the words catching in your throat. you force them out anyway. âi met someone.â
you barely even get the full sentence out before you feel his arms tighten. just a fraction.
not enough to hurt⌠just enough to remind you of who he is.
of why heâs there.
a breathy chuckle leaves him.
âi donât like liiiaaars~âŚâ he sings, dragging out the honeyed words. but, for a moment, his voice dips lower, heavier⌠dangerous. âi would know if someone was tryinâ to get with my baby⌠âcause that means theyâd have to get past me first.â
his lips find your neck before you can think to stop him. they drag slow along your neckâlike heâs savoring something thatâs already his.
you swallow, but it doesnât help. the lump in your throat just reformsâstubborn, just like him. your chest tightens with each press of his lips.
your skin prickles, goosebumps prickling along the invisible path his lips somehow have memorized.
ââmy babyâ?â you echo his words, voice a weak croak.
the club should be loudâoverstimulating and overwhelming. should have bodies rubbing and grinding against one anotherâ
âbut with him, it somehow⌠softens.
like the only people in the room are you and him.
his lips pause, hovering over the skin. a lingering heat clings to it.
âmine,â he mutters hotly. the word settles heavier than it should. âalways have been, always will be.â
his breath ghosts your nape and he nudges his face against yours. the heady scent of his arousal fills your nose.
âprove me wrongâŚâ he murmurs, voice dripping with certainty. âtell me youâre not mine. show me how much you want me gone.â
your fingers twitch at your sides.
itâd be easy.
just a push.
a step.
a nudge.
hell, a word, even.
âŚbut you donât.
you donât do any of those things.
to him, thatâs everything.
a slow, satisfied grin spreads across his lips, his hands sliding down to settle on your hips.
thenâ
everything seems to come back.
the music.
the people.
like that never happened.
âwhereâd you learn to dance like that?â his tone is teasing, playful. âswayinâ your hips so nice⌠was that a show for me?â
the tip of his nose nudges into your flushed cheek.
you scoff softly, ducking your head, trying to hide the way it still gets to you.
the way he still gets to you
âknock it offâŚâ
âaw câmon, baby. donât be like thatâŚââlike the rest of the people in the club, he begins to rub his body against yoursââdance for me again. you were lookinâ reaaal good on the floor.â
you donât know if itâs your choice or hisâ
âbut your body moves anyway.
his hands guides your body, like itâs second nature, roaming your skin hungrily.
your body leans into his.
you can feel the heat of his frame against yours, the weight of his hands draped around your hips, andâ
âthe unmistakable hardness of his arousal pressing into your ass.
âŚit doesnât take long for your breath to get heavy.
for your body to start responding to his.
for you to start craving his.
his handsâhaving pushed under your topâglide across your skin, like heâs memorized every part of you. they cup your breasts, rolling and squeezing the mounds.
he feels the way your nipples pebble under his palms.
the way youâre loving this.
that only serves to make his cock twitch in his pantsâaching for you.
a soft moan huffs out from you, turning your head so your lips are almost touching his.
you?
you canât be bothered to worry about whoâs watching.
him?
he wants them watching.
wants their eyes on you, stuck there.
watching someone as perfect as you.
and, he wants them to want you.
wants them wishing for a chance.thinking that they could have youâeven for a second.
but, they wonât get past him.
and, they never will.
he loves that part the most.
he nudges your head under your chin before you can move to stop him, lips catching the still-sensitive skin of your neck.
he sucks hardâmarking you, just so when you wake the next day, you know who you belong to.
he manages to elicit a whimper from you. a low, appreciative groan rumbles from him.
âwhy donât we get outta âere, huh?â his voice was a low and heated purr. he glances around the club, lively and bustling. ââŚthey ainât gonna wanna see what i do to youâŚâ
youâre past the point of taking care to not show how much he still affects you.
you want him to see how much he does.
âŚand, maybe you want him to push even further.
âŚ
âainât she a beaut?â
his voice cuts through the cool, crisp air of the moonless night.
he pauses.
âwell, she ainât as pretty as you, butââ a crooked grin pulls at his lips, ââsheâs tryinâ.â
the motorcycle gleams beside him, all flash and attitude, its vibrant red paint slicing clean through the dark like itâs got something to prove.
itâs almost scary how similar he is to his motorcycle.
âi donât usually let anyone⌠near my girl like this,â he starts, voice dipping low, âbut iâm makinâ an exception for you.â
a beat passes, the air thick and charged between you.
he crooks a finger, slow, deliberate, then pats the leather seat like it belongs to himâand maybe a little bit to you, too.
when he looks up, those sharp blue eyes lock in, familiar and hard to ignore.
âso you ainât just gonna stand there lookinâ pretty,â he says, a hint of a tease curling through his tone. âcâmon. get your sexy ass on my throne.â
you blink, hesitation flickering across your face.
âbut⌠i canât driveââ
âwho said anything about drivinâ, baby?â he cuts in, grin flashing, easy and confident. âyou ainât drivinâ nothinâ.â
he leans in just a fraction, voice dropping, words meant just for you.
âiâm just gonna show you what a real bike feels like.â
you hesitate just a moment longer.
he catches that.
of course he does.
slowly, like youâre soothing a feral animal, your hand finds the seat. your fingers skim over the leather. itâs tight⌠cooled by the chill of the night.
you take a breath.
you shift your weight.
you glance at himâ just once.
âŚyouâre doing this.
thenâ
start to swing your leg over.
your movements are tentative, slow.
âeasy,â he drawls, amusement slipping in smooth, âlookinâ like you think sheâs gonna buck you clean off.â
you falter mid-motion, unable to keep yourself from shooting him a look.
he just grins wider, eyes dragging over you as his tongue darts out to trace the edge of his lips.
âwhat, you scared you gonna fall?â
âdonât worry,â he adds, voice softening but no less smug, âiâd catch you.â
for some reason..
that does not fucking help.
still, you finish the motion, taking care to be a little more mindful with your movements. you settle onto the seat. the bike shifts faintly under you, solid but unfamiliar. despite that, you steady yourself with a small breath.
he steps closer, slow, unhurried, like heâs enjoying this way too much.
âthere you go,â he murmurs, voice dipping lower, approval threading through it. âsee? didnât fall.â
you swallow hard, but you canât help but feel a triumph.
âŚbefore you can get too comfortable, he moves.
one second thereâs spaceâ
âthe next, itâs gone.
he swings onto the bike behind you in one smooth motion. he doesnât sitâbearing his feet onto the ground below him. but itâs enough.
it forces you forward, he forces you forward. closer, closer⌠the narrow head of the seat settles dangerously close to your mound.
âheyââ you start, instinctively bracing, hands grabbing for something steady. âiâm gonna fallââ
âyouâre fine,â he butts in, his tone easy. (butt lmao)
he finds your protests cute.
a firm hand comes to your sideâbut instead of pulling you back, he nudges you forward just a little more, like heâs proving a point.
your breath hitches as the head presses hard against your moundâuncomfortable, nearly painfulâhis grasp on your side not helping.
heâs got you exactly where he wants you.
âtold you,â he murmurs, voice low near your ear, âi gotchaâ
you shift your weight, trying desperately to scoot back, but thereâs nowhere to go.
heâs right here.
body all heat and presence, crowding you in to that delicious edge that presses up against your bud.
âseriouslyââ you try to protest again, indignation slipping into your voice.
he just huffs a quiet laugh, brushing it off like itâs nothing.
ârelax.â
the word lands heavier than it should.
you watch as one of his hands reaches forward, fingers curling around the handlebar. the other slips away from your view, fishing his keys from his pocket, the faint jingle sharp in the quiet.
you shoot him another look when he leans in further, nearly making you hunch over.
a low, velvety chuckle leaves him as he slots the key into the ignition. he stays like that for a moment.
thenâ
âhe turns it.
the bike roars to life.
a deep, vibrating rumble that cuts through the crisp night and settles straight into your bones, and humiliatingly enough, straight into your heat.
your lips part, eyes widening.
âwoahâŚâ you breathe.
âoh, you ainât felt nothinâ yet, baby.â
felt.
not seen.
before you can open your mouth to speakâ
âboth his hands clutch the handlebars.
he revs it again.
the engine snarls beneath you, louder this timeâdeep and impatient. the whole bike shudders, a low, rolling vibration that travels up through the frame, through the seat, straight into you.
it feels so good.
so much soâ
âthat it catches you off guard.
your breath hitches, fingers gripping onto his forearms as the rumble slowly settles but never stops, steady and insistent. thrumming against your cunt, against your sensitive pearl.
âf-fuckââŚâ your voice is a whisper, near imperceptible over the purr of the engine.
but, he hears you.
behind you, he lets out a quiet, satisfied hum, like he was waiting for that exact reaction.
âyeah,â he murmurs, close enough that you feel his breath more than hear his voice. âyâlike that, huh?â
he rolls the throttle againâjust a littleâand the bike answers to him. a sharp growl that melts back into that heavy, pulsing thrum.
you gulp, a sheen of sweat already clinging to your skin. your legs feel like jellyâdespite not being on the seat for very long.
at leastââŚ
thatâs what it feels like.
âshe got a kick to her,â another slow rev, deliberate this time, like heâs making sure you feel it. showing off exactly what he can make you feel.
a moan ghosts your lips this time. your muscles tense and your hips roll without you meaning to.
he watches it all.
hungrily, greedily even.
âtold you,â he purrs, voice dipping lower, nearly lost under the sound of the engine, âreal bike. you ainât gettinâ this with anybody else but me, baby.â
your brain is⌠blank. nothing comes out, not even a half-formed reply, just quiet, needy moans.
he eases off the throttleâslow, too slow.
like heâs savoring it.
savoring you.
the sudden shift makes you weak. the loss of intensity is a heady sensation.
your grip loosens, shoulders unclenching as you sink closer against him, breath slipping out in uneven, shaky pants. your cunt is pounding, sopping wet against the leather seat, no doubt. you can feel the heat lingering under your skin, making your limbs fluttery, near boneless.
for a moment, everything stops.
besides the low, throaty hum vibrating from the idled motorbike, everything is at a standstill.
âgo on,â he suddenly urges, âtry it.â
you want to.
you really do.
and, under normal circumstances, you would have!
âŚbut right now?
your hands donât listen.
they wrap around the grips, fingers curled in place, but everything too⌠loose. the steady thrum from the motorbike should ground you.
âŚbut it doesnât .
your breath catches when you try to focus.
your cunt clenches when you try to shift.
your brain goes blank again.
despite everythingâ
âyou twistâjust a little⌠a little is all you can manage.
the engine answers, more of a stutter than anything. not the powerful roar that he was able to coax from it.
behind you, he huffs a quiet laugh.
âcâmon,â he challenges, âthat all you got?â
you try again, forcing your grip tighter this time, but itâs useless. your body barely cooperates, your movements shaky, unsteady.
the bike gives you another half-hearted growl.
you let out another shuddering pant.
the break? youâre thankful for.
but the break laced with his teases? thatâs what makes you squirm the most.
âmm,â he hums, like heâs thinking hard about your embarrassing incompetence. ânah⌠you not doinâ it right.â
your stomach flips at that.
âw-waitââ
his hands are there before you make a move to pull away.
big and warm, they close over yours. his fingers slide into place along the grips, fitting between the spaces of yours a little too easily, swallowing your hold whole.
heâs just guiding.
just holding.
just⌠trapping.
âŚbut, you donât know that.
âlike this,â his tone was low. an unhurried and intimate purr against your nape.
he twists the throttle with you, framing it like heâs innocently doing it for you, and the bike answers properly this time. a smooth, rolling roar that sends a stronger vibration rushing through you.
your breath stutters, shoulders tensing before going loose again. you thought youâd be numb from this. you remember using one of those vibrating massagers on your neck and it numbed the area.
not this, though.
you can feel every rumble.
every answer.
your cunt flutters in time with the bike. the hum of it reverberates right into your bud. you can feel that tightness in your gut, coiling low and heavy, slow and torturous. it was humiliating how easily he seems to control both the bike and you.
his grip tightens, not rough, but firm enough to keep your hands exactly where they are, pinned beneath his.
another slow and drawn out rev, like heâs taking his time with itâtaking his time with you, fills the air.
a low, rumbly growl.
you feel it everywhere.
you almost wish you didnât.
behind you, you donât have to look to know heâs got that stupid grin on his face.
âthere we go,â he murmurs, right by your ear. âknew you could do it⌠just needed a lilâ help.â
your fingers press uselessly against the grips, trying to find any leverage at all before giving a small tug. itâs subtleâas subtle as it can be, at leastâlike youâre hoping he wonât notice.
he does.
a quiet tsk sounds right by your ear, amused and teasing.
âuh-uh.â
he revs it again.
it snarls like a warning, driving right into your dripping cunt.
âeasy⌠just let it happen,â he mutters hotly, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. his lips drag up and down the column of your nape before he presses kisses to the heated skin, like heâs claiming the space for himself.
itâs delicate enough to make you tremor, a slow shiver that almost matches the idling of the engine under you.
each rev that comes out after refuses to let the feeling of the last fade.
âf-fuck, fuckâjax, iâmââ your words catch in your throat, hips rolling against the seat now, unable to stop.
âi hear ya, babe,â he mumbles against your neck. his kisses a trail along your pulse until his lips are right against that sensitive spot under your ear.
youâre close.
you know you are.
you can feel it.
your pussy, slick and damp, slides against the narrow head of the seat. you can feel your panties clinging to the wet heat of your folds, the seam of your bottoms pressing right up to that sensitive pearl.
âcuteâŚâ he whispers. without warning, his hand presses to the plush curve of your belly.
your breath hitches, watching as his fingers, as his entire hand, slides into your bottoms. a moan, louder, leaves your lips. you feel the pads of his fingers exploring your sensitive mound, touching anything they can find.
thenâ
âthere it isâŚâ
he catches your clit between his fingers. instead of pinching and rolling though, he slides his middle and ring finger on either side of it.
âshitâ!!â you whimper, biting your lower lip as you duck your head. your hips donât stop, grinding into the seat and now, his fingers, too.
it doesnât stopâ
âhe doesnât stop.
he doesnât give you a moment to recover.
he wants to see you unravel because of him.
and, fuck, itâs working.
your breath is too fast, uneven and strained. it makes you lightheaded, like you might float away if his hands arenât there, grounding you.
before, you wouldâve hated how much you liked this.
how much he could still affect you.
now?
you canât get enough of it.
âŚand maybe, you canât get enough of him.
the worst part?
he knows it.
sees it.
feels it.
fuck, heâs sure he can taste it.
and you know he does.
by the way his breath shifts.
by the quiet little sounds he makes.
pleased, aroused.
youâve been walking on a dangerous line ever since you broke up with him. careful⌠but uncertain, pretending you had everything controlled.
but, with one look, with one word⌠heâs finally made you slip, pulling you down with him.
and heâs never letting you go again.
at that last snarl of the engine, that last pump into you⌠whatever resolve you have left crumbles.
your high starts as a low, simmering heatâone that completely overtakes every part of you. your body goes rigid, fingers tightening on the handlebars. your mouth opens to scream, but⌠nothing comes out.
he groans into your neck, satisfied, satiated⌠for now.
âthere you go⌠i gotchaâŚâ
you hunch over, eyes squeezed shut, toes curling. your cunt gushes and clenchesâyou barely feel a wet heat dripping from you, making your panties stick to you, your clothes adhere to your skin.
âahâfuuuuhhckââ you manage to gasp.
itâs a white-hot pleasureâsomething youâve never felt before.
searing.
burning.
scorching.
like heâs branding a mark into you by doing this.
âfuckâŚâ he pants, breath hot against your skin. his pants are tight, cock pressing into the fabric uncomfortably⌠but heâd take care of that soon enough. âyou look so good like this baby⌠pantinâ and moaninâ for meâŚâ
you sink back into him, chest heaving with each breathless pant as you slowly came down from your high. the chill of the night is gone, replaced with the heat radiating from your body. a sheen of sweat coats your skin, catching the pale light of the moon.
your breath hitches when you feel his hand finally slither out your bottoms, but you donât bother opening your eyes.
he greedily licks off his shiny fingertips, groaning around them.
âfuck, you taste goodâŚâ he mutters hotly.
he nudges his face up against yours, lips almost touching your ear.
âwhy donât we go to my place, huh? go to my house⌠where i can have you all to myselfâŚâ he whispers, voice tight with his own arousal. ââŚunless you want me to take you right here in this parkinâ lot⌠not that iâd mindâŚâ
you swallow hard, finally letting your eyes flutter open.
but instead of looking at himâ
âyour gaze drifts, catching on a car just around the corner of the building.
your friendsâ car.
the same friends who dragged you out tonight, just so youâd stop moping over your breakupâŚ
guilt twists low in your stomach at the thought of leaving them like thisâespecially whenâ
âhey.â
his voice cuts in, rougher now.
itâs sharp enough to make you try and turn to look back at himâbut his hands catch you first.
bicep wrapping tight around your plush waist, he tugs you back against him, firm and unyielding, your back pressed flush to his chest.
you tense up when you feel the unmistakable feeling of his cock pressing insistently against your lower back.
ânone of that,â he mutters, voice low as he leans in closeâalmost too closeâhis breath hot against your ear. âdonât think about whatever the fuck that was.â
his grip tightens just slightly, enough to keep you there, grounded exactly where he wants you.
âjust think about me,â he continues, quieter now. it feels like the words brush against your skin. âsâjust me and you. got it?â
thatâs all it takes.
you nod, quick and obedient, your breath unsteady as you sink back into him.
youâre so easy.
âŚ
the ride home was bad. arms wrapped around his toned waist, head pressed to his shoulderâ
âyou couldnât wait to get home.
er, his home.
âŚbecause you didnât live with him.
right.
but, by far, the worst part was stumbling into his home, partly kissing, partly trying to get your clothes off, partly judging if you had enough self-control to make it to the bed.
you didnât.
neither of you did.
you pant lightly, sitting on your knees in front of him. holding his hardened, hot shaft in your hands, you realize that itâs⌠much bigger than you expected⌠or remembered. the red tip peeks out past the foreskin.
thatâs where you focus first.
you lap at the head, groaning softly at the taste. precum wells up from the small slitâclear and sticky.
his breathing hitches.
you donât know how long heâs waited for this, wished for this.
you push his foreskin back, revealing the stiff length further.
you let a beat pass before you go down on him again.
tongue swirling around the head, you lap up the clear droplets of precum again, greedy.
but, you donât stop there
you run the pad of it up and down his shaft.
the smell is something elseâmusky, saltyâfuck, you canât get enough of it.
"fuck, yeahâhaah⌠just like that," he groans, hands fisting on the couch cushions. "w-work thatâthat pretty lilâ mouth for me, babyâŚ"
his entire body burned with heat, the sheen of sweat offering no relief. it trailed slowly down his back, thick and searingâlike molten lava slipping over his skin.
slowly, you take him deeper, reveling in the velvety texture of his shaft.
heâs so big in your mouth, you can barely breatheâŚ
you donât even get him that far in before his tip is touching the back of your throat.
you choke, lips stretched around it.
heâs barely keeping himself under control.
every breath is measured and strained. his muscles tense under your ministrations, coiled tight and strained. like each movement of your mouth only seems to wind him tighter, drawing a quiet, shuddering moan from his lips as the heat lingers, heavy and unrelenting.
you pause.
just for a moment.
you pull back slightly, your gummy heat sticking to his sensitive length.
his cock throbs in your mouth.
itâs a foreign feeling.
you can feel the weight of it, heavy and insistent. sinking down on him again, you take him deeper.
the head of his cock nudges against the back of your throat again, but this time, you gag slightly. the sensation making your eyes water.
but, you donât pull away.
âtaâhaahâŚt-take me slow, babyâŚâ he hisses through barely restrained need. he took a ragged, slow breathâhips bucking lightly, like the little movements are uncontrollable.
you relax your throat, letting him fill you, stretch you.
it's⌠awkward, uncomfortable.
but there's a thrill to it.
a thrill to him being this big.
to taking him like this.
you can feel every vein and ridge of his cock stroking against the insides of your cheeks. you can taste the salt of his sweat, the hint of musk that clings to his hot skin. it's intoxicating, making your head spin even as you work to breathe around him.
the squelches of your mouth working him fills the air.
he doesnât rush you.
doesnât force you down onto his cock further.
instead, he moans your nameâthe words ghosting his lips.
âfuuuhckâfuckâmâcloseââ he gasps, ây-you got good at this⌠ainât been suckinâ any other cocks, have you?â
you donât answer.
not because you donât careâbut because his voice barely reaches you at all.
your mind hums, soft and dizzy, caught somewhere between his words, the way heâs looking at you, and his cock.
youâre not even sure you could form a sentence, even if you tried.
fuck, and the way youâre looking at him, too.
hands bared on his thighs.
eyes staring up at him through lashesâfilled with nothing but need, desperation.
desperation for him.
you pick up your pace, getting lost in the heady rhythm. you can feel him getting closer.
but, you donât relent.
âahhaâ shitâ!!â he whimpers.
his muscles go taut.
his body is wracked with trembles.
a pleasure like no other washes over himâsearing, blinding, molten.
his cock pulses. thick wad after thick wad fills your mouth, your throat.
you splutter and choke.
itâs salty and hot and thereâs so much of it.
too much of it.
you pull back with a quiet whimperâ
âah-ah.â
he grabs your face.
you blink, startled.
âswallow.â
you donât have much of a choice in this.
actually, you donât have any choice in this.
you swallow the ivory mess in one gulpâtongue darting out to lick the remnants from your lips.
a satisfied grin meets his lipsâ
âjust gotta make sureâŚâ he purrs lowly, sultry.
before you can even think to reactâ
âyouâre easily pulled from the floor.
youâre pinned between the arm of the couch and him.
he kisses you so hard that youâre sure youâll suffocate. his tongue plunders your mouth, tasting you, deeply, passionately. like if he kisses you hard enough⌠youâll stay. he groans into the kiss, seemingly satisfied by whatever he was looking for in the first place.
but, he doesnât stop.
the kisses donât stop.
the touches donât stop.
and before you know it, youâre underneath him, his cock buried in your tight heat.
you mewl and cry with each rough thrust he gives you.
like heâs making up for being so gentle before.
your fingers dig into his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks blooming in its wake.
he huffs into your shoulder, holding you close.
so close that you can feel every part of him.
his lips and teeth find the column of your neck.
he sucks.
bites.
all to mark you.
mark you as his.
the head of his cock hits that spot that makes your eyes roll.
your toes curl.
your mouth gape in a silent scream.
itâs better than anything youâve ever felt. that almost makes it worse.
heâs supposed to be your ex.
itâs humiliating how easily he got you back.
how easily he turns you on.
how easily he makes you cumâŚ
itâs humiliating how easy you are.
you cum with a strangled moan. your syrupy cunt clenches and flutters before the walls clamp down on his cock.
he groans, fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you even closer.
your face is buried into his shoulder.
youâre sure heâs going to suffocate you.
âŚbut, you donât push him away.
"m-missed youâŚâ he hisses into your skin, hips stuttering. âmissed y-you⌠sâmuchâŚâ
your brain is buzzing, unable to form any coherent thoughts⌠or words.
you babble out something, voice muffled by his skin.
you donât know how many times you came.
you lost count after the third⌠or fourthâŚ
you could feel his thick, hot spurts filling your greedy cunt. heâs stuffing you full.
your throat was raw and aching.
despite that, he always manages to wrench a scream from you each time you came.
your spongey cervix feels bruised with each time he bottoms out in you.
despite that, he always manages to make you cum.
nobody does it like him and nobody ever will.
you belong to him.
youâve always belonged to him.
the way you look at him gives you away.
like your body remembersâ
âdespite your mind trying not to.
your body reminds you.
reminds you of who he isâwho heâs always been.
he doesnât rush it.
he never has to.
because you come back on your ownâ
âevery single time.
and, heâs going to show you.
show you exactly why youâre hisâ
âand only his.
âŚ
you wake slow, tangled in sheets that donât smell like you.
they smell like him.
that confirms you hadnât dreamed the whole thing.
your fingers curl into the fabric of the oversized shirt hanging off your shouldersâhis shirtâand you let out a quiet breath, eyes still half-lidded.
you donât remember putting it on and you donât remember moving to the bed.
despite that, you donât question it too much.
thinking was out of the picture right now.
your other clothesâthe ones you wore to the clubâare nowhere to ne seen.
the memory of last night prickles, leaving you with a hotness in your cheeks.
you wince at the aching of your pussy, a slow, dull throb between your legs that youâre sure will take days to feel better.
for a second, you just lay there.
dust motes float above youâlooking like flecks of gold as they catch the amber light of the sun.
thenâ
you push yourself up, wincing faintly at the heaviness in your limbs.
his room has what youâd expect: clothesâmessily scattered, dim fairy lights dangling from the ceiling, a bedside tableâthe surface unorganized and cluttered, his motorcycle helmetâplaced like a relic in his room.
forcing yourself to stand, you drag both your hands down your face before shuffling out of his room, bare feet padding softly against the floor.
heâs already awake.
leaning back against the counter like heâs been waiting, his eyes rake over you in a way that makes heat crawl up your neck.
âgood morning, sleepyhead,â his voice is light, teasing.
you answer with nothing more than a small groan, still rubbing at your eyes, too tired to give him anything better.
he gives a long, drawn out whistle, shamelessly dragging his gaze slowly along your frame under his shirt.
âdaaamn. you look good in my clothes. maybe i should fuck you âtil you pass out again, huh?â
you glare weakly, but despite your embarrassment, it doesnât land.
not when your voice is still thick with sleep.
not when youâre standing there in his clothes.
not when you have him to thank.
that same infuriating crooked grin cracks across his face. turning, his back faces you, and before you can process it, a mug is being shoved into your hands.
the beige liquid steams, the scent of sweetened coffee filling the air. it immediately warms your palmsâa soothing, comforting warmth.
âare you just gonna stare at it? or are you gonna drink it?â his voice cuts in suddenly.
you purse your lips but donât argue.
you lift it, taking a sip thatâs faster than you meant for it to beâ
âand immediately flinch.
âshitââ you mutter, voice tight with pain. the tip of your tongue burns before tingling lightly.
of course youâd burn your tongue first thing in the morning.
he huffs out a quiet laugh as you glare at the steaming cup like it personally offended you.
âcareful.â
you mutter something under your breath, but take anotherâmuch slowerâsip anyway, letting the warmth settle into you this time.
it helps.
more than youâd like to admit.
you lean back against the counter, cradling the mug, gaze drifting somewhere past him as your thoughts finally catch up.
ââŚi should probably go back,â you think aloud, speaking more to yourself than anything. âmy friends⌠theyâre probably worried.â
thereâs a pause.
not long.
just enough to make you glance at himâ
âseeing heâs already watching you.
but, instead of a frown, heâs smiling.
that stupid smile that you can read easier than anyone.
that smile that feels like a language only you and he share.
your stomach tightens.
âjaxonâŚâ you say his full name in a tone that more mirrors one of a warning.
he lifts his handâ
âand there they are.
his keys to his motorcycle.
his âgirlâ.
dangling just out of reach, glinting as they swing lightly between his fingers.
âshould you?â he questions, like what you said was a suggestion.
your eyes narrow instantly.
âyou canât just keep me here, jaxon.â
he just tilts his head, amused, lifting them a little higher.
âwellâŚâ he starts, grin growing more and more mischievous, âi donât see it that way. itâs my bike, meaninâ iâll bring you home when i wanna. and, i donât feel like ridinâ right now.â
he shoves the keys into his pocket before rummaging through the cabinets and grabbing a box of cereal.
âso the way i see itâŚâ he rips the bag open, shoveling a handful into his mouth, ââŚis that youâre here to stay. better get comfy.â
you huff out a quick breath, brows knitting together
âcome on, jax! you canât be seriousâŚâ
he crunched on his cereal for a moment longer before leaning in.
âserious as the plague, baby.â
you scowl before you can stop yourself, setting the coffee down with a soft clink.
âyouâre so annoying.â
he only grins wider, taking the keys out his pocket and dangling thdm in the air.
you step forward anyway, reaching up for themâ
âbut heâs taller, arm stretching just enough to keep them out of your grasp no matter how you try.
you huff, trying againâ
âand againâ
âfailing every time.
âstopâhold stillââ you stammer, using one hand to grasp onto his bicep, the other stretching as far as you can manage.
âmake me,â he smugly retorts.
after trying and failing, trying and failingâ
âyour hands fall back to your sides, more out of frustration than anything.
with a resigned groan, you lean in, burying your face into his chest.
his hand comes to your waist immediately, steadying and grounding.
his body crowds in, trapping you there, your body pressed flush to his.
your breath hitches⌠just a little, just enough.
he leans down, close enough that his stubble brushes against your ear.
âjust one more dayâŚ?â
his voice id low and quietâdifferent from the mischievous tone he had before.
you scoff quietly.
âunbeliebableâŚâ
he doesnât move.
âŚbut he doesnât let you go, either.
he just waits.
a beat passes.
thenâ
you sigh.
ââŚfine,â you mumble. âjust one more day.â
his grip tightens, seemingly pleased.
âgood. âcause, iâm makinâ breakfast. you want some?â
you pause for a moment before a helpless smile meets your lips.
ââŚyeah.â
youâre not leaving after âjust one more dayâ.
