sushipicious

[sushipicious]

Thinking abt Todoroki Shouto, and how he isn't as dense as he comes across...

When reading fanfics Shouto is always oblivious and dense, and yes, I wholeheartedly agree with that—

But i feel like Shouto also does it on purpose, you know? Like, one day you're both talking, and he's just soo up close to your face. 'He probably doesn't realize' you rationalize inside your head, but no, he's definitely aware of the affect he has on you. Your reactions are cute, he thinks, cute in the way he can't seem to stop teasing you.

I think he'd pay extra close attention to people that are close to him, people he holds dear, so whenever you stutter, or your mind goes and blank and you think 'Oh, I hope he didn't notice that—' he does.

I think that's why I like the idea that he's actually a little menance, but the worst part is that he gets away with it !!

Whether it's saying something so humbling and out of depth— something that many would take offense to but think, 'well, he didn't really mean it that way— that's just how he is', NOPE!! he definitely meant it that way, but not clarifying anything saves him the trouble so why should he care yk...

Though, he mostly (all the time really) does it with you. Getting up in your personal space, saying things like "When we're on a mission together, I feel like I can handle anything as long as you're the one by my side"— and it flusters you sooo badly, but no, this is Shouto we're talking about, clearly he didn't mean it like that, right? Right? (And the entire time, he's trying to bite down a Cheshire grin)

So, yes, in the earlier years of being a hero he wasn't really great at communication and unaware of social cues— but now, he's practically evil with the way he acts around you.

Sometimes you think you see it; you're going to call him out on his behavior. There's no way he didn't know what he was doing when he held your face in his hands on a hot summer day, pulling you close and saying, "Is this cooling you down?" (No, actually, this was just heating you up)

But whenever you do call him out on it—

"You know, you're not that slick." You say one day, ice cream cone in hand as you walk next to him, bumping him with your hip. Your eyes slide over towards his mismatched ones, gauging his reaction closely. If you were anyone else you would have probably missed the slight quirk of his lip; the uplift of his brows. But you don't, and the grin on your face overtakes most of your features. Maybe today will be the day he finally admits it. Instead he doesn't speak, takes one lick of his mint chocolate ice cream and then he turns to you, a silent question appearing on his face. A taunt.

You let out a humourless breath, cone tight in your hand as you point it in his direction. Accusing him of something both of you know you won't be able to prove, but he knows you know, and you know he knows you know. But, it'd be really great if he could just admit it, because it's almost like a game.

A game between just the two of you.

"Don't try and act blonde now!" You chide, biting on your bottom lip to control the smile that tries to force it's way on your face.

Shouto smiles at your antics, leaning in close to you, and all of a sudden he completely invades your senses. The smell of mint on his lips is so close, and yet so far. He stares deeply into your eyes, and just as you thought you were getting closer to the truth— he brings his thumb up to wipe absent mindlessly at the corner of your mouth. He pulls back, looks you in the eyes, and takes a tentative lick at the frosty flavour on his thumb. With a cat-like tilt to his head, he says, "I'm not blonde?"

But, the worst part is whenever he speaks about you to others, he speaks so fondly of you; like one would do about their partner— but you guys aren't together. Sometimes he does it right in front of your face whenever you guys are at a hero gala. Shouto sees you talking to a new and upcoming, young, pro-hero and he immediately comes to your side. With how close he is, and with the things he says to them, "I can never imagine myself without them by my side." It gives people the idea that you're both, you know, a thing.

Little do you know, he's been playing this 'game' ever since high school, and even though the two of you aren't exclusive— it doesn't mean he can't get in his fun.

Todoroki Shouto is not good for your health.

[sushipicious]

Working on the 'pathetic overworked guy that's also a deranged psychopath' agenda.

[sushipicious]

Between Lines

Sub!Kenma x Fem!reader

CW: caught jerking off, reader a lil mean, begging, kenma being a cry baby, phone smut

A/N: Kinda rushed this one tbh.. I don’t know if I’m a fan of it but I liked the idea

WC: 1,360

Kenma's quiet demeanor was a defining trait, one that set him apart from the crowd. He wasn't one to actively seek out friendships, nor did he make much effort to engage in conversations with girls.

However, you were the exception. The circumstances of how your nightly calls began was something Kenma could not recall; but it was evolved from your shared love of video games. But once the controllers were set aside for the night, the conversations continued.

Despite his reputation for silence, Kenma was an attentive listener. He found solace in the sound of your voice, absorbing every detail you shared – whether it was the latest gossip, your favorite TV shows, or the mundane details of your day. He was content with this, offering only occasional interjections or quiet chuckles in response.

When the topic inevitably turned to him, Kenma's responses were dry, stale. I mean, you tried to talk about him, but it’s like he was on a witness protection program. He always found a way to turn the conversations back to you.

You weren’t exactly sure why, as sometimes you would have to ask “Are you still there, Kozu?"

A soft "mhmm" would be his only response, a subtle reassurance that he was indeed still listening.

Tonight was no exception. The clock ticked past 10:00 pm, leaving Kenma’s room dark as he lay on his bed, phone pressed to his ear. Your voice filled the room, animated and excited as you recounted the latest episode from your favorite TV show.

"But can you believe that plot twist?" you exclaimed, your excitement palpable even through the phone.

"Yeah, it was unexpected," Kenma replied, his tone calm but laced with a hint of amusement.

As the conversation continued, Kenma found himself lying there, feeling embarrassingly aroused. Lately, he had been struggling to find release, but there was something about the sound of your voice that seemed to make him undeniably hard.

His hand started to wander lower, venturing into forbidden territory where his boxers were already dampened with precum.

"That reminds me, Kozu! What you pulled off during the last match was pretty impressive," you enthusiastically complimented him, completely unaware of the effect your words were having on him.

“o-oh really?” He asked shakily, shamelessly teasing his overly sensitive pink tip.

"Mhmm, good job, Kozu.” You chuckled, praising him once more for his gaming skills.

Now, of all times, was the worst moment to praise him like that. He was already so aroused! The tone of your voice, your affectionate words, and just your presence in general was too much for him. By now, he was shakily jerking himself off, beads of precum leaking out of his tip.

He attempted to stifle his sounds of pleasure, but his efforts were in vain as a loud moan escaped him, broadcasting through the mic. His moment of ecstasy was abruptly halted when the realization of his mistake hit him.

"Kozu?" you asked, surprised at his unexpected reaction. Kenma didn’t know what to do with himself. He could die right about now. The one time he decided to let into his urges and he gets caught!

Before he could gather his thoughts to respond, you continued with a mischievous tone, "Have you been getting off to my voice every night?" Kenma's cheeks flushed even deeper as he struggled to find words, caught off guard by your bold question.

"N-no... I just... I'm sorry," Kenma whimpered out, his embarrassment evident in his voice. Somehow, he found himself even more aroused than before. Being caught by you had an unexpected effect on his body.

He braced himself for your potential reaction—scolding, perhaps even the silent treatment, or worse. But instead, your voice cut through his panicked thoughts, softer than before, calm and understanding,

"Did you cum yet?" you asked curiously, your tone indicating a desire to help with his predicament.

"W-what?" Kenma asked, still expecting a reprimand from you, his confusion evident in his voice.

“Cum? Did you?” you asked, this time with a slightly firmer tone.

"N-n, no.. no I didn’t," Kenma told you anxiously, unable to believe you would ask him something so intimate.

“Do you want to?” you inquired, your tone still gentle, yet probing. Kenma couldn't decipher how you felt about the situation, but he responded with a shaky "yes," although it was an obvious answer.

Your light laughter filled the air, further fueling Kenma's embarrassment. "I won't stop you, Kozu. I was waiting for something like this to happen," you admitted seductively, your words sending a shiver down his spine.

Kenma let out a soft whine, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and arousal coursing through him at your candid admission.

His hand slowly made its way back down to his aching cock, ready to relive himself of this burning feeling.

"What... what do you mean?" Kenma let out shakily, running his hand over the length of his throbbing erection. God, he was incredibly turned on right now, teetering on the edge of climax with every touch.

"Oh, come on," you teased, as if he should have known what you meant all along, though maybe he did, he wasn't sure. "Do you think I spend hours talking to you even when it’s late just for fun? I like you, Kozume. I really do," you confessed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

This time, Kenma let out a loud moan in response. You? You liked him? It was all too much for him to process.

"I want to see you," he whined, his voice filled with desperation, the sound of his frantic movements against his cock audible through the speaker, causing you to clench around nothing.

"You sound so pretty right now. I wish it was my hand doing the work for you," you remarked, ignoring his attempts at flattery.

He continued to diligently pleasure himself, while you comforted him with soft words, unwittingly encouraging his actions.

His breath became heavier, punctuated by moans and whimpers. "Please," he breathed out, nearing the edge of his climax.

"Please what, Kozu? Do you want to cum?" you asked warmly, causing him to nod his head rapidly, as if you could see him.

"Hmm?" you questioned at his silence. He let out a shy "can I?" seeking your permission for release.

"I don’t know…" you trailed off, feigning contemplation. "I’m kind of upset you touched yourself to my voice without me knowing. You're such a little pervert," you chided, and Kenma couldn't help but let out a mangled sob, his hand slowing its pace in response to your disapproval.

Hearing his slowed motions, you quickly scolded him,

"Don’t slow down if I didn’t tell you to.” This time you were much harsher than he expected. Tears began running down his burning cheeks, small apologies leaving his wet lips.

“If you wanna cum, beg," your demeanor shifted quickly, fueling his arousal even more.

He couldn’t believe you would make him do something so lewd, but he was too far gone to stop himself, "Please.. p-please [name], 'wanna cum so bad! I'm sorry.. mm sorry!" Kenma's voice came out in pitiful sobs, his desperation evident.

The sound of your tongue clicking, as if you weren’t satisfied with his pleas, only made him more desperate.

“I don’t know… maybe I should make you wait until I can touch you,” you remarked. But all Kenma could focus on was the “until I can touch you.”

The thought of you, looking at him with those pretty eyes as you made him cum on himself over and over again, was too much.

He let out more pleas and whimpers, his hips buckling pathetically into his own hand.

“I need to cum, it hurts. I haven’t in sooo long. Please, just this once.. one time,” he rambled, trying to convince you.

"Alright baby, let it out," you finally relented, and Kenma's moans grew louder as thick white ropes of cum flew out from his sensitive tip, coating his pale stomach. Small thank yous and pieces of your name left his lips as he hit his peak.

"Who knew someone so quiet would moan so loud," you remarked, a hint of amusement in your voice.

[sushipicious]

On the wrestling to grinding w/ best friend Kyo, your head resting on his forearm as he's leaning on his elbow above you, other hand on your hip. Wet kisses trailed up your neck and his hot breath fanning across your cheek. Every now and then there's a particularly rough thrust as he murmurs apologies in your ear. This isn't how he wanted it to go with you but he can't bring himself to stop

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw, best friend!kyojuro rengoku, fem!reader, modern au, slight size kink, play wrestling -> dry humping pipeline, premature ejaculation. sub!kyojuro implied but the dynamic isn't too prominent in this one.

A TV drama debate quickly turned into playful shoving, which naturally turned into roughhousing, a common practice between you and the man you've known since you could walk. The show is paused in the background, illuminating your bodies in the darkness of your living room as you wrestle on the couch you were previously cuddling on.

You continue to argue over the protagonist's love life, though you put too much weight into a lunge, sending both of you tumbling onto the floor. Ouch. 

“Oof!” Kyojuro grunts, the wind temporarily knocked out of him as his back meets the carpet, and your body follows, falling atop his. 

He rolls over, caging your body beneath his, undeterred by the tumble and you're reminded of just how big he is. He isn't the gangly teen you remember pushing around anymore, but a grown man. It's difficult to reconcile that dorky teen with the pile of muscle he's become. Jeez, when did he bulk up so much? And as you clutch uselessly at his bulging biceps to shove him off you, you can't help but feel him up a little longer than necessary.

Kyojuro's warm weight atop you is all-consuming, sapping the strength from your limbs his body heat melts into yours. Still, you twist in his hold, ignoring the fluttering in your chest to capture him in a headlock. He knocks your arms out of the way, hands sliding beneath you to grip your shoulders, and one of his muscled thighs hooking beneath yours to prevent you from kicking.

You huff, unable to do much but squirm. And squirm you do, never one to give up. 

He loves your fire almost as much as he loves the way you pout when you lose. Before he can gloat, your hips shift over his groin at just the right angle. Kyojuro's bulge is almost perfectly lodged between your thighs, the warmth between them radiating through your clothing. His breath hitches, muscles tensing in response before a violent shudder overtakes him. 

Though he fights to regain control of himself, his cock throbs in his pants, and Buddha he hopes you can't feel him getting hard. You'd tease him endlessly for it, he's sure of it.

Get a hold of yourself, Kyojuro. His eyes pinch shut, cheeks ruddy with warm blood as he feels his body fill with fire. When his golden eyes re-open, he's met with an expression on your face that nearly makes him moan aloud. 

Your brows are twisted in concentration, perhaps to hide how flustered you are by his proximity. Your lips parted slightly, chest heaving from the exertion of your scuffle. Buddha forgive him, his body moves without thought, hips rutting against yours. His swelling erection drags deliciously over your clothed cunt, eliciting a deep rumbling groan that vibrates his whole chest.

Your nails prick into his back, leaving behind red crescent moons on his skin and fuck that feels good too.

Kyojuro murmurs a slurred apology, dipping his head down as his shame paints his cheeks red. Even as he apologizes his hips won't stop, and the feeling of his warm breath on your throat makes you shiver. The shock of the realization that your best friend is humping you leaves you gaping stupidly, and for some reason, you don't tell him to stop. 

You don't punch his shoulder and laugh it off, only stare with widening pupils as the blond all but ruts his hardness against you like an overeager puppy. Why is this so hot? Wrong in many ways obviously, but it’s intoxicating nonetheless to see him unraveling this way. And God, his cock, even through his joggers you can feel how thick he is.

“Kyo,” you began, a protest on the tip of your tongue but your breath hitches as his lips meet the tender flesh of your neck. "K-kyojuro, what are you doing...”

“I can't stop. I'm sorry, I unnnh,” Kyojuro nearly whines, his hand sliding down from your shoulder to grip your hip as his enthusiastic thrusts start to shove you across the floor. "You feel so good.”

“Don't say things like that, idiot,” you hiss, though even as you scold him, you can feel yourself getting slick. His leaking tip nudges your clit just right and you can't stop the soft sound of approval from escaping, nor your legs from locking around his bucking hips. "Fuck, don't stop.”

His cock twitches, aching against your pussy as your perceived acceptance of his desperate act sends him into a frenzy. His weight presses further onto yours, trapping you between his heavy body and the floor. When you toss your head back, his forearm cushions it.

“Love you. Love you – ohh.”

This isn't how he wanted this to go, how he's always imagined himself confessing his feelings for you. But he can't deny either of you this maddening friction, every single rational thought stolen away by your gasping moans.

“Can feel how big you are. Shit, c’mere.”

Your fingers wind in his flaxen hair, gathering it in your fist close to his scalp and tugging his head away from your neck to slant your lips over his. Your clumsy kiss is electric, all he’s ever imagined it would be and not enough all at once, and his hips stutter against yours. He shakes all over, eyes rolling back with a choked cry into your mouth as he abruptly cums in his pants.

“Sorry, I’m… fuuuck,” he whimpers against your lips, the feeling of your tongue slipping past his parted lips forcing another spurt out of him. “Ah. Hmm, wow.”

His half-lidded, apologetic gaze meets yours, a bead of sweat dripping down his hairline.

“What the fuck,” you start, half-chuckling half in disbelief of what just happened. His face burns with the humiliation of not only humping his best friend like some pervert but also blowing his load from you kissing him, like a loser. Before he can apologize again, he takes in your dilated pupils and the way your hips still undulate beneath his heavy weight. “That was so hot.”

In his post-orgasmic haze, he can only groan in response, pressing his face into your shoulder.

“And pathetic,” you teased, and for some reason his softening cock twitches. And of course you notice, because he’s still slotted against your cunt, which is no doubt a sloppy mess of your own slick beneath your clothes. You hadn’t cum, but you hardly care, still on cloud nine from simply watching your favorite person unravel.

“So cruel,” he huffs, nipping at your shoulder in retaliation. 

“You like it. A bit too much apparently– yeowch!” another, harder bite follows, and you erupt in giggles as his thick digits dig into your sides, tickling you. “Touchy. Now are you gonna get up and let me fuck you properly, or are you too tuckered out, pretty boy?”

The way he scrambles off of you and starts pulling at his clothes is way too cute.

[sushipicious]

Sucking off a pretty bf with pretty expressions~

(Dom!gn!Reader x sub!male!character)

It didn’t really matter where or why you two would do it, since he’d always listen to you anyway. All because this love-starved little thing’s so eager for any shred of your affection on a daily basis, following you around like a lost animal. That makes him so fun to bully!

Just pin him against the nearest wall or make him sit down wherever possible. Hovering above the ground or spreading his pretty legs while you teasingly tap his bulge. Once, twice, maybe squeeze it a little or blow hot air against it, all to get a reaction out of him. Watch that bulge twitch all excited, so easy to understand compared to his broken words.

Oh, what’s this? He’s already hard for you~ take it a liiiittle further by kissing his clothes sex, looking up at him to see him on the verge of tearing up. Chest heaving as he throws his palm over his mouth. That’s is? He’s already feeling it so strongly? How was he going to handle you? Well, you don’t mind breaking your toy once in a while.

“H-hurry… please.” Look how naive he is, so unknowing. He’s so cute when he starts begging you with a muffled voice, so pretty and whorish when he hesitantly pulls down his pants and underwear with a trembling hand. Gosh, if you were to take it any further, won’t this pathetic little boy cry? Wouldn’t his mind turn to mush already?

And when you finally start teasing his tip, maybe even giving him loooong and intimate licks along his shaft, be prepared to hear the sweetest moans and whimpers ever! The blush on his cheeks are spreading to his ears and chest, and his sensitive dick is leaking so much pre already! You haven’t even began properly.

If you were to bless him with your mouth, he’d first melt due to your touch. The feeling of your hot mouth and wet tongue on his lewd cock is so erotic, so perverted! He can’t control his voice, it’s all leaking out, “ah- ohh, nghh, ahh-UhmM♡♥︎!!”

What a cute but pathetic thing, already screaming ‘cummin’ m’cummin’!!’ When all you did was suck him off a little. This won’t do, it doesn’t matter if you’re in public or not, this is simply too early for it to be fun. Pulling back just to tell him ‘not yet’. Now he’s crying and whining about how you are too cruel, how he desperately needs you :(

Poor boy, guess there’s no other way huh? He’s so helpless in situations like this, he needs your guidance! At this point you’ve taken pity on him and decided to let him cum, cooing at him, praising him, but since you are sucking him off he can only make out quiet humming sounds.

On the other hand, the vibrations of your voice is driving him crazy, it’s adding so much more pleasure to the already overwhelming batch, it’s so intense he was itching to grab your hair and feel more. Luckily he remembered not to, he knew the consequences, he didn’t want to disappoint you.

That sweet and obedient man is now moaning so loudly you can call him ‘your woman’. Head thrown back as he tried to warn you with broken sentences, “cu-mHMmiiinng!! I’m cu-cuuuu cumminnnng! ♡～”

Not long after he’s shooting his thick and disgusting cum into your mouth, squirming and withering. This won’t do though, you didn’t feel like swallowing it on that day. So instead, you commanded him to open his mouth all wide and to stick his tongue out. Yanking on his hair to make it easier, lining your lips adobe his, slowly letting it drip down from the tip of your tongue.

You don’t even have to order him to and he’s already gulped it all done. Such a good boy, right? Your good boy, your very best and most obscene boy toy. Just to make sure, he’d ask, “Did I do good? I hope I pleased you♡”

Your favourites!

[sushipicious]

thinking about how there isn't enough on virgin!minho

like things get a little handsy and then you learn how sensitive he is... idk i just love subby whiny min but i haven't seen any inexperienced/virgin minho around :/

Made of Glass

pairing: lee minho x reader

warnings: dom afab reader (no pronouns are mentioned, reader does have a hole but i don't think anything else - besides minho referring to the reader as a goddess once), sub virgin minho, lots of build-up, little bit of a handjob, grinding on his bare dick, penetrative sex ( r receiving, haven't written it in a long time so don't get mad if it's shit😻), fluffy build up (they're in love your honour), he says he hates you a lot (but he doesn't mean it cause we love subby tsundere boys)

word count: erm...about 4.6k

-- MINORS BEGONE --

Minho wasn't ashamed of the fact that he was a virgin.

Untouched and "pure", undirtied by the hands of another some might even say. Specifically you, teasing him with light kisses and gentle touches.

And sure, he'd gotten to 2nd base in a high school relationship and older drunken mishaps but never anything more. Never as so far as to...feel certain things from another person.

Or from himself for that matter.

But no, wasn't ashamed that he was a virgin but he was maybe, perhaps, just a little bit embarrassed.

And he had absolutely zero idea how to breach the topic with you much less approach it.

You, who knew he was a virgin. Always so patient and careful with him.

Obviously, it should be expected that in the heat of the moment you stop when he freezes up or slows when he tenses up. But none of his previous partners had ever treated him so nicely, without getting angry or miffed off after at the very least.

They hadn't kissed his cheeks gently with a smile and conceded into a cuddle after it happened several times. They hadn't wrapped him up in their arms and turned on a movie, or delicately asked to talk about it after the fact.

You did though.

With no questions and no pressuring and no guilt-tripping. No anger.

He loved it. He loved you...as long as that had taken for him to come to terms with, with you and with himself.

He loved you.

And he was ready.

To...to, yeah.

And what better way than to just come out and say it? But that's embarrassing.

"I think I wanna...you know."

"Darling, sorry, can you speak up?" You looked up at him, yawning and setting your phone down on the coffee table.

He flushed and turned away, "um..." and he could feel every ounce of confidence in his body drain out of him like that.

Under your eyes, like this, you so attentive to listen to him. So nice, giving him your whole attention like he was the only thing that mattered.

You patted the couch next to you and he had no choice to sit down, falling into your arms like he was the missing piece to your puzzle.

He was quick to nuzzle his face into your throat, hiding against you. You just made him so nervous. Why did you make him so nervous still? After dating for this long, you shouldn't make him feel this way still.

Fluttery and gooey and nervous.

He'd say he hated it. The way you made his heart flutter...as sappy and love-drunk as that sounded.

He'd say he hated it when your hand cupped his cheek, turning him back to you. But he didn't hate it. Not one bit.

"I love you."

A grin split across your face, lighting up in that way you always did when he said those three words. No matter how many times he's said it, it would still drive you crazy like it was the first.

You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose gently. "Say it again for me darling? Just one more time, please?"

Now you were teasing him. But you couldn't help it. You loved teasing him so much. Loved fluttering kisses over his face and hearing him say those words again and again and again.

You didn't think you could ever get sick of it.

"Fuck you," He groaned but his tone with filled with anything but malice, making you laugh; letting him bury his head into your neck. "Fuck you for being so..."

"So what?" You challenged. "Hmm?"

His voice was muffled against your skin, barely legible, "So...insufferable." But he must like suffering then. "And intolerable." And he must have built up some tolerability, maybe because he was around you so much, indulging in you far too often.

You pulled his body against yours, leaning back to slot his body onto yours.

He was too eager to follow your lead.

To let himself be maneuvered so his hips were pressed against yours and your chest was aligned with his, so softly you moved him, so carefully you treated him.

He could feel your heart beating in time with his, fluttering and quick. He loved the feeling like he loved everything about you.

Fuck you for making him feel like this.

For the butterflies in his stomach. And the flush on his cheeks. And the hard-on between you and him, wishing desperately you wouldn't notice.

But of course you would.

You pulled his face from your neck, hands holding either side of his face, keeping him in place - like he'd want to be anywhere else.

"So I'm insufferable and you're...what?" Your lips pouted and he felt the overwhelming need to kiss them. To kiss you. Hard and fast and the way he needed.

He pretended to think but was only sidetracked by the feeling of your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, tracing his lips and following down to his jawline.

"Mmm, I'm...handsome. And, uh," he let out an embarrassing breathy sigh when you lean in, kissing the corner of his mouth so softly he wouldn't be sure it was there if he hadn't watched you.

"And...?" You prompted, smiling coyly. You knew the effect you had on him.

You peppered kisses over his face, following where you'd touched him with your fingers seconds before. You nipped at his cheek and pulled away before he could properly reply.

"...pretty?" Though the words came out more as a question than anything else. "I mean-"

A giggle escaped your lips, "Hell yeah you are," you brush your nose against his, looking at him in a way so scarily intimate he has to look away first.

"Pretty..." you mutter, sighing. "Y'know, I think I can accept being insufferable and intolerable if you can accept being pretty," you whisper, guiding him back to you with a delicate kiss, finally to his lips. "And handsome," you murmur, smiling against him as he deepens the kiss, hands grasping at the fabric of your shirt.

You pull away with a small teasing smirk, "And beautiful, and gorgeous, and stunnin-mmph!"

His hands fist the fabric, pulling you in before you can continue with your stupid rant. Before you can focus on the way his heart pounds when you add on another praise.

You hum and recede into the motion, allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth, sloppyily, in the way oddly reminiscent of the way horny teenagers kiss.

In a matter of seconds he's turned the kiss from sweet to something not-so-sweet.

Exactly what he wanted, and maybe he wouldn't even need to suffer through the awkwardness of asking.

Everything he put in was returned by you in the tenfold, one hand moving from his cheek to the nape of his neck, the effects making you laugh against his lips. His form shivering into yours, full-bodied and obvious.

"Sensitive?" You pulled away, with a breath, mouth curling up. "It's okay, it's cute-mmph!"

He crashed his lips against yours again, effectively cutting off your words and your thoughts. Even if you continued to play with the nape of his neck, fingers teasing over the spot. The feeling only made him more and more desperate.

But if he was needy, you were nothing but eager to reply, deepening the kiss like you were trying to consume him whole.

"Darling," you mutter, too soft. "Minnie," you groan, holding him to you gently.

But you were too soft, too gentle.

He wanted more, he wanted you.

Unrestrained, doing what you wanted for once, using him like you wanted. Because he wanted it.

Wanted to not be treated like he was a piece of glass, in danger of breaking every moment. He loved how carefully you treated him but now he wanted to be treated rough, he needed to be treated rough.

But he didn't want to say it.

Slowly, he pressed his hips against yours, shuddering at the fizzle of friction sending sparks through his nerves.

"Minho," you sighed, nails scratching against his scalp making him whine. "Darling," with a particularly harsh nip to his lips, almost hard enough to break the skin - that was what he wanted.

A whimper built up in his throat only to be swallowed down. He wasn't that desperate yet. Even if every one of his movements seemed to argue otherwise, finding a clumsy rhythm in grinding against you, replicating and intensifying those sparks.

Building them up to what he hoped was more.

Even if the motions were clumsy and new. Curious but wanting all the same, the way he moved was raw, exploring and ruining. It made his head spin and everything else go foggy.

You dragged your mouth away from his, tugging his head up by his hair to lick your way down his neck.

A lick and an open-mouthed kiss, making him shudder and shake, heat emanating from the areas you touched and the places you pressed together.

Separated by stupid clothes but not enough to stop him.

He must look pathetic the way he thrusts against you, each discordant grind getting more desperate, more sloppy with the skim of your mouth. With the drag of your tongue down his jaw and pulse-point, heart thrumming beneath your lips. With every shockwave of euphoria that tingles down his spine, with every moan and whisper of his name that leaves your lips.

"Minho," "Minnie," "Baby," "Darling,"

His head is too fuzzy to worry about anything else. To think about the needy noises that leave him, he's sure he sounds lewd, and dirty.

From just dry-humping against you.

But it's not enough. He wants you rough and hard and on top of him. Showing him what to do, telling him what to do. To make him feel good, to make you feel good.

He falters imperceptibly. Should he...?

No, he doesn't want to. He can't. Because how is he supposed to ask you to-

He's caught up in his head but his body works on autopilot, reacting to the sensations that are bringing him closer and closer to cumming in his boxers.

Caught up in his thoughts but not so much so that he forgets about you,

and he certainly doesn't miss anything you say, like the words "Such a fucking good boy," nearly growled into his throat, voice husky and ragged as your teeth scrape down his skin.

Good boy?

He freezes. Heat pools deep inside of him, warm and making him painfully, painfully hard. The words push him nearly to the edge, and he can feel himself on the precipice of-

And then he's being shoved back, hard.

Harder than you meant to, but necessary for what you were about to do.

You pant, as does he, both of you flushed and trying to catch the breath stolen from your lungs.

No, no, not when he was finally getting somewhere, not when finally, finally he was getting what he wanted. Not when you were actually unrestrained and-

"I'm sorry."

His gaze snapped to yours.

"What?"

Your lips were red and parted, he was sure his weren't in much better shape. All he wanted to do was kiss them again, and again, and again.

He wants to hear you call him a good boy again.

"I-I'm sorry," you ran your hand through your hair. "I should've...I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry Minho." This time you were the one looking away.

"The fuck do you mean?" He snaps. It came out a little harsher than intended, he admits. But really, he was sitting here, horny and pent-up and just wanting to get fucked, and here you were, pushing him away and apologizing?

You blink, slowly, surprised.

And here he is, fuming.

Why won't you just fuck him?

"I'm sorry-" would you just stop saying that? His glare shuts you up. "Um," You only looked confused now, a furrow between your brow.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips. You watch it.

He wishes you'd just make the first move.

Because now he was going to have to say it. Out loud. To you. Not just mumble some nonsense and hope that you'd pick it up.

"I want you." He said simply, inching closer to you.

You nodded but made no move to continue anything. "Okay..." then a sigh. "I'm going to need you to elaborate just a little, Minho."

The flush across his cheeks spreads, down his neck and over his collarbone. Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he was made of glass or something? Like you cared about him so much it made him melt.

Fuck, he loved you.

"Look at me baby." You gently cup his face, turning him to meet your eyes. "You can tell me."

You definitely knew.

He could see it in your eyes, the worry giving way to a teasing look. Now you just wanted to humiliate him huh?

He hated you.

"Shut up."

You smiled, pulling him into your chest again, laying between your legs. Just like you were before. "Well that's not what good boys say, now is it?"

He pulled his face away, burying it into your shoulder to hide from your eyes. "I don't like you." His voice came out muffled into your shirt.

You only scoff out a laugh. "We both know that's not true darling. You love me." Voice dropping to a whisper, you lean into his ear. "Do I make you nervous baby?"

Someone just kill him now.

Put an end to his misery.

"N-no;" his voice still muffled in the fabric of his your shirt. "you're just-"

"Just what?" You challenge, fingers teasing into his hair, the way you know he likes it. "You're a big boy, you can use your words, can't you?"

He shudders and swears he can hear your smirk. "I...- fuck you."

You tug on his hair, making him face you. You swear he has a eye-contact problem. Or maybe he just gets too nervous looking you in the eye.

Either way, he's too adorable not to coo at.

"I was imagining this the either way around, but whatever rocks your boat~" you purr. "All you have to do is tell me what you want."

His hips jolt against yours, heat filling his body. As soon as he does though, your free hand stills his hips, fingertips teasing under the hem of his shirt while you look at him expectantly.

He wants to hide again, but you hold him in place. Pinning him against you, not letting him look away, not letting him move.

He wants you so bad.

"Touch me..." He mutters, and your hand slides just a bit higher on his abdomen, your thighs squeezing just a bit tighter around his hips.

It's over for him. He knows as soon as your lips turn up just a bit more into a coy smile. "Where?"

When he doesn't reply soon enough you skim your hand up and over his ribcage. Breathing growing heavy as your other leaves his hair, trailing down his neck and over his shoulder, slipping just beneath the collar of his shirt.

"Here?"

Such a simple touch makes him feel hot.

"Or here?"

Slowly, your hand under his shirt makes its path towards his chest.

He gasps lightly when your fingers tweak over his nipple, delighting in the way he quivers, rutting against you. You click your tongue at him. "You know, I really can't do anything to you until you tell me what you really want." Lips ghost over his ear, nipping lightly at the shell. "Too bad, really. I could take such good care of a cute little virgin like you~"

His voice cracks under the weight of your touch; trying to clear his throat while biting back a moan. "I'm not cute-"

You cut him off with a kiss, tentatively, like you hadn't stolen his breath with a kiss only minutes ago. Like you're afraid to break him.

But he wants you to break him.

The kiss is too short for his taste but it effectively cuts off his thought process, making him nearly dumb against you. Not dumb enough to not catch the smile against his skin, "I'm not cute." But he sounds so cute. It only makes the smile widen, turning your attention to trail kisses down his neck, murmuring between each press of your lips.

"Yes you are." Kiss.

And for some reason, he can't argue.

"Remember?" Kiss.

"I'm...what was it?" Smile, kiss, lick.

"Intolerable?" A pause, but only for a second, taking the moment to drag your tongue across his throat.

"And you're cute," Stopping to suck on the spot where his pulse thrums, feeling his heart beat under your lips.

"And pretty..." Kissing, once again, over the pretty mark you've left on his pale skin.

"And beautiful...and stunning...and..." you pull away, looking to see his eyes hooded and pupils blown. "...not getting anything more until you can tell me what exactly you want here."

You pinch his nipple one more time before pulling away, leaving him cold, whining, grinding desperately between your legs.

He's hard enough, you wonder if he would've cum in his pants if you hadn't stopped.

"I..." he starts and you wait patiently for him to continue. If you've learned anything about Minho, it's that he's nothing if not embarrassed to voice his wants. Especially the ones like this.

You remember how he blushed and couldn't stop wringing his hands when you worked him up to ask to kiss you for the first time.

The way he couldn't look you in the eye, focusing anywhere else.

But he knows by now, you're nothing if not a tease, willing to play the long game to get him to tell you what he wants.

Fuck you.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

He's so hard though, it hurts. And his skin nearly burns with the need to be touched, to feel you on him again. And all he wants to do is let you have your way with him.

Something that won't happen until he tells you.

"Please," he whines. Though he knows it's not enough. He just wants you. "Please?" On him, touching him, teasing him, kissing him, consuming him. "I need it." pressing a sloppy kiss to your collarbones. "Just fuck me, I want you so, so bad." He pants, hands tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Wanted you so bad, for forever now."

God, you can't wait to fuck him.

A grin blooms across your face, one that he can barely process. "Thought you'd never ask baby."

Not before you're pushing him onto his back, onto the soft cushions of the couch, switching your positions before crawling on top of him.

"M' gonna make you see stars baby." You purr, and he can do nothing else but nod dumbly, looking up at you with wide eyes like you're something of a goddess on top of him.

And you will make him see stars. Not yet anyway.

His vision goes hazy though as your hands quickly move to pull his shirt over his head, leaning down to kiss him again.

Deep and hard, filled with promises and care.

You lace your fingers with his against the couch cushions as you kiss down his jaw and down his neck and his chest and-

He gasps when you lick over his nipple, wrapping your lips around one to suck on it lightly.

Your tongue swirls around it, free hand tweaking at the other, making sure not to ignore it.

His cock is so hard, he can feel it throbbing in his sweats. He's sure he's already leaked through his underwear.

He swears he could cum from this alone.

"Don't!" He gasps and you pull away quickly, concern etched across your brow before you see his face clouded with pleasure, mouth hung open to let out breathy moans. "Please don't." He squeezes your hand in his. "I'll cum if you keep doing that."

You melt, filled with the overwhelming need to make him cum by just playing with his nipples. How cute he'd look from having his tits played with.

"So sensitive, aren't you?" You coo.

Maybe another day though. Right now, you'll give him what he wants. What he's wanted for 'forever'.

"Shut up," he scowls though it's quickly wiped away when you pinch his nipple one more time, making him gasp.

Finally, you glance down at his sweats, tenting with his boner. "Well someone's excited for me." Seeing you stare at his crotch makes him excited. His already hard cock twitching in his pants. "You're so sensitive for me, aren't you, Min?"

He hates you so much, covering his face with the back of his arm. The fact that you're only telling the truth makes him want to hide his face into your chest again.

But you're too far away, and too focused on watching his boner through his pants, fascinated by how hard you've made him with so little.

"Please," he whispers, but the way you watch him, eyes full of hunger makes him throb even more.

Somehow, he gets a kick out of you just watching him, softly moaning at his eagerness, as he lets out a hushed whisper, "Please. Please y/n, don't tease me like this. I'm already horny." His legs spread open shamelessly.

"Awe, why? Can you not handle it?" You look up at him, at his blushing face and his needy eyes. You wanna kiss him so bad.

And so you do, getting close to his lips, your warm breath tickling him. Your hand runs over his clothed cock, teasing your nails gently over the head of his dick. His eyes widen as you begin to touch him over the fabric.

But your lips quickly silence him as you kiss him again. He moans into it, the feeling of your hand on his cock, stroking him lightly and your lips on his.

Your tongue pushes through his lips as you stroke him a few more times, squeezing him lightly in a way that has his back arching off the bed, pushing into your hand even more.

Panting, you pull back a little. "Such a good boy for me, Minnie." Before you're pinning his hips to the couch and looking at him one more time for conformation.

Then you pull his sweats and boxers down in one swift movement.

And then he does see stars as you slide yourself over his hips, grinding against his bare cock.

He thinks he tells you he loves you, that he worships you, that he adores you more than anyone on this planet. He thinks his hand squeezes yours so hard that you bring it to your lips, kissing his hand and telling him to relax. He thinks you grind against him slow and gingerly, watching to see his reactions.

Like he'd ever tell you to stop.

He'd rather die.

Shoot him in the head if he ever tell you to stop, because it sure as hell isn't him.

Again, he thinks. But he isn't sure. He isn't sure of anything really right now.

His head is a mess of sensations and feelings, whines pouring from his mouth until you kiss him again and again and again.

Whispering that he's a good boy.

He's going to cum, he's going to cum.

Stars explode behind his eyes as they roll back and he isn't even inside of you yet.

And then you stop.

And he thinks tears might be rolling down his cheeks. He needs you, he needs you so fucking bad.

"Please, please, please." He pants, trying to roll his hips up against you, failing to find any contact as you sit back on your haunches, just out of his reach. "Need you," he gasps. "Need you so bad!"

You push sweaty hair out of his face, kissing the back of his hand one more time before you pull away entirely. He whimpers and you coo. "Be patient baby, just need to do something."

He watches blearily as you pull off your shorts and tries to calm his racing heart and heavy breaths as you roll a condom over his length.

"One more minute baby," you hush as you kiss him. "Are you ready?"

He nods desperately, of course he is. He's waiting for this for so long. He's wanted you for so long. He's going to go insane if you don't-

He gasps.

You groan as you slide down his length, slowly burying him inside of you until he bottoms out.

If he though grinding was intense, this was like nothing he could've ever imagined. His mouth gapes open, an endless stream of whiney moans and needy whimpers flooding into the room, feeding into you as you lift up and sink onto his again, groans of your own mixing with his.

He can't think anymore - he doesn't want to. He only wants to fall into the feeling of your walls squeezing around his dick, warm and wet as you ride him and the feeling of your hand once again finding his.

Whispering into his ear that you love him so much as you turn his head into mush

"I…I can-" Minho tries his best to talk, to tell you how good he feels. He really does, but whenever the thought comes to mind, it just gets cut off with the liquid heat coursing through his veins.

By the intense feeling of everything that is you.

He's an idiot for not asking you to fuck him sooner.

"Yeah, baby?" You chuckle breathlessly when he fails to complete his sentence. "You feel yourself inside?" You bring your interlaced fingers to your lower abdomen, "You feel it?"

All he can do is respond with a loud sob as he nods his head to your question, hips bucking up into you, desperate to chase the high quickly approaching ever since you've touched him.

He's not going to last much longer.

"You fit so well inside me," you murmur.

He's going to cum. Of this, he's sure.

"Please!' He hiccups, but he's not sure what he's pleading for. "P-please!" For more? For less? For something - anything to stave off the inevitable, he doesn't want this to end. He doesn't want it to ever end.

You kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw. You flutter kisses over his face, so softly compared to how you're fucking him into the couch so roughly.

"I love you, Minho."

"I love you so much!" He pants and squeezes your hand, his other grabbing onto the nape of your neck as he shoves your lips against his.

He's fucking beautiful, you think. Cute and pretty and beautiful, under you, falling apart.

It's the most gorgeous sight you've ever seen, and he's whining your own name against you lips, pleading between sloppy kisses for you to let him cum, to let him cum for you. 

You show your approval with a collision of lips and teeth and tongue as he tips over the edge and you follow suit. He sobs as he cums, shivering violently as waves of pleasure roll over his body, his back lifting into an arch, pushing himself deep into you with a followed whine.

Each moan and whine are muffled by your tongue pushing into his mouth but his hips still grind as he pushes himself into overstimulation, whining until you have mind enough to still his hips.

For a moment, the two of you are silent, chests heaving, both catching your breath as you pull away, looking at him.

"Minho?" His eyes are shut and his cheeks are painted red. "You okay baby?"

He murmurs something you don't catch, but you don't tease as you push the hair out of his face, sweat-soaked and tired, kissing his forehead once.

You make a move to get up off of him but he only wraps his arms around you, holding you in place. "Don't leave," he whispers, looking up at you with tired eyes. "Just stay, please. For a little bit?"

His sleepy eyes make your heart skip a beat. "Who are you and where's my Minho?" You tease softly, but give in nonetheless.

"Fuck you." But his tone is with filled with anything but malice, as he nuzzles into you like a happy cat.

"I just did." You giggle.

"I love you so much." He mutters, kissing your shoulder. "I love you so fucking much."

"And I love you too."

a/n: I did it ^-^, who's proud of me!! also haven't written reader being penetrated in a looooong time, so if it's shit, oh well :p

pls leave feedback, i need motivation to finish my other teaser fics😭

[sushipicious]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ HEARTBREAK IS ONE THING, MY EGO'S ANOTHER .ᐟ

: ̗̀➛ summary you've always been so unfairly mean to yuuta, and he's your rival in every sense of the word but he doesn't understand why. after being paired up together for the semester, you finally show him just how deep your hatred goes. : ̗̀➛ content warnings college au!, fem! reader, reader is really really mean in this and i'm so sorry, reader kinda (really) being a bully, very sub yuuta, femdom, public sex in a library, unprotected sex, creampie, leaving marks, degradation, riding, hair pulling, oral f!receiving wc 4.8k

You think there's a slight possibility that Yuuta Okkotsu, star pupil of your university, the bane of your existence, might be a masochist.

There's no other explanation for the way he comes back to the library every Thursday night, tolerates hours of you insulting his writing and write angry red critiques into the margins of his papers, and then let you lead him to a dark, uninhabited area of the bookshelves and lure the most delicious, tortured sounds out of his mouth as you slip your hand underneath the waistband of his pants, delighted to find that he's already hard and ready for you.

But then you wonder, what would that make you?

It all started during your first year of college.

Your first impression of Yuuta is that he's annoying. Tolerable in sparse spoonfuls, at best, and an insistent thorn at your side, at worst.

The memory itself is hazy, but the memory of him is clear as day. Yuuta's sitting a few rows in front of you in a World Literature class with the professor you've always dreamed of learning from, and Yuuta's already ruined the experience for you in three ways. 

One, he spills his coffee all over your white button-up on the way in, and has the nerve to try and help you clean up, unintentionally spreading the mess even further, flushing beet red from head to toe when he realizes that he's just been putting his hands all over your chest while you stand, mortified in the entrance of the lecture hall.  "S–sorry! I didn't mean to, oh my god, here let me–shit, it's spreading–"

"Get your hands off!"

Two, you recover gracefully, albeit forced to shuck your button-up in the bathroom, but when you enter said lecture hall, Yuuta is seated in prime lecture real estate, right in the front, with the shortest distance from the board and from your professor's podium, and several rows have already been taken up. His little accident has costed you maybe the best possible seats for this class, and the anger slowly threatens to come to a boiling point.

Three, you try to make the best out of a bad situation, raising your hand multiple times in an attempt to garner your professor's attention even once, but Yuuta beats you to it every single time. His hand is always up milliseconds before yours, with a far more eloquent answer than you ever could've dreamed off, even though he stutters a few times, receiving one of your professor's elusive and rare nods of approval. At the end of the lecture, it's clear to everyone who's going to be his star pupil, and if you didn't hate him before, you do now.

It's an irrational hatred that makes its home in your chest, and when Yuuta attempts to catch up to you afterwards, frantic and most likely trying to make up for what happened earlier, you don't let him.

Over the next year or so, your anger and dislike of him only seems to fester. The worst, unfortunate part is that since the two of you are the same major, running into each other and having the same classes was inevitable. But a part of you feels robbed.

You had come to terms with the simple fact that a bigger pond meant bigger fish, naturally there'd people who were on the same level, if not better than you, but when you discovered that the bigger fish in question was none other than Yuuta Okkotsu, you couldn't help the way your chest tightened and grit your teeth. 

Yuuta, whose pristine, white button-ups seem to engulf him, who goes red from head to toe from any sign of praise, who stutters and mumbles over his words, Yuuta whose star seemed to rise exponentially, being touted as a natural prodigy, accolades being handed to him like candy. 

You, on the other hand, had to carve your way up to the top, all-nighters spent at the library while the rest of your cohort partied it up and had the college experience, sacrificing unforgettable nights out in an attempt to catch up to him. And eventually, you do. But it's frustrating when you're just trying to keep your head up above the water and Yuuta's swimming laps around you.

The cherry on top of the cake?

Yuuta treats you like one of his dearest friends. He treats you less as an actual, threatening rival and more like how someone would treat, say, a schoolgirl crush.

It's infuriating.

He waves at you cheerily whenever he spots you on campus, positively beaming and stopping whatever it is he's doing to try and engage you in meaningless small talk, and you know that he tries to rope you into conversations with your professor in a pathetic effort to share the spotlight, but to no avail. When you hear your name, more often than not, it's Yuuta's voice calling out for you. 

Yuuta doesn't realize that for you, it's a competition.

No matter how many times you glare his way or ignore how he offers you dozens of coffees ever since that day he spilled his all over you, he takes it all in stride, brushes it off with that endearing, light laugh of his. "I'll just get you a coffee next time, then!"

"There's not gonna be a next time," you growl, already leaving him in the dust.

The world has other plans, you soon find out.

You're all but neck and neck at the beginning of your junior year, and the stakes have only gotten much, much higher. There's internships and shadowing opportunities on the line, and you can almost taste them, all those little sacrifices slowly coming to mean something. It's all dependent on your performance in your junior honors thesis class, which paves the way to even more opportunities, and potentially a recommendation for grad school.

Over time, you've grown accustomed to Yuuta's oppressive presence in your classes, and he's there once again in the front row, already snagging the top spot. You think he might be doing it on purpose at this point, just to see you riled up.

And as if he senses you glaring daggers at him, he turns, smiling from ear to ear once he spots you. "Hey! There's a spot next to me if you want to—" "No thanks," You hastily reply, very quickly turning and going to the opposite side of the room. It's the same offer every class, but you'd never guess he's been rejected a million times over. Somebody once mistook the two of you as a couple, and you've still never been able to live that down.

Instead, you take a seat next to Maki, who's been watching the whole interaction amused. "You know," she drawls lazily as you slowly get situated. "You should really just get to know him. He's not that bad—"

"If you think he's so nice, why don't you go sit next to him, then?" You interrupt, crossing your arms in front of your chest. "You just don't get it. Everyone else might be convinced with his innocent little, look at me, look at me, act but not me. You of all people should get it, Maki."

"I just think that once you get over that stupid idea that you're in a foot race with him, you'd realize you have more in common than you thought," A wicked smirk crosses over her features. "Just sleep with him and get all that tension out."

"Oh please," You spare a glance over at Yuuta, as always sitting expectantly as he waits for the professor to start, no doubt already taking mental notes. "The day I sleep with him is when hell freezes over."

When class begins, you briefly register Yuuta's eyes flicking to yours, head turning in search of you. You ignore it.

Before signing up for the class, you knew going into it that your professor often operated on… unconventional means. Believes in collaboration and working together, and what not, in an often isolated field such as writing. Still, you're shocked when he announces that for the rest of the term, you will each be peer mentoring each other's writing, and that a good percentage of your grade will also be dependent on the other's grade.

And of course, your peer mentor and who you're going to be spending the rest of the semester, is none other than Yuuta Okkotsu himself.

"This has to be a mistake," You're already clambering up to the podium, panicked and seething and experiencing a whole other whirlwind of emotions at once. "I can't be partners with him, I just can't—" "Are you doubting my methods?"

"No sir, but—"

"Then you'd do well to sit back down and make a plan for your future partner," Your professor nods in the direction of Yuuta, who's squirming in his seat and desperately looking like he wants to escape. "For the rest of the semester. Unless you'd rather take the zero now?"

Your heart plummets to your stomach.

When you turn, Yuuta's fiddling with his hands under the table, desperately trying to look like he didn't just witness the whole interaction. You sigh wearily, inevitably, and bring your items over next to him. 

For the rest of class, you're each instructed to exchange portfolios and look over what you'll be working with for the next semester. You think that you're infuriated even more by the fact that for all your hatred of him, Yuuta was genuinely talented. His words on paper made you want to sink into the floor and abandon your major entirely, but you would die before you ever admitted that to him.

After taking a few notes on the margins of one of his works, you look up, only to see him already staring at you, your paper still sitting unmarked on his desk.

"Stop looking at me like that," You huff, snapping your fingers in front of him to stop whatever haze he's currently in. He always does that, you've noticed. Looking at you like an affection-starved puppy. Yuuta blinks, startled. "God, stop fucking acting like we're in some 90s romcom, focus."

"I'm–I'm focused," Yuuta stammers, a dusty pink flush on his cheeks, picking up your paper only to have the pages spill out of his grasp to collapse on the floor. "Oh god, I'm such a mess, let me just—"

You shut your portfolio on him suddenly. "Look, I'm not going to deal with…" you vaguely gesture at him, dumbstruck. "whatever you're doing now for the next three months. Get your shit together, or else. Meet me at the library on Thursday night and be ready to actually get work done."

The rest of your week is uneventful, and despite yourself, you feel… nervous to be working with Yuuta one-on-one. It's in the back of your head at all times, gnawing at the cap of your pen, legs shaking under the table. You had successfully evaded him until now, and you quite honestly don't know what to expect. You almost didn't want to show up. But the thought of him standing alone outside of the library, expectant and waiting for you—it shouldn't make you feel as guilty as it should, but it does anyway.

But true to your word, you're outside the library at five pm sharp on Thursday, surprised to find that Yuuta's already there. His eyes widen when he registers you, face breaking out into a sunny, happy expression. "You're here!" He pauses, suddenly hesitant. "I… I didn't think you'd show up, to be honest."

"You think I'd waste my grade over a feud?" You scoff, already walking past him into the library and silently enjoying the way he scrambles in after you, trying to match your domineering pace. "As much as I dislike you, Yuuta, I would never throw my grade away just because of that."

"R–Right! Of course, that would be—not good, yeah—" Yuuta finally catches up to you, chest slightly heaving. "Do you want like, a coffee or maybe a tea or something?" You stop dead in your tracks so suddenly that he almost bumps into you. "Yuuta," Your voice is dripping with ice cold venom, and you can see him visibly swallowing a lump in his throat. "We're going to work together this semester, but that will be the full extent of it. We're not going to be friends who cafe hop and braid each other's hair and grab dinner together. Just because I showed up, does not mean we're going to be besties. Do you understand?"

There's a flash of disappointment in his eyes that disappear as quickly as they come and for  split second, you feel guilty. "I understand."

"Good," Sighing, you set your stuff down at the first available table you see. You're pleasantly surprised to find that the area's semi private and practically devoid of other people, a rare occurrence on a Thursday night. "Now, shall we begin?"

You and Yuuta take turns going over each other's portfolio, and once again, you have to swallow the small pit of envy that nestles in the back of your throat. He unfortunately knows his way with words, writing the most beautiful, delicate pieces of work surrounding themes of love and loss.

When you eye Yuuta from across the table, chewing on his bottom lip as he reads one of your latest works, you can't possibly imagine him, of all people, being in love with anything other than school. You've never spotted or heard of him being with anyone since freshman year, either. But he writes like someone possessed, someone who's experienced immense levels of pain and adoration and you can't stop the way your chest blooms with admiration.

Yuuta looks up to catch you staring at him and you hurry to divert your gaze. If either of you notice how red the other has gone, neither of you mention it, to your relief.

Despite all his talent, that's not to say you don't have any feedback or critiques of his writing, and by the end of reviewing his portfolio, there's angry red splotches of ink all over the margins and you can already see Yuuta nervously fiddling with his collar from glancing over at you.

You practically tear him a new one, but Yuuta listens to all of it regardless, jotting down notes of his own and by the end, he even supplicates you for more information about finer details and mistakes that you pointed out, thoughtfully nodding in agreement.

Exhaustedly, you bemoan, that there's nothing that could possibly bring him down.

A few seconds later after noticing that he's still unusually quiet after you've gone ahead and shared your thoughts on his writing, you clear your throat expectantly. "Do you have any constructive criticism or thoughts about my writing?"

"Uh…" Yuuta looks back down at your portfolio. 

"Oh come on, that's not fair," You grimace. "I've just gone ahead and tore apart your writing, don't tell me you can't even do the same for me. How are you supposed to be a writer if you can't even critique other people's work?"

He balks, eyebrows furrowing. "I can critique other people's work, I just… I just—"

"You just what? Just spit it out, Yuuta, I'm not some naive, wide-eyed freshman, I can take it, I'm not you—"

"That's what you don't seem to realize," Yuuta snaps, and for the first time in all the years you've known him, he's reduced you to silence. "You're not me! The issue with your writing, is that there's no passion! You write with desperation, like you're grasping at trying everyone else's writing style instead of embracing your own. You don't write with love, you write with obsession. This paper reeks with trying to be something you're not, and I can smell it a mile away. It's weak, it's tired, and you can do better," 

Yuuta's chest is rising and descending rapidly at the end of his spiel and you're truly, truly stunned into silence, mouth falling slightly ajar at his brutal show of honesty. It's the most honest he's ever been with you.

Nobody has ever been this honest with you.

After a few tense minutes, he breaks the silence. "You seem… upset," Yuuta's words come out nervously when he notices you've been sitting in silence for a while, just staring off into space. "You… you told me to be brutally honest."

When you finally meet his eyes, Yuuta's surprised to find that your eyes lack the usual fire they harbor. You did provoke him and you did do the exact same to him just minutes prior. "I did."

"Are you… are you okay?" His voice is so concerned, and despite all your hatred of him, it's a warm respite to feel someone so worried about you. "We can take a break, it's okay, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"

You rise so suddenly that it startles him.

Without saying a word, you begin walking towards the more secluded, darker stacks. It's late enough at the library and you know that there's going to be no one there. You turn back around to find Yuuta still sitting at the table. "Come on."

And of course, Yuuta follows.

Once you're far enough away from potential prying eyes, he's looking around warily, as if struck with the realization that's he's just gone into the belly of the beast.

"You know what my problem with you is?" You begin, eyes narrowing and you can practically feel the nervous energy coming to a crescendo from Yuuta. "You don't take me seriously. You don't treat me as an equal, you treat me like a schoolgirl crush and I'm sick of it. It's boring and it's embarrassing, and I don't ever, ever want you to try and spare my feelings again."

"I'm—I'm sorry—" You're surging forward before he can finish his apology, hungry lips meeting his and Yuuta all but melts in your touch, hands coming to drape themselves around your waist and pulling you in deeper.

"If you ever hold back on me like you did before again, I'll destroy you," You gasp into his mouth in between licking his tongue, relishing in the way he moans deliciously when you lean to bite gently on his lower lip. He tastes so sweet, so light on your tongue and it faintly reminds you of strawberries. "I'll make sure you fail. Do you understand?"

You bite again when he doesn't respond, pushing him up against the bookshelves so that he's caged into the cool oak, enough to make him hiss. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, I understand," Yuuta's whining and squirming under your touch, already trying to pull you back in for more. "Just don't stop, god, please don't ever stop."

You hate that he simply nods off your little threats and treats them like little more than some verbal foreplay. You hate how easily he falls apart under your fingertips, how he looks at you with so much trust and desire, like he'd do anything you asked of him. You hate that he kisses you with a ferocity and need you never could've imagined, tongue and teeth mashing into yours just because of how much he needs you, like he needs you to become one with him. You hate that for all the ways that you hate him, you never want this feeling to stop.

Somehow, he gets one leg in between yours and you're suddenly all too aware of how wet you are and that you're basically riding his thigh, and Yuuta gasps at the realizaton as well. "You're so—you're soaked, oh—"

"Yeah?" You lick and nibble at his jawline, watching as his dark eyes get even darker at your next words. "Do something about it." "W–What do you want me to do?" He's looking at you expectantly, and you shiver delightfully at the way you've got him at the palm of your hands. Little Yuuta Okkotsu, reduced to nothing more than your toy to play around with, ready and about to go feral for you in the library of all places.

"On your knees," Yuuta obeys wordlessly, falling to his knees without a second thought and hands coming to snake up your silky smooth legs, admiring the softness and plushness of them. "You're going to eat me out."

He nods, hands pulling one of your legs so that you're half-straddling his shoulders. You hold onto one of the shelves for extra stability, knees buckling when Yuuta reaches for your underwear and pulls them down slowly, tantalizingly, and you can't break your eyes away from the sight of him, mesmerized. He takes his time, the rough lace sliding against your legs and he traces a bath up to your cunt, swollen and puffy with need between your legs, kissing so softly and it feels so natural.

"Hey," Just before he can reach your cunt, you pull at his hair softly, smiling when he groans at the sensation and looks up at you with lazy, droopy eyes, the pink of his tongue just barely visible. His adam's apple bobs excitedly. "If you make me cum within five minutes, I'll let you fuck me."

You're trying so hard to hide your excitement, but when his hot breath fans across your cunt, you can't help but shiver. "Go on, Yuuta."

Yuuta's good at doing what he's told. He's so, so attentive, listening to every hitch of your breath, every soft moan that you try to prevent from escaping from your lips from the fear of being caught, eyes closing shut as you hear the combination of the filthy, graphic squelch of your pussy around his tongue, lapping you up like there's no tomorrow.

He slips in two fingers inside of you without any resistance, and you're putty in his hands as those skillful fingers, so adept at writing, scissor in and out of you, only adding to the messy, nasty symphony you've got going on in the back corner of the library.

And most of all, he's eager, those pouty lips you've despised for so long coming around to suckle at your clit and suddenly, your back is arching, vision turning to white as you realize it's been less than two minutes. Less than two minutes, and you're cumming harder than you've ever before in your life.

You make him swallow every single bit of your hatred of him, every brutalizing moment of defeat, and in turn he makes you feel just how much he's wanted you from the start.

It sends another rush of heat down between your legs, the aftershocks rendering you immobile.

You come to lucidity at the feeling of Yuuta's hand stroking up and down your thigh, him still beneath you and observing the way you slowly come down from your orgasm. It fills you with a renewed sense of vigor. You don't have to say anything else, merely nodding with a soft, "C'mere," before Yuuta's scrambling up to kiss you passionately and you moan at the taste of yourself on his lips. "So fucking nasty, dirty, Yuuta. You're so greedy. You wanna cum? Tell me how much you wanna cum, hm?"

"God, please, I wanna—" Yuuta's babbling, nodding uselessly, as you unzip his pants, shuddering as the cold rush of air hits him. He's hot, heavy, and needy and you wanna see just how far you can push him, just how much he can take it. "Please, please, I wanna cum, I'll do anything—"

You free his cock and your lips part just slightly, mouth watering at how pretty and pink he looks, precum oozing off the velvety, mushroom head and you wanna take him into your mouth, but that's… that's for another time, you just want him inside you right at that moment.

It's easy to ply him into the position you want as he stares at you, lovestruck and in a daze as if he can't believe his luck, maneuvering him into laying down so you can ride him.

When he enters you, you've never felt so full, stuffed to the brim and frozen in place as you think about every single thing that has led you to this moment. You're fucking Yuuta Okkotsu. 

He's underneath you on the rough wooden floors of the fucking library, surrounded by books, and he's looking at you like he's never wanted anything so badly. You can feel every ridge, every vein, and it takes everything in you not to moan out loud. "Look at that," you muse, mostly to yourself. "You fit so well inside of me."

Yuuta's chewing so hard on the inside of his cheeks that he can taste the iron, willing himself to practice what little self-restraint he has left as you experimentally rise and descend fully down, gasping at the feeling of your warm, wet cunt around him. "Oh—oh! Oh my god, oh fuck, I've wanted this for so long."

You hum in recognition, hips rolling forward experimentally. "For how long, Yuuta? Tell me."

"S–Since the first time I met you, christ, you're so tight," He continues through gritted teeth. "You were–you were so mean, and I… I just, I've never… you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen, and I just wanted you to look at me. Just wanted you so bad, wanted to—to take you out on a date and—and oh god—"

You don't let him finish his little love confession. Not when the way he feels inside you is tempting you to make confessions of your own.

When you start moving, really moving, bouncing up and down his cock with a vice grip, Yuuta's head lolls back as you ride him for all his worth. 

There's a bead of sweat traveling in between the valley of your breasts and Yuuta eyes it hungrily, tongue lolling out to taste it and moans, loudly and wantonly that you have to clamp your hand shut over his mouth and pause momentarily. You stifle your own moans, shuddering when you feel Yuuta desperately trying to rut up against you. "F–Fucking shut up, Yuuta, we're still in a library remember?"

You release your hand over his pouty, pouty mouth and he looks up at you with the world's saddest expression. "'m sorry, I–I didn't mean to, I swear, I just wanted to taste you so bad, you… you taste so good—"

And once again, like he's caught in a trance, his all too eager mouth is back on your skin, this time, lips pursing around your nipple and you can feel his tongue graciously laving over the hardened bud, his eyes closing shut like he's in heaven. "O–Oh, oh my god—" You hiss, praises tumbling out in hushed whispers. "Oh fuck, Yuuta, don't stop!"

The bookshelves around you have started to quake, books threatening to fall over and reveal your compromising situation, but you just can't find it in you to care, only spurred to ride him harder and faster, watching with mesmerized eyes as Yuuta gets lost underneath you, lips wrapped around your breast and trying to match your pace with rutting hips of his own.

He's fucking beautiful, you realize.

It's the most gorgeous sight you've ever seen, and he's whining your name, pleading for you to let him cum, to let him cum inside of you. 

When he feels you cum around him, nodding your approval, it's instantaneous. All at once, he's startled by the feeling of his own orgasm, mind going blank as he empties himself inside of you.

For a moment, the two of you are silent, chests heaving, eyes widening as the gravity of what you've just done, what you've just done to each other sets in. You can't help but appreciate the sight of him so frazzled, so messed up. There's multiple blooming marks on his chest from where you've pulled his button-up open, marks that will surely turn purple and his lips are swollen from your kisses, still glossy from your juices. 

Yuuta almost looks like he wants to pull you back in, when the staticky intercom blares above you. "Attention students, the library will be closing in fifteen minutes. Please pack your things and vacate the building."

That breaks you out of your haze, knees nearly buckling as you rise to your full height above Yuuta, and despite yourself, you admire his debauched state one more time. He looks absolutely wrecked, and the thought that you were the one to cause his current state gives you a strong sense of satisfaction. The words are forcing themselves out of your lips before you can even fully digest them, but your plan's already sealed.

"I'll… I'll see you next Thursday, Yuuta."

[sushipicious]

KARMA !

— brat taming the jjk men feat. choso kamo, kento nanami, toji fushiguro.

WARNINGS. femdom!reader, f!reader (she/her), brat taming, cock slaps, crying, handjob, choking, p in v, riding, overstim, lingerie, lollll slotted toji out :33, recording, finger sucking. ( 2k ) note. hellloooooo hope u all enjoy this. i had fun writing bc i loveee the idea of making big strong men crumble mhmhmhm. anywaysss reblogs are appreciated thank youuu love u all. repost bc last night it didn’t show in the tags 💔 but i edited it and added alottt so if you already saw it feel free to read again !! ty

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 CHOSO KAMO

“ma— make m— ooohh fuck. wai—wait” his voice trembled so cutely that it was barely coherent, crumbling into a pretty whine that drowns out his pathetic attempt (if you could even call it that) at being a defiant little brat, making you giggle, your slicked up thumbs pushing and rubbing down on the slit of his leaky tip, sending jolts of pain masked as pleasure up his bony spine, “make you?”

immediately he knows he’s fucked up. the air between you growing thick.

he didn’t know what came over him, really. maybe he had been watching too much porn, fantasizing too much, because the idea of getting tamed by you— god, just the thought of getting put in his place, turned him on so much. so, so much.

but having to actually disobey you, he couldn’t. he believes he was only put on this earth to serve you and please you. to be good. his head hurriedly shakes side to side, making each strand of ravened silky hair jump and dance before resting to frame his flushed face, “‘m sorry didn’t me—”

you land a heavy, hard slap to his cock, the sound pounding in his flushed ears blending with the beat of his heart, making his body tense up and jerk underneath you. his breaths come out in ragged little gasps, each one such a struggle as his fuzzy brain short circuits under your warm palms.

it really is cute, you think. cute how easy it is to break him. the pretty tears that drip down his puffed-up, blushed cheeks remind you of that. he’s choking on his sobs when you move to cup his face and kiss the corners of his eyes, and his cheeks. crying and sniffling because he hates when you’re mad. hates disappointing you.

“‘m sorry, i don’t— just wanna be so good for you. i’ll be— wanna be your good boy.”

“i know,” you coo, petting him like the pretty pet he is, “wanna try again for me, hm?”

and oh, he’s nodding so sweetly, cock throbbing for you, his big glassy eyes heart-shaped, staring up. so ready to be yours, ready to be the good boy you’ve trained him to be.

so you tell him again, “fuck my fists, make yourself cum, pretty boy. and look me in my eyes.”

his hips buck up, the salty tears on his cheeks warming and dried as he uses your sticky hands like a fleshlight, whining prettily when you tighten your grip around him, “‘m sorry” he babbles over and over, drooling out the corners of his parted puffy lips.

he’s so good. staring into the blown pupils of your pretty eyes without fault, like you told him to. because you told him to.

and his thighs burn, his legs shaking and trembling against the silky sheets as he gets closer and closer. the pain almost urging him on, “are you gonna cum for me? baby? gonna give it all to me hm?”

“yes, ple— please. please, can i cum can—”

you pull your hands off him.

drawing out the prettiest whine to ever be heard. like a song of the angels. his head falling back against the wooden headboard, hips bucking up in search of something to ease the ache that overwhelms in his tummy. those hot tears making a special reappearance.

“aww baby,” you hum, feigning sympathy, massaging his warm— full, heavy balls, “did you really think you’d get to cum after that, hm? did you?”

his eyes widen in desperation, disappointment. he tries to speak, to plead, to beg, but all that comes out are broken little sobs and whimpers.

the look on his face is almost pitiful. furrowed brows, pout, and his mouth hangs open.

you bend to lean in closer, your breath so warm against the shell of his sensitive ear, “you have to earn it, baby. good boys get rewarded. brats get punished.”

for you, he nods weakly, his voice barely a whisper as he chokes, “i’ll be so good, pro— promise. please, let me cum. let me show you how good i am”

so pretty. your fingers slip down to massage his aching balls, applying just enough pressure to keep him on that edge he loves to dangle over without giving him the sweet, sweet release he craves. “nuh uh, not yet,” you hum softly, your tone both firm but oh so gentle. “show me how much you want it.”

his hips buck up involuntarily, humping the air in search of your grip— relief, eyes locking onto yours, colored irises filled with adoration. he’s completely at your mercy, every nerve and ending in his body on fire, every muscle tensed up in anticipation.

and you can see the struggle in his eyes. it’s really a beautiful sight, and you savor every moment of it. “that’s it,” mumuring, “keep looking at me like that. show me how much you need it.”

his breaths come in short little, ragged gasps, his chest heaving and caving, thighs burning from fucking the air.

but finally, after what feels like an eternity, you decide to grant him some mercy, your hands moving back around his throbbing cock, stroking him just how he likes it, “cum for me, pretty boy,” you command, a soft, seductive purr. “give it all to me.”

with a strangled, gargled cry, he obeys. his body convulsing, every muscle tightening as he finally, finally finds his release, his cum spilling all over your hands in thick, hot, sticky spurts. and he’s so obedient, his eyes remaining locked on yours, even as his vision blurs and fuzes with pleasure.

“there you go,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “such a good boy.”

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 KENTO NANAMI

the tie that usually wrapped snug around the collar of nanami’s shirt adding that signature pop of yellow to his suits now decorates his flushed neck, constricting it, the tail of it clutched tightly in your fists as you ride his cock, your hips rolling and jerking against him relentlessly.

thick cum drips down to his balls, pooling underneath him, a swirl of your mess and his. he’s cum two–no, four? he doesn’t even know how many loads he’s stuffed into your warm cunt— or how many you’ve forced and sucked out of him, his cock so sensitive it fucking hurts, every time you snap back down on him sending poky jolts of overstimulation through his entire body.

“fu—fuck, honey, please. i don’t have— ngh— don’t have anything left to give. fuckin’ drained me already— can’t—”

you tug on the silky fabric, making him choke on his words, gargling on warm, foamy spit. his hands reaching to grab at the curve of your waist, but he’s flinching, remembering how you said, no touching. remembering why he’s in the position in the first place.

because he doesn’t listen.

refused to keep his hands to himself, your body begging to be touched, in his words. as if he didn’t take you seriously, just kept grabbing at you, digging his slim fingers into your plush skin.

so, obviously, there’s some sort of misunderstanding .. some sort of disconnect. he must have forgotten who was in charge.

you don’t even give him a response, ignoring the prickly burn in your thighs to fuck him dumb. maybe then, ironically, he’ll learn how to act. each jerk of your hips move to push him further to the edge, to remind him of his place.

his body is weak, just sitting pretty, twitchy, letting you do as you please, sweetly hiccuping under your frame, “hah— please, my fucking god i— i’m sorry” he’s all gone and sucked up, cock crying, drooling pathetic tears of salty cum in your cruel walls. sweat peppering his forehead, slicking the ridges of his chest, making him glisten.

“please, i’m fucking begging i’ll— hah, won’t disobey you again. i’ll— i’ll be good. i’ll be yours”

aw, there it is.

and you hum, stilling your hips, letting his cock fill you all the way up, “mhm that’s all i needed to hear. now give me onee more load. just one. know you can do it pretty boy, give it to me”

even though his body is spent, just the true definition of exhaustion, he responds, his pretty cock twitching inside you as he drags against his own warm cum in your spongy walls. and it doesn’t take long before he’s giving into you. balls so empty, just a few little spurts drooling out, but it feels just as intense, maybe even more than any of his other orgasms. “good boy”

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 TOJI FUSHIGURO

“toj’ my pretty boy” your finger draws across the pink lacy lingerie that does a pathetic job of covering his cock. poking out, leaking and drooling all over the fabric, almost ripping through it with just how hard he is, “you look so good like this”

he grunts, blush growing across his cheeks, a deep, deep crimson, turning his head to avoid your gaze, avoid your phone brightly flashing, recording him.

“so hard too, aw” mumuring, you move closer, recording every detail of how he bulges through the set you so perfectly picked out for him. the pink complementing his tanned skin so well, truly a work of art “touch yourself for me”

another grunt escapes his lips, and he’s fidgeting, dragging his balls against the bed, rutting like a fucking dog, pulling at the ropes that hold and confine him, caging him against himself, “need your ..”

“yeah, need what?” you prompt with a smile, watching through your screen how he struggles to say it, pouting as his brows furrow up.

“need your help”

theres a wicked little glint in your eyes, pulling back at the stretchy band of the pretty underwear, letting go so it snaps back against the sensitive underside of his thick cock, making him whine, his broad body shaking and twitching, muscles clenching up.

humming, you bring your palm to his face, telling him to lick, and he listens, immediately.

licking a long stripe up your warm palm, but oh, he gets carried away. stretching to wrap his scarred lips around your fingers, bobbing his head up and down, drool dripping down from around his pursed lips, letting his tongue lay flat. “look at you, so eager”

he comes off with a pop, smirking because he knows you love when he’s so good like this for you.

you press your slick fingers against his covered perky nipples, watching as he twitched, before moving to stoke him through the pretty lingerie, “don’t fu—fucking tease”

you ignore him, let him get away with the little back talk because he just looks toooo cute, eyes all big, looking up into the flash of the camera, leaking through the lingerie like such a pretty boy. all for you.

you flick your wrist faster, leaning to spit on his clothed cock, sending thousands of shivers up the nerves on his spine, making him croon, his ass raising up off the bed to buck into your palms, giving the camera such a good show.

“gonna cum, shit— i’m so close. fuck— please”

he’s babbling, his voice all high and whiney.

“mhm go ahead, baby”

with a final, desperate thrust, he’s shooting against the fabric, babbling your name as it oozes through making a sticky little mess before you’re leaning down to lap at his clad tip. to clean him up.

then you come off him, stopping the video. and tojis looking up at you through glassy eyes as you press against your phone, smiling.

“what— hah, what are you doing”

“sending it to shiu”

[sushipicious]

Hear me out, maliciously praising pathetic yandere Oikawa. Like he’s so pathetic obsessed with reader, and the sound of their praise is making him go crazy, and reader catches on to this and starts praising him just for a reaction, which ends in him cumming, on his knees for reader as they just smirk and teasingly praise his pathetic shaking form <33

dom!reader, sub!Oikawa praise, cumming in pants, teasing

“You’re such a good boy for me, right?” Another shiver racks through Oikawa as he whines, staring up at you from his place on the floor with glassy eyes.

You’re standing in front of him with a grin on your face that makes him swallow in anticipation.

“I never thought you would like my praise this much, Oikawa. You must really like being my good slut, don’t you?”

A soft whimper leaves him as he clenches his fists that lay on his thighs. He’s been sitting on his knees for a while and there’s a slight ache but the cloudy fog in his mind is preventing him from thinking of anything else other than you and your words.

“I bet you just want to touch me right now, don’t you? Make me feel good like a good boy is supposed to do?” Oikawa stares up at you with tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

You glance down from his face and see the bulge in his pants and smirk. Oikawa can’t even think properly anymore, he just wants to cum. He’s so hard, it hurts.

“You’re hard from just my words, baby? Gonna cum from my praise only?” A sob racks through his body and he nods eagerly, staring up at you as he ruts futilely in the air, searching for any kind of friction.

“Go ahead and be a good whore for me then and cum in your pants then, darling.” Oikawa lets out a choked moan and gasps at the sudden release. Quickly, you see a wet stain start to appear on his crotch and you giggle.

“How cute, you came in your pants without my touch.” Oikawa’s breaths are heavy as his body rocks with his recent orgasm.

After a few minutes, he looks up at you with trembling lips before glancing down at his stained pants with a flushed face and looking back up at you, expecting you to do something. You raise an eyebrow before suddenly placing your foot on his crotch and pushing it down, making him cry out in pleasure.

“What, you thought I was done, darling? Oh we’re far from that, don’t you want to be my good boy?” He nods eagerly.

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[sushipicious]

Overstimmed gojo trying to push you away when you won’t stop sucking him off

Dom!reader, crying, whining, overstimulation, teasing

“W-Wait! Mmm t-too much [name]!” Gojo lets out a desperate cry as you steal another orgasm from him. He watches you with glassy, hazy eyes as you grin at him and swallow his cum.

He hiccups a little as he grips the sheets underneath him tightly. He tries to prop himself up on his elbows but his body feels so weak that he just falls back down on his back and whines.

“N-No more pleaseee” He tries to squirm away from you but you quickly grab his thighs and pull him back to you which makes him whimper. You laugh at him and his adorable state.

“But don’t you think you can do another one for me, baby? Don’t you want to be good for me!”

Gojo whines at you and before he could reply with a stuttered response, your mouth is already back on his dick which makes his body shake and eyes roll back. But he doesn’t try to get away so you guess you can take that as a yes from him.

[sushipicious]

Imagine sitting on Hayes’s lap and doing makeup on him 🤭 maybe it’s for a shoot and you’re just touching him up and without thinking you start inching closer and closer to him to get a better look and he just grows more and more restless with each inch that you’re moving closer to him. Soon , you’re practically on his lap and you touch his hair and adorn his face and body with makeup for the shot.

Maybe readers oblivious to the hold she has on Hayes and just casually rambles on about useless stuff as she’s cupping his face , applying highlighter to his cheeks. Or maybe she’s doing this all on purpose as she smirks slightly while applying lip gloss to his lips and trailing her thumb along the underside of them to ‘clean it up’. 😈

Either way , Hayes ends up looking fucked out before he even starts modeling for the shot anyways. So pretty as beads of sweat lace his temples and a light blush spreads from his cheeks to his neck. His hair is all ruffled and his eyes are glazed over. His head in foggy and he’s not sure how he’s gonna function if he’s so flustered before even starting the shoot ‼️

& when reader starts PRAISING him for his shots. Oml. How is he gonna get through this photo shoot ⁉️😵‍💫

-H

AHHHH my darling H!!! this is SUCH premium hayes content 😫 i am IMAGINING. he would he absolutely melting. i know this isn't technically a request buttttt i'm writing it anyway~

and don't worry, i have you foreign exchange student request in my drafts right now!! it might take me a little longer, but i have it!!

˗ˏ✎ [ howlin' for you ] *ೃ

"i must admit, i can't explain, any of these thoughts racing through my brain, it's true. baby i'm howling for you."

synopsis: how lucky that hayes is dating his makeup artist, and that he has a private trailer for a day-long shoot.

rating: mature (suggestive)

pairing: male!celebrity yandere hayes x fem!makeup artist reader

contents: teasing, grinding, use of 'good boy,' reader is female but no female genitalia is mentioned, implied handjob

word count: 1.3k

authors note: fem reader on request, because of the she/her pronouns in the ask!

edit: part two/continuation here

"Hayes, stop moving," you scold, pulling away from his face, foundation brush in hand. Streaks of pale foundation marked his nearly perfect skin, but he wouldn't let you blend it out; he just kept turning his head, kissing your wrist, seeking more contact. You were at least lucky that you had some time still, a bonus of you both traveling together.

Hayes simply grins, eyes lidded, hardly even attempting to keep still. He can't help it; he loves having your hands on him. He just wants to seek out more contact, tilting his head towards your hand like a cat seeking more pets.

"Alright, that's it," you mutter, and his eyes shoot open, afraid you're going to quit and make him do his makeup alone. But you throw a leg over his lap and settle down on his thighs, straddling him. His mouth goes dry instantly. Your free hand, that isn't holding the makeup brush, goes to his golden hair, twisting your fingers in the locks near the back of his neck and pulling, keeping his head back and steady.

Hayes can't help the tiny groan that comes out of him; how could you expect him too, with your hands tugging on his hair and your body so close to his? His hands fly to your hips, keeping you steady on his lap, fingers digging into the soft flesh there.

You tsk at him, shaking your head as you gently continue the foundation application. "Behave. This is serious, Hayes," you tease with a grin. "We both have a job to do here, remember?"

"Fuck the job," he mutters, as if you both aren't currently sitting in his trailer on site at the photoshoot, eyes fluttering closed as you sweep the brush over his under eyes.

"That's not very professional of you," you tease, setting the brush down on the vanity and using your fingers to smooth the foundation into his skin. You wouldn't do that with anyone else, but Hayes will pout all day if you don't do it with him.

The movements caused you to shift in his lap, unintentionally rubbing up against him. You pretend not to notice, not even when Hayes' grip on you tightens and he whines.

"I've seen the outfits you're in today, and they sent over the vision board," you explained, always talking him through your process, "so we're doing mostly natural looks, with pops of color. You're in lots of green today." He loved listening to you tell him about your work, all about the makeup and the artistry of it.

Well, normally he did. Right now, he was having trouble thinking with anything but his dick, which his sweatpants were doing nothing to hide. You could feel it through the thin, flowy fabric of the black slacks you were wearing, ever the professional.

Again, you pretended not to notice.

You swiped some concealer under his eyes, patting it in gently with your fingers. As you pulled away, he opened his eyes again to look at you, pupils blown wide and a truly pathetic lovestruck look on his face.

"Pucker up," you order, reaching for the lip balm you only used on him behind you on the vanity. You uncap the tiny pot, dipping your finger inside.

"Kiss me first," he asks, voice low, dripping with neediness.

It would be cruel not to, you think to yourself, so you indulge him just this once, leaning in close and planting a soft kiss on his lips. He wants to reach up and hold you there, but you pull away too quickly, earning another whine from the model.

"Now, be good and pucker up," you repeated, innocent smile on your face as you rocked back, holding your finger up to his mouth the wipe the lip balm on.

His face is growing red from arousal, a beautiful light blush dusting his chest and cheeks. It makes you giggle, a sound that he absolutely loves. His hands slide back from your hips to grab your ass, forcing you to move forward and rub against him. Despite the pleasant zings it sent through you, feeling the hard outline of him rubbing against you, you grip Hayes' hair harder and give him a look.

"Be professional," you scold him. "Didn't I just tell you to be good?" Your eyes narrow and he pouts.

"I'm sorry," he whines, but that doesn't stop him from trying to subtly shift under you, seek out more friction on his own.

You smirk at him, reaching back to open up the eyeshadow palette and grab a brush. You dip into a soft neutral shade, turning back to him as you idly scraped your fingernails against his scalp with your other hand.

He shivered under you, and obediently closes his eyes as you shift closer to pat the makeup on his eyelids.

"Now, be good and stay still, Hayes. I won't be happy if you keep shifting around and mess this all up," you inform him, sounding a little more stern than you actually feel. It's really the only way to get through to him sometimes; dangle that threat of disappointment over his head.

And it worked; he stopped moving almost immediately. But his face grew even redder, skin hot under your hands. He remains painfully still as you apply the first few layers of eyeshadow, listening keenly to your instructions of 'now open your eyes and look up' or 'close them again.'

Still, every movement you made was like torture for him; every shift, every little adjustment causing you to move or rub or grind against him. The worst part was he knew that you knew– knew exactly what you were doing to him. Knew exactly how you made him feel.

By the end of that, his hands were practically shaking against where they still rested on your ass. He was breathing slow, low and shaky, but he hadn't moved– just like you asked him too. He felt a little bit like his brain was turning to mush, his skin humming everywhere you touched him. Your skin was so soft against his, your fingers skillful in their application, and it drove him crazy.

You set the blending brush down, reaching for the mascara. Before you open it, you lean forward and surprise him with another kiss. He chases you when you pull away, trying to lean forward.

"You're doing so well," you praise, free hand finding his chest and pushing him back against the chair. "Just a few more steps and you'll be ready for the shoot. Keep being good for me and you might get a reward, hmm?"

"Mhm," Hayes hummed and nodded eagerly as soon as you finished speaking, fingers digging into you as he tried to control himself desperately.

You loved him like this, eager and needy and so willing to do whatever you asked of him. Lucky for him, all you needed was for him to stay still while you finished up his makeup.

"Open your eyes and look up for me," you muttered as you leaned closer, uncapping his mascara and swiping it through his long eyelashes. You were always so jealous of them, how long and dark they were, how pretty they looked on him. He kept his eyes trained on you the whole time, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

And you were– especially right now, there was nothing else in the universe except you.

You did a second coat before putting the mascara away. "Keep them open," you ordered. "Don't want you to transfer any of it to your eyelids before it dries."

Hayes nodded his head again, words totally lost for him. He rubbed his hands up and down the back of your thighs, and you could feel the way he was straining to control himself for you.

"In the meantime," you muttered; free hand returning to his chest and then sliding down his lean stomach. You traced the edge of his sweatpants and that action alone had him groaning. "We still have some time before they call for you, and you've been such a good boy..."

Your grin is wicked as he whines, and you slide your hand past the waistband.

"Ready for that reward?"

[sushipicious]

⤷ YANDERE NERD .ᐟ dakota b.

ʚ⁺˖↬ INFO.     male yandere x gn!reader, 3.0k word nsfw/18+ oneshot. READ PART ONE HERE.

ʚ⁺˖↬ CONTENTS.     sub!male yandere, reader has no mentioned genitals, general yandere/obsessive behavior, panty/underwear sniffing, getting caught, reader is a mild sadist, degradation, (male) whimpering, handjob, edging/denial

ʚ⁺˖↬ NOTES.     it's a good thing that writing pathetic men comes so easily to me because i was freaking myself tf out over this one <3

my patreon saw this one week early! if you want to view my early access content and receive patreon exclusive works, join my patreon!

dakota stands on the other side of the door to your dorm room, and he feels like he’s going to throw up.

your name is printed right there on the door, on a little name plate. he can’t find the bravery to knock, not yet, not when his stomach is so full of butterflies; he runs his fingers through his hair, trying to get the trembling in his fingers under control before he works himself up to knock on the door.

he’s been anxious before; he’s never been the most social, the most confident, the most outgoing. he was always more of the wallflower, the one who didn’t speak until someone spoke to him. but this was different— it felt almost like his entire life had, somehow, led up this very moment, where he was standing outside your door and waiting for you. always, for you.

he swallows thickly, taking a deep breath. just don’t act like a fucking freak, he tells himself, just be normal, do whatever they need for the project. you can do that. you can do that much for them, at least. don’t mention any of the other shit.

the other shit, of course, being that he’s thought about you nonstop since they day he met you in class. how your fingers felt when they brushed up against his, how the sound of your voice rolled over his skin like warm oil, how the taste of your name felt rolling off his tongue.

finally, he raises his hand— the last thing he needs is to make himself late to your study date because he’s too busy standing out in the hallway reminiscing, getting hard all over again just from the mere thought of you. his knuckles rap against the wood of your door, and he hears shuffling around inside, before footsteps come closer— and the door opens.

all the pep talks, all the lead up, and his breath is taken away almost the second it swings open, and you stand in front of him. fuck. he forced himself to smile, hoping it didn’t come out awkward or forced.

“kota!” you greeted, and his heart leapt into his throat at the shortened nickname. did you think you guys were that close already? close enough to call him by a nickname? “just on time, come on in— my dormmate’s gonna be gone for most of the night, so go ahead and make yourself at home,” you say, stepping out of the way of the doorway and ushering him inside. your eyes are on him, and it’s almost like he can feel it the same as if you were to reach out and touch him. he feels a zing up his spine, and he has to force himself to ignore it.

“thanks,” dakota breathes in, the smell of you mingling with the cool air; there’s some notes of something off, a shampoo or a body spray that he doesn’t recognize, and he thinks that must be your roommate. there’s a weird, sharp feeling in his gut, almost… annoyed that he can’t breathe in the raw, unfiltered smell if you without something else getting in the way. he enters, stepping past you, shoes tapping softly against the linoleum floor. his fingers clench around the strap of his bag, which is thrown over his shoulder, subtly wiping away the sweat that seems to have mysteriously formed on his palms.

he turns to look back at you as you close the door behind him, locking it out of habit. you face him, hand falling away from the doorknob, and smile at him again.

“brought all the stuff we need,” dakota says, a bit abruptly, forcing himself to not fall into the spiral of staring at your perfect face and getting lost in the way you smile. he shrugs his shoulder, a small gesture to the school bag hanging off it, heavy with classic literature textbooks. “for whenever you want to get started.”

“oh, cool,” you say, brushing past him casually as you head further into the room, to where one of the dorm desks is pushed against the foot of a bed— it must be your bed, he thinks, his eyes tracing the shape of it, memorizing the way the blankets on top are folded and arranged, counting how many pillows you have. he’s not sure what he would have pictured, but this feels right. it feels like you. his eyes snap back to you in the middle of your next sentence, reprimanding himself for missing even a word of it. “…about project distribution?”

he scrambles for a second, before deciding to play it safe, nodding his head. “uh, yeah— sure.”

“great,” you say, and he breathes an inward sigh of relief that you didn’t seem to notice his lapse in attention. you shift the desk chair a bit to the side, and move across the room to your roommate’s side to grab their desk chair as well. dakota swallows, standing still in the middle of the room; the desk is big enough for you both to comfortably work at, but the idea of sitting so close to you…

you turn back to him, and your smile once again catches him off guard.

“c’mon, come sit down, make yourself comfortable,” you offer, sensing the awkwardness that runs through him on some level and trying to make it a little easier for him. he watches you pull out your chair and settle down into it before pushing out his chair as well. your gaze pulls him in, gets his feet moving finally, and he shuffles across the floor towards your desk, and lowers himself down into the seat next to you.

it’s almost disarming how easy it is to fall into a rhythm with you.

calm, lofi music plays from your phone, sitting on the raised back of the desk in between the two of you. you work in a comfortable silence— dakota, however, is occasionally thrust back into the reality of the situation everytime your elbow brushes against his, or you shift in just the right way and the smell of  your shampoo wafts towards him. he’s pretty sure the only saving grace in his life right now is the fact that you haven’t been talking, which has given him less chances to absolutely embarrass himself, and even less chances to get turned on by just the sound of your voice.

dakota startled slightly as you groaned, setting your pencil down and leaning back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head.

“i’m gonna run to the bathroom,” you announce, putting you hands on the desk and pushing back, your chair skidding on the floor before you stand up. “’s just down the hall, so i’ll be right back. oh– there's a vending machine on the way, want me to grab something?”

dakota quickly lifts his head. “no– no, don’t worry about it, i’m okay,” he says, like he can't imagine asking you to do anything for him.

you shrug your shoulders. “m’kay. be right back,” you say again, pulling your shoes back on before you make your way out of the dorm room. dakota swears he can feel the temperature of the room drop when you disappear.

the door closes behind you, and he hears your receding footsteps down the hallway. he was suddenly overcome with the urge to get up, to look around, to touch and see and search– it itched under his skin, a restless energy that was all consuming.

maybe just… a quick look around. you wouldn't know if he looked at a few things, right? he could be fast– he could be discreet. he wouldn't even steal anything this time–

and then, as he begins to look around for a starting point, he spots the hamper of dirty clothes on your side of the room, butted up against the closed wardrobe in the corner behind your desk. simultaneously, he feels a sinking in his stomach– because he already knows he’s not going to be able to pass this up– and a wave of warmth rolling over his skin.

he swallowed thickly, suddenly aware of the heat in the room and his body, the sweat he could feel breaking out at the back of his neck and his palms. with a quick glance back to the closed door, dakota stood up, his feet carrying him the short distance that it took to get from the desk to the wardrobe.

the hamper was full; you must not have done laundry for a little while. he stood hesitantly in front of it, his eyes tracing over the crumpled fabric inside, nearly spilling out over the top. he could recall the days you wore some of those clothes– that t-shirt, those pants.

and then– peeking out near the top of the pile, under a pair of jeans all crumpled up and turned inside out… he spies a swath of fabric that is definitely underwear.

he can’t stop himself.

with shaky fingers, he reaches out and tugs it free. he holds it in his hands for a second, fingers running across the waistband and the seams. his head fills with some of the most vulgar thoughts he thinks he’s ever had, and he can’t help it, not when your underwear is right there in his hands. there isn't an alternative: he lifts the fabric, and presses to his face, covering his nose and his mouth. his glasses are bumped up to the top of his nose, pressing into his skin, and his shoulders rise and fall as he takes in a deep inhale. his senses are flooded with the muted smell of you, raw and musky.

the groan that he lets out as he exhales is involuntarily, spilling out of him as blood rushes from his head and straight to his cock. he holds the fabric over his face with one hand, his eyes fluttering closed, and his other hand snakes down to palm at the bulge at the front of his jeans that is suddenly almost painful. he feels dizzy, head rush over taking him as he breathes in another deep breath.

his legs feel weak as he palms at himself, just barely managing to control himself enough to keep his hand from pushing past the waistband of his jeans.

he needs to stop– needs to drop this and get back in the chair and try desperately to hide his raging hard on. he pulls the fabric away from his face, reluctantly, his head swimming. he pauses just once more, pulling his other hand away from his jeans to run his fingers over the underwear, wondering what it would feel like wrapped around his cock, considering breaking his earlier rule and shoving them in his pocket–

“oh my god– what the fuck are you doing?”

kota felt his blood run cold, and his head snapped to the door– only for his gaze to land on you, standing there in the doorway, watching him. he felt his world crash down around him, blood pumping through his veins as he scrambled to do anything but stand there and look like and absolute fucking creepy.

“i-i…” he stuttered, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth, his throat feeling too tight to breathe, lungs constricting. a cold sweat broke out over his skin, and he finally forced himself to drop the underwear back into your hamper as if they had burned him. “it’s not what it looks like, i–”

he finally registered the look on your face as you took a slow step into the room, pulling the door shut behind you and locking it. your gaze trailed down, away from his face– and to the tent at the front of his jeans. something flickered in your eyes, a heat that made dakota want to melt into the floor even as your lips curled in disgust. holy shit– were you into this?

“oh, it's not what it looks like? so you weren’t just getting off over my dirty underwear like a complete fucking pervert?”

dakota stands there dumbly, your words shooting through him like a flash of lightning, shame and arousal flooding his senses. you sound disgusted, but he doesn't miss the intrigue in your eyes, and fuck– if he gets any more rock hard he might just pass out from the lack of blood in his brain.

“well?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest, taking a single step closer. “i asked you a question, didn't i? is that not what you were doing?”

dakota opens his mouth, but you quickly add: “and don't you dare lie to me.”

swallowing thickly, dakota feels like his knees might just give out. “i… was,” he admits, shame crawling across his skin like squirming insects, a painful shiver up his spine.

you scoffed, lips curling back as you looked him up and down, shaking your head. “jesus. who knew you were such a creep?” you say, the venom laced into the word ‘creep’ doing nothing but making dakota feel weak in the knees. he could tell the front of his boxers was slick with precum, and any minute now the front of his jeans would be wet with it too.

and then you started to advance on him.

dakota can't move, his feet rooted to the spot like they’re glued to the floor. he only steps back when you get too close, pressing your hand against the center of his chest and forcing him back until his shoulder-blades hit the wardrobe, followed by his spine as he presses himself back all the way.

blood rushes through his ears, his heart pounding so fast it might just give up at any moment– and you press against him, like you’re trying to kill him. dakota sucks in a breath, the aching between his legs unbearable, especially when your hips brush up against it… and then your hand flattens against his stomach, before slowly sinking down.

“you weren’t just looking, were you? no, i bet you were sniffing them like a creep, huh?” you taunt, his face flushing more red than you’ve ever seen.

his heart feels caught in his throat, his body practically vibrating with a nervous energy that he fears might just tear him apart at the seams. he wants to touch you, but he doesn't move– doesn't dare cross that line until you tell him he can, if you ever do. you quirk a brow at him expectantly, your hand stopping on his lower stomach when he doesn't answer, a subtle threat. it kicks him back into gear.

“…yes,” he admits, his voice coming out weak and shaky. but the corners of your lips quirk up into a barely contained grin, which you quickly conceal as your hand starts moving again.

his hips jerk involuntarily as your palm presses against the outline of his cock, and he swears he can see his entire life flash before his eyes.

“wow,” you comment, “you’re really worked up. all this just from  creepin’ around in my laundry?” your palm slides over the denim, stroking him subtly through his clothes, and dakota swears he might just melt into a puddle on the floor.

“jesus–” he gasps through clenched teeth, and he can feel the front of his jeans beginning to get damp, your hand applying pressure and forcing the mess of precum staining his clothes to soak through.

you keep him pressed back against the wardrobe, your hand rubbing against him. “you really are pathetic, aren’t you? bet i could make you cum in your pants and barely even have to lift a finger to do it.”

the sound that tumbles out of his lips is half broken, too close to a whimper for him to feel anything but ashamed. but the look in your eyes is nearly triumphant— sadistic and still part disgusted, so reeled in by his pathetic display that you just can’t quite stop.

your fingers work to unbutton his jeans, reaching inside before his brain can even catch up with whats happening. his head is absolutely spinning— how did he get here? how did this happen? did he die, and this is his version of a fucked up heaven?

but then your hand is yanking down his jeans and his boxers, and your skin touches his, and fuck. he can’t think about anything anymore, not when your fingers wrap around his aching cock, becoming slick with the precum that’s smeared all over his length. just a single touch from you, and he’s practically coming undone; you have him so worked up, just by existing. nothing else has ever felt this good… nothing else will ever feel this good, and he knows it. his hips jerk as you tighten your grip, stroking up and down.

“you should see the look on your face,” you tease, your tone mocking and cruel and sinking down into the burning depths of his gut, adding gasoline to the fire.

“f-fuck— please, i’m—” dakota pants, the muscles in his abdomen tightening, a tingling sensation taking root in his limbs. his fingers reach for you, and his hands plant themselves on your hips, desperate to ground himself— to feel anything, to feel you. you let him, let his long fingers curl around your sides, dull nails digging into the fat of your hips.

“aw, what– you’re gonna cum already? you’re gonna make a mess in your pants from just my hand? i’ve barely even touched you.” you taunt, tilting your head at him, and dakota struggles to hold onto your words. a strangled cry gets caught in his throat, coming out as a choked moan as he clenches his teeth together, hips bucking against your hand, fucking into the circle of your fingers.

he’s right on the edge, burning hot and ready to tumble over, ready to feel ecstasy at  your hand—

but then your hand is gone, pulled away just before he can crest that final hill, leaving him bucking into the air and crying out, his hands shaking as they rest on your hips.

“too bad,” you hum nonchalantly. “we have things to do, and you’ve been naughty. maybe i’ll think about letting you finish after we get our work done, hmm?” you taunt, before you hold up your slick hand in front of his face, your fingers sticky with his precum. he pants, his breaths fanning against your fingers, cooling your skin. “now lick it up so we can get back to work.”

intellectual property of ©️darling--core. do not copy, repost or translate my works without my explicit consent. do not use my works to train ai.

[sushipicious]

Xyx’s hair tickled the base of your neck, his arms slithering around your waist and gripping like a vice. “I think the odds are in my favor today.”

You refused to acknowledge him for the time being. You’d asked the receptionist at the hotel you were staying very politely that you needed two beds, and here you were. In his arms. Which was nice, you loved him and he loved you and he was really warm, but it would be even nicer if he wasn’t being such a smug asshole about all of this. “This is only something that happens in bad fanfiction.”

“Oh, don’t act like that doll. You love me.”

You covered up the fond smile that was growing on your face by rolling your eyes. “Some days. Now I’m wondering why we’re even together.”

"So what I'm hearing is," he grabs your jaw with gentle fingers and places kisses where your jaw and neck meet, more smile than lips. "You admit that you love me? That you're sooo obsessed with me?"

"Oh my god," You feel laughter bubbling up in your throat and the faux scowl that once covered your face has been replaced with something more genuine. "You suck."

You feel Xyx's teeth against your skin. "And you're in love with me. What does that make you?"

"A fool."

He hums, closing his eyes and chuckling. His smirk is nothing but mischievous, you don't dare to trust him. "I was going for mental, or deranged even, but sure."

"I'm gonna punch you." You roll your eyes again and make an attempt to move your hands, but they're pinned to the side of your head before you can even go that far.

Xyx's eyes are now open and cunning. Like a devil, you think. Like a really pretty devil. "With what hands?"

Your guard is let down and you barely notice him leaning towards your face, pressing angel-like kisses all over your face. You sigh. "You suck."

"You've said that before. Are you just so in love with me you can't think right now?"

You kick him in the shin and give him a quick kiss to his lips. "Don't push it too much."

Xyx laughs and you swear to everything that is righteous and holy that it's the most beautiful thing you've ever heard. Your limbs are entangled and you could swear you hated him a minute ago, but when he's this pretty you forget why.

You push a strand of hair away from his eyes and he leans into your touch, kissing your palm softly. His laughter starts up again and his demonic smile returns. "Eww. You're being cringe right now."

You shove him off the bed. You remembered why you hate him.

[sushipicious]

Tsukiko-san wants to tease her younger husband

[sushipicious]

soooo I wrote this for the art god @devotion-disorder because

1- they're one of my favorite artists ever!!!!!!! And they're someone who portrays yanderes in such a MWAH chef's kiss way that I can't help but admire

2- I am obsessed with their oc kuuya

but if you'd rather I delete it, just let me know!! ( ˘ᵔ˘)ﾌﾟ

Warnings: NSFW, yandere behavior, unhealthy obsession !!! Minors DNI !!!

The skin on the nape of your neck prickled, making you shiver at the strange sensation.

The steady gaze outside your window was so piercing and unmoving that it could be as sharp as needles nicking your skin.

Although, if you were to be fully honest, it felt more like a knife.

It would be just another night, if it wasn't for the fact that your co-worker lurked outside your house.

"Kuuya", you mouthed his name, just to feel how it moves against your lips, because you could never really say it during daytime without having him spiral headfirst into a meltdown.

Kuuya was a disaster.

He never talked to you.

You would sometimes catch him staring at you during work, which made him blush like an anime schoolgirl, but that was the extent of his interaction with you.

He was a regular employee, didn't stand out much, nor caused problems. He was just... there. Constantly looking exhausted, with his back hunched and in the verge of a mental breakdown.

And you were so attracted to that mess of a man.

Your friends would probably frown and sigh if they knew, but they were also pretty much aware of your type: sickly victorian-looking men, anemic, with extremely dark circles under their eyes, who probably sneeze a lot and shake like chihuahuas.

And, hey, that was Kuuya to a T. How could you not have a crush on him?

You soon realized, however, that he probably had a few screws loose.

It started slow, a few things going missing. First it was a pen, then some of your hair ties, then old post-it notes you had forgotten about, until their absence reminded you of their existence.

These things were inconsequential.

You wouldn't even notice their disappearance, if it wasnt for the fact that one day you saw Kuuya with a fluffy hair tie that looked way too similar to yours to be a coincidence. It even had the same little star charm that yours had.

And then you noticed the pens, carefully placed inside a cup near his computer.

And the erasers, the post-its, the pencils, all the other office appliances that you were pretty sure were yours.

But they weren't, right?

That was just your fertile imagination playing tricks on you.

Right?

One day, just to erase this silly idea from your head – I mean, you were probably just paranoid – you waited until you saw Kuuya take a break from his assignments and make his way to the bathroom.

You observed through the corner of your eyes how he stared at you while making his way to the other side of the office, anxiously shaking your leg as you mentally egged him to hurry up and go to the damn toilet.

As soon as you were sure he was inside and you were out his sight, you bolted towards his desk, earning a few pissed off glances from your other coworkers.

You had to work quickly though, since you didnt know how long he would take to come back. Looking over your shoulder constantly, you opened the drawers under his desk, searching for something and feeling silly all the while (what if you're the crazy paranoic one for real?), until your hands haphazardly touched some papers and you heard the sound of crinkles.

Looking over your shoulder one more time to make sure he wasn't around, you lifted the papers and mouthed a silent "oh." as you saw what was underneath them.

Dozens and dozens of candy wrappers, discarded notes and even more of those old post-its laid organized in what you could say was impeccable fashion, if it wasnt for the fact that it was all trash.

Your trash.

In the back, you saw some plastic bags with questionable contents, but your anxiety was in an all time high and you decided to just put things back were they were and close the drawer.

You had your confirmation. He WAS crazy and you were still paranoid, but at least you were right.

You made way back to your desk and sighed, sitting down.

Conflicted feelings pooled in your gut.

You knew all of that meant that he was indeed crazy and obsessed and potentially dangerous, but also... you couldn't really deny the excitement that made butterflies fly all around in your stomach and the giddy feeling that made your heart race with expectations – of what, you didn't know.

And as these feeling swarmed you, you failed to realize the pair of eyes that were locked tight onto your figure from the very start.

If Kuuya could properly express his feelings, he would be moaning and whining in pure despair.

They saw everything. They saw where he keeps all his treasures he had been collecting for the past months.

But why?! Why did they even think about looking for that? Has Kuuya been acting too obvious? But he made sure he wouldn't be too creepy! Well, at least not as creepy as he truly wanted to be. How was that happening all of a sudden?!

The taste of copper interrupted his mental breakdown and he looked down at his thumb, where tiny droplets of blood appeared after he anxiously chewed it.

"It's okay, it's fine" he kept repeating in his mind, like a mantra. He'd just need to see how you'd act around him after that.

If you stopped interacting with him (even if most of those interactions were just good mornings and good evenings coming from YOU), he would probably just... end it all for once. Or maybe kidnap you so you wouldn't run away. Whatever crossed his mind first.

With his heart beating loud on his chest, Kuuya walked back to his seat and forced himself to work, spreadsheets and numbers flashing on his mind, unnoticed.

All he could think was of your hands rummaging through his drawers.

Oh god, your hands touched his things.

Kuuya exhaled sharply, rubbing his thighs together to alleviate the sudden discomfort in his groin. What would he do if you never even looked at his direction again? Sure, you could even report him to the HR, but not being able to see you was a fate worse than being fired!

His mind tumbled, wandering through every worst scenario possible, and in his despair, he didn't notice it was already time to clock out.

"Good evening, Kuuya." You say as you pass by him, nodding your head, with a tight smile.

'Huh?'

Kuuya stares at nothing in front of him, until the fact that you talked to him registers in his mind.

'HUH?'

You talked to him?

Wait.

Did you really see what was in his drawers? Was he just hallucinating? No, there's no way he was. He saw how your colleagues stared at you when you ran to his table. They SAW you. Just like he did. So you saw everything. And you don't hate him? What the fuck. You don't find him disgusting? What? What the hell.

He didn't understand.

He couldn't understand.

He had to understand.

And so, he led himself towards your house, hiding in the bushes right in front of your bedroom window.

How lucky was he that you didn't live in an apartment building?

He was there to understand you better. Just for that. And it'd be just this time, he swore. Just to see what was up with you.

His breath was ragged and heavy and his cheeks burned red. He bit his bottom lip tightly to keep any moan from escaping as he palmed himself through his pants, while he watched the way you stripped yourself of your work clothes.

Quickly undoing his belt buckle and his pants, he let himself be completely overtaken by pure lust and began pumping his dick mercilessly as he was graced with just a little bit more of your skin, right in front of him.

He saw you sigh as you got rid of your pants and his eyes rolled back, imagining how you'd sound if he was the one taking your clothes off.

Oh, what would he give to be able to jump through your window and grab one of your dirty clothes and get drunk on your scent...

The thought made him buck his hips forward clumsily, and he gritted his teeth, hard.

Well, fuck.

He panted, while he observed the way his cum dripped from the leaves of the bush, and as coherent thoughts started flowing back to his mind, he suddenly hoped he wasn't moving too much to catch your attention.

You hadn't even looked his way, so he was safe, right?

Right?

You rubbed your thighs together as you kept your back turned to the window. The windowpane was open, in order to allow the wind to flow through your bedroom, and due to this little fact, you could hear a faint sound coming from the plants right in front of your window.

A quiet, almost indiscernible (if you weren't paying close attention) plap plap plap sound.

You bit your lip to keep your grin from spreading through your lips.

The dumbass was masturbating! Right there! Right in front of your room!

You sighed, feeling the heat pool in between your legs, but controlled your instinct to pull him out from wherever he was and fuck him silly in your bedroom.

You desired him so fucking much. You thrived in his attention, like a sunflower leaning towards rays of light.

The thing is: while you loved his obsession, you were also deathly afraid that he would lose interest in you as soon as he found out how much you also wanted him.

Much like a cat who discards a prey. Except this cat was wet, sad, pathetic and still, you were ridiculously eager to keep playing dead so he would put his grimy, sticky little paws on you just a little bit more.

How would Kuuya feel, you wondered, if he knew you were as obsessed with him as much as he was with you?

[sushipicious]

And even if you kill me, I'll always exist in your mind.

[sushipicious]