Day Two

I love the stuff you got here! Can I request for a yandere Dabi with a feisty darling? Thank you so much in advance!

Thanks for reading! Enjoy ^^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

All the kicking and screaming truly was a vain effort, but Dabi liked watching you trying your hardest nonetheless. Your body was writhing beneath him, legs pulled in to keep his hovering form from descending onto you, and your elbow in his throat to keep his mouth from closing in as well. “You stink!” you complained loudly, and Dabi smirked, knowing full well he didn’t take the time to wash up after the last mission.

Knowing it would bother you even more.

Sure, he could have been nice. Let you get accustomed to him through time—but why would he? It was so much more fun to destroy your will through the desperation that came with being unable to do anything against your captor. Dabi knew you cried yourself to sleep when you thought he was out for the day. That you got up to try and unlock the door. He even mumbled ‘in his sleep’ just to enjoy the seconds of silence as you held your breath. While you weren’t a game to him, this situation sure was.

However, by now, he wouldn’t have minded if he could have had just one calm evening with you. It didn’t matter to him that you were here for a week already or that he was crossing boundaries you wished him not to. Every time you spit into his face, Dabi felt the same thrill he only knew from burning enemies. But what you didn’t realize was that you were enabling him to do those cruel things even more. And frankly, despite the fun he was having, it was slowly getting exhausting to deal with you. Not even he knew how long he could keep up playing nice with you when you were challenging him every second you two were together.

“I didn’t think it would be so much trouble,” he sighed to no one in particular. Rolling his eyes away, even your struggles ceased for the moment as you raised an eyebrow. Luckily, you didn’t know what he meant, or you might have laughed at him. Still, truth be told, the whole ’falling in love’ seemed easier when presented in movies and the occasional manga he was handed.

Catching your free hand suddenly pushing into his face, Dabi grinned, sticking out his tongue to give it a lick, risking your reaction to his taunt. Repulsed, you pulled back, instead building a fist, but throwing your shoulder into his direction with it, you neglected the push on his throat, allowing him to dodge the punch by kissing you. See? Much better, he thought, nibbling at your teeth while your struggles grew angrier.

It had been a while since he got to kiss you, but your lips were still as soft and plush as he remembered them. Your taste lingering on his tongue almost made him proud, reminding him that you were using his toothbrush in an attempt to clean your teeth at all. He wasn’t that terrible of a boyfriend, was he? After all, he not only saved you from the mundane life you were slipping into, but he also cared for your well-being enough to allow you to use his property.

“Have you struggled enough?” he taunted you, only moving his lips inches away from yours to talk. Crushed under the weight of his body, and perhaps shocked by the sudden affection, you had stopped fighting for the moment, only to bare your teeth in frustration, snapping for him. Today wasn’t the day you were going to become docile—that much he understood.

Pity, really, but Dabi would survive it. Leaning down to escape your futile tries to bite him with another kiss, he reached up to your hand buried under his body until you were flinching too hard to return his affection. The singeing heat of blue flames licking at your wrist was enough to bring tears to your eyes. No matter how feisty, aggressive, and - in a cute way - defiant you were, in the eyes of danger and pain, you were nothing at all.

Not like Dabi didn’t know what he was getting into before capturing you. Diligent worker, just defender of society, and as sweet as a piece of cake. Mind you, he didn’t only mean your ass with that. Those were the three things he used to describe you when he asked for permission to bring you in. Shigeraki only, understandably, sighed at that, shaking his head as if Dabi’s arguments hadn’t been convincing, but it was one of the only favors he ever asked him for. One could think that you were a bit more grateful for his hard work, but no, at the end of that memory, you were crying.

“God, I hate you!” you screamed at him, tugging your wrist out of his grip. Oops, he thought, seeing the burn at your skin, and feeling the heat as well as you pulled it close to his face while covering your eyes. That would leave another mark for sure.

“That’s rough, sugar,” he pouted, trying to shove your arm away from your face, but you only stirred beneath him, trying to turn to the side. Now you were sulking. Even if it should have been him sulking after you’ve been mean to him all week. It wasn’t Dabi’s fault that he fell in love with you. Really, it wasn’t anyone’s, but you sure liked to blame him for it. But in the end, it was always him who was left scarred by your words, his heart throbbing sadly at how cold you were treating him.

However, as it seemed, you understood your place after the threat he burned into your wrist. Getting back onto his palms with an arm on either side of you, Dabi watched as you turned over, finally free of his weight. Pulling in your legs, your once so tough demeanor seemed to change. When you put down your arm, he could see how you were trying your best not to meet his eyes, staring stubbornly at the wall, but you still hadn’t lost your fire. Just like his blue flames raging all over you when you tried to defy him, your eyes were burning with the flames of hatred and frustration. Those flames had yet to turn into ash, but Dabi was happy to see you so alive after all.

Chuckling to himself, he gave you a disgusting smooch to the cheek. Too long, too wet, too unwelcome to be anything but a statement. “I won,” that’s what it said, and the flames in your eyes only began to stir more from the arrogance Dabi was displaying to you.

“You’ll find out it’s not too bad with me soon enough,” he promised, stretching as he got off you. You didn’t move now, didn’t react to his words, and it was a behavior he knew all too well by now. Funnily, you were trying to scold him by ignoring him. It wasn’t working, but it amused him enough to wear a broad grin on his lips. Have it your way if you so pleased, but Dabi decided to take a shower with your shared toothbrush to let off some steam. There was so much more he could do to you that you feared to even think about. So much more that he could break your feisty attitude with. But he was waiting to use it at the right moment. The moment it would make the biggest impact on your life.

The pillow hitting his back only made a sad ‘thud’ before falling to the floor. Looking back over his shoulder curiously, Dabi saw you sitting on the bed, your arm still up in the air after your throw and lines of fallen tears adorning your cheeks. Ah, your cuteness knew no limits, frustration plastered all over your face. Frustration with him, your situation, everything. You hated him, and Dabi loved you for it.

Picking the pillow up from the ground, he sauntered back towards you. A short, rampant outburst of blue flames cooked the poor fabric and feathers into mere dust that dispersed in the room. His grin only grew uncomfortably broad, staples tearing at the charred skin. Your eyes grew wide like a deer in the headlights as you looked at him, almost as if you had a sudden realization.

How dumb of him to not notice earlier when he was toying with you.

Notice that the moment he had been waiting for was already there.

“Just the tip,” he begs you, his voice rough and deep. “Please, baby, just keep the tip of my cock warm for me, ok?”

And how can you say no to that?

He has you on your back, legs spread wide to accommodate his body, his big hands on your thighs. And when he slides in, your slick making for a smooth glide, you squirm at the feeling of being so stretched and full. 

“You – you said just the tip,” you whimper, clenching your thighs around his hips, not knowing whether you want to press him closer or push him away. 

And he leans over your body, cradles your head and neck is his big palm and lifts you just a bit, just enough to see where he’s inside of you, and the inches and inches of cock left to go.

“It is just the tip, baby, see?” he coos, his voice still lust-rough, but sweet.

He rolls his hips back and then forward again, fucking you with just the head of his dick, stretching your pretty pussy around the mushroomed tip.

“Unless you want more?” he says, sliding in just another inch, making you arch your back and moan, shutting your eyes tight to stave off the tears. “How about just half?”

Private Lessons: Part 2

Reader part 1 here! Dw, it follows without the buildup.

Here’s the spice! I prepped the first two chapters before I released it. I’m not a sadist, we all know we’re here for the dirty stuff. The first smut is a bit self-indulgent. I have a daddy kink, sue me. 

Kinks: Bondage, teasing, teacher x student (AGED UP), mild Daddy kink and DDLG terms (no ageplay in this house), oral sex. 

Art not mine meep.

“Well, here we are, Sensei!” you announced as you crossed the threshold into your small apartment, Aizawa close behind. The tired hero removed his shoes alongside you, lining them neatly against the wall before giving the room a quick scan. 

“Not bad. A minimalist. Just like me.” A soft smile tugged at your lips. “Are you sure you’re alright with this?” uncertainty was present in his voice as he quirked a brow skeptically and shrugged off his leather jacket. It was hard not to swoon. He somehow managed to move gracefully even during such mundane tasks. 

“Of course! it’s my fault we stayed so late anyway.“ 

"Well, more like Hizashi’s,”  he corrected you with a light chuckle, sliding one hand in his pocket and sending the other running through his silky black hair. A relieved sigh ghosted past his lips. It was strange, standing in the home of a former student, but your confidence was reassuring. "I have a feeling you wouldn’t have sang karaoke for so long if not for his insistence." 

"True, but I enjoyed it! I think I want something warm to drink." 

Aizawa watched you bound off to the kitchen. He couldn’t help but think you looked cute like that; standing on your tiptoes, quietly humming to yourself as you searched the cabinets for tea. 

"Would you like some, Mr.Aizawa?" 

He shrugged and nodded, shifting his weight to the other hip. "Sure, (Y/n)Thank you for asking… You’re very formal, you know.”

“Well, of course! I understand a few years have gone by, but I still respect you as my teacher.”

“That’s fine, I don’t mind” You missed the smirk pulling at his mouth as he slumped into the dining room chair. From the corner of your eye, you noticed him rubbing his palms on his eyelids. 

Half a decade had passed since then, but you hadn’t forgotten the severe injury suffered by the hero during a villain attack on the USJ. The incident left his eyes even more sensitive than they were previously.

Your lip tilted in a slight frown and you quickly tried to shake off the thought, unable to handle the image of him wounded and, undoubtedly, scared.

“Do you need eye drops?” you offered, tone laced with genuine concern, “I actually bought some recently, they haven’t been opened yet.”

One tired, dark eye cracked opened as he turned to look at you. “My, my, aren’t you considerate?”

Something in the way he spoke the words made you squirm. You palmed the back of your neck sheepishly. The heat quickly rushing to your face. Positive he could see the tinting of your skin, you turn away in haste. 

“W-Well, I just know it doesn’t feel good to have… dry eyes.”

Shouta softened at your words. Shit, he couldn’t even mess with you when you were being so sweet; it was too fucking cute.

“No need to get all rosy-cheeked (Y/n), just stating the obvious. I have some on me, but thank you for the offer.”

Your tense muscles relaxed. Satisfied with his response, you continued the process of making tea. If you recalled correctly, his favorite flavor was spiced vanilla chai. You found the blend easily, tossing it in the pot and leaving it to steep. A pleasant, warm aroma filled the air and you inhaled deeply to savor it.

Aizawa used drops in each irritated eye and held them closed with a deep sigh. letting the soothing solution settle in. They would help the irritation, but damn did it sting when the drops first hit his eyes.

You thought now would be a good time to catch up on some phone notifications, only to be disappointed that nothing worthwhile had come through during your evening. Spam, spam, ‘10 Ways To Spice Up Your Hero Outfit,’ text I don’t want to read, ‘Notorious Villain Captured By Rookie Team Kiribaku. All junk. you continued mindlessly searching through the feed until you heard the water start to bubble.

“Anything interesting going on in the world?”

The unexpected baritone voice almost made you leap out of your skin, knocking over a teacup and sending it careening towards the floor. Shouta reached out, catching the dish moments before it hit the ground. 

Apparently, the seasoned hero’s reflexes were as sharp as ever. 

“Didn’t mean to scare ya, kid.”

You squinted at his tone; it was far from apologetic. If you didn’t know any better you might believe he did it on purpose just to get a rise out of you. 

"Jesus, you’re like a cat.” you hissed, still frazzled from the scare.

A satisfied smirk split his face, “I take that as the highest compliment,” Shouta hummed, replacing the cup before quirking a brow and leaning past your shoulder to examine the box of tea leaves resting behind you, "Is that vanilla spiced chai?”

“Yep!” you chirped, perking up at the recognition, “I remembered seeing you drink it a few times during my school years. Hopefully, it wasn’t just because you had no other options, heh.”

Long arms folded over his chest as he gave you a quick once over. It struck him as… interesting that you’d remember such a mundane fact.

“No, I like it.” he assured you with a soft grin, “You really remembered that huh?“

"Y-yeah. Is… is that weird?” you shrank under his gaze, fearing you’d just outed yourself as a massive creep.

“A little,” the teacher chuckled, his reassuring smile going unnoticed as you couldn’t bring yourself to match his gaze. 

Your thoughtfulness was… endearing.

“Oh, s-sorry, well uh, heRE YOU GO!” hands trembled slightly as you passed the man before you a cup of the fragrant brew. He accepted gratefully with an appreciative hum before returning to the dining table.

A comfortable silence followed; the pair of you enjoying the comforting warmth of the tea. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that the sound of Aizawa’s fingers tapping rhythmically on the table broke through the quiet.  

“You know, normally people only remember tiny details like that when they have a crush.”

You choked on your drink. The sudden accusation had heat flooding to your cheeks and you starting sprinting down a path of panic and self-doubt, “WHAT!? Mr.Aizawa, please, don’t be ridiculous.”

His powerful shoulders shrugged casually as he took another lazy sip. 

“What’s All-Might’s favorite drink?” he interrogated, clearly amused and not interested in letting you escape the uncomfortable line of questioning.

You feverishly searched your memory. Dear God it was hard to even remember their faces right now, let alone their favorite drink.

“What about Midnight’s? Mic’s? Snipe’s? Any of your former classmates?” the pro hero’s tone was practically dripping with satisfaction. A smug grin creeping ever further up his cheek. Your reaction was almost too good. 

“I- I don’t know, and I bet you don’t either!” the words tumbled from you,  brows furrowed in concentration as you stared at the countertop. No way could you bring yourself to look at him right now.

“Nope, I sure don’t. But, then again,” your fingers dug into the wood, irritation creeping up your spine, “I don’t have a big. Fat. Crush on any of them." 

You slowly turned to glare at him, only to double over in laughter when greeted with his smug, toothy grin. 

”PFFFT! Okay, okay,“ giggles bubbled in your chest, forcing you to surrender, "yes, in high school, I had a crush on you. Most of the girls did, you know." 

He bobbed his head, lips held in a flat line giving him a serious expression. "This is true. I am devilishly handsome. It’s a curse, really." 

A pained groan escaped you as you rolled your eyes dramatically. You couldn’t help cracking a smile. His satirical narcissism always amused you.

"I think most female students find 'bad boy’ teachers attractive, Sensei.” You grabbed your tea and joined him at the table. A loud yawn shuddered through you when you settled into the chair opposite Shouta.

“Tired? It is pretty late. Perhaps you should sleep.” His own heavy lids drifted shut when he leaned into the chair back. 

You shook your head. "I’m alright. This will wake me up a bit. I know you stay up late most nights and I can’t have you rifling through my things.” He chuckled at your sly wink.

“Fair enough, I am the type.”

Another long silence followed until his voice once again cut through the air. 

“You know… there is a slight difference between you and the girls who normally swoon over me.”

“Oh?” You asked, taking another sip and preparing yourself for the 'you’re much more mature and less annoying,’ trope.

“I haven’t become attracted to any of them.”

Tea sputtered across the table as it rocketed from your lips. Shouta erupted into a rare and genuine fit of roaring laughter. He ran to your kitchen, pulling some paper towel’s from the counter before returning to help with the mess.

“Are we in a 1990’s sitcom?" 

Angrily, you snatched the towel from him, trying unsuccessfully to stop tea from trickling to the floor. 

"Why would you say something like that!? How embarrassing,”

Shouta crossed his arms and looked you over, watching your hands work frantically to clear the area of spilled liquid.  

“Because it’s true.”

The words shot jolts of electricity up your spine and you couldn’t help but stammer. “ I-I think you had too much to drink.“ 

"Nope,” he shook his head, grinning slightly, “Sober as a bird.”

Shit. 

Breathing became difficult as your throat constricted. Were you really hearing this? Shouta Aizawa, pro hero Eraserhead, your former teacher, just confessed to you.  

“But hey,” he added casually, throwing his hands up. “if you’ve grown out of that crush I understand. No hard feelings.”

Your eyes lifted from the spill and slowly scanned his frame, paying special attention to the way his toned stomach remained visible through his tight-fitting black sweater. His body was relaxed yet alert, and that fucking hair of his. It rippled in loose waves around his shoulders and you couldn’t help imagining how it would feel tangled in your grip as you writhed in pleasure beneath him. The lewd thoughts sent your heart racing and your face filled with blood.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” he chuckled, noticing your dazed appearance. He scratched his head in thought, glancing to the side momentarily before setting his eyes on you again. “Well, if you wanted to test it out, I could always give you… a kiss?”

Oh fuck. 

“I never want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, though. So if I’m being a creep, let me know. I’ll back right off.”

You knew he meant it, but with the way your mind was spinning and your eyes roved his solid frame, you knew there was no chance in hell you’d let this opportunity slip through your fingers. Jesus, you were practically drooling just admiring his fully clothed body.

“Y-Yeah, okay.” you barely managed to squeak out the words.

“'Yeah okay’ leave you alone? Or 'yeah okay, kiss me Sensei?’”

You shut your eyes tight and felt the tension rise in your neck and cheekbones, before mustering up the courage to answer.  

“Y-yes, you can kiss me… if you want.”

Gentle hands slipped around your waist, lifting you from the wooden chair. They pulled you closer, and he tilted your chin up to his soft gaze.

“You know,” came his silky voice, so low and soothing, “it might be nice if you looked at me, even if just for a second. Don’t you wanna make sure you’re kissing the right person?”

You chuckled at that, opening one eye dramatically for a quick peek. His handsome face beamed down at you and you can’t remember the last time you felt butterflies take off in your stomach. 

“Yep, that’s the right guy.”

His rugged features softened at your words. He was mesmerized by the innocence in your needy, lust blown eyes. Cool, nimble fingers brushed soft strands of hair from your face as the other came up to cup your cheek, almost protective in the way he cradled it in his palm.

“You’re beautiful…(Y/n).”

Your plush lips parted and his mouth pressed against yours in a slow, passionate kiss that had you leaning, no, melting into his touch as quiet moans of comfort reverberated between your lips. It was like a soothing melody; almost unheard and meant only for you. The gentle tickle of his tongue dancing with yours, the pauses, groans, and sighs, all worked together to put you in a blissful trance.

A small whine left you as he pulled away.

“So,” he sighed, forehead resting against yours affectionately, “still have a thing for your grouchy homeroom teacher?" 

His half-lidded eyes searched your face, brows furrowed in focus as he sought out any signs of discomfort or trepidation.

If you didn’t before, you sure as shit would after that. 

"Mhm,” is all you could manage through your almost painful grin, pleasant warmth bloomed in your chest and spread throughout your limbs. You buried your face in his strong chest, earning an ‘aww’ from the rugged man above you. He laughed gently as he stroked your hair, enjoying the way you sought comfort in his arms. 

Shouta couldn’t help noticing something different in the way you now clung to him. 

“My goodness,” he spoke slowly, the bass in his voice vibrating your shoulder, giving you a pleasant shiver. A nervous knot formed in your stomach when he suddenly pulled back to examine you, “my dear student, your face is quite red… you seem to have gotten a bit warmer as well." 

Amusement and arousal welled in him when you squirmed beneath his scrutinizing gaze. "Could it be that someone’s a little… excited?”

Your knees grew weak and you let out a needy, shuddering whine. It wasn’t until then that you noticed how wet you’d become from the kiss. 

“Hmmm… I thought so.” he clicked his tongue, “Flushed cheeks, warm skin, thighs squeezing together for just a hint of friction. All the signs are there."  Thick ribbons of raven hair rustled elegantly as he shook his head with a hopeless sigh.

"Yeah… so what if I am?” you giggled, somehow completely unashamed, burying your face in the safety of his chest once more. He pulled you closer, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“If you’d like, I can offer you some… relief.”

The words ignited you, legs trembling and muscles going weak in his embrace. It didn’t go unnoticed and Aizawa nipped your earlobe with a devilish grin. He gripped your chin, turning you towards the dining room. “You have a really nice table over there, why don’t you go lay on it for me?”

You peered back at him, mind swirling with all the possibilities; all of which ended with you screaming his name for everyone in the building to hear. Reluctantly, you pulled away, legs barely supporting you as you drifted to the table where you sat, legs crossed and dangling over the edge. 

Aizawa approached you, confident now that you wanted this just as badly as he did. Your bare knee grazed his thighs as his long, thin fingers slipped up your exposed calves, sending a light shiver up your sides. His mouth hovered close to yours, warm breath breezing over your plush, parted lips, thrilling you with the possibility of another mind-blowing kiss. 

Fuck, you wanted him. You needed him. 

“Yeah,” he growled, looking down at your closely folded legs, “that’s not gonna work for me." 

Faster than you could react, his irises flashed red as he bound you with his capture weapon, spreading your legs for better access. You squeaked pitifully in surprise, much to his satisfaction.

"Gotcha,” he chuckled, hands holding the fabric out to either side of you. He groaned at the sight. You chest heaving with need, eyes wide, legs spread open like a book before him. It sent a rush of adrenaline flooding through his veins. 

Oh, the things he wanted to do to you. 

“You really are considerate,” he purred, quirking a brow to look up at you, “Did you wear a skirt hoping I’d do this?“

You knew he didn’t need an answer. He was getting off on watching you writhe beneath him, and you loved every second of it. You’d half expected him to chide you for wearing something so unsuitable in cold weather, but thankfully he seemed to be thinking with his other head for the time being. 

He pushed down hard on your shoulder, urging you to lay flat on your back, your legs still held open wide by the strong fabric. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he relished in your helpless appearance.

"This is just how I imagined you. Aching, on display, and ready for me to inspect.” He clicked his tongue, pondering over his options. “I think since you’re so partial to formality, you should continue calling me, 'Mr. Aizawa, 'Sensei,’ and, 'Sir.’ Do you understand,(Y/n)?”

You’re so high on adrenaline and dopamine all you can focus on is your unending need to be fucked senseless. You nodded, but he shook his head. “That’s not an answer, princess.”

“Y-yes Mr. Aizawai, Sir.”

"There you go.” he groaned, blood rushing to his already stiffening cock, “You always were a fast learner.”

“W-wait,” you tried to protest as he wrapped one end of the scarf around his own shoulder, freeing his left hand to toy with your dripping folds.

“Shhh… Let your teacher get a good look at you.” A violent blush claimed your cheeks and you squirmed against the restraints. Fuck, he was so close, staring right at your quivering pussy with darkened eyes. “Be bashful all you want, I see everything just fine.”

Steady fingers reached forward, confident as they pulled your panties to the side to reveal your puffy pink lips. You tensed up at the sudden vulnerability, exposed for his viewing pleasure and powerless to close your legs and hide it.

His lips pursed to form a low whistle.

“Damn… to think you were hiding something so perfect from me this whole time. What a pretty little pussy you have… You tense up when I look at it,” he groaned, tilting his head slightly, “the way it squeezes around nothing… so eager. it makes me want to sink my cock into you.”

Your hands flew to your face in a failed attempt to shield your embarrassment and stifle the shameless moan that ripped through your body. It felt like a fire was sparking to life between your legs with every second you withered under his lustful gaze.

His thumb grazed your opening, collecting just enough dew to prime your clit for him to rub.

"Ahhh, M-Mister Aizawa, pleeease.”

He gently stroked the swollen bud, steadily tapping and flicking, watching your hips buck to the rhythm as you twitched with every jolt emanating from the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Just making sure it’s nice and ready for me.” His palm turned upward and he took the time to drink in your lewd expression before sliding a middle and ring finger inside your aching walls, curling them into the soft flesh that made you squeal. He cursed when he felt your walls cling to him, coating his fingers in your juices.

“S-Sensei, Ahh.”

“Mmm. That’s it. Melt around my fingers, kitten.”

The pet name brought you higher than you thought possible. Your eyes rolled back and your ass arched off the table. You needed him deeper and your greedy cunt was begging for more.

“Yeah… that’s a good girl.” He was intoxicated by the image of you mewling and begging while he twisted his skilled fingers, thrusting them into you over, and over again. Your cries become more desperate as he quickened the pace, fuelled by the high pitched sounds tumbling from your throat.

“Please, Sirrr” you pleaded breathlessly. 

"Please what,(Y/n)?”

“Don’t stop -ah- it feels so good~”

His lips curled as he left you empty, nearly causing you to cry at the loss of contact.

“Sorry kid, but I’m a bit selfish.” Aizawa tied the ends of his scarf to the table legs, restraining your entire lower body, then pulled up a chair to position himself in front of your wide-open legs.

“That’s better,” he grumbled, pleased with his new position, “now I can get a good look at you.”

“That’s so embarrassing, stoppp” It was no use. You couldn’t move your legs against his capture weapon and the loss of control only worked to further soak your eager cunt.

“Sorry, no can do. My little girl’s pussy is way too cute not to look at.

“His” little girl?

Your heart leaped in your chest but you didn’t have time to revel in the moment.  His head dipped and he tore a small hole in your panties with his canine before ripping them from you.

"What are you doing?!”

“They were in my way. I couldn’t risk letting you escape by untying you first.” a mischevious grin split his face and it had your hair standing on end. Fuck, he was such a tease. “It was the only logical option." 

He pulled the tattered fabric to one side, leaving you completely bare. Blood rushed to his cock and a carnal growl rolled from him as his hungry eyes consumed the quivering pink flesh between your folds.

"You see,” -he propped his elbow on the table, resting his cheek lazily in one hand, starting to work against your silky walls with the other- “when I make you cum, I think I deserve to see every little shudder and throb this pretty cunt makes. Don’t you agree?”

Again you try the restraints against your thighs. 

“Tsk, tsk. See? I knew you couldn’t be trusted. Can’t have you being bashful and interrupting my show.”

You’re filled in an instant when he plunged his skilled fingers deep and your back arched off the table, head tossed back in an unrestrained moan. You were helpless against the skilled digits, grunting and whimpering as he worked you up to a peak. 

“I think this puffy clit needs some attention…” He leaned forward, pressing his tongue to the neglected bud. You moan loudly as he licks in rhythm with his beckoning fingers. Lips wrapped around the swollen bundle of nerves and he groaned against it, eyes closed as his mind swam in a lustful haze.

“Fuuuuck yes Mr. Aizawa.”

“My, my, such foul language from such a good girl. Are you maybe a little naughtier than you let on?”

You trembled as his fingers dove deeper, rubbing firmly on your g-spot. Wet, warm walls squeezed hard around the invading digits. Your hips rolled and you chanted his name like a mantra. Scruffy lips vibrated against your clit as he moaned into your pussy, your mewls of pleasure and the sweet taste of your arousal going straight to his aching cock. He pulled back briefly to notice your tensing and quivering muscles.

“Ohh… you’re getting close.” He licks your clit again, pinching it briefly between his teeth.

“P-Please don’t stop… Daddy!” 

Oh fuck, you didn’t mean to say it. But it just came out.  

His head snapped up at the name.

“Oh shit. Daddy? FUCK,” his movements began again with renewed purpose and he was about to lose his damned mind, “fuck yeah babygirl cum on my tongue.”

He wrapped his lips around the bundle of nerves once more, pairing his sucking with skilled flicks of his tongue. He committed fully to pushing you over the edge and you lost yourself in the sensation. You cried out his name, jerking your hips as much as you’re able with them bound. His free hand reached up to play with your over-sensitive nipples at just the right time and you exploded around him. Your moans were shameless as you flooded his tongue and palm with your juices. His pace slowed and he rode out your orgasm, relishing in every last throb before withdrawing his hand in favor of smoothing his hands up your trembling thighs as he left one more appreciative kiss on your pussy.  

You lay spent and satisfied, panting heavily.

“Well well, someone’s happy.” He said with a grin,. “What do you say?”

“Thank you s-sir,"  you barely managed to choke out the phrase. 

"Mmm, that’s it. Come here.” He walks to where your head lays at the edge of the table and brushes his fingers on your lips.

“Clean them off for me.”

Your heart jumped and goosebumps spread over your skin, but you happily obeyed, lavishing your tongue over the digits. His breath hitched when your eyes fluttered open and you stared up at him through your lashes. 

“Good girl. Fuck, (y,n) you looked so beautiful like that.” 

You softened under him, melting at the adoring look in his eyes. His nose nuzzled against yours briefly before he pecked you softly on the lips, silky tresses of his messy hair tickling over your cheek. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, still in a stupor from the intensity of your release. 

“Good.” 

A calloused thumb stroked your cheek. Shouta leaned down to your ear, letting warm breath breeze over your skin.

“I liked that little pet name…” 

Aizawa hummed, positioning himself so that his crotch was level with your head. Dark eyes gazed down at you with that strict, all-too-familiar expression he wore as your teacher all those years ago. 

“Then wouldn’t it be polite to repay my generosity?“

Folks announcing they're leaving Tumblr because they're unhappy with the Twitter clone dashboard on desktop. (I don't blame you, it's broken af.) Meanwhile, the day this hellsite finally does close, staff are going to have to pry me out of the air vents like a rabid raccoon that's adapted to survive on drinking air conditioning coolant and whatever trash is left lying around in the breakroom.

hey it's my first time requesting so idk if this is the correct way to do it but...

could I request dazai with a darling that always tries to outsmart him (but fails)

Thanks for the request!

Warning for Violence (Blood, Attempts to kill/immobilize), Sexual Content (Boners)

»»———————— ♡ ————————««      

♡ It really only makes you more adorable in his eyes. There you are, grumbling in a corner, hatching your plans, while Dazai watches you with a grin on his face. He knows about the few items you snatched and hid in your pillowcase. Sometimes he ignores them on purpose, so it's a surprise to see what you're up to. But if he does catch a glance, he usually figures out your plans. Sometimes he slips in some bobby pins or the one thing you miss so your plan can work, just to make things more exciting for the both of you before waiting for you to act on it.

♡ Some plans involve merely escaping, Dazai always waiting for you to poke your head out of the chosen door or window, waving and congratulating you for your attempt before stuffing you back inside. The real fun only begins when you start getting physical. Knocking him out, spiking his tea with the meds he provided, and "accidentally" left out in the open. He pretends to be out cold while your hands roam through his pockets, finding nothing but dust and candy while you search for a key. It's something Dazai could get used to, having you explore him so thoroughly, but you always realize much too quickly he's awake, as he can't help his pants from straining against his crotch. When you look up at his face, staring into his wide-open eyes, all he says is, "Oopsie! You got me!"

♡ Getting stabbed is a little annoying, admittedly, but seeing you struggle to actually kill him is all the more exciting for him. You hate him, you want to escape, but you're not a born-and-raised murderer. It doesn't come easily to you to actually slit his throat, but damn, you're so sexy, straddling him, threatening his life with the butterknife he saw you swipe from the breakfast table. His hands roam your legs, hips bucking and making you gasp as you tell him to stop fucking moving. Still, his grin only grows unnervingly wide by the time he reaches your wrists, grabbing them and flipping you over. Before you know it, Dazai has you pinned under him, blood trickling from a shallow cut in his cheeks while he asks if you're ready to die with him, considering how easily you decided to kill him. It awakens the psycho in him, making you wish you wouldn't have acted on this dumb idea.

♡ Even Dazai understands how frustrating it is when nothing ever works, so he occasionally lets you 'win'. It's more of a reward for good behavior or when it's your 'anniversary' with him, but he pretends to mess up, letting you slip from his grasp, counting to ten before pursuing you. It has led to some wonderful chases around town and even through parks and forests, there being no better feeling than finally catching up to you, throwing you against a wall, and through breathless gasps, kissing you until you both almost pass out. Nothing could ever describe the feeling of lifting you up into his arms and carrying you back to his hideout, knowing you are his and can never escape him, no matter how much you try and cry in his arms. It's liberating to know nothing can take you from him, no plan, and no one else, and once the door closes behind your two, he'll get to have fun punishing you like you deserve.

The Hierophant - Day 6

Day 6: Professor / Student

Aizawa x F!Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Kinks: Professor / Student, Public sex

Notes: The banner was edited by me, photo can be found here. If you would like to be tagged in future fics of mine and writing events, comment with the url tag you would like me to use on this post!

Tags: @redbeanteax​, @cherrycolabomb​, @dabilove27​, @aly-insanity​, @khemz1312​, @violeteyesandpurplehair​, @mattiekins​, @bnhaxxassociates​, @winterpersimmons​, @xkatiex​, @thirstyforthem2dmen​, @katsontherun

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

Professor Aizawa’s office looked just as anyone would expect from him: plain, practical and with no sign of personal touches. His office was purely for work and that was it. Every inch was nondescript, white walls, bare of all decoration. Even his desk was unimpressive, only sporting some tests from a previous class he was grading with a glaring red pen and a computer. You swept your eyes over the small pile of papers, catching sight of a very familiar test with very familiar hand writing.

You gulped.

Keep reading

I have such a kink for size/strength difference, like if you're bigger or stronger than me I want to try to be on top just so you can flip me over, pin me down, and tell me "oh baby, you're much too small for that," "I'm twice as strong as you." FUCK, that gets me

his new high

Warnings: DUB-CON, Organized-Crime, Drug (Shimmer) Use, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness

Summary ~ You soothed his pain in a way shimmer never could, and now he’d rather destroy your dreams than watch you leave his arms.

The first time Silco saw you, it was in the fading light of a backroom chem lab. You were bent over a half-conscious man, stitching his torn arm with mechanical precision. His screams filled the room, curses and desperate pleas, but you remained calm, steady, your voice soothing. There was no hesitation in your movements, no tremor in your hands. You didn’t look up when he entered. Not even when the room fell into that particular kind of silence, the delirious ramblings of the injured man fading as he slipped into unconsciousness. It was the kind of silence that settled when someone powerful walks in.

You didn’t fear him. That was your first mistake.

“Most people flinch,” he said eventually, his voice a smooth rich timber. One eye gleamed with an unsettling interest. The other was ruined, unblinking.

You tied off the final stitch and set the needle aside. “Then most people aren’t busy saving someone’s life.”

Silco smiled, it wasn’t a kind smile.

He started showing up more often, sometimes to have you patch up one of his men, stitch a wound, or set a broken limb. Then came the calls for help with research, concoctions, healing. Gradually, he began to trust you enough to assist him in administering shimmer to his red eye. He always had a reason. But over time, those reasons began to wear thin. You were sharp enough to notice

“You don’t need me, Silco,” you told him one evening, after his lieutenant left with freshly bandaged ribs. “You just want something.”

He stepped closer, the scent of smoke and oil clinging to him, the faint metallic tang of shimmer still lingering around his skin.

“And you’re so sure that’s a bad thing?” he murmured. “Wanting something.”

The obsession wasn’t sudden. It was a drip. Slow. Poisoned.

A package on your desk one morning, a vial of rare solvent, only available in Piltover, wrapped in black silk. A gift of soft velvet-lined gloves, with a note: “To protect your hands. We can’t afford to lose them.”

A word to your landlord, suddenly, your rent dropped to nothing. "Consider it... gratitude," Silco’s voice had been like a velvet noose, tightening around you.

You told yourself you weren’t his. But his people stopped calling you by name. They started calling you Silco’s medic. Then, simply, Silco’s.

He kept coming back. Each time, it was a new wound, a dislocated shoulder, a burned hand, a poisoned operative. But he never left right after. He lingered, watching you as you worked. Sometimes, he brought rare supplies, claiming they were for your patients, but he always insisted on giving them to you directly.

He learned your rhythms. What made you laugh, when you skipped meals, how your brow creased when you were focused, how you chewed your lip when you were uncertain.

And somewhere in that quiet obsession, shimmer began collecting dust.

You never saw the moment it shifted. The moment his need for you went from admiration to something darker. Something possessive. Addictive.

One day, while you were restocking shimmer, you mentioned it, absently. “I’ve applied for a fellowship in Piltover. Medical sciences. If I get in... I’ll be gone for a while.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

You turned slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze, a cold burn against your skin. Silco was staring at you like you’d just ripped the breath from his lungs.

Piltover. The word alone was bile in his mouth.

“You want to leave?” he asked, too calm, like it was a simple question.

“For a year. Maybe two.”

“For them?”

“No. For me.”

He stepped closer. You could feel the heat of him now, the tension building between you. “You don’t need that. Everything you’ve built ... we've built, it’s here. These people need you. I need—”

He stopped himself, like he was choking on the words.

You stared. “You need...?”

He looked away, jaw clenched, before answering coldly, “The undercity needs you.”

But the lie hung in the air, thick and suffocating, like smoke.

After that, things changed. The guards around your clinic doubled. Your mail stopped arriving.

And one morning, you found a letter from the Academy , torn at the seal, empty, discarded in your trash bin.

You confronted him, and he didn’t even pretend to be innocent.

“You belong here,” he said, they will use you. Break you. Strip you of everything that makes you... you.”

“And you won’t?” you shot back.

He stepped closer. So close that you could feel his breath on your lips. “No,” he whispered. “I’ll worship you.”

“You belong here,” he repeated, the words trembling with a quiet madness that sent a chill skittering down your spine. “With the undercity. With me. Piltover would ruin you.....strip away everything that makes you… you.”

“Ruin me?” you shot back, your voice rising as you took a defiant step toward him. “You’re the one caging me! The guards, the missing mail, this—” You thrust the torn letter toward him, your hand shaking. “You don’t get to decide my life!”

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Don’t I?” he murmured, closing the gap between you with a predator’s grace. The heat of his body was suffocating, the scent of him, smoke, oil, and that faint metallic tang, wrapping around you like a chain. His hand rose, fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that felt like a lie, a trap disguised as affection. “Everything I’ve done, the rare solvents, the gloves, your rent, it was for you. Because you’re mine.”

You jerked away, but the examination table pressed against the backs of your thighs, cold and unyielding, trapping you in his orbit. “I’m not yours,” you said, your voice wavering despite your resolve. “I’m not some… thing you can own, Silco. This is obsession, it’s not love. It’s control.”

His hand froze, his expression flickering...pain, anger, then something deeper, more unhinged. “Control?” he echoed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “No, my dear. It’s devotion.” He stepped closer, his body crowding yours, his breath hot against your lips. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The way we fit. The way you calm the storm inside me.” His fingers slid to the nape of your neck, tangling in your hair, not pulling but holding you in place, anchoring you to him. “You’re my salvation.”

Your heart pounded, a traitor that refused to still. You wanted to push him away, to scream, but his proximity, the raw intensity of his gaze, stirred something within you, fear, yes, but also a flicker of something else, something you couldn’t name. “You’re wrong,” you said, but the words lacked conviction, your voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushed the pulse point at your throat, and you hated the way your body responded, a shiver racing through you, warm and treacherous.

“Liar,” he purred, his lips grazing your ear, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. “You’ve never flinched from me before, not when you stitched my men, not when you held my gaze while dosing my eye. Why now?” His hand tightened in your hair, tilting your head back, exposing the vulnerable curve of your throat. His lips brushed there, a fleeting kiss that made you gasp, your hands instinctively grabbing his coat, unsure whether to push or pull. “Because you know what I want… and part of you wants it too.”

“No,” you said, louder, shoving against his chest. But he was immovable, a wall of lean muscle and unshakable will. His free hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers splaying across the bare skin of your waist, possessive and warm. The touch was electric, and you shuddered, caught between revulsion and a spark that flickered low in your belly. “Silco, stop,” you said, your voice trembling. “This isn’t right.”

His eyes softened for a moment, a glimpse of the man who’d once brought you rare supplies, who’d watched you work with quiet reverence. But the darkness surged back, drowning that fleeting light. “Right?” he murmured, his voice a low growl that vibrated through you. “Nothing in this world is right. But you… you’re perfect.” His lips crashed against yours, not gentle but desperate, hungry, as if he could consume you, bind you to him through sheer force of will.

You turned your head, breaking the kiss, but he didn’t stop. His mouth moved to your jaw, your neck, leaving a trail of bruising kisses that drew a whimper from your lips. His hand slid higher, pushing your shirt up to expose the soft skin of your stomach, his fingers tracing the curve of your ribs with a reverence that belied the coercion. “Silco, please,” you said, but the words were a plea, not a command, and he heard it.

“You say no, but your body begs for me,” he whispered, his voice thick with triumph. His hand cupped your breast through the thin fabric of your undershirt, his thumb brushing over your nipple, coaxing it to a peak. He groaned against your skin, the sound raw and primal, and you hated the way it sent a pulse of heat between your thighs. “You’re mine,” he said, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric, his touch both gentle and demanding, a paradox that left you dizzy.

You pushed at him again, but your hands faltered, your resolve fraying under the onslaught of sensation. His other hand moved lower, deft fingers unbuttoning your pants, slipping inside to find you already wet, a betrayal that made him groan low in his throat. “See?” he said, his voice a dark caress. “You want this. You want me.”

Tears stung your eyes as you shook your head, but your body was a traitor, responding to his touch with a heat you couldn’t deny. His fingers teased you, slow and deliberate, coaxing pleasure you didn’t want to feel. “Silco, please,” you said, but the words were softer now, your voice breaking as he pushed you toward an edge you didn’t want to cross.

“Tell me you want this,” he said, pulling back to meet your gaze, his good eye dark with need, the ruined one a void that seemed to swallow your protests. “Tell me, and I’ll make it good for you.”

You stared at him, torn between the fear in your heart and the heat in your body. “I…” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You didn’t know what you wanted. The uncertainty was a crack in your armor, and Silco seized it.

He kissed you again, softer this time, but no less possessive, his tongue exploring your mouth as his fingers worked you, pushing you closer to a precipice. When he pulled back, he lifted you onto the examination table, the cold metal biting into your bare skin, baring you to his hungry gaze. His hands were everywhere, on your thighs, your hips, your breasts, claiming every inch of you as he spread your legs and stepped between them.

His trousers were already undone, his cock hard and heavy against your thigh, and you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders, unsure whether you were pulling him closer or pushing him away. “I’ll worship you,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he positioned himself at your entrance. He entered you slowly, deliberately, each inch a claim, a promise, a curse. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you, the stretch both painful and intoxicating.

He moved with a reverence that belied the coercion, his thrusts deep and measured, his hands cradling your face as if you were something precious, something sacred. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice a low chant as he drove into you, each movement pushing you closer to an edge you couldn’t escape. And as pleasure built despite your protests, you felt yourself unraveling, giving in to the storm that was Silco, his touch, his voice, his obsession.

He didn’t shoot shimmer anymore.

He had traded one addiction for another.

You were his new high now.

There was a mouse in the house

Haarlep x Female Tav and Raphael x Female Tav (kind of) | NSFW

Warnings: cunniligus, p in v sex, voyeurism kind of? So I have not been able to play this game yet but this man has possessed me and something happened and yeah. I am going purely off a couple of youtube videos, vibes and horniness. It all started when Haarlep said that the host of they body they use feels everything they are doing which obviously means Raphael was well aware of what was going on in the boudoir.

He felt it the moment she set foot into the House of Hope. His fist tightened around the glass of wine he was holding and his artfully designed smile turned brittle at the edges as he felt the not unremarkable wards around his sanctuary open for an unauthorised portal. The potential client he was currently entertaining was none the wiser to his sudden inattention but he had hardly been paying attention to their prattling to begin with. His little mouse had decided to bite the hand that would have so willingly fed it, if she had only agreed to his generous offer. He hated to admit it even now but her continued refusal to work with him, even when he had already offered her so much had stung. He had allowed his ill advised affection for this particular client to cloud his typically impeccable judgement and as he should have foreseen, it was now being thrown back in his face. 

There was only one thing she could possibly be after, that which he would have freely given, well not freely but for such a reasonable price. But his house was not so hospitable to intruders. There was time yet to finish his business here. It may not be the soul he wanted but it was a soul nonetheless. He refocuses his attention on the task at hand, carefully choosing his words as he weaves his web around the man sitting before him. It’s easy work so he has to try that little bit harder to temper the simmering rage that is growing inside him. But then it is done, business concluded and he can see to his little thieving mouse.

As he is preparing to travel he feels the first shiver run down his spine. Surely Haarlep was not entertaining when there was a little thief on the loose and yet there was no mistaking that feeling. He pauses in the doorway of his rented room, uncharacteristically affected by his Incubus’ antics but something tells him to wait. There were only a few plausible possibilities for who could be the target of his servants attentions but before he can squash it his traitorous mind informs him exactly who he wants it to be. As soon as her name flits across his mind his body begins to betray him. 

His desperation for her to sign his contract, become one of his souls, well deep down he had been aware that this masked a much deeper, more primal want. How he wanted to own her body and mind as much as he craved ownership of her soul. Better not to dwell on those things, he had told himself, over and over. His needs were simple and really he could only rely on himself so why even risk letting anyone else close. But as he succumbs to the ghostly feeling of his body being touched by another he knows he is at the brink of his undoing. 

With a snap of his fingers his clothes are gone and as he falls back onto the suddenly convenient bed in his rented rooms, he concentrates on the vague tingling caresses in a way he hasn’t indulged in such a long time, until they begin to feel almost tangible. It seems his incubus is taking his time with this one, feeling and tasting as much as he can. He feels soft warm skin against his tongue, the taste unfortunately alluding him but he can almost imagine it as he recalls the spicy earthy scent that lingers around her every time they meet. In his hand he feels a soft breast cupped in his palm, a pebbled nipple circled by the pad of his thumb. He yearns to pinch it between his fingers, pull and twist it until she was gasping her pleasure into his mouth but he is restricted by whatever it is Haarlep choses to do next and when he feels her other perfect nipple against his tongue he can’t suppress a groan.

The floodgates were opened as his phantom teeth nibbled at her, every thought he had buried about her ample bosom, always so perfectly displayed in her coquettishly revealing armour, situated just so to tease and tantalise. He had never allowed the thought to linger previously, as well as any potential attraction she may have had towards him but now, knowing that she had requested Haarlep to take his form was confirmation enough. He could picture her as easily as he could feel her, she would be completely nude, the incubus would have insisted, spread out against his crimson sheets, her skin glowing in a beautiful contrast. He would find every mark and blemish on her left by any other inferior being and cover them with his own, made by his claws or his teeth until there was no doubt who she belonged to. He only hoped that Haarlep mapped her body as carefully as he needed so he could explore them all at his leisure. The smooth expanses of skin passing over his hands and lips filled him with hope that that was exactly what was happening at his house. 

He was more aroused then he could remember but he needed more even as he was hesitant to take things further himself. His cock even in his human shell stood erect between his legs, untouched though it was, and he had to fist his hands into the coarse sheets below him to avoid ending this encounter before it had truly begun. He felt his tongue trace what he only could guess was her belly button and his heart began to race at the destination the incubus was journeying towards. He settles back against the pillows as he imagined himself settling between her legs, his fingers spreading open her sweet cunt which would be already glistening with the slick evidence of her arousal just tempting him to taste. He feels her folds against the flat of his tongue, his own watering mouth simulating her wetness for him. He doesn’t need to but he finds himself simulating the movements he can feel, rolling his tongue against thin air as he would if he had her there to feast on himself.  

His hands must leave her thighs because he is all of a sudden blindsided by the vice like heat around his fingers. How excited she must be for the incubus’ thick fingers to sink into her with so little resistance although her cunt doesn’t seem to want to relinquish them as she clenches tight around them as they slide out of her. So close, she must be so close to cuming for him and he writhes, desperate to hear the sounds she would make as he pushed her to the point of oblivion. How her laboured breathing might feel against his heated skin, how she might moan or gasp or scream his name in her ecstasy. The feel of her around his fingers and tongue is suddenly gone, ripping him gasping from his fantasy and he feels bereft, sucking in heaving breaths as he remembers where he is but he is not left adrift for long, his hands finding contact with her soft skin once again. The feel of her grounds him even as the real sensation belongs to his incubus. In his fevered arousal he struggles to catch up with the pair of them, heated hands grasping at his shoulders, frantic lips biting at his own, a strong leg hooking over his hip pulling him in as close as he can get.   

It’s only when he feels the head of his cock lining up to her entrance that everything comes back into focus. He knows Haarlep and he knows exactly how he will tease her now he has her exactly where he wants her. He feels the drag of her folds over the head of his cock coating himself in her slick and stroking against her clit. He hopes she is begging now, begging to be filled by him. He would keep her waiting too, until there were tears falling down her cheeks and she could do nothing but whimper his name. He feels the tip breach her and then stop. He can’t bring himself to move as he waits with bated breath for her to be forced to take him fully and he waits and waits. He feels the spasms in his abdomen as everything is pulled taught and he spares a thought as he often does for his incubus’ impossible will power as he resists the temptation of her clenching hole. 

He begins to move so slowly, easing his thick cock into her inch by inch. Every time he thrusts he pushes a little deeper. She opens up for him so beautifully and he yearns to feel how wet she is for himself. He can’t help thrusting in time with Haarlep as he imagines her there with him now, riding his needy cock and having to work her way down his length until she could take all of him. He is straining against his horribly empty bed when his cock is finally sheathed in her soft wet heat and even the ghost of the sensation is enough to finish him. His climax hits him like a wall, muscles clenching as the pleasure shudders through his body. He arches off the bed as he spills his seed across his own chest, too high on his pleasure to even begin to feel shame at finishing untouched.  

He should move, he knows this but his limbs feel heavy and light simultaneously and he wishes to bask in this feeling for a moment longer. It is as he catches his breath he realises that the portal his little thief had used to breach his walls has closed. How curious. He acknowledged that he had lain here perhaps a little too long but surely not long enough for them to fight their way through the house and claim their stolen prize. Perhaps this little adventure of hers needn’t be the end of their game. He sits up preparing to rebuild his composure and return to assess the damage her and her party of misfits had left in their wake but he can’t keep the smile from his face. ‘Oh little mouse, you know not what you have started.’

shoutout to all the people who read and consume nsfw instead of fluff because the intimacy of being loved gently is scarier than sex 🙏🏽