MASTERLIST:

BITE

BATHROOM

TEACHER'S PET (collab with Lina)

ORGASM DRABBLE

WRITING INFO:

yes, i write smut. so, minors, dni!

pls send requests :’) i’m a slow writer but i will get to them!

kinks will be written about (bdsm/bondage, spit, edging, pet names, etc). all will be tagged accordingly.

i will not write r*pe, noncon, incest, p*dophilia, age play, age regression, necrophilia, zoophilia, or any kink that blurs the lines of consent under ANY circumstances. if you request anything relating to this, you will be blocked. there is a reason i explicitly consent write into my fics.

i only write fic about people who have not come out saying that rpf makes them uncomfortable. if someone does come out and says it crosses a boundary, i will delete all fics i have about them. their comfort comes first, even if they don’t personally see my work.

With a toothy grin, his hand shoots down to the fabric between your thighs, lightly pawing at it. The slickness of your want drenches the tips of his fingers with each swipe, the heat in your core building with desire as he toys with your panties. Even with your wish so close to coming true, all you can focus on is him.

Strands of silver hair dangle over Damien's eyes, him being too preoccupied to swipe them away. With each shift of his hand, his shoulders dip ever-so slightly in response, his muscles contracting against the taut skin. The soft light of the bedside lamp only emphasizes each movement, making it impossible for you to look away. His heather grey boxers encase his lower half perfectly, the outline of his erection highlighted against his lower abdomen. Saliva pooled your tongue at the thought of what he'd taste like- how he'd sound while he thrust his cock into your mouth with fervour.

Breathy moans fluttered out of your lips as Damien's index finger curls around the ruby red fabric covering your pussy. Slowly, he pulls it aside, his knuckles grazing against the part of your lips. Shivers dance down your spine, pulling your back into an arch, bringing you back to reality.

With his free hand, Damien delicately splits you open, revealing your beauty.

"God, you're gorgeous." Damien murmurs, his eyes glued to your core. "You're so fucking gorgeous, and I'm so happy that I'm the one that gets to wreck you."

Before you're able to fully comprehend, an unfamiliar pressure fills your cunt as a finger slides inside, lightly twisting to reach the soft spot of your walls.

"D-Damien!" His name escapes you, your eyes darting to the connection point between himself and you.

A smile returns to his lips in response, his fangs overlapping his light pink bottom lip. Glimmers of lust dance through his dilated pupils as he draws his index back out, bringing it up to his lips.

"You're so wet for me, princess. What a good girl you are." He moans between licks, your sweetness spreading across his tastebuds.

With one last lick, he pops his finger back out and immediately drives it back into your cunt. Your walls crash around him, attempting to get every ounce of satisfaction from his subtle pumps in and out. Whatever lingering fears of giving yourself completely to Damien vanish with the entry of his second finger, causing you to almost double over in pleasure. Pornographic moans spill from your lips as your hips subconsciously rock into his hand, the base of his palm pressing against your clit with each thrust.

"S-so-so happy it's you, Damien. Wanted it to be you." Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you continue to unfurl at his touch.

Gently, his hand grips your left thigh, immobilizing it under the weight of his digits.

Years after you expected to be done with school, here you are, dressed up in a schoolgirl uniform participating in a Spelling Bee for the sake of Smosh Summer Games. Shayne mirrored you on the other side of the stage, standing in front of a microphone in a boys uniform as well. While this was not the usual costuming for both of your SSG personas, production argued that these outfits would add to the comedic effect of the challenge– spelling out different Smosh and school-related words. 

“Loser has to meet resident rule follower, Mr. Haas, in detention, where they will only be able to leave after they have successfully solved all the riddles. It’s an escape room of sorts,” Spencer proceeds to explain the parameters to Alex, who gives him a thumbs up from a few rows up in the auditorium. Before the camera pans to you, you manage to sneak a peak towards Damien. The white button up remains taut against his bicep as it raises behind his head, his heavy lids shielding his eyes just enough where you don’t know if he’s looking back. 

“Up first is team Hollywood Hotdogs.”

Quickly, you avert your gaze from Damien and onto Spencer, who has made his way to the adjudication table three rows into the audience. With a smile and a nod, you let him know you’re ready, and that Shayne is going down. 

“Your first word is ‘ruler.’”

Flashes of Damien bending you over his knee last week race through your mind causing blush rising on your cheeks. Quickly, as if the people around you could read your mind, you blink it away, refocusing on the task at hand. That $1 will be going straight into Arasha’s pocket, suck it Alex Tran.

~

“I knew I was gonna lose, yaknow,” you mumble as you stroll alongside your summer teacher, “I was never the best at spelling, and it doesn’t help that half of those words are made up. There have been way too many spellings of Detective Wheresmakofi, how was I supposed to remember which one is actually canon?”

A low chuckle ripples through Damien’s chest as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, the cotton of his button up skimming along the nape of your neck leaving goosebumps erect in its wake. Notes of cedar and coffee radiate from him, followed by whatever flavour of gum he was chewing on while waiting for his queue from Alex in the crowd. 

“I know. I could have helped you study, but I think that’s showing favouritism. Plus, that means we get to spend more time together, so is it really a loss?” The grin on his face drips into the tone of his voice.

“Definitely not, you know how seeing you in that sweater vest makes me want to listen to you lecture me about proper sentence structure while I keep your cock warm between my thighs.” Gingerly, you reach out and palm the semi-bulge in his slacks. “You like this skirt, hm?” 

“What can I say, knowing how easy it would be to bend you over and fuck you on the spot does things to me. There was a reason why I sat so far away while you were filming, I had to take my glasses off to make sure I couldn’t see how perfectly it swished each time you walked up to the mic to recite your words.” He brushes your hand away and subconsciously your pinky finger finds its way through one of his belt loops. “While I pride myself on being a gentleman, I am still a man afterall.” 

You slow down to a halt, Damien following your lead. For a second you take it all in. Him all in. The streams of sunlight emitting from the windows at the end of the hall dance through his freshly black hair, highlighting the wild ends that have become progressively more and more unruly throughout the 10 hour shoot day. The purple tie around his neck is slightly askew, creating a bump under his patterned sweater vest. Wrinkles wave up and around his crotch from hours of sitting in a folding chair, perfectly circling around the zipper. Wetness dribbles from your pussy to your panties, a wet spot forming right where you need him.

“Then show me what you wanted to do so badly, Mr. Haas. Teach me a fucking lesson.” You ghost his ear, leaning into him just enough to push your breast against his bicep.

Next thing you know his hands grip your waist, turning you as his nails dig into the exposed sides of your flesh. With a beat of franticness, the door beside you flings open, an empty classroom flying into view.

“You don’t get to tease me while you’re wearing that plaid skirt, not today.” A growl rumbles through him as he pushes you onto the closest desk, immediately finding refuge between your legs. “Are you okay with this, though?”

A soft moan escapes from your lips as his restrained cock brushes against the growing dampness. “Yes. Everyone else is gone. Please.” 

“Now, where do I start?” The hairs on your neck stand at attention as his breath sweeps across your bare skin, his lips tracing small circles below your jaw. “You should’ve been able to spell all of those words. I know you know better.” Damien’s hand slowly caresses up your thigh, stopping just where your skirt ends. “My poor, forgetful girl. Maybe you need to be shown how your actions have consequences.” 

Spinning away, Damien strides to the large desk at the back of the classroom. After rummaging through some drawers, he struts back with a long piece of yellow plastic in one hand. A breath escapes your lips as memories of last time come flooding back, being shown who was in charge as you were bent over his knee, ass high in the air with skin so sensitive Damien’s breath made you twitch. 

“You know what to do, don’t you?” “Ye-yes, sir.” You whine, sliding off of the desk before laying on it on your stomach, arching your back to give him a better angle.

Without warning, a sharp smack lands on your clothed ass. “That’s Mr. Haas.”

The sting ripples through your cheeks, sending shockwaves to your ever-needy clit. In stark contrast to the sting, Damien’s free thumb finds the reddening skin, the tip of it slowly dancing around the growing mark. With a soft clink, the ruler finds the empty spot on the table beside you.

“As much as I want to fuck you like this– ass in the air, skirt on– I think it would be more fun to show you how bad students get dealt with.”

His presence becomes heavy behind you, thick with the lust that is now caught in your throat. With a sharp inhale Damien’s hand grips a handful of your locks, forcing you up and to face him. Desire paints his irises a different, deeper shade of brown as he glares into yours. Subconsciously, you shut your eyes, adrenaline drumming through your veins. Rough, just like you want it. 

“You don’t get to hide from me. Open your eyes.” A demand– something that he only does when he’s desperate for the feeling of your cunt pulsating around his dick. 

Another drop of warmth coats your panties at the thought of your legs folded around his waist, back against the cold plastic of the blue desk beneath you. His mass inside you, all around you, consuming every thought and every breath that escapes your lungs as he rhythmically plows into your tightness. As if he could read your mind, his thumb finds the tip of your chin, snapping your head straight ahead. Your eyes open, pushing you back into the present.

“If you’re not thinking about what I’m about to do to you, I don’t want to hear it.” “I-I promise I was. Thinking about your cock, mister. How good it's going to feel buried inside. Please.” A sigh escapes your lips with the last plea, desperation sweeping your insides, settling in the pit of your stomach. It’s heavy, swirling with the copious amount of lust blooding your veins.

A breathy laugh leaves Damien’s pout, the usual sheen in his eyes briefly returning before his gaze once again lands on the skirt draped over the top of your thighs, the red and black pattern seemingly marking the spot where his treasure is buried. 

Gingerly, his fingers trail up the length of your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine. With a quick sweep of his palm, the fabric that was once covering the rest of your leg is now flipped up, resting on the lower part of your abdomen. The delicate blood red lace of your panties is all that remains covering you.

“All dressed up for me, hm?” He whispers, not daring to look away from the bow that rests in the centre of the waistband. “You must’ve planned this, you naughty girl. Failing and bringing me the long way to the parking lot so we were the last ones here.” 

“No, Mr. Haas. Just got lost.”

“Likely story.” 

With a nudge from Damien, you lift your ass off the table in order for him to take off your panties. He goes slow, as if he’s unwrapping the most delicate present. Subconsciously, your hips sway in an attempt to speed up the process. Anything to get him near your pussy faster. Anything to get closer to screaming his name. 

“Now, now, patience is the key, darling.” He cooes between your legs.

Gently, he wraps his pointer finger around the side of the framing black lace, shimmying it down your thighs. The artificial cold of the A/C seeps into the wetness between your legs, sending a shiver down your spine as the temperature difference only heightens the sensitivity of your aching core. 

“Beautiful, as always,” Damien praises  as a light pressure begins to ignite your clit. 

His thumb dances slow, messy circles around the edge of your bud while his hazel eyes flicker with a mischievousness. That mischievousness that you usually only see when he is about to obliterate you. A moan falls out of you as the pressure intensifies with the adjusting of your hips. A sharp smack draws you out of your haze, the plastic ruler finding its home once again on the reddening cheeks of your ass.

”F-fuck,” you whine, the arch of your back deepening with each subsequent hit of the plastic against your bare skin, “Damien. That feels—” 

“So good, baby?” He grins. 

His arms find their way back around your hips, fingers drawing your skirt down to accompany your panties on the desk. His chest presses against your ass, his mouth finding the deepest part of your spine. Manically, he places sloppy kisses along your spine, his palms engulfing the entirety of your exposed cheeks.

“Do you want the sweater vest on or off this time?” He groans, his attention briefly changing from your skin to his belt. 

“O-on, always on, please.” 

A soft clink of metal hitting the tiled flooring echoes throughout the classroom as Damien realigns himself with your exposed entrance. The weight of his presence behind you becomes unbearable, knowing that at any second he can rip you apart from the inside out. With a hearty groan your hips begin to sway to your heartbeat. It’s impossible to sit still with what is coming next. 

Before you can even get a full rotation of your hips, the length of Damien’s cock engulfs every piece of you. His tip dances against your cervix as he nudges in further and further, attempting to full each inch of your opening. A loud scream sounding identical to your own emits through the room as his cockhead swirls inside you, hitting each nerve ending possible. 

“Ho-ly shit,” his voice rattles his cock with each syllable, “you feel fucking incredible.” 

”Needed to make sure fucking the Superintendent would promise my good grades.” It comes out muffled with your face pressed against the acrylic desktop. “Make detention more en-enjoyable..” 

Drool dribbles down your chin, a small puddle forming in front of your lips on the table as Damien fully retracts himself from you. Sadness is able to grab hold for a split second before it is once again whisked away by the filling sensation of him coming back.

”I can barely contain myself seeing you dressed up like this every day.” He pushes deeper. “Do you know how much of a fucking tease you are?” 

All that manages to get out of you is a strangled moan as he picks up the pace, the slapping of his balls against your thighs becoming the only thing grounding you to reality as every other sense is overwhelmed with the presence of him. 

Two of Damien’s fingers find purchase over your swollen clit. Gently, he squeezes it between his digits before rolling it between the pads of the tips. The muscles in your lower abdomen begin to tighten with each movement of his body against yours, the peak of your pleasure gradually building as you lose yourself within the moment. Where does he end and you begin? 

“I’m going t-to..” 

Immediately, Damien stops, pulling out of you, hands off your bud. 

“Not the fuck you’re not, slut. Naughty girls don’t get to cum whenever they want to. How will they learn if they do?” 

Your vision begins to get blurry as frustration rips through your pleasure, destroying the peak of the climax rippling through your abs. A strangled cry escapes your lips as Damien wraps his digits around your hipbones, pushing down one side and lifting up the other in order to flip you onto your back. You ragdoll in his palms, melting like putty at the heat of his touch contrasting to the artificial chill of the school air. 

“I want to make it so it’s hard for you to walk tomorrow, hard for you to participate in gym class…” The warmth of his eyes sends shockwaves down to your leaking entrance.

Without a moment to breathe his length bottoms out against your mound, stretching you out impossibly thin. A yelp vibrates your chest as his lips latch onto your nipple, the edge of his incisors grazing against the sensitive tip. From nothing to everything, it feels like he’s engulfing you whole. In a frantic attempt to remain in one piece your fingers wrap around the edge of his sweater vest, the itchy fabric tickling against your palm being the only thing keeping you tethered to this Earth.

“Punishment looks good on you.” Damien groans against your breast, his hot breath leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

The sight of his disheveled hair, heaving chest, and slightly askew shirt collar rekindles the dying fire in your stomach. Knowing he doesn’t want you to burst only pushes you closer to the edge as his fingers tighten around your hips as his thrusts get more and more frantic. In an attempt to distract yourself, you interlace your pointer and thumb in his messy black hair, pushing it back. As you do so, his hazel eyes interlock with yours, the heat of the moment burning in his irises. A moment of softness passes, contradicting the continuous hits of your cervix with his leaking tip.

“Obsessed wi-with the way you feel, mister.” It comes out as more of a plea than a praise, but nonetheless it pushes Damien further down his deprived spiral.

“You better be,” He hisses, pushing your hips up in the air to deepen the angle. “Because I can’t imagine the rest of my life without your pretty pussy. So perfect for me.”

The new depth causes his shaft to massage your g-spot with each movement, only furthering the inevitability of screaming his name while pulsating around his cock. A low rumble echoes through your chest as you subconsciously match his pace, hips moving in perfect sync with one another as you both frantically chase the top of satisfaction. 

“I can feel you trying to stop yourself,” Damien whines, “I want to feel it. I want to feel you cum like the fucking slut you are.”

He punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust, one that sends shockwaves through your clit. Without a second to think, your legs snap around Damien’s hips, heels finding purchase on his bare ass. Waves of pleasure dance along your senses, completely overriding any other attachment to this Earth. Praises of his name fall from your lips, followed by tearful thank you’s as he continues to buck into you, trying to drag out every ounce of satisfaction. Before you can regain your bearings, Damien leans down to your ear. 

“Can I please cum inside you?” 

Instantly, your head is going up and down frantically in an attempt to demonstrate how desperate you are to hear his moans. 

“Perfect, good girl.”

The jutting of his hips becomes more frantic than rhythmed as his climax becomes more and more tangible. The heat of his precum pools inside you as you wince with overstimulation, but refuse to stop the beauty happening on top of you. At this point, the collar of his shirt is sticking half up, his chin is glimmering in saliva from making out with your tits, and his hair is tousled beyond repair. An image that starkly contrasts the one that he is attempting to keep up during Smosh Summer Games, an image that you see in your wet dreams. An image that is only for you. 

“O-h fuck!” He yelps, his back arching as his cum shoots inside you, coating your insides. Half-heartedly he flicks his hips one more time into yours before steadily retracting from you. A trail of his seed flows from your opening, the warmth of it only heightened by the sudden cold air hitting the sensitive skin. 

“That was fucking amazing,” you sigh, sitting back up from the semi-horizontal position Damien had folded you in to get the perfect spot. 

“Oh, my poor slut, it’s not over yet. You have to clean up the mess you’ve made,” he gestures to his semi-erect cock glimmering with a mixture of both of your juices. “How else will I know that you have truly learnt your lesson?” 

Without a second thought you’re once again again on your knees. Needily, you flick your tongue out against your chin, quickly engulfing Damien’s shaft with your warm, messy mouth. The saltiness of his cum and the tangyness of yours overwhelm your tastebuds as you only pull him deeper, dribbles of saliva spilling out the corners of your mouth. Sighs of pleasure reverberate in your lungs.

As soon as it starts, it ends. Damien angles his hips away from you, drawing his cock out of you. Disappointment washes over you as you catch his eyes— a glint of mischievousness lingers as he eyes you down one last time. 

“Don’t get too greedy. We still have lots of time for me to teach you another lesson.”