Your sexual appetite is insatiable.

Synopsis: A yandere!Sirris takes advantage of your visit to his house.

Contains: gn!reader, age difference, dubcon, masturbation, scent kink, yandere!sirris

Words: 945

A/N: Reader wears a nightgown and panties, but gender or sex are never explicitly stated.

Cannot believe I started this for kinktober of last year and am only just getting around to finishing it, especially since all I had left before the month ended was minor corrections and formatting! Ugh! I am so desperately trying to commit to the various works already clogging my drafts, but it seems for each one I finally complete, another four appear! Unfortunately, these hyperfixations have a mind of their own; I’m just along for the ride, chasing the dopamine like a starved scavenger.

I hope to at some point make variations of this prompt for all the staff, but we’ll see where the dopamine takes me.

Sirris had never bothered to hide his fondness for you, singling you out in class to hear your voice and excusing tardies to keep you out of detention (none of the teachers much appreciated Leighton, so this was at least not expressly unusual). Perhaps the most incriminating evidence was his markedly bright smile whenever you were mentioned. What could he say? He found you to be pleasant company. Most charming was your inquisitive nature, always eager to learn.

Of all his students, he paid express attention to you, bewitched by the smallest of gestures. This was particularly true during the educational tapes he played. He obsessively tracked your tongue each time it darted out to wet your lips. The slight tremble of your thighs as you pressed them tightly together certainly didn't go unnoticed either. Perhaps you would have noticed the attention had you not been as transfixed by the bodies on the screen (one of which you found oddly familiar) as he was by you.

Lately, he found his thoughts more perverse than usual. Film sessions left him dissatisfied; none of his usual hookups could satisfy the growing desire. What had begun as a simple crush had turned into an infatuation—an insatiable appetite as necessary to fulfill as food or water.

Your curiosity and naivety were quite endearing. As a firm believer in tactile education, he longed to instruct you personally. He was confident that the chance would present itself; it was inevitable that you would have questions that only a reliable adult could provide answers to.

Your relationship with his son, however, proved troubling. Though he was relieved that the boy was finally loosening up, he could never have anticipated falling in love with his son's best friend. He desperately hoped that your relationship would remain platonic. You were such a wonderful influence, but Sirris knew his son could never satisfy you the way he could. You needed someone more mature and experienced to guide you.

Still, he could be patient. There was no need to rush. Even though you may be smitten with his son for now, it was only a matter of time before you realized the better option was only a stone's throw away. Just knowing it was his amateur sex tapes that made you squirm in your seat assured him of that.

An opportunity arose sooner than he’d thought.

"Dad, would it be alright if I invited my friend over for dinner? I’m a little worried they’re not getting enough to eat."

"While I've no issue with that, the shop closes rather late, and I would hate to keep them too long past dark, so why not make it a sleepover?" None the wiser to his father's twisted affections, Sydney happily agreed, seeing the logic in his suggestion.

Knowing he'd soon have you under his roof, Sirris felt a flutter of anticipation.

As the evening unfolded, Sirris played the role of courteous host, but his gaze betrayed him, straying towards your every move.

Having clumsily spilled sauce down the front of your shirt, you were sent to change into fresh garments—a lace nightgown and marching panties from the shop that had “accidentally” made their way home with him. You readily believed him, little naive thing that you were. You didn’t have to know that he had deliberately taken the garment home, the simple yet lovely sleepwear reminding him of you.

Sirris found himself restless. He wrestled with his morals for a brief while before finally deciding he was already in too deep to care.

He crept to the laundry room, shuffling through your dirtied garments set aside to be washed and dried in the morning, before locating his prize—a pair of simple yet adorable underwear. His fingers trembled as he brought the garment to his nose, raggedly whispering your name under his breath.

The scent of you filled his senses as he retreated to his room, where he surrendered to his pent-up desire, moaning softly into the fabric. He rushed to sit on the edge of his bed, neglecting to shut the door fully.

Working his strained cock out of his boxers, his thoughts drifted to hours previous; clothed in the delicate, lace nightgown, you looked as beautiful in it as he’d thought you might when he brought it home.

Your skin had glistened with the leftover dew from the shower, damp hair clinging to your neck. Those delicate lips had thanked him for his hospitality, even promising to return the favor at some point. The sight had been picturesque, almost revealing his sinister thoughts, were it not for the baggy bottoms he had slipped into shortly after returning home.

Tightly fisting his cock with the garment wrapped around it, his eyes fluttered closed, and his soft moans echoed in the darkness. Too caught up in pleasure, he didn’t notice the soft footsteps making their way down the hall, pausing at the door to peer in. He missed the eyes locked on his slender fingers pumping his exposed cock. If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed the labored breathing as you caressed yourself, equally eager.

"Ah…Damn…"

With a shuddered breath, he spilled into the garment, hips jerking erratically into his hand. While he rode out his orgasm, you gathered yourself together and quickly shuffled back to the guest room.

Bringing the soiled undergarment to his face, he shamelessly relished the combined taste of you and him before tossing it back into the basket.

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE

Give me Mason, Briar, and Darryl headcanons.

(I love them so much)

Thank you and goodnight!

Dominating Briar, Mason, and Darryl

Synopsis: Briar makes the mistake of leaving his wine unattended, Mason regrets relinquishing control, and Darryl is woefully overstimulated.

Contains: gn!reader, all characters are gender neutral (briar and darryl have a penis but genitals are otherwise ambiguous), bondage, dacryphilia, dom reader, drugging, dubcon, gagging, noncon, oral, overstimulation, somnophilia, toy usage

Words: 1,282

A/N: Shamefully late! Apologies!

The desire to force immeasurable pleasure on reluctant participants is strong. Briar would do as much without guilt, Mason simply grinds my gears, and Darryl is just too irresistible for his own good.

As you’ll soon see, I don’t particularly care for Mason. Despite my best efforts, his section is noticeably shorter than the rest. Sorry!

Briar

Against all odds, you’d successfully managed to subdue them, having laced their Malbec with a sleeping agent you pilfered from the school’s medicine cabinet. You’d initially only done so to fulfill Mickey’s request, but as you watched their chest rise and fall, sprawled helplessly against the office sofa, insidious thoughts began to creep in. Such an accomplishment was worth celebrating, wasn't it?

Before reason could shake your resolve, you’d already begun deftly securing their limbs with the restraints you kept on your person for such occasions. As you work, the warmth of their skin any hesitation from your mind.

This isn't your first time, not by a long shot, so you know they'll be out for at least a few hours. Still, playing cautiously is how you've escaped detection thus far, so you gag and blindfold them for good measure.

Body thrumming with anticipation, you step back to admire your work. The contrast between the brightly colored rope against their skin is tantalizing.

Wasting no time, you settle on their lap, eager to take advantage of their unconscious form. You’ve had ample opportunities to admire their chest, which is so often exposed like an invitation. Unfortunately for them, you are not so impolite as to refuse such an enticing provocation. Though you're not so naive as to believe their choice of clothing excuses your actions in any way, you can't imagine you'd have been so quick to give in to your desire if they hadn't so lewdly displayed themself. They should have known better than to leave their wine unattended for any length of time. Such negligence is inexcusable in this town, as you’re well aware.

Leaning down to test the waters, you blow cool air across their chest, watching with fascination as their nipples begin to rise. Pressing your tongue against one, you lightly thumb and pinch the other, all the while grinding against their lap. As your tongue works, they let out a low groan every now and then, mentally logging what gets the most reaction.

Content they’ll not wake, you pull away, their chest glistening with your saliva. You stand briefly to peel away your bottoms, arousal having soaked your undergarments clear through, then unbutton and unzip their pants, pulling them down just enough to comfortably pull out their erection. Their cock is pretty, drool-worthy even, especially glistening with pre. Fuck, you were going to jump to the main course, but you just have to have a taste now.

You slide away and nestle between their legs. Your hand has a mind of its own and starts pumping their shaft right away, urging it to full mast while their eyebrows twitch with pleasure. Once so, you shift your hand down to the base to make room, then immediately wrap your lips around the tip, your tongue swishing circles around their slit. A satisfied groan rumbles through your throat, mixing with their soft moans. The saltiness and slight bitterness of the flavor are divine, your tongue coated with a perfectly creamy consistency. Such a perfect cock, you can’t stop yourself from sinking deep. No need for your hand as you thought you might; your throat easily accommodates their girth. They’re by no means small, nor average even, but you’ve plenty of practice. You always end up losing composure once you get a taste, so desperate and cockdrunk that you end up choking yourself by accident.

By now, your throat is well accustomed to the abuse, so you hardly gag as you bob along their length. The room echoes with lewd sounds; your pleased moans and their muffled whimpers leave you dripping all over the floor. As they draw near to climax, thighs shuddering against your hands, you sink to the base and pause, unwilling to let them finish just yet. There’s plenty of time to spare, and you’re not yet satisfied, so you simply keep then warm in your throat, uncaring that you can hardly breathe.

You’ll leave them spent, that’s for sure. Well, maybe they ought to have buttoned up.

Mason

Somehow, you managed to convince them to let you tie them to the bedpost. Regret pools in their guts as you pull out all manner of intimidating toys and tools, some of which they can’t even begin to assume the purpose of and others they really, really do not want to know what they do at all.

As they go to object, no longer feeling safe with their hands and legs immobilized, you pointedly ignore their protests, instead opting to pull out a ball gag.

After all the convincing, mostly in the form of head, it took to get them so helpless and alone, you have no intentions of letting them go so soon.

Rather, you stuff the ball gag in their mouth and ponder what you’ll do to them first. By the end, they won’t even be able to think, let alone be mad.

Darryl

Vibrant ropes decorate their lovely skin, fastening them to the bed. Adorned with a matching set of bullet vibes secured to their chest and a plug thrusting along their walls and vibrating in tandem with the bullets. They can only whimper and cry as you glide another vibe along their shaft, hips shifting against the binds as if they can’t decide whether it’s too much or not enough.

A knock on the door echoes, causing you both to stop and pause. They wonder if you’ll ignore it or wrap things up, unable to decide which they’d prefer, but you subvert either expectation by grabbing more tape and quickly attaching the vibe to their tip, calling out to the hall that you’ll be just a minute. You assure them that you’ll only be gone just a minute. Stuffing a ball gag in their mouth, you turn up the vibrations on each toy before rushing to greet whoever is at the door, shutting the bedroom door behind you and leaving a poor sobbing Darryl. Their pleas are muffled by the gag, but you can’t imagine they’d be all that coherent even if they could speak.

You’re gone for an unexpectedly long while—a little over an hour—having gotten caught up in a winding chat. By the time you get back to them, they’re practically convulsing, jerking against the binds with fervor. Tears stream down their face, and cum coats their thighs, making them look so pitiful—the way you like them most. You coo at them, apologizing for leaving them unattended for so long, before turning off the toys and pulling out the gag with a wet pop. Gasping for breath, the aftershocks of prolonged stimulation continue to wreck their body, only able to produce vague noises of appreciation. As their breath settles, you steal a kiss before lowering your gaze to admire their visibly abused cock, red and swollen, practically tantalizing you for more. Just as they go to speak, you end the momentary relief by wrapping your lips around their poor, overstimulated cock.

They shakes their head violently, hair sticking to their forehead while choking on tiny hics and begging you to stop. You find you can’t blame them. You really should give them a break, but they just look so damn cute as they’re breaking. If you could keep them this way forever? You would. You assure them it’ll only be a while longer; that rude fellow at the door kept you from them, so let you make it up, alright? They can take it, can’t they? Well, it was a rhetorical question—they will take it.

Riding Eden, Kylar, and Harper

Contains: gn!reader, drugging, hypnotism, noncon, brief mention of pregnancy, all gender neutral characters, Kylar and Harper have a vaguely implied phallic device for you to ride while Eden is the only one explicitly described as having a functioning penis

A/N: Haven’t checked my inbox in some time, so apologies. My dad went to jail, I moved in with some friends, and I finally found myself an adorable partner of my own. Anyway, here’s your biannual subscription of depravity 🫡

Eden

This motherfucker is as smug as can be. You’re riding them with such fervor, eyes scrunched tight in concentration, so desperate for their cum that you’re actually tearing up. They won’t help you just yet, though. After running off and missing curfew, you’ll have to earn the right to be filled. They’ve half a mind to pull you off right as they reach that precipice and spill across your bodies instead of giving you what you want. They won’t, though. Eden is just as pent up and desperate as yourself.

Your hips pause for just a moment, taking that time to peer and to match eden’s gaze, their eyes lidded with hunger and possessiveness. You can’t seem to stop the words that tumble out from your mouth next.

“Put a baby in me.”

You know just how to press their buttons to get what you want. Don’t worry, regardless of your anatomy, Eden will find a way to fulfill that desire. At the very least, once they’re through, those legs won’t be able to run off anymore.

Kylar

Kylar is in absolute bliss. With every bounce, Kylar sinks deeper into ecstasy. Why didn’t they slip aphrodisiac into your drink sooner? If only this moment could carry on forever.

Heat fills your core, so intense you fear you’ll never be able to extinguish it. Your legs ache, but that burning desire compells you to keep pace. Your head is so fuzzy and you don’t quite know how things progressed to this point, but what you do know is just how badly you need to wring this bastard dry.

Nothing could shake Kylar from this bliss they’re in, overstimulation be damned.

Your hips stutter at the chime of your phone, lustful haze lifting just enough to register how much time has passed. Clammy hands snatch your hips before you can try to lift yourself off. Below you, tears well in your stalker’s eyes as they grind desperately up into you.

“No! Don’t stop! Please! Keep going!”

Well, you’ve already come this far, haven’t you? You’ll worry about the consequences later.

Harper

Perhaps hypnotizing you to willingly ride them was a mistake. Despite their best efforts, they just can’t seem to snap you out of it. And since when have you been this strong? Effortlessly keeping them pinned securely in their office chair as you fuck yourselves on them.

Your body moves on it’s own accord, hips bouncing rhythmically to a tune that only you can hear. Skin hot to the touch, you shake with arousal, that cord of pleasure pulled taut, yet a little voice hums in the back of your mind, never letting you slow for a moment.

Harper groans beneath you, as overstimulated as yourself. Their thighs are soaked with your combined fluids, the sounds of bare skin and breathless moans resounding through their office.

Yet, they find their mind sinking deeper into bliss. The way your skins glistens, midday sun shining through the curtains and enveloping you in a blinding halo of light. Your entire being saturates their senses, drawing them deeper into a pleasurable trance of their own.

Every time the same —