LADS NSFW

⠀ ⠀"If this is how I'm reward for my patience, then I'm not complaining in the least," Sylus murmurs. He takes a deep breath, her perfume filling his lungs— sugar and vanilla, like a treat waiting to be devoured. Without shame, his red gaze roams every inch of her, drinking in the sight of her like a man starved.

⠀ ⠀"Now, loveliest birthday present of mine, will you allow this gluttonous, greedy man to finally indulge himself?"

AAA hellooo I am posting this late (so sorry & happy belated birthday sy </3) but thank you once again to the amazing @nykur0h for this lovely comm ! It is always such a pleasure to work with you ‹𝟹 I am still on break rn, so I'll be posting this and going back into my little hidey-hole ^^ also, the original blurb I wrote for this got out of hand . . . so that almost 4k thing is scheduled to be posted today in an xreader format, if anyone is interested :3

“I’m disappointed to see you in detention again, Mr. Qin, but I can’t say I’m surprised.” You let out a sigh, resting your hip against the side of your (his) office desk. Sylus sits opposite you, lounging in a wooden desk  identical to the ones you’d spent countless hours listening to droning lectures in, right down to the scuffed edges and phallic doodles. It looks comically small under his large frame, his long legs extending far beyond the wooden legs as he slumps in his seat, collar undone and tie askew, looking every bit the indolent schoolboy. 

“Sorry, miss.” He practically purrs.

You open a small paper, looking over the contents disapprovingly. “It says here you were assigned detention for disrupting class and not paying attention to the lesson, is that correct?”

“Yes, miss. It’s just so hard to stay focused on the lesson when there are so many distractions.” His eyes sweep over your figure: your white shirt unbuttoned just enough to show a bit of cleavage, the tight pencil skirt hugging your hips. His reading glasses are perched on your nose, lending you a professorial air. His eyes return to your face after his perusal, a look of perfect innocence on his handsome face. “Maybe you could help me.”

You bite back a laugh. Laying it on a bit thick, Sylus. You’d discussed the setup to the scenario in advance of course, but he hadn’t wanted to know anything beyond the premise. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy any punishment you see fit to dole out, kitten. Surprise me.” 

You pick up a ruler from the desk, twirling it between your fingers as you speak. “You're a bright young man, Sylus, but you lack focus, obedience, discipline.” You smack the ruler against your palm, enjoying the way his eyes darken at the sound.

“Then teach me,” his voice is low, a bit huskier than normal. “Isn’t that your entire job, miss teacher?”

You tsk in mock disapproval. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, Mr. Qin. Let’s see if we can’t put it to better use.” You lean against the desk, beckoning him over. “Come.”

His mouth curls into a satisfied smile. “Oh, I’m sure I will.” He untucks himself from the too-small desk and saunters over, hands in his pockets. He’s too tall, towering over you even in your heels, radiating the same casual power he always does. You intend to strip that from him… at least for a few minutes.

You gesture at the floor with the ruler. “Down.”

“Am I a dog now?” He raises an eyebrow but complies, sinking smoothly onto his knees.

“At least a dog knows how to follow commands. I’ve yet to see such level of obedience from you.”

He chuckles softly.

“But who knows…” you continue, sliding the ruler along the edge of his jaw to tilt his face up to you. “Maybe after this you’ll be worthy of being my dog.”

“I’m looking forward to it, miss.”

“Now for our first lesson: obeying instructions.” You slide the hem of your skirt slowly up your thighs, enjoying the way his eyes latch onto the motion, greedily following every inch of exposed skin. His breath catches as you tug the skirt around your hips, revealing your undergarments. Or rather, your lack. Other than a garter belt holding your stockings up, you’re completely bare under the skirt. You’ve been wet for hours, the simple act of preparing for a scene turning you on in an almost pavlovian reaction. He licks his lips, eyes focused on your glistening pussy.

“Who would have guessed that under those prim little skirts miss was such a slut?” He murmurs.

You flick your wrist, smacking the ruler against his cheek. It’s not hard enough to bruise, but a rosy mark appears on his cheekbone. “Did I say you could speak?” You press the flat of the ruler against the mark. He hisses but doesn’t pull away, leaning into the touch, his eyes falling halfway shut. “Your instructions are to lick my cunt until I tell you to stop. Nod if you understand.” He lets out a shuddering breath and nods. “Good.”

His hands slide up your hips, trying to pull you closer, but you flick the ruler against his other cheek, slightly softer this time. “I didn’t tell you to use your hands.” His eyes narrow in irritation and you tap his cheek again. “Hands behind your back, to remove the temptation.” 

He glares as he clasps his hands behind his back, the position pulling his shirt taut across his chest. You lace your fingers through his hair and pull him in until you can feel his hot breath on your sensitive core. “Go on,” you croon, “show me what you can do.” He doesn’t hesitate, leaning in to nuzzle his cheek against the soft skin of your thigh before his mouth finds you. 

He’s good. Of course he is; at this point he probably knows your body better than you do, just where to lick and suck and how to gently graze with his teeth in the way that adds a delicious edge of pain to your pleasure. You use your grip in his hair to control the pressure and tempo, voicing largely unnecessary directions which he follows to a tee, crimson eyes gazing up to drink in your reactions. When you roll your hips against his face, fingers tightening in his hair with the rising tide of your orgasm, he groans against you, vibrations rumbling against your core. As much as you hate to, you instantly pull him off, placing your foot on his shoulder to keep him at a distance. He glares, leaning back towards his denied prize despite the sharp heel of your stilettos digging into his shoulder. 

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Mr. Qin,” you say severely, “But I will ask you to remain silent for the duration of the lesson. I can’t teach you if you keep interrupting me with your little noises.”

“I know you happen to like my “little noises”, miss,” he says unrepentantly. You retaliate by pushing your heel deeper into the meat of his shoulder. He exhales sharply, almost a snarl.

“Are you going to be good for me,” you ask softly, “or should I end the lesson right here, right now?”

He hesitates for only a moment, glancing between your face and your cunt before looking down. “I’ll be good.”

After that it doesn’t take long. You can feel his tension, his tenuous self control, in every line of his body, and somehow it only serves to heighten your own arousal. Despite your best efforts, you whine as you come, a white knuckled grip in his hair and hips grinding against his face in an effort to prolong your own pleasure.

When your tremors subside you tug gently at his hair to pull him away. He’s flushed, eyes burning and dilated as he stares up at you. His lips are swollen, glistening with your release. You remove your foot from his shoulder, trailing the tip of your shoe down his chest to rest lightly on the bulge in the front of his pants.

“All this just from tasting me?” You allow a note of amusement into your voice. “Who’s the slut now?” His breath hitches as you press down a little harder, stroking along the length of him. “That wasn’t rhetorical. Answer the question: who’s the slut now?”

His eyes fall closed. “I am.” He rasps. “I’m your slut.” 

“Good boy,” you coo. “I knew you could follow instructions.” You pull him up as you bend down, meeting him in the middle in a messy, heated kiss. There’s something undeniably erotic about the fact that his mouth still tastes of you. You slide your tongue along his bottom lip, seeking more of the taste 

“Is this my reward miss?” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Mmm,” you hum in agreement. “Positive reinforcement is an effective pedagogical technique.”

“Is that so?” His hand slides up your calf to grip your thigh, and then he’s standing, looming over you as he pushes you back against the desk. “I think I need some more positive reinforcement, then. Just to make sure the lesson sticks.” He grinds against you, clothed bulge against your bare, slick pussy, just to prove his point.

“You make a convincing argument.” You loop his tie around your fist, pulling him closer. He comes eagerly, eyes locked on your lips, but you use the tie as leverage to flip your positions, pushing him flat on his back on top of the desk while you straddle his thighs. “But class is still in session. Don't forget who's in charge. You want a reward? Fine: prove you can be a good little student for me and you can have whatever reward you want.”

You reach down, scraping your fingernails lightly across his clothed erection just to feel him shudder under you before undoing his belt and pants to free his length. It springs free, flushed and throbbing, the head already shining with precum. “Same rules as before: no touching, no noise. Let's see if this pretty cock can make me cum as well as your mouth can.”

You notch the tip at you entrance, rubbing it across your folds a few times before sinking down on him. You’re sensitive from your first orgasm, inner walls plush and aching as they stretch around his girth, and you can’t hold back a satisfied moan as you bottom out, his tip kissing your cervix as your hips meet his. A strangled sound tears itself from his throat and his head thunks back against the desk, lips parting in pleasure. Instinctively, his hands move to grab your hips but he stops himself at the last second, instead reaching over his head to grasp the edge of the desk. The tendons on his forearms stand out as his hands clench in a white-knuckle grip. 

“Very good,” you praise, voice husky. “Redirection to an appropriate behavior is exactly what I want to see from you.” You take a moment to adjust to the size of him, rocking your hips ever so slightly to feel him slip against all the tender places inside you. He’s beautiful like this: all half-lidded eyes and parted lips, a flush rising from the open collar of his shirt to the tips of his ears, restrained hunger in every line of his form. You decide to give him a bit of a show: just a taste of his reward. Unhurried, you unbutton your blouse, letting it hang halfway off your shoulders as you run your hands over your body: down past your bunched up skirt to skim across where the two of you are joined, then up to cup your lace-covered breasts. You circle your fingertips around your nipples, working them to pebbled peaks through your sheer bra. 

“You feel so good inside me,” you allow a hint of a whine to enter your voice, a touch of the neediness you know he craves. “So deep, so full…” your hips begin to move with more purpose, grinding your clit against his pubic bone. His cock twitches inside you at the praise, strong enough that you can feel it. He bites his lip, eyes squeezing shut as he struggles to control himself, to be good for you. You know that asking him to be quiet during sex, to restrain the noises and words that usually flow from him, is a special kind of torture, but you’re feeling slightly vindictive at the moment. Seeing him struggle under you, his normally iron-clad composure faltering at such a simple command, is a heady sensation.

“Class is still in session, Mr. Qin,” you say sternly, grabbing his chin and shaking it slightly to get his attention. “Eyes on me.” His lids slide open, eyes blazing with hunger, and fix on yours once again.

“Good boy,” you say approvingly. Your gaze lands on his mouth again, caught by a flash of scarlet. He’s bitten down hard enough to break the skin, a bead of bright blood marring his plush lower lip. You use your thumb to gently pry his lip from between his teeth, then swipe away the blood. You bring it to your mouth, maintaining eye contact with him as you lick the blood away. 

That small action is enough to break his composure. He moans, low and breathy. “Fuck, kitten, you’re killing me here.”

You immediately pull off him, rising until just the tip remains inside, feeling aching and empty without him inside you. He makes a small, whining sound of discontent. “What did I say about talking?” You’ve slipped back into your strict “teacher” voice, a note of syrupy mocking creeping in as you lean over him, hand planted on the desk beside his head. “Can’t keep your slutty mouth shut for two fucking minutes, no wonder you never learn anything.”

“Kitten, please-” your hand cracks against his cheek, a red mark blooming on his already flushed skin, and his eyes widen in shock, pupils dilated until barely any red remains around the rim. 

“Who am I now?”

“My teacher, Miss.”

“Exactly. You’ll do well to remember that. Now, shut your filthy mouth and take your lesson.” You place your hand on his throat, pressing down just enough to make your point without restricting his breath or blood flow.

And then you pause, just for a moment, waiting to see if he’ll safeword. None of this is new territory for the two of you, but degradation isn’t part of your normal repertoire, even in a roleplay situation like this, and a part of you worries you might have gone too far. But he’s nodding -- as much as he can with your hand on his throat, and his hips buck up against yours, eager to keep going.

You scoff, tightening your grip slightly. “Oh, you like this, don’t you, like being teacher’s pet for a few minutes? Acting out for attention, huh, is that what this is about?” Before he has a chance to respond you prop one one foot on the desk, using it for leverage to slam your hips down on his, chasing your pleasure using his body. The new angle opens you up, letting him even deeper, grinding every exquisite inch of him against your sensitive walls with each roll of your hips. His eyes roll back, mouth falling open. Under your palm his breath comes fast and ragged, his pulse thundering against your thumb where it presses just under his jaw. 

“That’s it,” you moan, sliding your other hand down to circle your clit in time with the movement of your hips. “Fuck, you look so good like this, letting me use you. That’s my good boy.”

He gives a choked-off whimper, lips moving in a silent plea. You can tell he’s getting close to his climax, that the slightest sign from you could tip him over the edge, but you won’t let him fall. Not yet. 

“Hold it,” you say breathlessly. “J-just a few more minutes for me. Fuck, I’m close. Just hold on.” You work your clit harder, circling your hips in a way that drags the ridge of his cock against your most sensitive spot. Your orgasm is a smouldering fire in the pit of your stomach. You stoke it, fueling it with each roll of your hips, each stroke of your fingers, until it blazes up, racing through your veins in waves of liquid flame. Your head falls back, a keening, wordless cry escaping your lips. 

Somehow you manage to stay upright through it, and, even more miraculously, Sylus managed to keep himself together. Both of you are panting as if you’d run a marathon, and a fine tremor runs through his body, a shift along the faultline of his self-control. You move your hand from his neck to his chest, patting it gently. “You were so good for me. You want a reward? Go ahead and take it, whatever you want.”

You’ve barely finished speaking before he’s moving, pulling you off his lap to bend you over the desk, slamming back into you with a desperate ferocity. 

His chest is flush against your back, mouth at your ear as he gasps disjointed phrases in your ear, letting loose all the sounds you'd made him hold back. 

“You're evil- so fucking good- please-”

You'll have bruises on your hips and thighs later from the force of his thrusts. 

He lasts longer than you'd expected, considering how on edge he'd been earlier. Long enough that your own pleasure has time to build again, washing through you slow and lazy and rippling. He shudders at the way you clench around him, hips losing their rhythm.

“Please- let me-”

You reach over your shoulder to grab his hair, pulling his mouth towards the side of your neck, tilted toward him as an offering. No sooner does he bite down than his own peak arrives, spilling hot into you as he tenses and groans above you. 

You take a moment to enjoy this: his weight on you, inside you, both of you breathing heavily. Then you clear your throat, wiggling your hips to signal him to get off you. He does, a hot gush of cum flowing down your thighs as he pulls out, but doesn't move far. He stays leaning against the desk, an arm on either side of you, as you straighten your clothes, smooth your rumpled hair, adjust the borrowed glasses. 

You turn back to him, suppressing a smile at his adorably mussed hair and soft, love-drunk eyes to resume your prim teacher persona. “Well, I believe that concludes detention for today, Mr. Qin. You've shown remarkable aptitude when given proper educational support.”

“I'm happy to hear it, miss. Does that mean we'll continue with our tutoring sessions?” He captures a stray strand of your hair and tugs it playfully

His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing slow, perfect circles while his fingers keep that lazy rhythm. You’re already soaked — embarrassingly wet, like you’ve been dripping for a while.

“How long have you been…?”

“About twenty minutes,” he admits, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “You were so fucking wet, baby. Soaked through your panties. Couldn’t help myself.”

The thought of him touching you while you slept, watching your body react, learning exactly what makes you whimper — it sends a fresh rush of heat through you.

“Xavier… feels so good—”

You’re already close, still sensitive from whatever you were dreaming about. But then his pace shifts. The lazy strokes turn purposeful, intense. He adds a third finger, stretching you open as the rhythm gets rougher, deeper.

“Oh shit— Xavier—”

“I know, baby. Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

He kicks the blankets off with his foot, cool morning air hitting your bare skin. His hand grips the thigh that’s on top and hooks it back over his hip, spreading you wide open.

“Fuck… that’s better,” he groans. “Now I can see everything. Look how pretty this pussy is, dripping all over my fingers.”

The wet, squelching sounds fill the quiet room as he pumps his fingers harder, curling them just right. Every stroke makes your breath hitch.

“Right there?” he asks, voice dropping lower, hungrier. “Yeah? You’re clenching so fucking tight around me. Gonna make a mess, aren’t you?”

“Yes—god, don’t stop—”

“Never.” His thumb presses harder on your clit, rubbing faster. “Come on, starlight. Soak my hand. You know I love when you let go for me.”

Your leg trembles where it’s draped over his hip. The pressure builds fast and sharp.

“Xavier— I’m gonna— oh fuck—”

“That’s it. Give it to me.”

His fingers curl viciously and you break — a sharp cry ripping out of you as you squirt hard, clear fluid gushing over his hand and soaking the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck yes,” Xavier groans, low and appreciative, still pumping slowly through it. “Love watching you squirt for me, baby.”

But he doesn’t stop. His fingers keep moving, dragging out every aftershock until you’re shaking and whimpering.

“Xavier— too much—”

“One more. You can give me one more,” he says, voice calm but commanding. He knows your body too well. “C’mon… drench the bed for me.”

He shifts the angle just a little and you’re gone again — gushing even harder this time, screaming his name as another wave crashes through you.

“Good girl… that’s my good fucking girl,” he murmurs, finally slowing his fingers to gentle strokes while you tremble through the aftershocks.

When he finally pulls his hand away, his fingers are drenched, strings of your release dripping down his wrist. You watch, dazed, as he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean, eyes dark with lust.

“Best fucking taste in the world,” he mutters.

Then you feel it — his cock, rock hard and pressing insistently against your ass through his sleep pants.

“Xavier…” Your hand reaches back, palming him. He’s leaking already, a wet spot spreading across the fabric.

“Can you blame me?” He grinds against your palm. “Just made you squirt twice. Got me so fucking hard.”

You don’t even think twice. You shove his pants down and he helps, kicking them off. “Then fuck me. Want your cock.”

“Greedy this early?” he chuckles, but he’s already lining up. He slides into you in one smooth thrust, both of you moaning at the tight, wet heat.

“Fuck… still so tight,” he groans, gripping your thigh tighter to keep you spread open. “Even after all that. This pussy was made for me.”

His other hand slides up to wrap loosely around your throat — not squeezing hard, just possessive — as he starts fucking you deeper, harder.

“Yes— harder—” you gasp, already climbing again even though you’re oversensitive.

“Want one more out of you,” he growls against your ear, hips snapping forward. “Want to feel you squirt on my cock this time.”

His fingers find your clit again, rubbing rough circles while his cock drags against that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. The sounds are filthy — wet slaps, your desperate moans, his low grunts.

“Xavier— gonna— fuck—”

“Do it. Squirt all over my cock, starlight. Make a mess for me.”

You shatter with a broken scream, gushing around him as he keeps pounding through it, soaking both of you and the already ruined sheets.

“Fuck— that’s it—” Xavier’s rhythm stutters. “Gonna fill you up— gonna—”

He buries himself deep with a low groan, cock pulsing as he cums hard, flooding you with hot, thick spurts.

For a long moment you both just lie there, breathing hard, bodies sticky and spent. The bed is an absolute wreck beneath you.

He presses slow, lazy kisses along your shoulder and the back of your neck, still buried inside you.

“Give me ten minutes,” he murmurs, voice warm against your skin.

You let out a tired, breathless laugh. “You’re insatiable.”

His smile curves against your neck. “Only for you.”

The End 🤍✨