Camp Counselor X You

Camp Counselor x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: yandere best friend x fem reader, you guys are both camp counselors, bimbo reader, protective and obsessed behavior, mentions of blowjobs, fingering, manipulation, sort of fwb, he's whipped for you.

*Finally a yandere with a name! He goes by "Pres" or "your best friend." I should be working on other stuff soon, but I can't focus for some reason. LOL! Maybe yandere husband part four next, or the superhero. This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: Your best friend convinces you to go to this remote camp deep into the woods with him. He marketed it as a fun paid getaway, but he was ready to taint your innocence.

You’re the exact person he would go for, and the one he’s been wanting to fuck. He wouldn’t dare to toss you aside like all the other women he’s been with. No, he wants you forever. You're his.

Being a camp counselor with your friend was hard. He had the hots for you, and that was pretty clear. Your best friend was named after the late famous singer Elvis Presley. His parents went absolutely crazy for the rock and roll musician, so much so that they named their son “Presley.” But he went by “Pres,” wanting nothing to do with the man he doesn’t even like.

Pres was a hot-headed and flirtatious nineteen-year-old who was only nice to you. He was a bit troubled and rough around the edges, smoking pot and drinking beer whenever he could. He got into a lot of fights, and most of them were because of you.

You were sweet, bubbly, and innocent. You had a tight, round ass that drove him wild, your hair always blowing in the wind, and your mini clothes accentuated your body perfectly. He bought you anything you wanted and did whatever you asked. Despite his tough exterior, he was a mushy, gushy guy on the inside.

He was your closest childhood friend, always coming to your house for years without a single break. Pres told you about the job, shoving the flyer in your face, and he raved about the opportunity. Money, sleeping in cabins, and taking care of kids—it all seemed pretty easy. It also meant he could have you all to himself for three whole months!

The day before the kids arrived for the summer, the counselors had one last meeting. You were able to check out the cabins, rest up for the night, and be well-rested for the morning. That was until your friend snuck out of his cabin and came to yours.

He tiptoed quietly, clinging to the shadows as he looked around to see if his supervisors were nearby. Slowly, he inched closer to your window. Your friend had told you to keep it unlocked, so he hoped you had listened. He let out a small grunt as he used his biceps to lift the window, which slid up smoothly.

“Oh would you look at that?” He muses, pushing his body though. He eyed you up and down, noticing how you were already in your pink silk nightgown. “Now that’s the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen.”

All of the boring and long hikes to see a couple of mountains meant nothing in comparison to this. Seeing you in your room with lit candles all around, your legs apart, and your supple breasts covered by thin fabric was captivating. His feet found footing on your carpet as he approached closer to your sleeping form. That night, he slept right by your side, not wanting to leave you for a single moment.

You both teetered on the line between just being friends and being lovers. He would try to convince you to make out with him. You were just his type: ditzy, pretty, and downright adorable. He could show you a good time if you let him. His hands would rest on your hips, lovingly rubbing your sides up and down, occasionally slipping lower to your ass.

Presley convinced the kids assigned to you to hang out with his group, all so he could pull you into the woods and put on a cute display. He showered you with little kisses on your neck, his deep, rumbling voice cooing swoon-worthy words, and his brown eyes held so much warmth and affection. It was enough to convince you to get down onto your knees, his cock already pulled out of his tan shorts.

You’re a hot babe. Even hotter with your lips around the head of his cock. It must've been your first time, or you were just struggling with his length. Pres guided your head up and down, and with a loud grunt he came inside your mouth. He would tell you that you did amazing, help you wipe your mouth clean, and he’ll return the favor.

He doesn't understand what personal space even means. Your bed was his, and his was always open for you and only you. Once he got his rowdy kids to settle down in their bunk beds, was the moment he had you trapped outside, his fingers soaking in your cunt. He had his hand around your mouth, his knee pushing your legs apart, and his fingers kept pressing against the spot that had your head spinning.

No matter what he does, you still think you guys are just friends. Even if that word does irk him, he'll use it to his advantage. Showering with him was something friends do, so you can’t really say no. Him helping you clean every crevice of your body was just him being nice. Him choosing specific outfits that he wants to see you in was only because he was a 'fashionista.' He barely gave you any time to argue back when he stuffed your body into the swimsuit in the dead of night.

Pres tried his hardest to woo you. On lake day, he would pull off his shirt, muscles on display, and jump into the water. When he came up to the surface, his hair glistening in the light and his body dripping wet, he would try to catch a fish—doing manly things to show off. If that didn’t work, he would walk inside with you to the grand hall, where he’d make friendship bracelets with you. You were happy to do simple things like that, and he’d even make flower crowns with you.

The yandere was a competitive and athletic man. He would win at all of the games—tug-of-war, rock climbing, and don’t even mention any sort of crossword puzzle near him. All of his winnings would go to you. The chocolate gold coins from See's Candies were yours, the tiny trophy he got for catching the most fish was in your hands before you could blink, and the whittled statue of a moose from capturing the prettiest pictures was promptly put into your bag.

He had his softer moments: carrying your suitcases for you and putting them into the shuttle when camp ended, wrapping his jacket around you when you shivered, and letting you have the window seat because you liked to sightsee. He would remember your favorite snacks (he forced himself to like the same things) and offer his arm to be used as your pillow during the drive.

Right when he thought the relationship had progressed into something more, with your head resting on his shoulder, you said the words he didn’t want to hear: "You're the greatest best friend I have ever had."

Ah, shit. Seriously?

“Mhm, yeah, yeah,” he said unenthusiastically with a slight eye roll, and he gently patted your head. “Just go to sleep.”

Slashers’ Reaction to Social Distancing

Jason Voorhees

Murder-Free Summer. Even if campers come to Crystal Lake, Jason’s staying far away from them. Do you know what that means, (Y/N)? *Dons coveralls* Bring on the paint! Bring on the spackle! Finally, you and Jason can renovate your cabin without distraction! You know that amazing clawfoot tub in the main lodge? *Transfers it to your cabin* (Then has celebratory bubble bath)

Note: Usually, he’s too busy checking traps and hacking campers during the warmer months. And during winter? Well, the freezing temperature means painting is a no-go and the pipes are frozen.

Renovating the Rat Cave. The tunnels. Dear lord, the tunnels! “Jason, those rats deserve a nicer home!” By the time you’re done, it would actually be an enjoyable place to visit.

Sleeping Late. After all, thanks to his homicide hiatus he’s no reason to get up at the crack of dawn. Enjoy your snuggles, you two. You’ve earned it.

Thomas Hewitt

He’d make some masks. Granted, they wouldn’t be medical-grade quality–not in the beginning, at least. After all, where is he supposed to get those kinds of supplies? Being the resourceful man you know and love, however, Thomas would start by crafting masks for the family.

He’d be the Oprah of masks. You get a mask! You get a mask! Everybody gets a mask! Luda Mae, Hoyt, and you would help Thomas in his mission to ensure every member of the Hewitt clan is protected from exposure. Some nights, you’d find Thomas asleep at his workbench. Seeing a half-finished mask in hand, your heart would ache with pride. He was such a good man.

Waking him up, you’d lead him upstairs and into bed. Thankfully, he’d be too tired to notice your struggle to remove his boots. *Falls to the ground as the stubborn thing finally comes off*

Michael Myers

He’d cut his hair. While he may not care about flattening the curve, you do. As a result, Michael’s going to be joining your quarantine. Still, he’s notoriously averse to feeling caged. Simply put, he’s going to get bored. He’s also going to feel confined. *Struggles against tangled hair* That’s it! There’d be no warning–only the faint sound of snipping.

Note: Because he’s Michael, this insufferably talented freak of nature would do a wonderful job. Still, when he walks into the room for movie night–acting like nothing’s different–prepare to choke on popcorn in surprise. *Proceeds to gush over his hair–much to his mortification*

Twister. You would play it…and it would end in sex. You’d also play Monopoly–Michael would be the racecar while you’d be the ever-erotic thimble. Really, (Y/N), that piece is downright scandalous! (At least, the way you use it is.)

Brahms Heelshire

Indoor paradise. So, you’re stuck inside. Well, clearly, this is your and Brahm’s chance to make the Heelshire house amazing! I’m talking makeshift slide-stairs, a newly-installed hammock in the living room, and fairy lights… EVERYWHERE.

He’d refuse to wear pants. Not much more to say. *Swings dick around for fun* Nooooooooo!

Watching you spiral into insanity. Remember, Brahms is the master of social distancing. You, on the other hand? (Y/N), why are you sprinting around the house like a dog with the zoomies? *Slides across the floor in oversized socks* Why are you wearing Brahms’ boxers? Where did you find that bottle of whiskey? 

BONUS:

How social distancing would impact your sex life…

Jason Voorhees: Outdoor sex. No campers + nice weather = a lack of possible onlookers. A lack of onlookers means you’d finally be free to do the unthinkable: streak through Camp Crystal Lake. *Strolls gloriously naked past Jason only to get plowed into the dirt via animalistic fucking*

Thomas Hewitt: Inadvertent Cosplay. Masked sex? Well, you do need to test the masks’ ability to stay in place… not to mention that breathability is important.

Michael Myers: Roleplaying. Oooooh, is he a plumber come to…fix your pipes? And where did that 80′s techno music come from? *Bow-chicka-wow-wow*

Brahms Heelshire: Zero Calorie Kinkery. You know he’s going to put mirrors all over the house. Enjoy your Diet Voyeurism–it’s voyeuristic sex, but with none of the shame!

Hot damn!

THE ROOMMATE ꔫ - JJK

synopsis: your hot roommate brings out the dirtiest side of you

parings: roommate!jk x pervy!roommate!reader

warnings: mature language and content, spying, solo masturbation, lewd thoughts, slight jealously, underwear stealing, abnormal behavior (on both parts) mentions of pillow humping, wet dreams, fantasies, etc.

genre: smut, drabble

word count: 660

a/n: quick little one shot as a thank you for all the love you’ve been showing me, i promise to keep writing the filthiest works for you guys <3

pervy!roommate!reader who has jungkook completely fooled. he thinks his cute housemate is so innocent. what he doesn’t know is that you’re a deranged slut that’s been yearning for him since you’ve laid eyes on him.

pervy!roommate!reader who’s attraction to jungkook starts off as something sane. your behavior progresses into stuffing your pussy to the thought of him, stealing his used boxers and trotting around in them when he’s not home, and staining the same pillows he lays his head on with your sticky cum.

pervy!roommate!reader who goes brain dead whenever jungkook is speaking to her. whether it’s about your half of the rent or what groceries you want him to go get, the only thing you can think about his having his dick down your throat.

pervy!roommate!reader who wakes up with her panties clinging to her pussy from the wet dreams she has about jungkook, desperately wishing to make the images of getting destroyed by him into a reality. every morning is a constant routine of rubbing your sensitive clit, hoping he’s listening to your soft cries for him on the other side.

pervy!roommate!reader who feels like she hits the jackpot when she catches jungkook fisting his huge cock in his room. the door is cracked open just the right amount to where she can spy. it’s so wrong to invade his privacy, she has time to walk away, to shut his door even. instead she feels her fingers creeping up to cup her breast, rolling it around while her teeth sink into her bottom lip. this could be her moment, her chance to finally relieve his dick that looks like it’ll burst any second if it doesn’t have a cunt squeezing around it. instead she falls back, rubbing one out while watching him before going back to bed.

pervy!roommate!reader who’s visibly upset every time jungkook brings a girl over, dramatically slamming her bedroom door and making noises around the apartment to disturb him and his company. suddenly she needs jungkook for every little issue she has which causes his little hookup to dip out on him. he’d be more upset if his roommate wasn’t enough eye candy for him to get off to alone. either way he’s satisfied.

pervy!roommate!reader who’s scent on jungkooks pillows doesn’t go unnoticed. he’s breathing you in every night in the spot where he lays his head. your aromas make his dick stand up, aching and hurting from neglect. he could call someone over, he has girls lined up and waiting for him. yet the only thing that sounds satisfying is his pretty little roommate. he thinks he’s going crazy when he hears your small pants and moans of his name with the wet, sloppy sounds of your cunt following after.

pervy!roommate!reader who’s panties start going missing and popping up with globs of white substances in them and notices her roommate avoiding her more often. jungkook is suddenly too busy to hang out and too busy to have dinner with you. jungkook starts getting risky, leaving his door open while pumping his cock. he only does it when you’re not home, just in hopes that you’d walk in and drop to your knees when you saw him struggling to cum without your touch.

pervy!roommate!reader who’s nerves are running rampant at her and jungkooks game of cat and mouse. when he sends her a “we need to talk” text various scenarios and thoughts begin to go through her head. yet nothing could prepare her for jungkook’s distressed expression as she sits in front of him on the sofa and he runs a tired hand over his face while hovering over her. her eyes widen, watching the bulge in his pants grow to an inhuman size. and she sure as hell wasn’t prepared for his next proposal, something she thought she’d never hear from him.

“doll, as much as i love licking your slick off my pillows how about you use my cock from now on? yeah?”

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Yautja’s Reaction to His S/O Sexually Teasing Him...

How had he ended up here? Shackled to the bed with his little ooman atop him. He glanced up, testing the manacles. They held strong.

“Se’nok,” you purred, drawing his gaze. He stilled. Dear Paya… His mind went blank.

There you were, hovering atop him, your lips sensually toying with a dreadlock. Your hands smoothed over his chest, trailing to his neck. You inhaled his scent. His head fell back, giving you better access. “Mmm, do you like that?” 

Pauk, yes. He’d never imagined you could garner such control. Oomans are clever, he remembered, making up for their inferior size. “You’ll be the death of me,” he murmured under his breath.

“What was that?”

“When did you learn to tease, mate?”

You smiled, biting your lip. Slowly, you pressed down to grind yourself against him. “You wanna know my secret?” 

His breathing picked up as you leaned forward. You nibbled at his jaw before whispering in his ear, “Having you all trapped? It does things to me…” 

A low growl rumbled from his chest, his mandibles twitching. You grinned. “Oh, you like that?”

“A yautja female wouldn’t be half as cruel.”

“But I’m not yautja…”

cw: divorced dad!toji, dick piercings, blowjobs, established relationship, fluff, mentions of drunkenness, shy silly old man, 18+

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thinking about dad!toji with a dick piercing—probably an ampallang.

he got it done when he was young, stupid and a little inebriated, a last-second stunt that had his friends dying with laughter. it was funny to him, too, until he woke up the next morning, bleary-eyed, with a metal bar running through his tip. it hurt like hell the first few weeks, but he never bothered with removing it. that would just be a hassle he doesn't have time for.

after literal decades with it, it just became a part of him. he pissed with it, lazed on the couch with it, jerked off with it. it borders on mundane.

or it did, at least, until he was sat in the driver's seat of his car with your hands squeezing his bulge, lips slick and bruised from his punishing kisses.

this is the first blowjob he's had in years. you two hadn't done more than kiss up until now, with your deft fingers massaging his thick, clothed length. it's nearly grazing his belly within the confines of his boxers, a big, wet spot spreading throughout the thin material. shit—he's excited. you're thinking about how many times he's probably been sucked off in his life and how subpar this is going to be for him, but all he's concentrated on is the way you're leaning into his crotch, face inching closer to your moving hands.

the seat jerks back, giving you more room to work, and his thighs spread farther apart, eyes shut and throat bared as he leans back into the headrest. your half-eaten takeout is abandoned in the backseat. the local radio is a low buzz in your ears as you pull his jeans down his hips, fingers toying with the waistband of his underwear.

giddy nerves at how new this is mingle with the blood pumping through your veins. you rub your thighs together as best as you can with the contortion of your body kneeling in the passenger seat. he's pinched your chin between his fingers and left a peck on your lips more times than either of you can count. each time the heel of your hand presses into the underside of his covered erection, he hides a groan beneath his breath.

good thing the parking lot is a ghost town. the sun is still ablaze despite the way it's slowly descending, peachy hues illuminating the trail of hair on his stomach from how his shirt rides up and his green, abysmal eyes. when you glance up at him, they're staring at your glowing face. he would never say that you look like an angel, but that's the only thought his sappy mind can muster when he combs his hands through your hair, aroused and smitten.

he doesn't think to warn you until you go to tug his final layer of clothing down his thighs. his eyes widen, maybe the only time he's ever seemed unsure since you met him. "shit, wait—"

a gasp escapes you. his cock hits his tummy, solid and erect. the sun turns silver jewelry into a beacon of golden light. it's delicate and shiny and sticky; the tiny metal beads are drooled on with thick liquid, a long (pathetic, is what he'd call it), clear string of arousal connecting the coarse strands of his pubes to the piercing. the piercing—he has a real piercing jutting through the head of his cock.

you lean farther over the center console, eyes like saucers, your hand clutching his base. he moans weakly. this strong, gruff man—who's a professional corner store beer drinker that always has rough, busted hands—is flushing with embarassment and panting unevenly. he squirms under the assessment like he's about to fail your inspection, his nails awkwardly digging into the leather seat.

"what," you breathe, experimentally stroking him, watching the piercing disappear under his foreskin, "is this?"

he hisses between his teeth. you blink up at him. his face is pink.

"it's, ah, mmh" —you stroke him again, watching his swollen, ruddy skin glide— "a mistake i made a couple decades ago. listen, uh—"

"does it feel good?" you push. he tracks your movements like it pains him to see you so close to where he's begging for your mouth, one pulse at a time. "does it, like, enhance anything?"

your eyes are glazed, lips twisted into a smile. you can't help it—he's painfully pretty like this and full of interesting secrets like barbells on his cock. his hair is a moppy mess atop his head, ruffled from how nervously he's been dragging his fingers through it. he's just cute, and before he can answer, you lean in and offer a flat lick across the pierced flesh.

"fuck." he bodily shivers and collapses from his tense form into a liquid sprawl, palm cupping your head. "shit, please don't tease."

please? he's putty for you—for this, for the feeling of your inquisitive tongue tracing the tangy metal, for the way your warm, wet mouth envelopes the head of his dick like you're hugging him. he's lucky he isn't a kid anymore; at twenty, you wouldn't have been able to even put your lips near him before he'd be shooting into your hand, grunting and bucking against the solid grip.

your dominant hand steadies yourself on his fuzzy thigh as you shallowly bob your head, your other hand sneaking between your legs. the sight of him, all dishevelled and eager, burns a pit of arousal in your stomach—one that's making a mess of your underwear. his length muffles your own groan as you sink deeper on him and nudge your hand into your panties.

his hand tightens in your hair. "shit, baby—you touching yourself?" when you nod around him, he groans, low and growled. "fuck, yes."

the lewd sounds are exacerbated by the tight, warm confines of the car. your wrist rolls as you jerk off what you can't reach, his dick solid and leaking in your mouth as you take more of him. you can't quite reach his balls, but when you get close enough, he nearly whimpers a pained "fuck me" and grips your hair. your tongue continues to tease his piercing, curious and mindful.

he loves it—of course he loves it. you're playing with him like a shiny new toy he just gifted you and it's killing him to keep his hands to himself, to not force you to take the rest of him down your throat in a rough shove of your head. when you pull up and suck hard on his dripping tip, he moans.

"'m gonna cum if y'keep doin' that," he warns, like you don't want him to spill into your mouth, salty and warm—to hear him break because of your ministrations. "baby, baby."

he loves pet names. old school ones, like sweetheart, and baby, and darling. loves calling you them when he's swigging your cheap wine and holding you in his lap. he calls you those things when he picks up the phone or takes you out on dates, when he thanks you for watching his kids when he's busy.

he calls you those things when he's unloading into your mouth in impatient juts and broken cries, pulling at your scalp and thumbing your cheek.

"gonna come, sweetheart—"

that piercing he forgot about—the one that he doesn't particularly care for, the one he just puts up with? the one that's been in the background of his mind for who knows how long? your tongue pushing into it is what sends him reeling over the edge.

he thrusts with a vigorous search for his orgasm, the first one he's gotten by a mouth in too many years. it's evident in the way he freezes as the first rope of cum hits the roof of your mouth. god—he might love you. he might do marriages again, even. might give it another go with you, if you want. why not? you're heaven-sent, with the way you make him feel. you're perfect.

"f-fuck."

satiated tremors ripple the muscles of his biceps, thick gasps escaping his heaving chest, and he's just staring at you. his sore lips are parted, and it's like the wheels in his brain are turning as he watches the spit roll down your chin. he's half-present when you wipe it off with your hand and squeeze his thigh. he licks his lips—your clit has a mind of it's own.

he looks like he's picturing folding you in half and fucking you slow and deep—maybe he's considering how difficult it would be to give you head in the backseat? his eyes flicker with want, jumping between your doe-eyed countenance and your circling fingers.

he wants you. he wants all of you.

i want toji’s big heavy balls in my mouth 👹

omg yas talm about some oral fixation. good lord.

imagine thats like your "thing". are you OCD nonny? cause im ADHD OCD af= and imagine like after a stressful day nothing soothes that itch for stimming like having toji's large musky balls in your mouth just sucking on em like a pacifier.

toji thinks you're crazy asf but it's okay, he likes that his baby is a lil crazy and so kinky. besides he a freak too so he will def match yours.

toji likes looking down and seeing how the outline of his hefty sack fills your chipmunk cheeks—not to mention how his fat burly cock just leaks all over your forehead while you are going to town on them. you're in your own world though. on the floor happily nestled between toji's strong thighs while he reclines on the sofa. (he at least is considerate enough to give you a throw pillow for your knees tho).

toji tries to focus on whatever is on tv but how can he? his thighs twitch and he nearly cums when you do gaze up at him so innocently like your mouth isn't crudely gargling hairy balls and your hands aren't you slowly jerking him, thumb pulling back the foreskin of his sensitive head.

toji is only a man of flesh and blood though, so while tolerant enough to enjoy your kinks, his patience is lacking. it's not long before toji is pulling you off his nuts so he can nut inside you.

toji would make you ride him on the couch. easily gliding your soaked pussy down on his large girth as he groans cursing at how wet you get just from tonguing his balls a lil. toji shakes his head with a smirk. he affectionately picks a stray pube from your teeth and gives you a gentle peck on the cheek before sliding down in his seat for leverage to utterly destroy you and your nasty lil cunt on his cock.