Smut Imagines

Owned by the Enemy

After school, your enemy catches you in an empty corridor of the school. You're suddenly pinned to a set of lockers. His body heat captures you, the skin of your pinned wrists alight with flames from his touch.

His eyes are dark, anger coursing through every one of his nerves, radiating onto you, "Why were you with him?" His voice is rough with accusation as you look up with furrowed brows.

"Why do you care?" You spit. Exasperated. One, by the possessiveness he has over you when he in fact had no right. And two, by the way a set of wavering nerves ran down from your nipples, abdomen and to between your thighs. A damp sensation coating your panties.

His jaw tightens, "Did you sleep with that guy?"

"That guy is your friend." You feel the need to remind him, finding every possible method in catching a grasp of reality, only to find it becomes more elusive as his body pressed against yours.

He steps closer, his chest directly pressed against yours. Your nipples tighten in arousal, sensitive to his proximity.

"If he touched you, he's no longer my friend."

You stared up at him, fighting a smirk. It was an innocent tutoring session with his friend. Although, he didn't need to know that.

Truly a glutton for punishment.

"Then who would he be?" You challenged, arching your back so your chest pushed against his solid chest a little. There was a barely noticeable mischievous glint in your eyes.

His eyes fall to your breasts against his chest. Almost as if the thought of you pushing back against him, daring him, was enough to make him lose every remnant of control he had not to bend you over and show you exactly what would happen if you were to become anyone elses.

His eyes meet yours again. Nothing but a wildfire of want that could turn savage with one roll of your hips against his.

"He'll be that asshole who touched what's fucking mine." His voice is deep, rough, and menacing. An angry sound emanates from his chest, sending vibrations to yours before he completely closes the distance.

He presses his hot mouth to yours. Tongues gliding over each other. His hands fall to your hips, pressing your further against the lockers.

The kiss turns volatile. Its war. He takes your top lip into his mouth, sucking, biting, only to lick away the sharp pain of his warning of a bite. He repeats his desirable assault on your bottom lip. All while you fight to keep your hands at your sides.

He finally pulls away, his forehead against yours, his head slightly tilted to brush his lips against yours. Eyes closed. Breathless.

Reality slips further away as the weak sounds that previously left your mouth hang in the air. A constant reminder of your lack of self control for him.

His tongue darts out to lick at the seams of your lips. "Who do you belong to?" His hot breath covers your face, breathing in each others air.

Your eyes snap open and suddenly that grasp on reality youd been fighting for comes within reach. Your hazy state slowly drifts away, "No one." You almost whimper with pain when your words leave your lips more breathless than you intended.

He roughly spins you around. Pressing his chest to your back. His large build swallows yours. His lips brush over your ear, "Wrong fucking answer, sweetheart."

You battle against the powerful urge to arch your back and grind your ass against his evidently hard cock. Instead, you say, "Sweetheart? That's cute. To be honest, I thought you'd be more of the 'Princess' type, with a mocking laugh.