#A Jumbled Drive

[luthordamnvers]

I still think I need to watch the entire show again, but I'm gonna try and collect some very scattered thoughts because the ~discourse is appalling, tbh.

Idk who needs to hear this, but every single marvel project has been about the widening of the marvel cinematic universe. And it's fucking insane, that people are reducing this show as "just a way to get Wiccan" when it was so much more, especially for a show that wasn't even supposed to exist. It was a show spearheaded by a showrunner who initially pitched it because she loved Agatha, and Kathryn's portrayal of Agatha. One that happens to be a woman, btw (one that happens to had been at the forefront of both Captain Marvel [Uncredited] and been responsible for the first past of Black Widow [Story by, credits]).

Don't get me wrong, the MCU certainly has misogynistic undertones, the fact that we had to wait to have a woman led movie, or a movie director, as long as we did is a travesty. That without even going into the intersectionality that we are still missing in the wider MCU. And one that's inherent in the comic book world, if we are being honest. But guess what, THIS is the type of show that changes that narrative.

The fact that wandavision is still regarded the best Marvel-Disney+ show. So good that got an spin off focused on "a nanny". Show that delivered on a show being about her, and yet not the entire story, with outstanding narrative, direction and storytelling. And some swats of fandom are diminishing it left and right. The dudebros because it was about a woman, about a middle-aged woman, about a queer middle-aged woman. And others in the fandom because it wasn't as queer as they wanted, or focused on what they wanted.

And let's be honest, I'm amazed the show was as unapologetically and canonically queer as it was. Thanks to the efforts of Jac, Kathryn and the team behind it.

Agatha is based on a character that's been around for 50 years, and has being nothing but a nanny/governess for superpowered kids because she happens to be a witch, until relatively recently. Even when we had had part of her back story for decades, she was never that important, and she isn't even evil. Dare I say, she hasn't been that relevant until her run with the Scarlet Witch, and Kathryn Hanh's interpretation of her.

Agatha All Along, is not only an spin off of Wandavision, but also part 2 of the whole story. OF COURSE, Billy would be a very important part of her story, something that was touched upon in WV, but was also part of her (and I'm using this word very loosely) redemption arc.

She shared a kinship with Billy in WV, because he was magick. She wanted to understand how he worked, because she knew what Wanda did, and she wanted Wanda's powers. The fact that she could identify Billy immediately, even when she hoped it was Nicky, was important, but people were to busy whining about Billy having an episode. One episode that was also relevant to the ending of the show. And the full arc of the saga's mythology.

Is the show perfect? Not at all. Did I enjoy the heck out of it and can appreciate what it actually did? Absolutely yes. Can I appreciate how GOOD it was at storytelling? Hell yes.

It was a show absolutely centered in women. Good women, bad women, women of color, old women, younger women. The one man was a queer, three-year old in the body of a 16 year old. And mind you, this character has been making queer history, since his very recent creation (2005). This show is unapologetically queer, we had a huge ass Trans flag that said Protect trans kid in huge black letters being very prominent in the shots. It's HUGE, and not even by marvel/disney standards. The show had nothing to do with coming out, or acceptance, or people dealing with phobia. It was about queer people existing and being queer. Hell, you could make a case that they were saying "being a witch" is an allegory of being queer.

Every single member of the coven could be queer. They hinted at it with Jen, at the very least.

Let's talk about the rest of the coven. Who for me were the absolute highlight of the show.

Alice, generational trauma, the protection witch. The most tragic to me. She saw her curse, as a lie. As something her mother made to neglect her. And yet she couldn't keep a job, she resented her mother, and she had to be reminded of her every moment because her mom was a famous Rockstar. She goes to the road, she comes to terms with her mom's love for her, how her mom's version of the ballad was a protection spell, as much as Alice hated it, and she manages to defeat her curse. She protects her coven. Only to immediately die. Her dialogue with Death was devastating:

Alice: That's it? That's all the... That's all the time I get? Death: If I had a nickel... Alice: This can't be the end. It has to be the beginning. I finally broke the curse. I mean, I can really do something with my life now. Death: You're a Protection Witch. Alice: Yeah. Death: You died protecting someone. You ready? Alice: No.

Heart wrenching, unjust, and beautiful.

Lilia, who was plagued by the gift/curse of seeing her and others destiny. Ignoring it for over half her life, staying stagnant, because she was reeling from the fact that she saw the death of her family, her entire coven, she told them and it changed nothing. She was chased out of villages because she could see the tragedies coming. Who refused to be with a coven, love a coven because the heartbreak of losing her first was too much. Who decided that cheap tricks, was better than seeing the tragedies coming, and refused her gifts. She hated the appropriation of her culture, but when the time came, she accepted it, and moved on. She goes to the road, and finds her coven. "I needed you, my coven." And she died, going back to the start, because she'd rather relieve it all again, the good, the bad and the ugly, that keep neglenting herself. "I loved being a witch".

That without going into the absolute masterpiece that was episode 7. Pulling a non-linear story, as solidly as they did, is certainly not easy. And they did it, beautifully.

Jennifer, who was magick-bound for over a century, to the point that she doubted her knowledge and herself. And yet she made a name for herself, she was a successful entrepreneur (she cheated a little, but you know capitalism is the true villain here). A black woman who was outstanding at her craft, healing and being a midwife, to the point that she became an inconvenience to the fragile, egomaniacal, white men in the medical field. Where they sought out a way to stop her indefinitely. And yet she kept going, and survived. Even at the end of the road. She looked at the person who bound her, and said: "I deny your power over me. You hold nothing." And she unbounded herself, and got out. Not because of Billy or even Agatha but in spite of her. Jennifer survived, just like she has been doing for however many centuries, and she flew towards the sunset. Because 'She's the path ahead'. The growth she had, from being selfish the first few episodes, because that's how she survived, to screaming for Lilia when she decided to stay behind. Jennifer clawed her way out of the road, the bound. And she deserved it.

As for Billy... he's so much like her mother. He accidentally created the road, because he's equally, if not more, unaware of his powers as Wanda. Wanda at least thought she got powers from Hydra's experimentation. Billy isn't even supposed to exist. Billy who was "10 years old" but, realistically like 2 weeks old. Who got thrown into the body of this guy, who he doesn't know, and who doesn't even knows himself, because he doesn't remembers, with powers he doesn't quite understands and then he starts piercing moments of his life together, because he feels this massive hole in his being. And finds his answers on Agatha. He truly believes the road is real, that can take him to someone who while not have the answers, might feel the same way as him. Who was his other half, he doesn't remembers it, but he feels it.

His magick, is like Wanda's, Chaos magick, it manifests without his real knowledge or intention, but by his feelings. He created the road, with all the knowledge he thought he had, the road follows the rules Agatha and Nicky created when they made the ballad. Even if he doesn't know it.

Is the show about Billy? Not necessarily. Billy is important to Agatha, because Billy is Agatha's son now. Not by blood, not even by magic, but by choice. As much as she denies it, her "calculated risk", had something to do in the way she saw Billy, and how she wanted to protect him, in a way she couldn't protect Nicky.

And finally, Agatha. Agatha who built a reputation of killing all her covens. Starting with her mother's. Because her mother sentenced her to death, because she was born evil. And she took that and ran with it. She connived, and betrayed, but she survived, something she's extremely proud of. Do I wish we had seen more of her past? 100%. I wanted to know how she got the Darkhold, how she actually met Rio, how they fell in love. Does not really knowing diminish her storyline? Not at all. Because what we got was really nuanced, and it's going down the hill with people focusing only in the romantic relationship aspect. If anything, I think this is being reductive of Agatha, not Billy. The fact that she needs the love interest for people to focus on her, regardless if that love interest is a man or a woman.

But even then, what did people think it would happen? Agatha Harkness had a romantic relationship with Death itself. It was never going to be a romance, it was always a tragedy. Death who took her son away, Death who gave her time with her son, but never specify how much time. Who then followed her around, torturing her with its presence, and we know Agatha is resentful and can hold a grudge.

Death who kindly stopped for her.

Rio knew Agatha would always resent her, even when she gave Nicky more time, because at the end of the day, she would always had to take him away. As much as it was a kindness to let him be born, to take him while he and Agatha were asleep. She had to take him anyways, and Agatha would never forgive her.

Agatha letting the witchfolk think that she exchanged her son for the Darkhold, or made a deal with Mephisto, and saying it was because "the truth was much worse" had nothing to do with *our* perception of worse. But hers. A powerful witch who couldn't save her son, a woman who couldn't keep her son alive. A witch who let her lover take her son away. Using her son to lure more witches. Then using the song, that her son lovingly created for themselves, to lure even more witches to their doom, just for her to be more powerful and keep living (and potentially still looking relatively young). A song that was special to them, corrupted, because she wanted more power and killing witches, something she knew Nicky didn't like. Witchfolk thinking Agatha got the Darkhold trading her son, was better than what she thought of herself.

She saw Nicky in Billy, how he didn't like killing witches (as accidentally as Billy did), how he mourned, how he somehow still believed in Agatha, even with his barbs at her.

She sacrificed herself, not necessarily because of Billy. But because of Nicky, her boy she couldn't save. And yet here is another boy she loved, not the same but very similarly, one she could save.

Billy didn't manipulate her, (and even if he were to, Agatha would probably be proud of him for that) he's been consistent in wanting to understand Agatha. He's curious. Hell, he didn't even need to come back for Agatha, he had gotten out (wherever out was for him) but he came back, because he cared about Agatha. And if some people can't see that, because he happens to be a he... well, no matter what had happened in the show, those people wouldn't see it any other way.

Agatha becoming a ghost, and immediately seeking Billy, because she loves him, and she likes the way he sees her, not good or innocent, but knowledgeable, and with the potential to do good. And she sees Nicky in him, and his potential too.

There is so much more analysis, and I might share more thoughts later, but for now, this is it. I still wanted more, Agatha's story with the Darkhold, the Salem seven, more of the coven, yet not necessarily for the show or the episodes to be longer, but I would love to see if they expand on this, on another spinoff.

[jorrated]

always wondered what STC would've been like if instead of just making Eggman evil on a single event, it kinda jumbled his brain a lot and make him have brief moments of lucidity as Kintobor. give him the ice king treatment ya know

[wikiangela]

seven(ish) sentence sunday

tagged by @diazsdimples @daffi-990 💖

no idea how many sentence this is, but more of the buck driving fic and a convo with Eddie! also, I just needed him to go on a highway and went to google, all I know about us infrastructure and layout is from wikipedia and google maps lmao

prev snippet

___

“What?” Buck glances at his phone, as if he could see Eddie’s face. Then he looks back at the road. He crossed the state lines around an hour ago, he’s been driving the whole night, aside from that quick nap when he was getting gas, but how does Eddie know? “How-”

“We’re sharing each other’s location, remember?” Eddie sighs. Right. Eddie insisted on that a while ago. Buck had no problem with that, obviously. It’s Eddie. And it’s just in case of an emergency. “What are you doing, Buck?” he asks, concern and confusion audible in his voice.

“I don’t know, Eddie, honestly.” Buck chuckles quietly, bitterly. “I- I didn’t wanna go home. I just felt like going for a drive, and before I knew it, I was on I-10, so I just- kept driving.” he shrugs, as if Eddie could see him. “Why are you checking my location so early in the morning, anyway? Or at all?” he adds, because he’d only check Eddie’s if he couldn’t get ahold of him for long enough to warrant worrying, not in the morning when he could easily just be asleep. Then again, maybe Eddie sees how off Buck’s been lately.

“Uh-” Eddie takes a beat, swallows audibly. “I do that sometimes.” he admits, voice quiet.

“Do what?” Buck’s hands grip the steering wheel a bit harder, eyes on the road. Fortunately there’s not a lot of traffic at this hour, in between cities. 

“Ever since-” he takes a shaky breath. “Ever since you- you died, I check sometimes, just to make sure you’re there, that you’re- you’re alive. To ease my mind without overwhelming you and smothering you with my pointless worrying.” he chuckles quietly. “And, I don’t know, today I woke up and had this nagging feeling to check, to make sure you’re safely at home, and- and here you are, two states over.” he says in that tone that makes Buck clearly imagine him shaking his head with exasperation and fondness. “Buck, if you wanted a road trip, you should’ve just said so. We’d have taken Chris and gone across the- the world if you wanted to.” he says earnestly, and Buck feels tears in his eyes again. Fuck, what is wrong with him? “You know we’re here for you. I’m here for you.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to be.” Buck whispers, not meaning a word.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @buckaroosheart @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @rainbow-nerdss @malewifediaz @giddyupbuck @jeeyuns @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @hoodie-buck @theotherbuckley @nmcggg @jesuisici33 @disasterbuckdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @hippolotamus @fortheloveofbuddie

[dissonantwhsipers]

Daily Balatro Joker 003 - "Lusty Joker"

[libbytwq]

Hello my friend, this is highly deserved!! I'm going to be giving these out to my friends, artists I follow and look up to or BOTH!!! Enjoy (I love you and your stuff) :D

(Ik I said it before but I still sent this anyway since you need it :3)

W- WHUH

explodesf

THANK YOU????? WOAHG

I CANT BELIEVE PEOPLE CONSIDER ME AN ART GOD ??? WHAT

AND AN SMG4 ONE NO LESS LOL

my humble ass not knowing how to handle compliments cuz im not used to the constant compliments and my inbox has been getting FILLED with them /pos /silly

seriously YALL ARE TOO SWEET. >:[ YOU GUYS ARE SO KIND AND NICE AND POLITE, STOP IT /j /silly /nm (PLEASE DONT STOP BEING NICE AND KIND ISTG)

also UNO REVERSE!! your art is super cool too >:)

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

More Nonsense from My Ambrosius Stan Account Post:

As someone who got on Tumblr a couple years ago not really knowing the culture and rarely posts because I don't think anyone cares about the silly worms in my brain I'd like to give everyone who thought it was funny and left a like or a tag or a reblog a very I Love You and here is some more thoughts about it I had through the day that I thought nobody would care about but am posting now

The account was named @gold_loin_love and gained notoriety for being the only stan account Ambrosius actually followed

During the live stream Ballister answered the questions (that he had his followers submit beforehand) while still in character, despite the fact that he was laughing his ass off and Ambrosius was with him.

Example: "'Do you think Ballister and Ambrosius are going to get divorced?' Absolutely. They're terrible together and honestly not even cute. They probably had some cringy beach wedding with their weird pink child officiating. Ew, next question"

Ambrosius would frequently interject

"Do I think Ambrosius was toxic for cutting off Ballister's arm?"

Ambrosius, stealing the phone: "Yes he needs to be cancelled immediately."

Ballister, taking it back: "Wrong that weird creep deserved it to be honest"

He read a couple questions that were defending him and after giving them his joke answer about how they were wrong, thanked them sincerely

(sad time) The first thing he posted after the events of the movie, during which he obviously wasn't posting although how fucking funny would it have been to be Ambrosius and see Ballister's fake stan account post "lol get his ass I hope he died" over footage of him MAIMING HIM in light of all that was happening was "I'm sorry that I've been gone, the death of the Queen really took a toll on me, she was a real role model and inspiration of mine. I'm especially sorry to Ambrosius. I wish I hadn't run away. I wish I'd been there for you through all this, I know it must have been so hard. I really hope everyone forgives him."

(sad time over, silliness resumed) He'd use the account to make fun of Ambrosius and himself in every capacity imaginable

"Check out what Ambrosius wore to the national conference, I love how it's so shiny you can't tell how busy and incongruent the patterns are 😍 we love a maximalist king!!!"

"Ballister Ballhard surprises nobody wearing armor he got at the emo booth of a Renaissance Fair."

There is so much potential for this and I'd love to see more of Ballister being a silly goofball

[ruelpsen]

feeling insane about that fictional man tonight (in a horny-subby way)

Holy fucking fuck do I want to be his fat little fucktoy. I want him to use me for his own pleasure and for him to enjoy seeing how much I love it when he treats me as a slutty plaything. I want him to fuck me whenever and wherever and as often as he wants and in whatever ways he wants. Letting him use me like that sounds so fucking good.

And don't even get me started on weight. I want him to force me to get fat, whether from food or his cum as going by that one kinky hc I have for his kind. I want him to condition me so I get horny when he feeds me so I get all needy and give him all the more reason to use me then and there. I want him to want me bigger, to make me bigger, and make me that much hornier the more of me there is. I want him to shove his cocks in my mouth so I have no choice but to get bigger thanks to him.

I want him to use my throat so I can be a disgusting little whore and belch on him like a good fat slut. I want him to mock me over how horny and desperate his own belches make me. I want him to tease me for it, force me to beg for it, make me admit how disgusting I am for wanting him to belch in my mouth. Fuck, I'm disgusting, but I want it. I want him. I want to be his gross, fat little fucktoy, belching again and again as he fucks me. I want my moans of pleasure to get interrupted by belches as he makes me cum, only for him to keep going because I'm not done until he's done. Fuck. Fuck. I want him I want him I want him God I need him to force me to cum and be absolutely nasty to me.

[anarchypumpkincowboy]

it’s very frustrating knowing that most of my problems could be solved if i just didn’t have fucking seizures

[dazeymazey]

[ id: a short, uncolored comic featuring Chip, a thin character with a cardboard box for a head, and Petra, a taller fat character with a cactus head. they sit next to each other, and Petra watches as Chip uses a small screwdriver on a pair of glasses. Chip holds them up, testing the hinge. next he places the glasses on Petra's face, who then wiggles them to make sure they're stable. Chip claps and smiles at them; Petra smiles back with a flushed expression on their face. end id]

a little moment from a little story (which may never see the light of day)

[ id: diagram of the glasses, which have double-hinged arms. they're labelled "extra adjustable hinges to accomodate the unique structure of their face". next to that is another small doodle. Chip, glancing at Petra thinks "Okay.. so that explains why they always get so close.. they just couldn't see. It all makes sense now." Petra is holding one of Chip's cats as it paws at their face - an arrow pointing at them says "nearsighted". end id ]

shaking him (gently)

[lapogus]

im finally sorting through all my art so i can back it up and keep it organized... i found art from 2016 and was like oh yeah! i remember drawing that. 7 years ago. what the fuck

[tonycries]

CHERRY-POP!

Synopsis. He’s losing more than his v!rginíty - he’s losing his mind.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, vírgínity loss (JJK men), PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, first times, p talking, proposals, cervíx kíssing, matíng presses, GOJO’S POWERS, manhandIing (Nanami), overstím, rough, true form Sukuna, dp, making them whímper, spítting, chokíng, p sIapping, mentions of heirs, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Y’all asked and aIpha provided hehehe, also Ino girlies y’all are FED today <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Was a 10/10

“I-I’m really…damn. Damn.” Just about all that he can gasp. Toji’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs at the sheer tremors lacing his baritone voice, on the edge of shattering into a million pieces. He’s dragging a fat thumb where your teary slit was bulging. In awe. “Damn.”

And your honeyed giggles are enough to make him buck his rummaging length with a shuddering groan. Pumping you full of more solid, mindless inches. “S’that all you can hah- say, Toji?” 

Hell, if Toji Fushiguro could coherently speak - if he could even think - then he’d already be waxing poetic about how your that sweltering hot heaven between your legs was driving him mad. Was having his life flashing before his very eyes-

How had he lived for so long without this?

You’re letting out a tiny gasp - only too-late does Toji’s melty mind realize that he’d pathetically babbled all that out loud. 

Taking the lewd opportunity to punish your parted lips with a slow wad of his syrupy saliva, “D-doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two…”

God, if Toji hadn’t confessed to you just prior that he was a raging virgin then you would have laughed in his face right this very second. 

Because he was acting like anything but.

His rock-hard cock was vicious, bullying right between your pretty pursed folds with inch after throbbing inch that scratches your sweet spots just right. Fuck- he couldn’t take his eyes off the sight. Slamming a hand down onto the rickety headboard to stop from jackhammering his fat cock over and over into you already.

“Y-you’re seriously…” he’s letting his voice peter out. Toji’s curling a few thick fingers around his hefty hilt, feeding your drooling hole more. More. “-seriously sucking th-the life outta me.”

He’s moving at such a sleazy pace, tracing one calloused thumb down your driveling lips, all soaked and sopping with your saturated juices. “Heh, not bad for a f-fucking virgin, huh?” Before popping it into your mouth for you to suck on like your favorite lolly. “C’mon- say somethin’, ma.”

“S-so slow, Toji-” you’re huffing and puffing in a way that makes him grunt, trembly legs falling further and further open by the second at the stretch. The way his large, bulbous tip was brushing against your very inner walls had you dizzy. “-give me more.”

“Wh-when I told ya to talk it wasn’t to talk with your hah- damn pussy, woman.”

And fuck.

Fuuuuck- Toji was more affected than he would like to admit. 

Much, much more. 

Because just the incoherent mess of jumbles falling from those pretty lips of yours had him throwing his head back with a moan. Big, beefy biceps flexing when he’s battering his rock-hard tip into your gooey depths. And shit-

He didn’t read about this online. 

Never ever thought that the Toji Fushiguro would find his mean scar dropping with his jaw in raw, carnal shock when your pussy lips dribble a generous load of his own cum. Eyes veering to the very back of his head with he just barely manages to disguise as a regular one of his eyerolls. 

Fuck- fuck did he cum already?

“D-did you-”

“Shut up. Holy shit-” A set of rugged fingers clasp bruisingly around your waist, another skating about midway up your tummy and pressing. Down hard. Now until your slobbering cunt was painting numerous creamy rings upon rings around Toji’s hefty hilt. “Damn, what a pussy you got on ya. Is yer cunt jus’ extra filthy, ma?”

You’re smacking his cushiony pecs at his words, whining, “Y-you’re so nasty–”

“Me?” His greedy green eyes widen, “Callin’ me nasty w-when your pussy is the one spillin’ all over me? Hngh- jus’ look at her, doll.”

There’s nothing else that you could look at - because Toji’s flexing arms were caging you into your cozy little cove. Dark brows marrying together in pure bliss when he’s dragging his cock out of your slippery cunt with a wet plop! Letting your puckered hole slide a drizzling coating of cum. 

And then plugging you back in - and then again. In and out. In and out in and-

“And whose f-fault is that?”

“Hers.”

Even through your stupidly fucked mind you could catch the way that Toji’s voice was dipped in pure loving. A hypnotized grin leering all over his face - you could ask him to bring you the moon right now and he would.

Hunching his entire heaving body over to move back inside your snug walls mercilessly, he nips down your tender earlobe. Grunting, “Heh, I read ya nasty pussy would ngh- like this.”

And he’s seeping in a few fingers to swirl around the ounces of white that stained your bulging cunt, around and around until it was thoroughly coating his dripping wet fingers. Tracing just enough over your pulsing clit. And you thought he would bring it up for you to suck - you thought. 

Before he’s placing them swiftly into his mouth and whining - yes, whining. The clingy grip of your softened walls had him so gone. 

“P-pretend ya never fuckin’ heard that-” Toji’s snapping right before you can open your teasing mouth, and his high cheekbones color in the most innocent shade of rosy pink. Snarling, “-s’not m-my fault- it’s hers.”

Yeah, because your dripping cunt was way too much for a virgin to handle - it had him going mad. 

It had him rummaging even deeper into your pliant cunt, tenderizing your poor g-spots into the perfect bullseyes that he just couldn’t miss. All the way to the base. Toji’s making the bed creak with each one of his ruts, sweat slicking down the middle of his curved spine at his staggering pace. 

And he wasn’t even tired - not a single ounce. You think he’d be tired while buried in a blissful cunt like this?

Monstrous stamina pushing and pushing his weepy tip down in streaming slides across your sweet spots. Without a singular warning, his mountainous palms snatch your trembly legs up to throw them over his broad shoulders. 

“Sh-shit, the stretch–” you’re mewling when he’s easily folding you in half like a lawnchair. Merciless. Snickering.

Absolutely no shred of regret or apology when he grins, “Y’know…I also read online about th-this thing called a…mating press.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - SWEETENER!

“Like this?”

And you’ve never heard your stoic boyfriend ever sound like this before - with his chest heaving in gasps, gluttonous eyes locked down on your arched back, lips wobbling like the very fate of the world depended entirely on the next few words to fall from your cockdrunken mouth. 

Fuck- Nanami was so staggeringly massive that you couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even jolt back to your senses until he’s peppering a drool-worthy trail of kisses down your spine. Echoing, strained. “Never done this before- I-is this okay, my love?”

“Yes! Hngh-” you’re managing to blink back the pearly tears welling up in your eyes. “Y-you can start to move, Kento.”

He’s placing a few more innocent pecks by the corner of your mouth before doing so, and just one singular movement - a singular inch inside your pretty cunt - had Nanami Kento hypnotized.

Breath hitching. 

You’re almost concerned when the first smooching thrust right into your awaiting g-spot had his muscled thighs shivering. Honeypool eyes wide, cheeks flushed, ruined. Frantically scrambling to clasp his thick fingers around your tender throat, Nanami heaves out a groan and pulls.

Feeding you the uncharacteristically ruthless inches of his furious cock, you’re being hauled about halfway down the velvety bed as if you’re some kind of doll. Pumped stupidly full of his fat girth, you’re not sure if that thunderous throb! throb! throb! was from his angry cock or from you. 

Head so light, “Ken–”

“Wh-what- oh…” Immediately, Nanami’s letting his hand drop from your neck as if it burned, sorrowfully kissing near those faint bruises. “I’m so sorry, my love- I didn’t realize. I won’t-”

“No no, baby–” Craning your head around to stop his stern mouth from ranting any further, you give him a smug smirk that you can feel the effects of. Feeling his sopping wet twitch into your bruised spots in a gloopy wave of scorching precum. “-I like it.”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

You shouldn’t have said that - fuck, you shouldn’t have said a word. Because that’s all it takes for Nanami to smack his sharp hip bones into you like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. 

And if the first tentative thrust into your cunt was magic - then this. Fuck, this was a miracle in real life. 

Your cunt is so talkative with him - slurring out a few saturated sploshes every time he’s pumping your gummy depths full of himself. 

Pummelling with very pound, and if you didn’t know any better then you would have thought that Nanami was fucking you like he hated you. Sloppy. Addicted. You’re feeling the slosh of his sticky pre inside you with every shuddering rut.

Languidly licking up the overwhelmed tears in your eyes, “M-m’sorry, darling I…” Interrupted by a syrupy hug of your walls like clingfilm, he was spearing open your insides so good. Molding himself into every nook and cranny inside you. Virginity be damned, he was having his fill for years. “-I can’t seem to stop. I-I just need-”

Words couldn’t even explain the sheer fucking heaven that Nanami was in right now. This was what you felt like? This? 

And you’re not even sure if he’s in control when he’s pushing down on your shaky body with one of his thick palms, right until you’re splayed out like some slut on the king-sized mattress. Hiking up one thick thigh to pressurize his thwacking pushes even harder, and the other to press down on your head with his foot. 

“Sh-shit you’re so deep, Ken–” your fingers thrash against the silken sheets at the even meaner angle. “I can feel you all the way-”

Right before you can finish your drawling sentence - almost as if Nanami didn’t want you to, couldn’t even handle the thought - his massive palm rummages from down under to glide down the thickened inflation where he was ruining you. Where he would feel the wet swipes of steaming hot precum being poured right into your womb. Where he could feel himself. 

And he’s trying to reign back some control - to remember all the tips that he’d read in those books. But god was it difficult when Nanami’s rubbing his fat thumb against your clit and making you whine. 

Over and over and-

“D-don’t run away–” Nanami’s voice cracks towards the very end - snapping you out of your lustful haze to realize that oh shit, you had been inching away. The stimulation so much. “M’yours- m’all yours. And I need you, my love, I need more-”

And right before you can correct your posture, knocking your  hips in sodden glides down his swollen length; Nanami’s snatching his speckled yellow tie right off somewhere across the bed and wringing it around your wrists tightly. Pinning them together over your back before leveraging it with one curl of his fingers to drag you back into his erection.

Nanami’s breath hitches, head finding itself thrown backwards in an instant. He’s leaning further backwards to drink in the heavenly sight of your ass quavering against his hips, of the way his skin was reddening now. 

“Th-theree we go, y-yer gonna take my fuckin’ cock. Aren’t you, my wife?”

You’re not sure what you’re gasping more at - the roughened lack of sanity in his words, or at the way he was calling you his wife. Again and again like a little mantra into the crook of your neck - all that he could say right now. 

“Such a p-pretty cunt- n’ a pretty wife…” Hushed out beside your ears at a feverish pace. “Y-you have me addicted so, soo…” Addicted enough to not be able to finish his sentence.  Nanami leaves a wet peck at your lips, and an even wetter smack! on your clit. 

And when you cum, you’re seeing white. 

Unsure of what’s even happening before Nanami’s fucking you through each peaking wave of your high, edging it deeper and deeper. You’re gasping at the feeling of his cock twitching vigorously inside. Harshly. Dangerously. 

“K-keep those legs open, darling.” He’s crushing you to his brawny body so tight. “M’gonna haaah- make this sweet cunt overspill.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Good girl never cry.

Geto Suguru never saw himself like this - feeling so blissfully good. 

He never saw himself with fucking tears beading at the very corners of his glassy eyes, his maw sagging animalistically open when his prespiration-slicked body glissades against yours. Yours. Shit- all he could think about was that clingy pussy of yours and you, you, you-

“Oh, what’s this?” Rumbling voice smooth against your ear, but all you can manage out is a pathetic few hahs! when Geto’s body never stops. His grueling hips don’t even slow down to let you catch your breath. “Heh, am I th-the one losing my virginity or are ngh- you, gorgeous?”

You’re huffing and puffing in a way that he can’t help but find so cute, feeling his lips curl up into a heady smile. “N-no need to be so mean, Sugu–”

“Tch.”

Without a split-second of hesitation - or so much as even a warning - he’s wrangling your legs over two broad shoulders. Biceps flexing when looping your two ankles around his flushed neck, pinning them together with a gruff, “Lock them.”

And it’s all you can manage to do when he’s folding down, down, down in half. Making your calves burn with sheer fatigue, your sloppy entrance stretches around the curve of Geto’s swollen cock. It was such a sight to behold - your succulent pussy lips drooling all down to his too-tight balls, talking back to him in the most slurping squelches with every jittery ram. 

Geto can feel himself trailing a translucent line of drool already - embarrassing. 

“Mhm—” Your entire body vibrates with his severe groans, nodding along with his sleazy eyes pointed downwards. And the angle helps him spit out in your slack mouth, snickering. “Th-think I like her better.”  

Your jaw drops - and he’s taking this perfect chance to smush your mouth into an embarrassing pout with two fingers squishing your cheeks together. Lolling his head downwards to pry open your mouth and suck on your tongue. 

“Hmpf! Then you can ngh- kiss ‘her’ instead-” Slow. Drooling. Such a filthy French kiss that Geto breaks with a wet smooch!

Pecking up your stubborn tears. How cute.

“Oh, I will…” Comes his answer, along with a few more thunking collisions into your rawly bruised g-spot as if he was reminding you just who you were dealing with - virgin or not. “You think j-jus’ because m’a hah- virgin, I don’t know how to handle such a s-sweet pussy?”

Maybe you nod, maybe you shake your head - you’re not even sure before Geto’s spitting out a wet wad of saliva that hits his ready digits with a wet thwack! Smearing right along your overly stuffed pussy, where he was funneling you so full of him. 

Gruffing out, “First m’gonna f-fuck her until she’s ngh- overspilling. Gonna ruin her for a-anyone else-” Twirling his rude thumb in a wet grind on the hood of your plump kiss, he’s leaving a few wet swats. “Then m’gonna taste her- treat her a lil’ while she’s already ah dripping with me. And then…” Breath hitching while he’s crashing a kiss into you once more. “-m’gonna do it all over again.”

“How do you even-”

He’s babbling nonsense now - or maybe truths. “Y’have no idea how much I’ve ah- imagined this, gorgeous– kept thinkin’ of it every night.” 

“R-really?” you gasp.

“Mhm– s-since the day I met ya. I’d imagine doin’ a little bit of hah-” Giving your mouth an innocent peck, “-this. Then some of-” Then a bite. “This.” And then the most slow drag of his hips down your walls, “And mostly this.”

God, he had half the mind to know that maybe you shouldn’t be hearing these. But Geto didn’t care. He couldn’t. Not when every drilling pound had him giddy, “Always wan’ed you to be all mine y’know- my lil’ cum dump, aren’t ya?”

You’re somehow muffling out - seeping through each labored breath. “Yes- yes yes yes- fuck- m’so close, Sugu- M’gonna-”

“Of course ya are.” He’s rolling his eyes, acting for all the world like his painfully swollen balls weren’t just aching to cum already. Hips getting sloppier and sloppier, as do his words. “She told me- h-hurry up already. Cum on my fuckin’ cock.”

And Geto thinks he tried to hold back how pathetically pussydrunken he was on your gorgeous cunt, he thinks he tried to do a good job of it. 

Tried.

But as soon as your orgasm hits you at full force - oh, that’s when he’s allowing his eyes to mask over with a bleary veil of tears. Drip, drip, dripping down in hot splatters onto your skin- it feels so good.

And Geto bites down hard into the crook of your neck, muffling those rasping whimpers curdling at the back of his throat when he cums. When he feels his ears pop! lids flashing his vision with pure white. 

“S-so much–” you’re mewling when he’s dumping out such voluminous ropes of seed. Thick, sticky, sloshing down in neverending rivulets. He’s fucking you through each and every one, mashing into your very g-spot- “There’s ah! S’overspilling, Suguru-”

Overspilling.

Oh, Geto would never admit it but he couldn’t even bear to turn his head downwards at the exact sight that you were talking about. No. 

It was already embarrassing enough to tumble into his second orgasm just from your sentence. Pearly white canines digging into the mound of your flesh so hard that you think he might just draw blood. The muscles in Geto’s jaw ticks when his bawling divot pushes out another few sputtering smacks! of cum against your sweetest spots. 

“Y-you…” he’s gasping out, barely even audible. And as soon as Geto’s raising his dampened face from the haven at your neck, you’re practically gasping at the fucked-out expression on his face. Eyes unfocused, skin a blotchy red, hair curtaining his face and making it almost impossible to tell where he was looking. “I really came…inside- hah- inside your pretty pussy.”

In awe.

Geto’s moving lazily - like he’s in a pool of molasses - when he dances a hand down to your beading cunt. Probing a few fingers back in to feed your parched pussy the remnants of excess cum. “C-can I- can I do it again?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “I-is this heaven?”

Choso didn’t mean to say that out loud - in fact, he’d probably rather die than actually babble it out to you. 

But how could he not when you were smearing your syrupy sweet folds all open for him that way? Two of your fingers sliding between your legs with a purring, “Why dontcha find out, Cho–?”

It should’ve been embarrassing the way he’s tripping and stumbling over the expanse of the plush king-sized bed to loom dangerously closer to you. To softly guide your hand away with a nudge of his reddened, aching cock. Choso’s practically begging on his own two knees when he gasps- heaves, “I-I can put it inside?” Still in wonderment. He must be dreaming. Slurring up a sopping wet drag of his fat, ruby tip just to confirm. “C-can I really?”

“Mhm–” you’re nodding. “Careful not to hurt your-”

But you’re not given the privilege to finish your sentence. Hell, you’re not given the privilege to even finish taking in a deep inhale before all of it comes rushing back out in the most feverish gasp.

Hurtling out of your suddenly bowing body when you’re suddenly being so split-apart. Choso’s ambushing tip bullying your pussy lips wide agape, he’s fucking you so full with just the tiniest, mindless little gyrations of his flexible hips just to fit inside. 

Because Choso might be a virgin - but with his staggering size, he didn’t even have to try to hit your earliest sweet spots. 

“Move your hand, baby, I-I…”

That’s when you’re glimpsing at your poor boyfriend, who’s already so utterly wrecked. The very moment he’s slid into your snug cunt, it had him seeing stars. Bursts of pleasure exploding at his sensitive cock, dark eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso’s grasping a hand around a few of his sweat-dampened locks and pulling to jolt himself back to reality.

When he blinks his teary eyes back open, you swear his pupils had turned into hearts. Whispering, “M’in love with you oh-”

Both of you are snapping downwards your heads in unison when something swelteringly hot floods your insides. Creamy and sloshing like treacle down your walls - all it took was once look up at Choso’s prettily burning blush to realize that he’d cum as soon as he put it in. 

“Ch-Choso-”

“Shit- shit- m’sorry, baby–” he’s grunting out, hips moving by themselves in filthy little collisions that jerk you on the bed. He’s so surprisingly hands-on, fingers gliding up and down your arched back to massage all your tender spots. “I didn’t mean to c-cum so early- shit- m’sorry–”

It’s barely even possible to form a coherent though with the way he was fucking into you so sloppily. He can’t stop. He won’t. No rhythm or reason - just pure, primal need dripping from every plummet of his thickened cock into your gooey depths. 

You’re prattling out softly, “It’s okay, baby.” Running your hands through the wet strands of his bangs sticking to his prespired forehead, Choso’s face lights up into an intoxicated smile at your candied cooing. “K-keep going-”

As if to illustrate your point, you’re bucking your hips off the bed to meet his - to strike your abdomen down in a stinging slam! The sticky smack of skin-on-skin makes you both hiss, and Choso’s bludgeoning tip drives even deeper in a bashful kiss against your velvety cervix. 

“O-oh…” His jaw drops slack, a slight trickle of drool running its way down at this point. Without another words, two strong arms wrap themselves around your body, and he’s angling his hips urgently - desperately - to replicate that gummy recoil. Again. And again. And again and again. “H-how can it feel so hngh- good? How- why, baby?”

Shit, Choso’s babbling nonsense and he knows he’s babbling nonsense.

Which is why once you’re pressing gentle pecks all over his face - from his forehead, to his blushing cheekbones, all down to his wobbly lips - he’s now sure he’s in heaven. And you’re his own personal angel. 

Panting out hot puffs against your mouth, you could savor his sugary sweet taste already. “Th-think m’gonna cum again, baby- oh, I- can I cum inside? Please? Please, baby?”

“I-inside, please-” Your words tremble out in nothing but mere mewls, curling one of your arms around his neck to haul your dear boyfriend over even closer. He lets you - lets himself be so used. “-d-don’t miss, okay?”

How could he ever when you’re asking him so sweetly like this?

Making him wrack out a heavy shudder all the way from his dizzy head to his twitchy tip, spurting out a few buttery dredges of pre. So close. Choso slips and slides his palms down onto your thighs to spread them wide open for him. Murmuring out a throaty, “Won’t miss- won’t miss. D-don’t you worry, baby, m’not gonna miss.” like a mantra. Hypnotized.

Splattering out thick helpings of cum that flood your gaping entrance, you can feel your snug walls inflating with each ram of his cock. Swirling down, down, down to knock at your womb- Choso is so messy.

Supposedly helping clean you up by dragging a hand to your tummy, bearing down hard right on top of the very spot he knew would make you spill out a syrupy puddle of his seed. Painting a creamy white ring all over his twitching base. 

“L-look, baby- I didn’t miss.” He chuckles - chuckles. So in bliss that he doesn’t even realize the way his entire body was shivering with the convulsions still. “Ah, y-you took my virginity and I didn’t even hngh- miss.”

Barely even lucid when he uses that superhuman strength of his to flip the two of you over, lounging on his back against the now-damp sheets. But Choso doesn’t feel disgusted - not even close - he’s staring up at you through heavy, droopy eyes. Pussydrunk. 

And he can only manage out two words. 

“Ride me?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - S-s-stutter?!

“Tch, don’t think this is going to get the hah- king to bow down to ya, lil’ human.” Sukuna seethes at the sight of you on all slutty fours - and it would be a whole lot more threatening had it not been for the way his graveling voice cracks. The way all he can let out is a string of slurring swears when your preslicked pussy lips glide across his angrily hard cocks. 

“Mhm– whatever you say, Kuna-” your voice was sweetly agitating him, making his flushed heads perk up in feral little jolts. Desperate to bully himself inside your sopping entrance. “Just give me- both-”

With a sudden clasp of his vice-like fingers around your waist, you’re being shoved against the plush mattress of the royal bed. Bouncing up softly against those marshmallowy pillows and caged against Sukuna’s hulking body.

You’re breathing out a little, “It would be easier for you if-”

“I know.” He’s cutting you off, devilishly red eyes straying off into the distance and away from anywhere near your gaze. Regal cheekbones a beet red when he’s finally looking at you,  “This-” One of his clawed palms cup your face, “-this is better.”

And of course the king of curses isn’t going to fucking admit it when he wants to see every one of your fucked-out expressions. 

Of course he’s not going to let you ponder on his uncharacteristic actions for too long before swiping a wet skim down your slit. Pooling up your slick juices down his pulsing cocks, one of his massive palms jostle and smear that translucent gloss down his lengths. The other prodding at your winking entrance - “Heh, take a deep breath- doesn’t matter that m’a fucking virgin, you’re the one that needs ta brace yerself, brat.”

Fuck- it doesn’t matter how much you might’ve readied yourself because Sukuna’s matchingly thick lengths we always going to split you apart until you felt like you should sob.

It was such a delicious stretch - probing at every one of your sugary spots, his intrusion was working your tight channel open in a way you’d never even thought possible before. Spreading your tight rim of muscle gapingly open as you milk every copious inch of his double shafts. 

“Would ya look at that–” Sukuna’s drawling out, and his eyes widen with a tinge of genuine surprise. Long tongue darting outwards to lick up that embarrassing slick of dribble escaping his awe-struck lips. “Sucking me up so well ahhh- s’like your cute pussy’s made f’me. Aren’t ya?”

It’s maddening.

It’s filthy the way that Sukuna’s leaning his sleazy head even closer to drink up every sodden noise that emanates from your cunt when he’s filling himself inside your cunt deeper. And deeper. Like his length was never-ending. 

Every squelch, every slurp that makes him chuckle. Wafting one of his dark, overgrown nails across the bumpy outline of his drilling tips on your tummy. “Oh, damn t-talkative, too-”

Your veins thunder rapidly with the sheer lewd embarrassment of having Sukuna listening and conversing with your sloppy cunt. And the feeling makes you let out a whiny huff and clench-

Oh. 

He’d never felt like this. 

“Sh-shit- marry me.”

Someone’s gasping - and it takes you only a few lazy seconds after Sukuna’s bludgeoning the entirety of his two dicks into your cunt to realize that it wasn’t you. Blinking back your already overwhelmed tears, you open your mouth- 

“You didn’t hear th-”

“Wh-what was that?” 

“Nothing- oh-” Another clench. Another gushing spurt of his steamy precum dripping down your cervix. “-fuck you evil, evil little…” Sukuna’s baring his sharpened canines in a snarl - but that doesn’t do much to deter your grin when he’s practically shivering with stimulation above you. Stuttering. “I said- m-marry me.”

It’s a command more than a question, and it’s spewing out from Sukuna’s lips with every spearhead into your poor, bruised cunt. Pressing wet peck after peck on your cervix, your g-spot - anywhere and everywhere his thorough cocks could reach - as if he was trying to convince you to say yes. 

“It ah! feels so good, Kuna-” you’re dragging out from your shot throat, mouth clamping to a close around a hard bite on his muscular, tattooed shoulders. 

“Easy there on the ngh- merchandise.” He rolls his eyes, faintly going cross-eyed when your hips start bouncing back and forth back and forth back and forth in an attempt to match his pressurized cadence. “Though-” Sukuna’s gulping, your cunt had his mind in a frenzy, has this all-powerful sorcerer held hostage. “I guess I should cut some ngh- slack for the future queen.”

Ah, yes.

Sukuna could see it already - the only vision in his hazy mind getting clearer and clearer with each punishing thrust into your gummy depths, with each powerful drag of your hips to slam and bounce against his. The vision of you adorned in his robes and sitting on his throne, with a few little pink-haired heirs too…

And he’s getting ahead of himself - he’s completely, irrevocably pussydrunk at this point.

Out of control when he’s gliding one calloused hand across your tummy, where you’d be round and glowing for him should you wish. The second of his hands dipping cozily down for him to kiss your plump clit with his second mouth. Grinning, “F-for the future queen and…the mother of my kids.”

And when Sukuna’s cumming it’s with that exact image in mind - what a beautiful momma you’d be. What a beautiful cunt you have when you’re all slathered in a thick coating of his seed. 

All creamy and glomping out from between your puffed-up slit, you’re cumming at the sheer wave of it filling you up all inside. Until you were so stuffed you felt like you could burst. Seeing stars explode behind your eyes, and your ears thunder with the ricochet of Sukuna’s slowly softening cocks. “B-better not tell anyone about…that, my wife.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - LOVE love

“Please-” Ino’s staring up deeply into your drunken eyes like he never wanted to look away. Never could when you were straddled all prettily on top of him, riding the fucking soul out of his poor, inexperienced cock. “-j-jus’ the tip- nhgh-”

One taste of your pretty pussy and he was gone. 

Your hands are sliding greedily down his toned body, making themselves at home right over his pretty pectorals. Swirling over his rosy nipples, “Baby– we’re way past jus’ the ngh- tip.”

You were?

Shit, Ino’s practically grappling with that mushy part of himself to tear his glassy gaze down to where you’re swallowing him up into your gummy heaven. Breath hitching in a grovelling rasp at the way your puffy pussy lips were mounting wide open on his fat girth. Streaming down a waterfall of your glossy slick that covers him in a glistening coating. 

Fuck, he suddenly couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

“O-oh.” Ino’s mouth sags open with a shuddering gasp, and he can’t help but grin. He can’t help but chuckle in a deep, wet way that makes his furious divot bawl out copious torrents of thick pre. “You are. G-guess you officially took my hah- virginity, huh, pretty?”

Guiding a few slender fingers to give the jiggling fat of your ass a sharp smack! You can only keen when Ino bucks his hips up further and further - harder. Every second sending him into a frenzy.

“T-Taku…” you’re whining out. Fingers glissading across his warm, sweat-sheened collarbones and curling around his tender throat. “I th-thought I told you to let me do all the ah- work…”

Oh, he’s leaning upwards in a sudden surge to kiss up against your lips in a wet glide. Humming confidently like he wasn’t fucking ruined every time your hips came crashing down. “But I can’t help it- can’t- ah- wan’ you to fuckin’ use me.”

Ino didn’t know what he was doing - didn’t even know what he was thinking when he’s curving his powerful back to send a riotous few crashes against your bruising g-spot. To fuck up into you so harsh that it leaves the bed frame protesting in creaks.

Dancing his own digits to intertwine with yours on his neck - Ino makes you squeeze. “Tighter. Harder. C’mon now- f-fuck me, pretty.”

You have no choice but to obey - to slide back and forth on his uprightly curved cock, the angle was dizzying with its collisions against the bullseye of that spot. His heavy balls smack into your ass until you were sure it bruised. And still- still it wasn’t enough.

Stil, Ino finds himself veering a trembly hand up to your plump clit. Leaving a sodden, stinging smack! 

“W-woah…” His voice just cracks, brown strands of hair falling onto his sweat-glazed forehead when he’s jolting. “You just got- s-so soaked- tell me tell me how I hngh- do that again-”

So desperate. So eager to please. 

The adoration was just bursting from his half-lidded eyes and right through every sparring jut of his cock. Clashing. Kissing. Sopping French kisses into your treacly walls that make you squeal. “J-jus’ right there- hngh-”

“There? There, r-right?” He’s so pretty when he’s batting his long lashes up at you, dewy eyes practically fluttering shut at the way your cunt was clinging onto him. Needy. “A-and what about this? What about ngh- here?” 

How tentative…so cute. 

“Don’t be shy, baby–” Your voice was honey, so sweetened that it makes him bite back a few pathetic whimpers. A furiously innocent blush sunrising its way into his cheeks, “-you can hah- do whatever you want.”

Whatever.

Fuck, the words are barely out of your mouth before Ino’s clapping his massively splayed out hands onto the curve of your ass. He’s copping a generous grope while seeping his full length in staggering thrusts, and he’s so flexible. So smooth with his movements. 

Gifting another palm print that raises against your tender flesh, Ino has the audacity to bear you with a sleazy grin as soon as you strengthen your chokehold on him. Cutting off his airway, yet, he gives you a look that told you he was so in love. Making him choke out a little, “Yeah- yeah jus’ like that. N-need you to fucking ruin my life.”

You’re pecking his lips with such a pout, “Careful, or I might jus’ ngh- tie you up next time.”

And Ino doesn’t know if it’s the idea of a next time or the idea of, well, that but he’s letting his eyes veer crossed and head loll pathetically backwards. A languid drizzle of drool escaping his lips when he wrenches open his mouth and whines, “M’cumming- sh-shit I’m-”

It’s such a melty heaven between your legs. 

And Ino’s oozing out pearly gumdrops of cum into your womb, cumming and cumming so hard that he can’t stop it spilling out. And he doesn’t even want to because- shit, he’s never going to cum into his hand ever again. 

Doesn’t have to. 

Because when you’re finally reaching your high, your sloshing walls clamping around him was addictive. Those moans of yours so pretty that he’s almost wishing he’d brought out his phone to record them as his favorite song. 

“I love you-” He’s feeling every velvety throb of your pulse, every clench that his solidly pussydrunken mind would love to think is specifically to suck up every beading sob from his cock. “I love you I love you I- god, I fuckin’ love you, ma.” Feeling every splatter dripping down your cushiony walls. And that makes him cum again- again and again. Orgasms crashing into one another. Until his shaft can only upstart with a few beads of nothing. Cumming dry-

“W-wait are you on the pill, pretty?”

“...”

♡ GOJO SATORU - POCKETPUSSY3000

“Th-this is nothing like my PocketPussy3000…” The great Gojo Satoru can only gape at the way your sultry cunt was swallowing up his red, swollen cock. Can only grip you into a full nelson so bruising. So addicted. Every disappearing inch having his skin burst in a wave of tiny blue bolts of lightning. “Th-this is so much better.”

Better indeed, because the strongest was a virgin.

You’re pushing away the strands of white that cling onto his sweaty forehead, “I-I should ngh- stop you right now for comparing me to that thing.”

And it was just a little joke, really. 

But you didn’t anticipate the way that your poor boyfriend would shatter like the world just ended. 

His pretty pink lips parting in a slurring gasp, dewy blue eyes practically bulging out of his head. Babbling out something drawling and raw into the crook of your neck, “No- no no no–”

Two of his slender digits dip down to smear your swollen pussy lips wide open, scissoring your sloppy hole elastically open to shovel himself all the way until he was poking into your springy cervix.

“Y-you don’t mean that right?” He’s breathing. Hissing when your snug walls suck his fingerpads up with every lazy - urging pump. The double penetration making you keen. “P-please don’t don’t take this pretty pussy away from me- I jus- got- her-” He’s pressing a flurry of innocent kisses down your cheek. Over and over until you’re cracking a smile. “-I’ll throw it out- th-throw that stupid thing out. Don’t need it anymore when I have hngh you.”

Gojo’s absolutely melting at the sheer sex. 

So hot and cozy inside you that he’s fucking hypnotized. Drool driveling down the corner of his mouth when your plushy walls are molding all around his throbbing girth.

God, he truly was the strongest - such a massive cock that he didn’t even have to try to press wet little brandings of precum right near that spot.

“S-squeeze around me, sweetheart–” Gojo’s dragging his thumb sloppily all over your clit, and you get the distinct feeling that he’s making such a mess on purpose. “-please- I r-read about this once- can you…”

Ah, Gojo’s head slumps  backwards into the silken pillows with a soft thud! Just one gripping cling of your velvety walls around his cock had him seeing stars.

Had him seeing his future with you. Had him thinking that he might just be content to die right between your pretty thighs. Or worse - cum early.

Now, the strongest couldn’t cum before his girl - not even if it was his first time. No, no, no. The strongest had to bite down on one of his wobbly rose lips before any more embarrassing whines could let slip, planting his feet firmly steadfast onto the mattress to gift a punishing thrust into you. 

Jostling into your body until you felt weightless, he’s streaming up translucent glosses of precum with every one of his bounces. Every shuddering thwack! of his tight, cum-filled balls, every bruising smack of his sharp hips onto your ass. 

“Where is it-” he’s muttering darkly into your ear. More, more, more. Massive hands coveting all down where he could feel the obscenely thick cylindrical outline of his own length rummaging inside you. Leaving a mess. Making a mess. “C’mon c’mon- c’mon…where is it.”

“Wh-what are you even- ah!” you squeal when he gives your puffy clit a ruthless pinch. “-what are you even looking for, Toru–”

This only leaves you with a few more circular bruises on your cervix, and you catch the way that Gojo’s ruts grow sloppier. The way his pants become more condensed. And he’s dragging his sweat-slicked cheek down your own with a strained call of your name - practically purring. 

“Don’t- ohh shit- don’t say my name like that-” Gojo whines - whines. “Please. You don’t know h-how heavenly this gorgeous cunt is, hah- have mercy the first time, sweetness.”

But of course you don’t.

“Toru–”

“Fuck!” Gojo’s dazed eyes snap open in an instant, it was almost as if on autopilot the way his fingers spark subconsciously with a few sparks of cursed energy - he couldn’t hold it in. He didn’t want to. 

With a few swift movements, he’s using years and years of practice in battle to wrangle two strong arms around your waist and shove you face-first onto the king-sized mattress. 

One sculpted thigh kneeing open your trembly legs further onto all fours, the other hiking up, up, up to angle his reddish tip right into your neglected g-spot. So harsh. So thorough. 

“No- no no no- lemme see that p-pretty face.” He’s hauling your pliant body into what you think is a headlock, feeling your neck surrounded by Gojo’s pale, bulging bicep. So tight. it makes you whirl your glassy eyes around and-

Oh.

Oh.

Gojo Satoru was ruined.

Was letting his six eyes work overtime to locate your cushiony sweet spots, directing his slender hips to plummet right into each and every one. Greedy gaze practically glowing every time your knees weaken when his rotund, weepy head crashes into your battered sensitive spots. Buttering up your insides in a thick, creamy gloss of pre. Close. He was so close. 

“Th-that’s cheating–” 

“N-nooo not cheating.” he’s leaving the tiniest bites and hickeys all over your exposed neck, back muscles flexing when he bows easily into your own body. You could feel every massage and glide of his washboard abs down your arched spine. He was so hot. Burning up, practically. “I did my r-research…” And it’s the way his powerfully buzzing digits roll messily over your clit that has you wondering whether he even realized he was using his powers.

Whether he was too pussydrunk to.

Too cocky about the way all it takes is a few lazy seconds of his rude toying with your sensitive nub for you to cum. Hell yeah - before him, he’s noting with a heady laugh. 

A laugh. 

Wide and humorless - directed at you when just a singular gush of your drooling lips makes his eyes slide all the way to the back of his head. And he couldn’t help the way his head drops backwards, all it takes for Gojo to stumble right over the edge. 

“Shit shit shit shit-” he’s scrunching his eyes open - just barely registering the way the bedroom lights have shattered. Letting out a low hiss before painting your gummy insides in a milky coat of his thick seed. 

Leaving the wettest traces all over your cervix, he can feel its sloshing dredges all around him when Gojo’s ragging down your walls to glide his twitch cock out. To gasp at the way your teary slit was drizzling him in a glistening lamination of his own cum. 

Drip! Drip! Dripping all down onto the expensive navy sheet - and he’s finding himself grinning. Shuffling down to his knees until his mouth pressed a pretty peck onto your slobbering pussy, “A-after this m’gonna sh-show you how the strongest really fucks his PocketPussy3000…imaginin’ you.”

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely lovely weekkk!!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[wistrea-gone]

we don’t have time to unpack how marvel kira still believes that her mother is the only one who actually really wants her around for just being her, even if she isn’t sure if she still wants her as a daughter or as a vessel.

her mother is the only one she trusts who’ll actually avenger her when she’s surrounded by people too good to bloody their hands. another reason why kira would never ask them too. but maybe her mother is the only one twisted enough like her to understand that. her mother who’d do her burial rights and make sure she rests in peace. her mother who held her dying body and cried because she lost her darling girl.

[kurooh]

❤︎ LOVE POTIONS ! — MY HERO ACADEMIA

⊹₊˚. VALENTINE’S DAY 2025 — aphrodisiacs are both a curse and a blessing. / midoriya izuku, bakugo katsuki, todoroki shoto, kirishima eijirou, kaminari denki, & takami keigo.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, aphrodisiacs / sex pollen, dirty talk, edging, brattiness, overstimulation, squirting, threesome, sickness but it’s sexy, breeding kink, unprotected sex.

xoxo, juno. everyone pretend it’s v-day 💘

MIDORIYA IZUKU.

⟡ getting hit by a villain’s quirk right before valentine’s day was not something you’d planned to do. somehow, the effects of the quirk end up being an early gift and also a curse.

fat tears race down izuku’s face, his hands grasping weakly at the sheets with each dizzying bounce of your ass onto his thighs. an hour has passed, spent in different positions around the house with less than five minute breaks in between—but no matter how many times you cum, the glowy pink ring around your irises doesn’t go away.

“too much, ‘s too much,” he slurs, words running into each other and becoming jumbled nonsense. “baby, i can’t, not anymore—shit! ‘m empty now, and it h-hurts so bad.”

“hurts?” you parrot disbelievingly, too deep under the spell to feel the burn in your thighs. “‘zuku, know what hurts?”

“no, i know,” he sobs, balls squeezing painfully as the familiar pressure returns to his cock. it’s familiar, but it’s not the same; there’s no cum involved, he’s been drained too dry to give you anything. “l-last time, please. i need a minute to, ngh, relax.”

it hurts. izuku’s cock is practically purple with overstimulation, but he’s too entranced to pull you off himself. when you’d arrived home, tugging at his belt and babbling about what had happened, izuku took a moment to consider if he had any notes on something like this.

villains with these types of quirks have always been rare, and it’s just his luck that one popped up before valentine’s day.

the couch groans from the combination of movement and weight on it, yawning with wear. izuku has never underestimated your strength or sex drive, but this . . you’re bouncy, and he’s wondering if the villain’s quirk enhanced your stamina too.

in a startling display of affection, you grab at his jaw and kiss away his tears, cooing sweet, sensual nothings into his ear. your voice is smooth when you tell him how good he’s doing, how sexy he looks when he’s whining so sweetly. just when he’s thinking it can’t get any better, you hit him where he’s weakest with a sultry murmur of want you to put a baby in me, izuku.

flustered, he can’t help but let out a squeal when you nip at his neck, kissing over previous bites and smatterings of freckles.

“do what you want with me,” he surrenders, verdant green eyes meeting your own. “hah, if that’s what you want, jus’ use me. fuck me, baby.”

BAKUGO KATSUKI.

⟡ you have the misfortune of tracking a villain with japan’s number one hero, the all too explosive dynamight. everything completely unravels during the confrontation, when katsuki’s rushing forward to deliver the final blow. the dastardly villain releases a thick, noxious smoke that fills the air with a sickening sweetness — despite all the coughing and hacking, he manages to subdue the villain until the police arrive, but you never make it back to the agency to regroup.

ridiculous, is all you can think as you’re being folded in half in the back of a company car that’s sneakily wedged in an alleyway. katsuki’s not-so-gentle teeth nip at the tender skin of your thighs, and he doesn’t think twice about the marks that are sure to show up by tomorrow.

“d-deeper, katsuki,” you writhe against the seats, too handsy for his liking. “please, it’s not deep eno—”

“shut it,” he grunts, scowling down at you. his usual expression doesn’t quite have the same effect it usually does, since it’s been mellowed out by the villain’s aphrodisiac like quirk. “don’t you dare tell me how to fuck, got it?”

a bratty huff escapes you, and you make a show of rolling your eyes at him, seemingly unimpressed. “i wouldn’t have to if you’d just do it right. oh, but who am i to judge the number one?”

a vein bulges from his forehead as he listens, crimson eyes seething silently while you continue to lay it on thick. “i guess dynamight can fuck however he wants, even if it’s subpar—”

in an instant, katsuki’s hand is on your throat and applying just enough pressure to force out a gasp from you. that teasing and talking back worked—now he’s really about to come undone, show you just how strong the number one pro can really be.

“can’t take that back now, can you? if you think you can insult me and order me around, oh,” katsuki grinds his teeth, pressing your knees into your chest without taking a moment to appreciate the pretty moan that leaves you. “fuck, you’ve got another thing coming. shut your mouth.”

“make me.”

he can’t seem to recall a time where he’s ever been this turned on—that aphrodisiac quirk’s got nothing on the way you talk to him, challenge him in a way that nobody has before.

katsuki draws his hips back, slow and deliberate in each movement. you were right, he wasn’t giving you his all; but now, he will, and he won’t stop until you eat your words. deeper? harder? faster? if that’s what you’re asking for, he’ll give it to you.

you watch breathlessly, mesmerized by the frustrated scrunch of his face, all because he can’t stop replaying your words in his head. a harsh slap to your clit snaps you out of your daze the moment it lands, stinging terribly.

“let’s work up to that, alright? you’re going to—”

“what if i don’t, katsuki?” you tip your chin up at him, looking down your nose at him. ���then what?”

another slap, this time with a little more strength behind it. he disregards everything you just said, getting ready to give you an explosive orgasm you’ll have to work hard for.

“that’s what. now, let’s try that again—you’ll be good and count each slap, unless you want me to spank this slutty pussy raw,” satisfied by the responding clench of your cunt, he arches a brow and smirks. “your choice, brat.”

TODOROKI SHOTO.

⟡ with a new, unstable virus spreading rapidly through japan, scientists are racing to develop a cure. it seems to act like the standard flu, but it affects quirk users differently—shoto ends up with an unusual kind of fever.

“ah, ‘m cumming, sho,” cum squirts from your pussy like a waterfall, and everything’s so overwhelming that you unintentionally push his cock out. “good, ‘s so fucking good.”

sweat coats his face, clinging to the rough scar on shoto’s left side. panting, he sucks in a breath, grasping around for his swollen cock.

“i’m sorry,” his voice cracks once his tip slides through your sticky folds and makes your back jolt off the bed, “it’s just—shit, it’s not enough.”

“a-again? i, hah, don’t know if that’s a good—”

shoto shakes his head, shivering as a thin layer of frost appears on his right cheek; it sparkles brilliantly before melting into droplets of water that drip from his jaw. “i’m still burning up,” it’s completely out of bounds, but the low rasp of his sickly voice scratches an itch in your brain. “see, lovey? can’t even use my quirk to fix it.”

a sigh escapes you, and you spread your trembly thighs one more time. “i might be too tired to drive you to the hospital after this,” you warn.

“i know, but baby,” gratefully, shoto pushes forward, burying his cock to the hilt inside you. his warm hand settles on your lower belly to add some pressure, gearing you up for another explosive orgasm. “i don’t wanna be like this when we go to the hospital.”

he flushes darkly with embarrassment, and the mental image of a tortured shoto rutting into a hospital bed as waves of the fever’s severe effects overwhelm him is enough to make you soften.

once he starts to thrust, developing a rhythm that would put your own fingers to shame, his mouth drops open and he’s babbling incoherently. “ . . always so fucking hot around you, baby. i-it’s not my fault you’re so—haa, shit—so perfect, making me burn up whenever you’re not looking.”

and because being this deep inside you is as close as he can get to heaven, shoto sees no reason to hold back on the honest praise. he’s always been a little shy to express himself during sex, mouth drying up whenever he tries to say something rather dirty, but not now. since his brain is being fried by the heat at the moment, he won’t feel any embarrassment.

“sho, right there,” a breath is punched out of your lungs, and your nails scratch at his shoulders each time his tip kisses your sweet spot. “oh god, ‘m gonna make a mess again!”

his cock twitches and he moans your name, only egging you on. “can’t wait to taste it, darling.”

you fall off the edge, his words serving as the final push. euphoria curls through you, cresting like a wave until the sensitivity becomes too much, bringing you back to earth. abs clenching, shoto pulls out to cover your stomach in white.

in an instant, shoto’s temperature drops. quietly, he shivers against you, huffing into your neck.

“i want to stay like this before we leave.”

“you’ve got ice forming rapidly on your back, sho.”

“it’ll melt if i’m cuddling with you . . could you also rub my back? maybe i just need to sleep it off.”

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU.

⟡ eijirou listened to you specifically tell him NOT to eat the wrapped cookies you had in the fridge and when you left, he did exactly that.

“babe, baby, you feel so good,” cum races down his fingers in creamy rivulets, puddling at the base of his cock. caught up in his fantasy, eijirou flicks his wrist faster, hoping with all his heart to imitate the hot squeeze of your cunt. “s-so pretty when you take me, always so fuckin’ beautiful.”

his voice cracks just as the door opens, and your purse falls to the floor. your boyfriend is spread out on the bed, flushed feverishly and gasping out your name like he’s delirious—it would be the perfect scene to come home to if you didn’t spot two torn cookie wrappers near him.

“eijirou,” you speak his name lowly, catching his eyes and raising a brow. he’s not sure if he should feel awkward or turned on because of your scolding tone, so he just swallows dryly and looks toward you with hooded eyes. “already forgot the speech i gave you? why’d you eat the cookies?”

shame creeps up his neck and makes his skin prickle uncomfortably. grasping for a response, eijirou decides to question you right back. “why’d you have sex cookies in the fridge?”

“they were a surprise for valentine’s!”

oh.

now he really feels dumb for spoiling your plans. perhaps if he hadn’t been so hungry, so greedy, he wouldn’t be embarrassed under your scrutinizing gaze.

but the feeling doesn’t last long—your tough face drops into something more sultry: doe eyes and an upturned quirk of your lips that’s sure to finish him.

the mattress sinks under your weight, and you scoot beside him with a self satisfied smile. it’s small and quiet, but a voice in the back of his head tells him maybe you wanted this to happen; you certainly don’t look too upset about it.

“no way, baby,” a hiss escapes him when you slap his cum-stained hand away from his cock, instead choosing to replace them with your own. “am i dreaming? mrs. red riot, are you—”

his narration throws you off, and you choke just kissing his tip. you know eijirou’s surprised and eternally grateful, but damn. “mr. red riot, you’d be quiet if you wanted me to.”

“sorry,” he says earnestly, tensing up to hide the fact that he’s shaking like a leaf when you finally take him in your mouth. “i’ve just—” he inhales sharply as you slowly, torturously take him inch by inch. “i’ve been waiting s-so long for you to come home, babe.”

you swallow, throat squeezing tight around his cock, and eijirou’s clean hand flies to the back of your head, hovering precariously. “i’m crazy about you, all day every day, and the cookies made it worse. ‘m sorry for spoiling the surprise, i didn’t mean to—haa, w-what’re you doing to me? oh, you’re gonna make me—”

it doesn’t take long for obscene slurps and occasional gags to fill the room as you suck eijirou’s cock, spoiling him with each languid bob of your head. it’s too much, and the tension grows thicker in his gut, setting his insides ablaze with anticipation.

he’s hurtling toward his high, jerking his hips up and shamelessly preparing to fill up your throat this quickly—but then, you push yourself off of him. a shudder ripples through his body, and he throws you a pained, wide eyed look.

“why’d you..? baby?”

you motion for him to lay on his back, and he can see the gears in your head turning behind a wicked smile. “might as well draw it out, hm?”

“you’re gonna milk me?”

he’s so cute . .

you want to see him crying.

you hum, “only until you’re begging for me to stop.”

KAMINARI DENKI, ft. SERO HANTA

⟡ an undercover sting at a mysterious village with your work partners doesn’t go as smoothly as planned. the village, out in the far country, has been reported as the one place with the highest levels of quirk activity in japan. little did you know about the fact that this place is home to infectious pollen that makes its way into people via the air, or about its temporary effects on people . .

“what the fuck,” you moan, vision blurry between their faces and intermittent flashes of light. “there’s no way it’s from a plant, it can’t be—”

hanta’s tongue darts out to lick the salt away from his upper lip, and he points a finger toward a passage in the encyclopedia. “the symptoms are, ngh, the same.”

one of your hands works denki’s cock while the other shakily flips through an encyclopedia of germs and the like; hanta’s buried to the hilt inside of you, tan cheeks flushed with exertion.

“can’t you just read after?” denki unhelpfully suggests, blinking back a few tears while sparks of electricity fly off from his blond hair. “let’s just fix—yeah, baby, jus’ like that—fix the problem now and figure it out later.”

“shut it, denks,” hanta rolls his eyes, rocking his hips into you. despite the fact that the three of you are totally naked and in the middle of some kind of threesome, you’re researching what apparently caused this surge of uncontrollable arousal.

things began not long after you arrived in the village, where everything had looked unsuspecting and normal. surely there was a villain lurking around somewhere . . ? why else would there be so much unusual activity, enough to alert the authorities?

“look, they f-found something similar in america,” hanta’s voice wavers uncharacteristically, his own high racing through him with such intensity he doubles over.

“forget about the book,” denki’s begging while pressing dazed kisses to your tits, one hand tossing the book aside and slipping between your trembling thighs. “c’mon, babe. show us what you look like when you cum.”

perhaps this is something to be selfish about — when will an opportunity to fuck your hot coworkers come around again? hanta’s everything you’ve been daydreaming about, with a muscular physique sharp enough to have been cut from stone. denki’s just as attractive, though his features are softer, the result of his constant snacking while on the job or in the agency.

hanta nods in assent, already trailing over the edge. “want you to gush all over me, baby.”

thrashing under denki’s fingers, it momentarily occurs to you that maybe they’re a little too experienced. neither of them were concerned with a threesome when it was suggested, and there’s no mistakes in their almost synchronized movements.

just watching your eyes flutter and roll back is enough to make denki cum with a moan of your name as his cock sprays white. hanta’s pupils probably dilate a hundred times their size at the erotic sight, and his hips begin to stutter as heat races up his spine.

denki, shaking profusely, musters his voice and maintains his hurried pace. “g-good girl, go on ‘n let it out.”

since stepping foot into the village and inhaling that damn pollen, the pro hero’s been getting realistic flashes of thoughts he’s kept locked away for some time. you, on your knees, looking up at him like you’re ready to do more than just please. you, with your pretty eyes full of tears as you lose your mind beneath him.

an orgasm stronger than the lustful effects of any aphrodisiac tears through you, and your cunt bears down so hard it forces out hanta’s own high as well. with all his might, he tries to resist the surge of weakness that hits him and fails—he collapses on top of you, hugging you closely and burying his face in your neck.

loosely, your jaw hangs open and breathy gasps leave your mouth. denki’s sparking with electricity beside you and simultaneously struggling to get it under control. a single yellow spark flies off his body and mildly electrocutes hanta, snapping him back to reality. he jerks against you, sounding exhausted.

“uh. so, um, what’re we supposed to report when we get back?”

TAKAMI KEIGO.

⟡ bless his heart. for valentine’s, he decides to be a silk heart-shaped box of japan’s most expensive chocolate for you. he’d been so focused on finding your favorite flavors along with new ones that he didn’t even realize that he’d purchased sex chocolate.

“it hurts, dovey. it’s s-so painful.”

since sharing the box of chocolates with you, keigo’s been reduced to a pathetic mess who can’t seem to stop shaking when you just barely touch him. vermilion feathers puff up and out at his back, his messy wings conveying the way he’s crumbling inside.

you’re just as hot, skin crawling with a lustful itch only keigo can scratch for you. the frenetic beating of his wings whips up cold gusts of wind stronger than any ceiling fan, and not a single goosebump rises on your skin.

“right there, kei,” you moan, tears gathering in your eyes as he continuously hits your sweet spot. “oh my god, don’t stop.”

as if he’d ever plan to.

he hiccups, face flushed and hair tousled like he’s just returned from some mission out in the wild. softly, with the barest note of urgency, keigo whines out your name and a request.

“dovey, c’mon,” his voice cracks halfway through his sentence, shattered with unmistakable pleasure. “just tell me what you want, and i’ll, ah, i’ll fuckin’ give it to you.”

keigo’s entire body thrums with the need, the purpose, to please you, and his own pleasure hinges on you and your praise. sure enough, you cry out to him, words saccharine and addicting.

“make me cum, kei,” and he doesn’t need any further instruction, not when he knows your body this well. smooth fingers slip between your thighs and work your clit, causing your back to arch when he applies just enough pressure to send electricity through your nerves.

you’re wrapping around keigo’s waist, drawing him in and breaking down his self control easily.

“want me to fill up this pussy, baby? i can do it again and again—” he punctuates his words with harsh thrusts that amplify the clap of skin against skin almost as much as a quirk could, “while you take it like you were made to.”

quaking beneath him, you nod frantically, as if those are the words you’ve been waiting to hear. while he was so vividly illustrating the scene, his wings unconsciously began to wrap around your bodies, a sign of how much he wants it too.

you gasp, eyes squeezing shut with the last image being keigo’s face, twisted in ecstasy and scrunched with concentration. “gonna—‘m gonna cum, kei!”

“with me, dovey, please,” sweat pours down the sides of his face as the heated bliss tightens in his gut, applying an unbearable pressure to his cock. “let me feel you cum around me, ughhh.”

sloppily, keigo presses open mouthed kisses to your lips, and a delighted moan escapes him when you kiss back. your lips are soft against his, and your tongue carries the sweet taste of valentine’s chocolates, the expensive ones he’d come home with earlier.

with his orgasm creeping up on him and dulling his surroundings, a brief thought occurs to him about those chocolates. the sales lady had raised a brow when he filled up the customizable box with many pink chocolates that had been sitting in a case separate from the rest.. no, that can’t be right. surely this is the common valentine’s day effect on couples—it can’t be from the chocolate, can it?

[ds-angel1]

TEACHERS LITTLE PET

cw: SMUT(18+), teacher x student relationship, hitting it from the back(in the classroom), big age gap(ages aren´t specified), reader is a senior, i´m not american and have no idea how the school system works so please just smile and nod

wc: ~ 5.1k

a/n: tell me what you think of this dynamic and if you want more cause i have some ideas!! also this is the longest fic i´ve ever written, not my best work but atleast i managed to write something?? keep in mind i had a fever when i wrote this

Rafe had no idea how he ended up here.

Well, if he was being honest, he did. He just hated admitting it.

He hated kids. Teenagers weren’t much better. If they weren’t whining about something trivial, they were loud, obnoxious, and bursting with opinions they thought were groundbreaking. And high schoolers? They were the worst of the lot, caught in that unbearable limbo between childhood and adulthood, convinced they knew everything and that the world had been tailor-made to inconvenience them.

He hated his job, too. But after his father had all but shoved him into college, and he had somehow managed to scrape together an art history degree through a chaotic jumble of barely thought-out course selections, he needed a paycheck. He needed something, anything, to make use of the four years he had spent drowning in essays about the Renaissance and lectures on the symbolism of Baroque architecture.

And there it was, a high school history teacher.

He was fairly certain the school had been desperate. Desperate enough to hire the first applicant who could string a coherent sentence together about the American Revolution. And lucky him, that applicant had been Rafe.

The school itself was unremarkable. Small, under 400 students, just two squat brick buildings separated by a weather-beaten schoolyard that reeked of stale cigarette smoke and teenage apathy. Five hours from the Outer Banks, he could visit home whenever he wanted. Not that he did. There was nothing left for him there, nothing worth the drive, and frankly, there was nothing for him here either.

His days were a loop, a monotonous, uninspired cycle of standing in front of rows of disinterested, hormonal teenagers, rattling off lessons about long-dead historical figures far more interesting than any of his students would ever bother to realize. He graded half-assed essays, endured halfhearted excuses about missing assignments, and spent more time than he cared to admit staring at the clock, willing the hours to pass. Then, when the final bell rang, he trudged back to his apartment, a bare, impersonal space that he never bothered to decorate. No photos, no art, and no signs that anyone lived there. Just a bed, a couch, and a kitchen table that mostly went unused.

And then there were the truly miserable days, the ones where he was roped into subbing for freshman P.E., a biweekly exercise in self-inflicted torture. Half the girls refused to break a sweat, acting as if running a single lap would somehow lead to their untimely demise. The other half of the class consisted of cocky, over-competitive boys who treated dodgeball like a blood sport. He spent most of those periods standing on the sidelines, arms crossed, blowing the whistle when things got too heated, and watching the clock even more desperately than usual.

It was a dull, uninspired existence; monotonous, predictable, and entirely void of passion. He lived his life the way his students listened to the outdated documentaries he played in class: half-awake, uninterested, just going through the motions because it had to be done.

Until you walked into his class.

The first day of school after summer break always carried a certain energy; electric, restless, filled with voices overlapping in an unfiltered rush of stories from the last few weeks. As Rafe pushed open the door to his classroom, that familiar wave of chatter hit him like a sudden gust of wind. Laughter, exclamations, the scrape of chairs against the floor—it was all as chaotic as he had expected.

With a quiet sigh, he made his way to his desk, setting his thermos down on the bleached oak surface before picking it up again almost instinctively, taking a slow sip before returning it to its place. His fingers moved on autopilot, retrieving his school-issued laptop from his bag, pressing the power button, and waiting for the screen to glow to life. His gaze lifted, sweeping across the students, his students. The same faces he’d taught last year, now a little older, a little different, officially juniors.

But one face wasn’t familiar.

You.

Rafe spotted you almost immediately, sitting in the third row, right by the window where the morning sky stretched in endless hues of soft blue. You were listening—well, nodding, at least—to Amanda, whose mouth moved a mile a minute. He didn’t have to hear her know she was spewing an endless stream of conversation; Amanda was known for filling any silence, anytime, anywhere. But his attention wasn’t on her. It was on you.

A dark navy skirt draped over your thighs, the fabric shifting in gentle waves with every slight movement. Your top, a delicate white spaghetti strap with tiny baby blue flowers, hugged your frame, lace tracing the neckline, a small bow nestled right at its center. A beige cardigan hung loosely over your shoulders, two buttons left undone as if they had never been intended for use in the first place. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail, not rigid, not loose, just… effortless. A few strands framed your face, soft wisps that moved when you turned your head, catching the light in a way that made them seem almost ethereal.

And sure, you looked beautiful, undeniably so. But it wasn’t just that.

It was the way your eyes flickered around the room, quietly observing, absorbing. The way your lips parted slightly every so often, murmuring the occasional “Uh-huh” or “Yeah” in response to Amanda’s nonstop chatter, even as your mind seemed elsewhere. There was something in your expression, an almost hesitant curiosity, a quiet awareness, that made Rafe’s fingers pause over the laptop’s keyboard.

He had seen many faces in this classroom. Some familiar, some forgettable.

But yours?

Yours was impossible to ignore.

"Uh— okay, let’s get started. Settle down," Rafe called out to the students, his voice steady despite the chaos. The room buzzed with post-summer chatter, desks scraping against the floor as students found their seats. He rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to exhale. The first day back was always like this, full of energy, distractions, and the struggle to rein everyone in. But today, there was another battle brewing beneath the surface, one he wasn’t prepared for.

He hoped that once the lesson began, he could shift his focus, and force himself to look anywhere but at you. He clung to that hope like a lifeline, but the moment he commanded their attention, he had yours.

And when your eyes locked onto him, he was trapped. Hypnotized. His breath hitched, pulse stuttering in a way it had no right to. For what felt like an eternity, he couldn’t tear his gaze away, couldn’t shake the invisible thread tightening between you. His fingers curled into his palm, nails pressing against his skin.

Shit.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to snap out of it, dragging his attention back to the board. He took a measured breath, gripping the chalk like it might anchor him. "Alright, I know you’re all still in vacation mode, but we need to get talking about history."

The usual grumbling came, but it was muted, fading as students settled into their seats. Good. The routine was safe. The routine was predictable. The routine wouldn’t let his mind wander to places it shouldn’t.

"Before we dive in, we have a new student joining us this year from the senior class," he announced, keeping his tone even, impersonal. His gaze flickered back to you, just for a second, just long enough to acknowledge you without giving himself away. "Would you introduce yourself?"

A brief silence. You hesitated, shifting under the weight of so many eyes before murmuring your name.

"Great," Rafe said, far too quickly. He cleared his throat, turning back to the board. "So, what do we know about American history from the Industrial Revolution to the modern age?"

The next forty-five minutes passed in a blur of discussion, textbook readings, and writing exercises. Normally, this was when he’d catch up on grading or chip away at whatever administrative work he had. But today? No. Today, his focus splintered, frayed at the edges every time he felt your presence in the room.

His eyes kept drifting.

To you.

It was reckless. Stupid. He knew it was wrong, knew exactly how it would look if anyone noticed. He wasn’t blind, he’d found students attractive before, but it had always been a fleeting thing, a passing thought dismissed before it could take root. A moment, nothing more.

But this?

This was different.

This wasn’t just acknowledging that you were pretty, though you were. Incredibly so. This wasn’t just an absent-minded recognition of beauty. No, this was something deeper. Something that twisted in his gut and settled in his bones, something that made his breath catch when he wasn’t prepared for it.

Something dangerous.

His fingers raked through his hair as he stared down at his keyboard, typing nothing. He could tell himself it was just a dry spell, that he’d been avoiding distractions for too long, that it was simply physical. But that would be a lie.

Because it wasn’t just about desire.

It was about you.

And that was a problem.

The shrill chime of the bell split the air, and the classroom erupted into motion. Notebooks snapped shut, chairs scraped against the tile, and a low hum of voices swelled as students shoved books into backpacks, eager to escape into the chaotic freedom of lunch. You swung your bag over your shoulder, weaving through the shifting maze of desks, your focus locked on the door. The cafeteria was called, an oasis of noise and anonymity where you could blend in, and where no one was analyzing your every move.

But just as you stepped forward, a voice cut through the chatter behind you.

"Hey."

It wasn’t loud, but it had weight, like an anchor dropping into the sea of departing students. Something in the tone made your stomach twist. You turned, pulse hitching slightly, to find Mr. Cameron watching you from behind his desk. His expression was unreadable, calm but not necessarily kind.

"Yes, Mr. Cameron?" you asked, hesitating.

"Can I speak to you for a moment?"

It was phrased like a question, but you both knew it wasn’t. He gave a small nod toward the door as the last few stragglers trickled out, a silent instruction.

With a quiet sigh, you nudged the door shut behind them, the click of the latch sealing you in. The classroom, so full of life just seconds ago, now felt cavernous, the quiet pressing in around you. You hesitated before making your way back to his desk, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Mr. Cameron leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the surface of his desk, fingers steepled together. "So… I wanted to talk to you about last year." His voice was measured, and neutral, but something about it put you on edge. "You were in Ms. Wallace’s class, right?" His eyes flicked to a sheet of paper in front of him, though you were certain he already knew the answer.

You shifted uncomfortably. "Mhm." A simple answer for something far more complicated. Your history with Ms. Wallace wasn’t just a class; it was a long, exhausting battle, a relentless tug-of-war between frustration, unmet expectations, and a sinking feeling of inevitability.

Mr. Cameron studied you for a moment before speaking again. "Can you tell me what didn’t work? Was it her? The material? Her teaching style? Or was it something on your end?" His head tilted slightly, voice smooth, probing.

You hesitated, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your fingers clenched the strap of your bag. "I guess I was just… kind of unfocused last year," you admitted, your voice barely above a murmur.

"Mm." He hummed, eyebrows lifting just slightly. "Just last year?"

Your stomach tightened.

"Because judging by today’s lesson, it seems like you're still a little… distracted. More interested in doodles than in history, huh?"

Heat crept up your neck, shame pooling in your chest. Your gaze dropped to the floor as if looking anywhere else might soften the weight of his words.

"You’d think," he continued, his tone carrying the faintest edge, "that after the school let you pass the year and only required you to retake this class, you'd put in a little more effort."

His words landed like a slap, sharp, deliberate. He knew exactly how unfair that was. Knew how it would make you feel. And yet, for whatever reason, he didn’t stop himself.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

“You want to pass, yes?”

His voice was low, almost teasing, each word curling around you like smoke. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his desk, dark eyes locked onto yours with something unreadable, something that made your stomach twist.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry, and gave a quick, eager nod.

Rafe watched you for a lingering second, dragging it out just long enough to make you shift where you stood. Then, with an exhale that was almost too casual, he pushed himself up from his chair. He didn’t simply stand, he moved. Slow. Deliberate. A quiet display of control as he braced one hand against the edge of his desk, his weight settling into a lean. The aged wood creaked under him, but he didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care.

His focus remained entirely on you.

“And what do you think I could do to help you achieve that?”

Smooth. Measured. But there was something else beneath his tone, something just sharp enough to catch. Playfulness, maybe. Amusement. Or something more dangerous.

His gaze flickered, sweeping over you in a way that felt too quick at first, like a reflex he hadn’t meant to act on. But then, you saw it. The hesitation. The way his throat bobbed, how his fingers flexed at his sides before he rubbed the back of his neck as if trying to shake off whatever had just slipped through the cracks. But it was too late.

You had seen.

And by the way, his jaw clenched a second later, the way his lips pressed together, you knew he realized it too.

Your heart hammered. You didn’t answer him. Couldn’t. Instead, your fingers fidgeted with each other, twisting and untwisting, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. The silence between you stretched, thick and electric, heavy with something unspoken, something neither of you dared name but both of you felt.

Rafe inhaled deeply, the sound filling the quiet space between you. The air itself seemed different now, charged, like something unseen was pressing in, urging one of you to break.

He let the breath out slowly, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that somehow felt… controlled. Intentional. And then, his eyes moved again.

This time, there was no rush. No flicker of hesitation.

Now, he studied you.

It was slow, almost methodical, th

6e kind of look that made heat crawl up the back of your neck, the kind that lingered just long enough in places that made you second-guess every inch of yourself. When his gaze reached your thighs, a nervous jolt ran through you. Almost instinctively, you gripped the hem of your skirt, twisting the fabric in your fists, your knuckles turning white.

A nervous habit.

One he noticed.

One that made his eyes darken, not dramatically, not in some exaggerated, obvious way, but just enough. Just enough for you to catch the shift, to see the amusement flicker across his face like the hint of a smirk he didn’t fully let through.

“Hm?” The questioning hum he let out brought you back to reality, back to his question, and back to the answer that you had yet to give.

“Um… I- I don’t know…” you stammered out.

His eyes flick down again, taking in your upper body, eyes practically circling in on your chest. As if your body has a mind of its own, you straighten your back, puffing out your chest.

Rafe’s eyes flickered up to yours, and for a second, he didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

The air between you had thickened, dense with something unspoken, something dangerous. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, slow, almost pensive as if he were considering something he shouldn’t be. He exhaled sharply through his nose, a breath that almost sounded like a laugh but carried no humor, just tension.

“Yeah?” His voice was softer now, quieter like he was testing the waters, like he was trying to figure out how far this would go before one of you came to your senses.

Your lips parted, but no words came. Your throat felt tight, your skin burning where his gaze traced. You felt like you were standing on the edge of something vast, something that couldn’t be undone.

His fingers tapped once, twice against the desk, a steady rhythm that contradicted the barely concealed restraint in his posture. His body language told two different stories, one of hesitation, and another of inevitability. He was too close, and yet he wasn’t moving away.

Your breath hitched as he shifted, his body angling just slightly towards yours. It was a minuscule movement, one that could’ve been mistaken for a simple change in weight, but you knew better. It was deliberate. Calculated.

“You want to pass this class?”

The question was a mere whisper, his voice dipped in something that made your stomach twist. Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, nodding, too fast, too eager.

His lips twitched, almost smirking like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. He leaned in just enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne, something dark and musky, something entirely him.

“Then you’re gonna have to focus.”

The way he said it—low, deliberate—sent a shiver down your spine. His words weren’t inappropriate, but the way he looked at you, the way his voice wrapped around each syllable, made them feel like something else entirely.

Your knees felt weak, your heart pounding against your ribcage as your grip tightened around the strap of your bag. The classroom, once suffocating in its quiet, now felt electric, charged with a current that neither of you dared acknowledge aloud.

Rafe exhaled again, this time slower, measured. His hand moved, not towards you, not touching, but close enough that you felt the shift in air between you.

“You’re nervous.”

It wasn’t a question.

Your breath shuddered. “I—”

His head tilted slightly, watching, waiting. His pupils were blown wide, his expression unreadable but entirely focused on you.

His jaw ticked, his fingers twitching at his side like he was fighting something. A beat of silence stretched between you.

And then, Rafe moved.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t forceful. It was a slow descent, a moment stretched into eternity. His lips hovered just above yours, close enough that you felt the ghost of his breath against your skin, close enough that your lips parted in anticipation before your mind could catch up.

He paused—just for a fraction of a second, just enough to give you the chance to pull away. Just enough to make it clear that if this happened, it was your choice, too.

But you didn’t move away.

Neither did he.

And before you could let a single other breath out, his lips met yours.

Soft at first. Testing. A barely-there brush that sent a sharp current through your veins, igniting something dangerous and uncontainable in your chest.

He exhaled against your mouth, and in that moment it seemed like something in him snapped.

His hand found your waist, fingers splaying against the fabric of your cardigan as he pulled you just slightly closer. His other hand lifted, skimming along your jaw before his fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head just so.

The kiss deepened, slow but demanding, every movement deliberate, every touch igniting another spark beneath your skin. He wasn’t rushing—no, he was savoring, taking his time like he wanted to memorize the exact way you fit against him. He knew this was a mistake but couldn’t bring himself to care.

Your hands found his chest, pressing lightly against the fabric of his dress shirt, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your palms. His fingers tightened slightly in your hair at the contact, his grip on your waist firm but careful, as if he was anchoring himself as much as he was anchoring you.

The sharp sound of footsteps in the hallway shattered the fragile haze that had settled between you two, yanking you both back into reality.

Rafe was the first to react, pulling away, but only just. His forehead remained pressed against yours, his breath still ragged, chest rising and falling in sync with yours. His fingers, warm and possessive, lingered at your waist a second too long before he finally, finally, let go, stepping back just enough to put a sliver of space between you. But not enough to erase what had just happened.

His eyes searched yours, dark blue depths swirling with something unreadable, something dangerous. His exhale was sharp, tension coiling through his jaw as he dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers gripping at the strands like he was trying to ground himself.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, voice rough and uneven. Then, with more force, “Fuck. Fuck.”

His eyes shut tight, his head shaking in frustration as if the motion itself could erase the last few minutes. When they opened again, they were filled with something even more intense. In two strides, he was in front of you again, his hands gripping your upper arms, fingertips pressing just a little too hard, just enough to make you feel trapped between the heat of his body and the reality of the situation.

“This didn’t happen, okay?” His voice was firm, but there was a slight tremor to it like he wasn’t sure if he believed the words himself. His grip tightened before loosening again, as if he was at war with himself as if he didn’t trust his restraint.

You didn’t answer. You just stared at him, your pulse thrumming wildly, your breath uneven. His eyes flickered down to your parted lips, then back to your eyes, and something in him cracked. His hands slid down your arms in a slow, deliberate motion, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When his fingertips finally settled at your hipbones, pressing in lightly, his resolve wavered even more.

“This…” he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

His voice was different now, lower, more raw. His fingers traced absent patterns along the fabric of your skirt as his mind spiraled, thoughts tumbling into a chaotic storm. Why was he doing this? This wasn’t like him. He had met you, his student, his goddamn student, less than an hour ago, and he had already crossed every possible line. And yet, even knowing that he wasn’t pulling away. He was moving closer.

His hands ghosted up your sides, the touch sending shivers across your skin. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Don’t tell anyone. Can you do that for me?”

If someone had asked you that morning how you thought your first day of senior year would go, never in a million years would you have said this? Sure, you’d heard the whispers in the halls, and seen the way every girl’s eyes lingered when he walked past. Mr. Cameron was the forbidden fantasy, the subject of countless rumors and stolen glances. But he was also your teacher. And he had just kissed you.

You knew it was wrong. You should run, tell someone, do the right thing. And yet, as your mind battled between logic and desire, only one thought rose above the rest: he had kissed you.

Mr. Cameron, the man every girl in school lusted after, had kissed you. Had he done this before? Had he chosen others before you? Or was this different?

Even as doubt twisted itself into a tight knot in your stomach, you found yourself nodding, unable to speak, afraid your voice would betray you with the high-pitched, breathy sound of a girl who had just been touched by fire and didn’t want to step away.

“Good.”

His voice was barely a whisper, almost more breath than sound. The tension in the room grew, thick and suffocating, but you didn’t want to breathe anything else in. His fingers glided upward again, teasing over your waist, grazing over your ribs, leaving a trail of heat that made your entire body burn with anticipation.

Then, gently, with a tenderness that contradicted the fevered hunger in his eyes, he cupped your face. For one impossible moment, you thought he was going to kiss you again, that he was going to throw every bit of logic and control out the window and claim your lips as he had minutes ago. But instead, he tilted your head slightly, his breath warm against your throat.

Then his lips were on your neck, barely touching, soft and slow.

A sound, something between a gasp and a whimper, escaped you, and his hands tightened ever so slightly, grounding you, making you feel small under his grasp. His mouth moved lower, pressing another kiss, and then another, each one more deliberate, more intoxicating than the last.

You barely registered the moment he turned you around, your back now facing him. Your hands trembled as they found purchase against the smooth surface of his desk, the dark wood cool beneath your fingertips.

Then, with the kind of confidence that sent a shiver racing down your spine, he placed his hands on your thighs, massaging them slowly, possessively.

His voice, low and dripping with something dark and dangerous, ghosted over your ear.

“Stay quiet for me.”

You sucked in a deep, long breath, letting your head fall and your eyes close.

The feel of the Rafe´s fingers slid under the skirt and the pads of his fingers started tracing along your panties, each tiny motion making your body stutter and tremble.

“You´re… you´re real special, you know that?” He spoke from behind you but you couldn’t respond, still holding your breath as if letting out the air would make the situation you found yourself in truly real.

When he had had enough of feeling the warm, twisted feeling in his stomach as he let his fingers glide over your clothed cunt, he pushed your underwear aside with his thumb, letting the tip of his index finger dip into your already quivering hole. The action intensified the feeling and buried it even deeper in his gut.

As if a shock of lightning had hit you, you bolted away from his hand a few inches, clenching your thighs tightly as you finally relieved your lungs of the air they were keeping trapped.

“M- Mr. Cameron…” You started to sputter out but stopped when you felt long, gruff fingers curl around the sides of your panties before pulling the black lace material down tantalizingly slow.

A cold rush of air hit your most intimate body part, making you gasp and pant. When you heard rustling and what you could only assume was the clink of your teacher´s belt, you shut your mouth and froze as you waited for the man´s next move.

“Listen,” he whispered your name like it was a sin he committed and you were a pastor, “You understand that this stays between us, yes?” His large hands massaged your ass and thighs, cursing under his breath when he saw how soaked you were.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement. You weren´t sure why. He was your teacher and by the looks of it and the feel of his hands on you, apparently a pedophile. But god did you want this; you wanted it, him, so bad.

Before you could so much as even let another thought pass through your head, he thrust forward, burying his cock inside you as deep as he could with multiple rapid movements of his hips. You moaned and practically screamed, the sounds of pleasure from you making Rafe reach around and cover practically half of your entire face.

“Fuck, you´re so tight,” he muttered sharply next to your ear as he started moving inside of you again, dragging his hips back only to snap them back forward less than a moment later.

“You like that, huh? Like being fucked by your teacher. Little teachers pet.”

He knew this was wrong, you were his student, and you probably didn´t even actually want this but for some fucked up reason that made it even better for Rafe, and as the thought crossed his mind it only made him thrust into you faster. At that point, you were damn near choking and sobbing into his hand, his palm making it hard for you to get a deep breath of fresh air in.

With a sense of panic taking over you, you tried to move your hands off of the desk to claw him off of your face but your attempts proved futile when Rafe pushed you flat onto the desk, forcing you to take his cock even deeper.

His free hand which wasn´t taking away your ability to breathe, found its way between your legs, his index, and middle fingers drawing squiggly circles on your clit. At the shock of pleasure that ran through you as he teased your extremely sensitive bundle of nerves, you clenched around his pipe and arched your back. You felt that familiar coil spring up in the depths of your stomach, your body rocking slightly backward against Rafe´s to help you relive the press soon.

Rafe pushed into you harder than he had any of the other time before then, hitting your sweet spot with a force that would have made you cry out, had you had your mouth free. His fingers applied pressure to the shapes they were making on your clit. The mix of heightened attention and force made your pussy squeeze around him and pushed you over the edge, coming with tears in your eyes.

After a few more brutal thrusts into your soppy cunt, he came as well, unloading into you, his thoughts barely registering anything at that point except for you and your body bent over his desk, his cum dripping out of your used up hole and onto your thighs.

Slowly he took away his hand from your face, a trail of spit following. As soon as you got a few much-needed breaths, you collapsed onto the desk, your body falling limp. Rafe pulled out of you, not wasting any time before he pulled his pants back on and redid his leather belt around his hips. He leaned over you, his body covering all of your sweaty skin as he dressed you in your underwear again.

“You did so good, darling. So, so good."

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

My dads not back meaning I have to put away the dishes which means I can put them away correctly for once

[chloeangelbaby]

You don’t love me

Crybaby! Reader x Rafe Cameron

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It had been weeks of the same routine. Rafe was up early, gone all day, and by the time he got home, he was too exhausted to do anything but collapse into bed. You understood at first—Rafe worked hard, and running a company wasn’t easy. But as the days turned into weeks, his absence began to gnaw at you.

Tonight, you’d reached your limit.

You were sitting on the couch, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, when the craving hit. You wanted ice cream, something sweet and cold to take your mind off the void of Rafe’s company. You peeked into the kitchen but found nothing that would satisfy you.

“Rafe?” you called, walking into the bedroom where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Yeah?” His voice was tired, his eyes barely lifting to meet yours.

“I wanna go for a drive. We can stop and get ice cream or something,” you said, your tone hopeful.

Rafe sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Baby, I can’t tonight. I’m dead on my feet. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

The casual dismissal stung. “No, it can’t wait,” you snapped, your voice rising. “You’ve been saying that all week! Tomorrow, tomorrow—what about me, Rafe?”

“I’m doing this for us,” he said, his tone defensive. “I’m not saying no because I want to. I’m exhausted, okay?”

You stared at him, your emotions bubbling over. Before you knew it, you were crying, your chest heaving with sobs. “You don’t care! You don’t care about me anymore!”

Rafe frowned, standing up. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”

“Fair?” you spat, your voice cracking as you stomped your foot. “What’s not fair is you ignoring me all the time! All I wanted was a stupid drive, and you can’t even give me that!”

“Dolly—”

“Don’t call me that!” you screamed, tears streaming down your face. Your words tumbled out in a jumble, barely making sense. “You don’t listen to me! You don’t care! You just… you just—”

You weakly shoved at his chest, your small fists thumping against him as you hiccupped and choked on your sobs. Rafe stood there, letting you vent, his hands hovering as if unsure whether to grab you or give you space.

“You’re mean! And, and… I hate you!” you wailed, though you didn’t mean it.

Finally, Rafe had enough. “Alright,” he said, his voice firm. He grabbed your wrists gently but firmly, holding them still. “That’s enough, baby. Stop.”

But you didn’t stop. “You don’t love me!” you blubbered, your head dropping forward as you sobbed uncontrollably.

Rafe sighed, pulling you into his chest despite your protests. “I love you more than anything,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “But you’ve got to calm down, okay? You’re working yourself up too much.”

“I-I can’t!” you hiccupped, your body shaking in his hold.

“Yes, you can,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Breathe, Dolly. Come on, with me. In and out.”

You tried, but the sobs kept breaking through, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. Rafe scooped you up and carried you to the bed, sitting down with you in his lap. He started rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles, his chin resting on top of your head.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I just… I just wanted…” you sniffled, unable to finish your sentence.

“I know,” he said softly. “I know, baby. I’ve been a terrible boyfriend lately, haven’t I?”

You nodded against his chest, your tears soaking his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice full of genuine regret. “You’re right—I haven’t been around enough. I’ll fix it, okay? Starting tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” you mumbled, your voice small and wobbly.

“Promise,” he said, lifting your chin so you could see the sincerity in his eyes. “And tonight, I’ll make it up to you. We’ll stay up and watch whatever you want, or I’ll run out and get ice cream. Anything you need, baby.”

You sniffled, wiping your face with your sleeve. “Just want you…”

“You’ve got me,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Always.”

Your sobs began to subside, your breathing evening out as Rafe continued to hold you close. You clung to him, your face buried in his neck, finally feeling the comfort you’d been craving.

“Love you,” you whispered.

“Love you more, Dolly,” he murmured, his voice a soft promise against your hair.

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