#Anons welcome

[z0mbee-pupee]

how do i get asks like am i just supposed to go

pspsps c'mere anons.. pspsps im not gona hurt u.. pspspspspssp

[venusbyline]

Are squirting and pee the same thing?

it's not the same thing. squirt is the release of a liquid during female orgasm and is produced by the Skene's glands, which are anatomical structures close to the urethra

however, a few studies say that there may be some pee present during some cases of squirting, but anyways... in this situation it wouldn't be just pee. also, this specific situation it's not exactly something that happens always

but from my personal experience, the feeling of being close to squirting sometimes feels like the feeling of being about to pee, and this is actually one of the reasons why many people with vaginas "freeze" when they're close to squirting, because they think they're going to pee in the act

[ignorethemeyousee]

Hung over/lazy day. Entertain me , pretty please?! 🥺

[deceit-and-doubt]

[rafeslvbug]

baby girl hanging with nfl!rafe at the football stadium while you had to take your son to an appointment, and it’s so cute

you were probably very worried to leave her with him. he’s not irresponsible, and he loves her to death, but the many ways your two/three year old hanging at the stadium with rafe could go wrong was countless.

but rafe calmed those worries, because he was desperate to have her over.

she might cry when you leave, even if she is a bit of a daddy’s girl, she’s quite accustomed to you always being there. but then she’d start to fixate on rafe, and her tears would soon go away.

rafe would be showing her to all his teammates, bouncing her about and letting them all take turns holding her.

he’d tell everyone she looks like you, when they comment on how cute she is. he’d also tell them the crying came from you when she starts to fuss in their arms.

“yeah she got that from her momma- oh and that too, none of that crying’s me”

he’d probably do all his training drills with her on his shoulders if he can, which is a safety hazard in itself. but as everything is with dads, the most dangerous things are always deemed okay 🤷‍♀️

putting her on the ground on the pitch, and then rushing over when she tries to eat the grass, having to pry it out of her hand.

him and his teammates would probably roll the ball over to her, and wait until she kicks it back to them. first time she kicks it, she uses so much force she sends herself flying backwards and all the men rush forward to make sure she’s okay, because no one wants to be on mrs cameron’s bad side.

daddy daughter lunch date…with all the teammates. they love having a little kid around, it’s like she’s a toy. they’ll all play little games with her, saying things like

“can i have a bite of your carrot?”

“i bet your milk is better than my soda”

and it’s not even funny, but it’s one of those things that make her giggle until her cheeks turn rosy.

in the locker room they might do some shit like lifting her up as if she’s a trophy. doing the whole drumroll and build up before rafe tosses her into the air. they’ll do it over and over again until she starts to bawl her little eyes out, then rafe is cooing and bringing her into his chest, giving the players dirty looks like it wasn’t his idea

“shh, baby girl, it’ll be okay - don’t tell momma we did this ‘kay?”

all in all, he had the time of his life. she came back a little traumatised and in a worse state than you dropped her off…but she’ll forget about it in a day and be begging to go with her daddy to the stadium again!

[cbeargyu]

im not sure if your comfortable w this trope but... stepbrother!taehyun 😔

𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍

summary: five years ago, your dad married his mom. you were never close. not really. but the tension, the kind that lingered in your glances and accidental touches... was always there, waiting. one summer night, you catch him in a moment of private pleasure... and neither of you are able to pretend anymore.

pairing: stepbrother!taehyun x stepsister!reader

genre: smut, angst, stepbrother!au, slow burn, forbidden romance, power struggle, unresolved tension.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), masturbation, voyeurism, rough sex, dom/sub power struggle, use of protection, spanking (light), strong language, taboo themes (step-siblings, but no blood relation), sexual tension, minor exhibitionism, suggestive dialogue, awkward morning after

wc: 2,2k

notes: wow, thanks anon, honestly, i’m comfortable with this. i actually have a similar fanfic with soobin that i never dared to post because i was scared it might make people uncomfortable or be poorly received. please read all the way to the end if you want to hear more about my thoughts on the theme.

five years ago, your father married taehyun’s mother. it was a small ceremony, nothing extravagant, just close family and friends gathered under a blush-colored sunset. everyone smiled. everyone said it was beautiful, that you were now a family.

family.

the word always tasted foreign on your tongue whenever you looked at taehyun. it didn’t matter how many dinners you sat through, how many family vacations you forced yourselves to smile for. the truth lingered just under the surface—he never felt like your brother. not really.

your dad and his mom were head over heels in love, and tried so hard to make you two feel like a happy little blended family. but you and taehyun? never siblings. never even close.

there were rules, of course. unspoken ones. you would both pretend. you would play along for your parents’ sake, acting like siblings when necessary. but behind closed doors, when the charade dropped, it was something different. it wasn’t family. it wasn’t hate either. it was something heavier. something that lived in stolen glances across the dinner table, in the way your fingers would brush when you passed each other in the hallway, in the too-long eye contact when no one else was watching.

you tried, at first, to ignore it. god, you tried. but some things grow wild when you starve them, and the tension between you and taehyun was one of them. it twisted and stretched over the years, thickening every time he slung his arm too casually over the couch where you sat, or when you caught him looking at you like he was memorizing every inch of your skin. you never talked about it. you never named it. but it was there, pulsing and alive, hiding just underneath the way he would call you “sis” with a smirk that never reached his eyes.

summer in your house was unbearable. not because of the heat, although the humidity clung to your skin like a second layer, heavy and suffocating. but because of him. because taehyun was always there—shirtless, loud, smug—and every corner of that damn house seemed to vibrate with the memory of your fights, your glares, your unsaid words.

if anything, you were rivals.

your personalities clashed constantly—both of you stubborn, both too sharp for your own good, both used to getting the last word. your parents called it banter. you called it warfare.

and still… there were moments. fleeting seconds when the air got too thick between you. when you brushed past each other in the hallway and his hand lingered a little too long on your waist. when you fought about the remote and he leaned in too close, the curve of his smirk brushing your cheek. when he called you princess in that mocking tone, and your stomach twisted in ways it shouldn't.

you never spoke of it. never acknowledged the heat. it simmered quietly, dangerously, waiting.

and then came that night.

you can’t sleep.

you're wearing his hoodie, one you stole from the laundry days ago, pretending it doesn’t still smell like him. you wander the dark hallway, heart thudding, feet silent on the cold floor.

it was past midnight. the house was silent, your parents long asleep. you'd been tossing in bed, craving something cold, something sweet—maybe the popsicles hidden in the freezer behind your stepmom’s meal preps. you padded barefoot into the hallway in the big hoodie and cotton panties, yawning, eyes half-closed.

and then you heard it.

a low, sharp gasp. the creak of a bed. a muffled curse.

you paused at the end of the hallway, heart stuttering.

his door was open. just a crack—but enough.

enough for you to see him.

taehyun, sprawled on his bed, shirtless, bathed in moonlight. sweat-slicked chest rising and falling. eyes half-lidded, jaw clenched, hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself with slow, angry precision.

you froze.

his head tilted back, a broken sound escaping his throat.

“fuck…” he muttered, breathless. “just like that…”

your knees almost gave out.

you should’ve turned around. you should’ve walked back to your room and pretended you never saw a thing. but your body betrayed you, burning from the inside out, and your mouth moved before your brain caught up.

“you left the damn door open, idiot.”

his whole body jolted. he sat up abruptly, hand still around his cock, wild eyes meeting yours. his expression twisted in horror and frustration and—something else.

“shit!” he hissed. “what the fuck, are you spying on me?”

you stepped into the room, fire rising in your chest. “you wish. i came down for a snack, not to watch you jerk off.”

“then go back to your fucking room!” he snapped, yanking the sheet over his lap too late. his cheeks were flushed, pupils blown wide, lips parted.

you didn’t move.

his jaw flexed. “get out.”

he threw the blanket off, stood, and you could see the line of his muscles, the tension coiled in his body, the fact that he was still hard.

“i said—”

“make me,” you whispered.

“always fucking arguing,” he muttered. “can’t even let me jerk off in peace.”

“you wanted me to see you.”

you folded your arms, leaning against the doorframe, deliberately not looking away.

“i won't tell you again.”

“why would i? you don’t seem to mind the audience.”

his gaze dropped to your legs, the hoodie, the way it barely covered your thighs. when he looked back up, something had shifted.

you felt it—like a snap in the air.

“you’re always running your mouth,” he said quietly, rising from the bed without breaking eye contact. “acting like you’re in control. like you can handle shit you don’t even understand.”

“oh, and you do?” you shot back, heat pooling between your legs. “you think jerking off in the dark makes you some kind of expert?”

he laughed. low. dangerous.

“i think it means i know exactly what i want,” he said. “and how to take it.”

you scoffed. “you wish you could take me.”

in a heartbeat, he crossed the room, chest to chest with you, body radiating heat. his breath was all over your lips, your cheeks, your throat. you refused to back down, tilting your chin defiantly.

“try me,” you whispered.

his hand caught your wrist. tight. his other hand gripped your waist.

it was too much.

too much heat. too much tension. too many years of pretending, of ignoring, of brushing past each other in narrow hallways and acting like neither of you felt the static.

taehyun was still holding you against the wall, breath ragged against your ear, fingers pressing bruises into your hips.

“tell me to stop,” he murmured, but his grip tightened.

you swallowed, breathless. “no.”

his forehead dropped against yours. his body was burning, chest rising and falling against you. he wasn’t smirking now. wasn’t playing games.

“fuck,” he muttered, like he hated himself. “i don’t—i don’t think i can stop.”

you exhaled shakily, threading your fingers into his hair.

“i don’t want you to.”

a harsh, sharp breath left him. his thumb dragged along your jaw, down your throat, over the racing pulse there.

“you—” his voice broke. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do this.”

your knees went weak. “taehyun…”

he lifted you onto the bed, lips ghosting over your collarbone, your shoulder, your jaw.

and then—softly, desperately—

“tell me you’ve thought about it too.”

your stomach tightened. you forced yourself to meet his gaze, the way his pupils were blown wide, his lips parted.

you could lie. you could keep up the game.

but you were too far gone.

“i think about you when i touch myself,” you admitted, voice raw.

taehyun let out a sharp exhale, like you had just wrecked him.

“fuck.”

his fingers dug into the sheets beside your head, body trembling as he stared down at you like he wanted to devour you whole.

his hand slid up your thigh, slow, deliberate.

“say it again,” he whispered.

your cheeks burned, but there was no going back now.

“i think about you,” you repeated, fingers gripping his shoulders, dragging him closer. “about your hands. your mouth. about how bad i want you.”

his breath stuttered. his forehead dropped to your shoulder, a soft, wrecked groan escaping him.

then he kissed you. hard.

like he was claiming you.

his fingers curled into your hair, his other hand slipping under your waistband, finding just how wet you were.

he let out a low, dangerous chuckle against your lips.

“you really have been thinking about me, huh?”

you clenched your jaw. “don’t get cocky.”

he kissed the corner of your mouth, then lower, trailing down your throat.

“don’t start what you can’t finish,” he growled.

“then shut up and finish it.”

and when his fingers dipped inside you, slow and teasing, you knew you were fucked.

he pulled back only enough to look at you—his lips red, his breathing shaky.

"i need to fuck you," he whispered, like it physically hurt to hold it in. "need to feel you lose control under me."

you clenched around nothing, nodding before your pride could get in the way.

"then do it."

and that was all it took.

his mouth was back on yours, hungry, biting, tongue fucking your lips open as his hands dragged down to tear at your shorts. you lifted your hips, eager, desperate, and he growled when he felt how wet your underwear was.

"fuck, baby," he hissed, dragging the soaked fabric down your thighs. "you’re dripping. did just confessing turn you on this much?"

"shut up," you breathed, tugging at his shirt, nails scratching up his back. "less talking, more fucking."

he smirked against your neck, then you heard the distinct sound of a condom wrapper being torn open—he'd had one in his drawer. you felt his cock, hard and heavy, brush against your thigh as he rolled it on. you raised an eyebrow.

“what, you just keep those around?”

he didn’t even blink. “you live here, don’t you?”

you were breathless at that. angry and turned on and god, you hated how much you liked that answer.

“fuck you,” you whispered.

“that’s the plan.” he tore the foil open with his teeth. “you’re lucky i’m responsible,” he muttered, pressing the blunt head against your entrance.

you bit your lip, eyes fluttering.

“you’re lucky i’m letting you.”

that made him groan.

"fuck, you’re perfect."

he slid in slow, watching every inch disappear inside you like he wanted to burn the sight into memory. you gasped, legs wrapping around him, arms pulling him closer.

and when he pushed inside you, slow and thick and unforgiving, you saw stars.

he wasn’t gentle.

he wasn’t rough.

he was intense.

every thrust was a dare. every moan a power play.

you tried to take control, to ride his rhythm, to drag him under your pace—he resisted, holding your wrists down, pinning you by the hips.

"you like thinking you're in charge, huh?" he growled against your throat.

"i am in charge," you spat, pushing your hips up hard, making him stutter mid-thrust.

his eyes darkened.

"not tonight."

he fucked you deeper, harder, making your back arch off the bed, your voice rising.

"say it," he hissed. "say you want me in control."

you refused.

so he angled just right.

and that was it.

you broke.

"taehyun—fuck—yes, okay, yes, yes."

he kissed you, like he was sealing a deal.

and when you came, shaking, crying out his name, he didn’t stop. he chased his own release like a man possessed, groaning your name when he finally let go, collapsing over you, breathless and trembling.

you lay there for a long minute, tangled, sticky, ruined.

neither of you said a word.

because saying something meant admitting what had just happened.

and admitting it meant figuring out what came next.

the clink of dishes. the sound of the news playing quietly from the living room. the smell of coffee and peanut butter.

your parents were already seated at the table, sipping tea and chatting about some neighbor’s new garden.

you stood at the kitchen counter, still in pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt, trying to spread peanut butter over a stubborn piece of toast without thinking about how your thighs still ached.

taehyun walked in.

you didn’t even have to look to know. you felt him—his heat, his presence, the weight of what you'd done.

he walked right behind you, headed for the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

but as he passed, his palm landed on your ass. not hard. not loud.

just enough.

your breath hitched and you gasped, body jolting forward slightly, the knife nearly slipping from your fingers.

"everything okay, honey?" your dad asked from the table.

you blinked. blinked again.

"i—uh. almost dropped the jam," you stammered, holding up the glass jar. "it’s slippery."

your mom smiled politely and went back to her tea.

behind you, taehyun popped open the bottle of water and chuckled, quietly.

the bastard.

you turned slightly, eyes narrowed.

he just raised an eyebrow, took a sip, and leaned in close enough that only you could hear:

"you moaned so pretty last night."

your face burned.

you wanted to punch him. or fuck him again.

or both.

my honest reaction to that req

[noorpersona]

Hear me out. Giving bokuto or ushijima their first bj in their early 20s. They’re just so busy all the time and once they finally meet you, how do you think It would go down?

You've been heard and its fantastic lolol

I hope you enjoy my love <333

--

Anon Ask: Bokuto (NSFW)

The door creaked open, and Bokuto stepped inside with a quiet, exhausted sigh. His duffel bag was slung over one broad shoulder, and his varsity jacket hung haphazardly off him, half-zipped like he hadn’t even bothered to fix it. His hair was still damp from a post-practice shower, curling slightly at the ends, and the faint scent of soap and something distinctly him wafted across the room.

When he spotted you sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bed, his whole face changed. The tension in his shoulders softened, and a slow, sleepy smile spread across his lips.

"Hey," he said, voice rough and warm from hours of practice. "Didn't expect you to wait up."

You shrugged lightly, trying to keep it casual even though your heart squeezed at the sight of him—tired, flushed, and somehow still so beautiful. "Missed you," you admitted.

His smile deepened, fondness glowing in his golden eyes. Dropping his bag by the door, he kicked off his shoes with a lazy nudge and trudged over to you.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he collapsed beside you with a soft grunt, leaning heavily against you. His head found its way to your shoulder, his body curling toward you instinctively, seeking your warmth like a magnet.

"I'm so tired," he mumbled, words slurring slightly against your shirt.

You threaded your fingers through his damp hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. He melted instantly, a low, content hum vibrating from his chest.

"Poor baby," you teased gently, though your heart ached with how worn down he was. He always gave everything—on the court, in class, with his teammates. There was never anything left for himself.

He huffed a quiet laugh against you. "Missed you too, y'know."

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

For a while, you just sat there, letting him soak in your presence. You could feel the weight of his exhaustion, the way his body sagged against yours, trusting you to hold him up.

After a long moment, you shifted slightly, your hand trailing down from his hair to cup his cheek, tilting his face up to look at you.

His eyes were heavy-lidded, lips slightly parted. So open. So vulnerable.

You leaned in, kissing him softly at first, your lips brushing over his in a slow, lingering touch. Bokuto sighed into your mouth, his large hands finding your waist, gripping you gently like he couldn’t bear not to touch you.

The kiss deepened naturally, lazy and warm, until you were shifting to straddle his lap, feeling the solid weight of him beneath you. Your hands slid down his chest, over the faint ridges of his stomach, until they hovered at the waistband of his jeans.

When your fingers brushed the growing tent forming there, he gasped softly against your mouth, hips jerking up slightly into your palm.

You pulled back just enough to look at him—his cheeks flushed, pupils wide, breathing shallow.

The thought struck you all at once. A way to take care of him. To give him something back.

"Let me take care of you tonight," you whispered.

Confusion flickered across his face. "You don't have to—"

You silenced him with another kiss, even deeper this time, pouring everything you felt into it—all the longing, all the tenderness, all the need.

When you pulled back, his breath caught audibly. His pupils were blown wide, cheeks flushed a soft pink.

You slid off the bed and knelt between his legs, resting your hands lightly on his thighs.

His breath hitched. "Wait—you… you don't—"

"I want to," you murmured, voice steady, fingers tracing slow circles against the thick muscle of his thighs.

Bokuto looked like he wanted to argue, but the words caught in his throat. He nodded instead, swallowing hard.

You reached for the button of his jeans, popping it open with deft fingers. His breathing grew ragged as you tugged the zipper down, his cock straining against the fabric.

When you freed him, he was already hard, twitching slightly under the cool air and your intense gaze.

You smiled up at him—gentle, reassuring—and leaned in to press a soft kiss against the head of his cock.

He gasped, his hips jerking slightly before he forced himself to stay still, fists clenching in the blanket.

"Holy shit," he whispered, voice barely a breath.

You took your time, trailing kisses down his length, licking slow, teasing stripes along the underside. Every little sound he made—the sharp inhales, the choked-off moans—made your stomach flutter.

When you finally wrapped your lips around him, sinking down slowly, his whole body shuddered.

"F-Fuck…" he whimpered, head tipping back against the bed, throat working as he swallowed thickly.

You set a slow, steady rhythm, bobbing your head while your hand stroked what your mouth couldn't reach. Your free hand stayed firm on his thigh, feeling every tremor, every tiny twitch.

Bokuto was a mess almost immediately, biting his lip hard enough to turn his knuckles white, trying desperately to keep quiet. His hips jerked despite himself, tiny, helpless movements you easily accommodated.

When you glanced up at him, the sight nearly undid you—his flushed cheeks, the glassy sheen in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were something holy.

"I'm gonna…" he panted, voice breaking. "Gonna cum… if you…"

The desperate edge in his voice made something snap inside you.

You moaned softly around him, then picked up the pace—bobbing your head faster, taking him deeper with each stroke. Your hand worked in tandem with your mouth, twisting gently at the base as you sucked harder, tongue flicking against the sensitive underside.

Bokuto cried out, head falling back against the bed, chest heaving with ragged breaths. His thighs tensed under your palms, muscles trembling as he fought to keep himself grounded.

"F-Fuck, baby…" he gasped, voice cracking, hips jerking up despite himself. "I'm… I'm—"

With a shuddering groan that was almost a whimper, Bokuto came hard, hips stuttering helplessly as he spilled hot and heavy into your mouth. You swallowed carefully, easing him through it, the sounds he made—broken, vulnerable—searing themselves into your memory.

You kept your movements slow and gentle until he sagged back against the bed, completely spent, every muscle in his body quivering with the aftermath.

When you finally pulled back, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, you looked up at him through your lashes.

He stared down at you like you’d personally rewritten the laws of physics, wide-eyed and flushed, chest still rising and falling rapidly.

"You're…" he croaked, still breathless. "You're amazing."

You climbed back onto the bed, and Bokuto immediately dragged you into his arms, cradling you against his chest like he never wanted to let you go.

"Stay," he whispered, voice raw.

"Wasn't planning on leaving," you murmured against his skin, pressing a kiss to his racing heart.

He held you tighter, burying his face in your hair, soaking in your warmth, your presence—everything he’d missed without even realizing it.

And for once, there was nowhere else either of you needed to be.

[rs-hawk]

BEING BRED BY THE EASTER BUNNY

Lmao this is so outta pocket but the Easter Bunny lays eggs in your womb in this so

Growing up, you had always been very interested in folklore and mythology, and how older cultures influenced Christianity. That made Easter one of your favorite holidays because it’s just so heavily inspired by multiple pagan cultures.

However, it bothered your family that you liked Easter from an academic standpoint verses a religious one, so this year, you decided to spend it by yourself. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to not do some of the traditions you grew up with- namely, leaving a plate of hay and clovers with a glass of carrot juice. Your family left this out for the Easter Bunny the way other families left milk and cookies out for Santa.

You set out the plate and glass, smiling slightly to yourself despite being sad about being alone. As you crawl into bed, you think you hear something in your backyard. Twigs snapping, a soft thumping sound that repeats. When you push yourself up to look through your window, you don’t see anything. Just darkness and a little bit of light filtering in from the moon.

After a moment, you settle yourself back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Eventually you doze off. When you wake up, there’s the smell of chocolate and something warm and fuzzy surrounding you. You wriggle slightly, and the warm, fuzzy thing wraps tighter around you.

“So sweet, putting out that plate for me still. Thought you had stopped believing in me,” a warm, thick voice mumbles against your neck. Long, blunt teeth scrape your neck, making you jolt. “Don’t be scared. I’d never hurt you.”

In the darkness, your eyes slowly adjust. After a few moments, you see the thing laying on top of you. A giant, larger than a man, sized rabbit. He’s rutting a large, dripping cock against your bed between your thighs. His ears are pricked straight up, twitching softly as his face is buried in your neck. His paw like hands grip your hips, holding you still as he ruts the bed between your legs, as if he wants you to ask for him before he puts it in.

“What the fuck?” you mumble as you gaze down at him.

He looks up at you with his large, dark eyes, his nose twitching just like his ears. The rutting stops. “My little human. You’re going to properly be mine.”

Something about how innocent but needy this creature looks makes your legs fall slightly more open. “Are you…?”

“The Easter Bunny?” he chuckles, caging you in with his arms as he lifts himself up, settling his arms on either side of your head, his cock now pressed against your shorts. ���Yeah, I am.”

You find yourself running your fingers through his white fur, wondering why he’s here. How he’s here. He’s not supposed to be real, but the aching cock grinding against your core certainly is real. He seems to notice the way that your legs fall more open, how you mewl softly because of his touch. Deciding to take advantage of this, he hooks his furry fingers into the waistband of your sleep shorts. In a way that’s almost agonizingly show, he pulls your shorts down, exposing your slit.

The leaking head slides in before he can even fully pull your shorts off. Moaning softly, you curl your legs around his waist. The fur is warm and soft under your hands. His nose is buried against your skin as he slowly rolls his hips into you.

“So warm,” he mutters as he rolls his hips over and over, driving his cock deeper into your now aching cunt. “So kind. Leaving out snacks for me after all these years.”

You let out a whine, biting your lower lip as the head of his cock taps your cervix. A soft whimper escapes your lips as you try grip his furry shoulders. Before you know it, he’s slamming in and out of you, properly fucking you like a rabbit does his mate.

You moan and tighten your leg lock around his waist, not that it mattered. He had no intention of pulling out. In a matter of minutes, you feel a few hard ball like objects being forced into your womb. It’s slightly uncomfortable at first, but soon becomes outright painful. Six of these things are stuffed into your womb, making your body ache.

He quickly pulls out, burying his furry face between your legs. His soft, smooth tongue runs over your cunt, soothing your puffy lips as his nose is pressed against your clit, twitching this way and that while his whispers tickle your inner thighs. The hard objects in your stomach soon fall forgotten as pleasure mounts in your lower belly, and before long, you’re drenching his white fur face with your juices.

He’s gone the next morning, leaving your stomach already slightly distended with what you presume to be eggs. You wonder how long you’ll incubate them, and if they’ll be a live birth or if you’ll be laying eggs. Too bad Easter is just once a year.

[rafesbabyg1rl]

Private session part2 is needed!! We all know Barry can be a dick head and he actually considers adding the having sex with a stripper option to customers when y/n finds out about this she obviously mad and saying no but when rafe finds outs about this he’s obviously mad and goes to Barry pissed saying wtf is this he obviously dose not want y/n to have sex with anyone else but him

Private Session - part two

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Summary: Rafe likes to watch reader while she works as a stripper. He asks for a private session in which he'll pay a large amount for her time. Rafe takes her home and uses her however he pleases. When he finds out Barry has been selling you to customers, he gets jealous, insisting that you must not sleep with anyone else.

Pairings: Stripper!Reader X obsessive!Rafe

Warnings: Rafe is obsessive of reader. Reader is a stripper. Mention of drugs (Rafe and Barry do cocaine), bondage (reader is tied up), p in v, unprotected sex, language, SLIGHT degradation, praise, oral (f receiving), fingering. SMUT SMUT SMUT!

Word Count: 4.8k

Author Note: Hey babes! I got this idea from this GIF , like just imagine he's sitting in the strip club throwing dollar bills at you like that. This fic is NOT proofread, it's almost FIVE AM and I have school tomorrow, well, today I guess...UGH. I just got this request and had to write this!! Also thank you all for the support on part one?!?!?! That's INSANE, I love you guys! I wanted to get this out asap for y'all. Sorry if it's actually shit, I'm so tired and also high. If you see any errors please feel free to correct me kindly! Thanks!

I promise I will work on The Watcher; I just got a bit stuck. Thank you guys for reading, I hope you enjoy! I love you all and stay freaky!

Credits: GIF from this post

Some time has passed since your ‘private session’ with Rafe. The first time you’d come back to work after your session with Rafe, Barry had talked to you at the beginning of your shift. Apparently, after seeing how much Rafe paid you for just one hour alone with him, Barry was inspired. He had told you that the club will now be providing a new “service” to well-paying customers. Customers now have the option to have sex with the dancers for the right price. Barry knew better than to sell his girls out for cheap, so the cost is rather high. And there’s typically only two types of men that have both the means and the money for it: the rich, old sugar daddies who probably can’t even get it up on their own and the rich, horny assholes of the island, take Rafe for example. 

When Barry had told you this, you were pissed. This was not in your job description; you’re a stripper not a hooker. You wanted to yell at him and quit. The issue is that when you got this job, you had signed a contract with Barry stating that you’d have to work there for at least a year or else you’d have to pay a fee. Knowing Barry, it’s a ridiculously large fee, ensuring that no one quit before their year was up. And it’s likely that the contract he made you sign isn’t even legal. But you're not going to try and find out, knowing that even if it’s not, that doesn’t matter to Barry. He’ll make you pay. And you don’t have that kind of money, that’s why you’re in this position in the first place.

Over the next few weeks, you’ve noticed that Rafe hasn’t been coming in as much. Not while you’re working at least. The few times he has come in, he hasn’t been alone, always coming in with a few other kooks and barely paying any attention to you. Which is definitely not normal for Rafe. You just assume that since he’s had you now, he’s lost his interest. You expected that you’d be relieved when he finally stopped watching you like prey, but now you’re not exactly sure what you feel. Does he not find you attractive anymore? Did he just lose interest after finally getting what it is that he had craved for so long? God, was it just you; did he see who you really are and run in the opposite direction? You knew that whole experience with him was too good to be true.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as you hear the door to the back room open. Quickly, you grab one of the dresses hanging in your locker and slip it over you; it’s what Barry told you to wear over your lingerie when you do at-home sessions with clients. You turn, watching as your boss and none other than Rafe Cameron stumble in through the door. Rafe goes quiet, his expression going dead as he lays eyes on you. 

“Lookin’ good”, Barry whistles. “Where you headed, princess?” He asks as he turns away from you, sitting on a chair. Barry leans back in his seat, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small baggie full of white powder. You’ve always ignored his side business, always pretending you don’t see any of it. Which is what you do right now. Trying your hardest to ignore the fact he’s preparing a line on the small, glass coffee table, you finish up what you’re doing and close your locker a bit harshly.

“I have a client waiting.” You snap. You walk closer to where Barry is sitting and turn your back to him. “Tie me?” You ask, holding your hair up and waiting for him to tie the complex strings of your backless dress. Though he’s currently busy doing a line of cocaine. Without hesitation, Rafe steps closer, his fingers moving to tie your dress. You don’t have to see him to know he’s the one tying your dress. Your skin just immediately remembers his touch, causing chills to run down your spine at the flashbacks of that night. Rafe notices your slight shiver and smirks as he tries to figure out how the straps of your dress go. His hands linger on the skin of your lower back for longer than they need to and your breath hitches each time his skin comes into contact with your own.

When he’s done, he sits on the couch across from Barry, facing you. You turn back to them, not bothering to thank him. To be honest, you’re a bit pissed at him for starting this whole sex with customers thing. You know he didn’t intend to, but he’s the one who gave Barry the idea. 

Barry speaks up again as he wipes the excess powder from his nose. “When will you be back, I need you out on the floor.” 

I can’t do fucking everything, you think. Although your words come out much more politely. “It’s an at-home appointment so probably an hour.” You’ve had this client before, he typically finishes pretty quick. 

You hear Rafe’s loud breathing as he snorts a line which grabs your attention, making you briefly turn your head to look at him. You watch as he leans back, shutting his eyes and inhaling deeply as his high takes over. Rafe slouches in his seat, spreading his legs wide, making you quickly look away. Of course he notices how you’re reacting to him, he always notices everything about you. He crosses his arm and lets out a small sigh. 

Rafe’s tone is sharp as he cuts in. “At-home?” He questions, still trying to act as though he doesn’t care about the conversation you and Barry were having. 

Barry’s eyes linger on you for a moment, taking in the sight before turning to look at Rafe. “We now offer a new service: you can fuck any of ‘em bitches now.” You make a face at Barry’s words, not liking how he described you and the other girls. Usually he’d never say that in the presence of one of his “bitches”, but Rafe and Barry always brought out the worst in each other; their behavior much worse when they’re together. 

“Wait, what?!” He asks, sitting up a bit before calming himself down. He leans back against the couch, trying to seem all nonchalant. “So, they’re hookers?” He questions more calmly as he looks over to you. You recall having to tell him you weren’t a hooker the last time you saw him. You scowl, hating that he’s trying to prove you wrong and rub it in. 

“Hookers, bitches, call ‘em whatever you want. I should thank you for giving me the idea. I mean, do you have any idea how much money this is making me.” Barry boasts. “And miss pretty princess over here is our top money maker.” Barry gestures to you as you stand there, waiting for your chance to leave. “She brings in the most customers. Ain’t that right, darlin’?” You nod. Everytime Barry gets high, he doesn’t fucking shut up. Rafe just nods his head dryly, leaning down to snort another line of the white substance from the table. 

You take this as your queue to leave and you walk out through the door and back into the main part of the club. You walk through the crowd and search for your client. Leaving Rafe with a few moments to think in silence before Barry starts yapping about all the guys you’ve been fucking. Rafe is fucking furious with this new addition to the club. He had never intended for Barry to take inspiration from his actions, he just needed you. And now anyone else who wants you, can have you. How is it that you could say that you don’t go home with guys often, and turn around and go fuck a bunch of guys for a living right after? Was he just another client to you? Rafe can’t take it anymore and decides to take action. He shoots up from his seat on the couch and storms after you. 

As you’re walking, you feel a hand grip your arm and spin you around. You’re almost chest to chest with Rafe as he speaks down to you. “Where the hell are you going?”

“I have a client.” You explain, again. 

“The fuck you mean ‘a client’?” 

“You’re not the only one who’s willing to pay just to fuck me, Rafe.” You say coldly. 

He chuckles, responding sarcastically as he stares down at you with his wide, dilated eyes. “Thought you never went home with random guys?”

“I didn’t. Until you gave Barry the idea of selling me out to strangers for a quick buck.”

Rafe sighs, his grip on your arm loosening. “That’s not what I wanted. I mean c’mon, you think I want other guys fucking you?”

The implication in his words shock you, but you try not to read too much into it. Before you get the chance to respond he lets go of your arm, letting out a deep breath and shaking his head. Without question, he pulls his wallet out from his pocket, flipping it open and looking up at you. “How much is he gonna pay?” You stare at him blankly, confused in what he’s doing. He huffs out a long breath shutting his eyes for a second before bringing one hand up to snap in your face, grabbing your attention. “The guy, your…” his hand waves around in the air, gesturing outwards as he momentarily stutters. “...Client, or whatever. How much was he going to pay you?” He speaks more slowly this time, as if you’re stupid or something. 

“Depends.” You answer. The client you’re supposed to be meeting right now didn’t have an exact time planned, but you know how much he typically has the stamina for. 

He purses his lips, shifting on his feet. “Ballpark.” He demands. His gaze darted between your eyes, constantly shifting to look at both. 

Still confused, you hesitantly respond to his question, stuttering as you speak. “$800.” Immediately, he starts to count the money in his wallet, taking out the eight-hundred and then some. Rafe hands the cash out to you, but you don’t take it right away so he tucks it into the low cut neckline of your dress.

“There, now I take priority.” He takes hold of your arm again and drags you through the club and out into the parking lot. He walks you up to his truck, which you can now recognize. Rafe pulls the passenger door open for you and walks around to his side, climbing in and starting the engine. You know to get in, shutting the door behind you and buckling your seatbelt before looking over at him. Your stomach tightens as his eyes undress you. Rafe finally turns his head away, reaching over his shoulder to grab his seatbelt. Suddenly, it’s like the image registered in his brain and he whipped his head back to you, glaring at your thighs.

You noticed him staring at you, looking down into your lap. The super short dress you were wearing has ridden up, revealing the few hickeys that are spread over your inner thighs. His eyes find the others on your neck as well and he knows he wasn’t the one to leave them. You try to keep your customers from leaving hickeys and other marks in your body, but it’s like the more you tell them not to, the more they want to. It makes Rafe almost sick to his stomach when he thinks about kissing you with those marks; marks left on your skin from other men. He can’t stand it. Suddenly his mind is filled with images of you fucking other guys, he tries to shake out the thoughts but he can’t; they’re eating away at him. The two lines of cocaine from earlier not helping the situation, it only serves to intensify his anger. 

As he drives he looks over at you. He starts to rant, his voice booming inside the small tuck cabin. “Bet they can’t make you cum four fuckin’ times in an hour, can they?”  You only slightly jump when he startles you with the increasing volume of his voice. “They can’t fuckin’ touch you like I can, huh?” He glances at the road shortly, then he turns his head back to you. “Nobody makes you feel as good as I do, yeah?” He waits for a response.

You catch the hint. “Mhm…yeah.” You nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

When you get to Tanneyhill, Rafe comes to an abrupt stop in his driveway. He wastes no time before getting out of the truck and rounding the front of it to get to your side. Rafe pulls the passenger seat door open, grabbing ahold of your arm again. He tugs you inside, shutting the door behind you two. 

As soon as you hear the door shut, his lips are finding yours and attacking them. In the moment, he decides that his bedroom upstairs is too far and he takes you into the kitchen. He continues to kiss you, walking you backwards until your lower hips bump into the counter; in which he grabs your waist and lifts you up to sit on the counter. One of his hands finds its way underneath your dress and between your legs. In quick movements, he tugs your lacy thong down and off of your body. Once they hit the floor, he’s pulling your legs apart; forcing them to spread wide so that you’re exposed and accessible to him. Your pussy grows wet in anticipation of what he’s going to do to you; which is something that none of the other men have been able to make you feel.

Rafe brushes a light hand over your cunt, groaning into your mouth as he discovers how wet you are for him. Not some random guy at the club, but him. He continues to kiss you, swallowing the small moans that try and escape your lips. His hands move to his belt, working on getting it off. Once it’s off, he pulls his jeans down and steps out of them; only breaking the kiss once. The next thing to go in his boxers; he slides them down and lets them pool at his ankles.

With absolutely no warning or further preparation, Rafe slams into you. You choke out a moan, tilting your head back. Rafe starts to kiss the sensitive spot behind your ear just so that your cunt can squeeze around him even tighter as he jackhammers into you. “Fuuck…so tight.” He groans. “Did anyone else fuck you like this, hm? Did anyone else’s cock stretch you out like this?” He growls into your ear. His hand snakes around to the back of your head, gathering all your hair and tugging your head back so that you were looking at him. “That was a fucking question. Fucking answer.” He demands.

“I…”, you cry out as his cock repeatedly hits the extra sensitive spot deep inside you. A spot that nobody else can reach like how he does. “N-no…just you.” 

“Just me, what?” He continues, enjoying your struggle to form words as he fucks you at this pace.

“Just you can fuck me like this.” You admit. You’re not even saying it because he wants you to, but because you can honestly say that nobody’s ever fucked you like how he’s fucked you. 

“Good girl.” He praises. He runs a hand through your hair and slows his speed to a very slow, careful pace, admiring your features as your face contorts with pleasure. After about a minute, his hand finds your clit, his fingers rubbing harsh circles as his thrusts speed up to an unbearable pace again. He places a hand on your chest, pushing you down so that you’re laying with your back flat on the counter. 

The cold counter adds to the intense feeling. He pauses for a moment to pull your shiny, little dress up past your hips to keep it out of the way. When he continues, he’s drilling into you faster than before, giving you the last bit of his anger through his thrusts. Your back begins to arch off the counter, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. And just as you’re about to see stars, Rafe pulls out of you and steps back, pulling his boxers back up from his ankles.

An involuntary whine escapes your lips when his touch leaves you and you sit up on your elbows, trying to figure out why he stopped. Except he doesn’t say anything, he just lifts you up, carrying you upstairs and into his bedroom. 

When you get into his room, he sets you down just before the bed. “Shit, I almost forgot.” He mumbles. You furrow your brows and follow his gaze to his bed. On his bed sits a small gift box. You look back at him to find him staring at you. “Open it.” The demands, his tone almost displaying a small trace of excitement. 

You look back at the box, taking a few steps closer to the bed. You reach out to flip over the small tag on the box, it reads: ‘To: my favorite hooker’. Your breath hitches. He’s so frustrating with his persistence of using that word, ‘hooker’, when he knows you aren’t one. Well, you didn’t used to be one. But you have to admit, this seems almost…sweet, in a way. Sweet for Rafe anyhow. You fight back your smile as you reach both hands out, carefully lifting the lid off of the box, setting it on the bed. Inside the box lay some very beautiful, intricate lingerie; it’s clearly very expensive, judging on the fact that you can’t even pronounce the brand name. 

Rafe explains, “For what I ripped last time. I told you I’d replace it.”

“You did.” You say, getting lost in his eyes for perhaps a moment too long.

“Take it out.” He instructs and you obey, taking the delicate lingerie out of the gift box. Underneath the set, you find another gift. A vibrating wand as well as some thick ribbon. The vibrator you understand, the ribbon…not so much. You hold some of it up, turning to face him as if asking ‘what’s this for?’. Rafe understands what you’re asking and he responds vaguely. “You’ll see.” Clearly he enjoys keeping you on your toes, and you hate it. 

After changing into your new lingerie, you exit his bathroom and walk towards his bed. Quickly he has you laying on your back. He takes some ribbon from the box and straddles your waist leaning over you as he ties each of your wrists to a separate bed post. He then did the same with your feet. Now you’re all tied up for him, spread out on the bed and vulnerable. 

He leans down, hovering over you. He starts to kiss all over your body, his lips finding any open spot of skin on you. He pauses his kisses for a moment, leaning back up enough to look at you. He tells you, “Don’t wear this at the club.” Rafe leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your chest. “This is for me, yeah?” He mumbles, giving you yet another kiss. “My eyes only.” you nod in response, you agree. This is way too expensive to be wearing to the club.

“Yes, yes, only you.” You desperately plead. 

Rafe chuckles and starts to kiss down your body, He makes a momentary stop at your chest, mouthing over one of your nipples through the thin fabric, his fingers rolling your other nipple between his fingers. His actions elicit a loud moan to escape your lips as your body tenses up, struggling against the restraints. You now understand the ribbon. Last time, he had used rope to tie you up and it would painfully dig into your skin. But the ribbon was soft, not causing pain to be inflicted upon you as your body reacts to his actions. His mouth leaves your breast, moving to the other side, ensuring that it wasn’t left out. His hand also switches to pinch at your other nipple.

His mouth starts to travel down your body again as his hand reaches behind him on the bed to grab something. He mouths over your clothed cunt, making you whine and shiver underneath him; still sensitive from when he had teased you earlier on the kitchen counter. 

You hear a vibrating sound, but before your brain could register what it is, he’s using the new vibrator he bought for you, on you. He presses it firmly against your clit through the fabric of your panties. Your arms tug at the restraints in response, your legs trying, and failing to close. You feel so vulnerable, so exposed and weak. Lying here helpless as he assaults your small bundle of nerves. 

Rafe pulls your panties to the side, revealing your dripping cunt. He pushes the vibrator directly on your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body at the sensation. “F-fuck!” You cry, your abdominal muscles contracting as your eyes squeeze shut and your toes curl. Rafe leans in, using his tongue to lap up the juices that drip from your slick entrance as he keeps the vibrator steady on your most sensitive part. “Rafe!” You scream his name out as you cum, finally seeing the stars you were denied earlier, the build-up making it that much more intense. 

He pulls the vibrator away, only using his tongue to work you down from your high. When your body starts to relax more, he stops and moves back up your body. He sets the vibrator aside and kisses at your neck, leaving new marks of his own; darker and larger than the others. 

You’re still in shock at Rafe’s decision to use a toy on you. You definitely weren’t mad about it, that’s for sure. It’s just that typical guys won’t want to use a vibrator on you because they want to prove they’re better all by themselves. Rafe’s definitely good at sex, that’s just a given fact. But the confidence he has to use a vibrator on you, mixed with his skill…he’s fucking incomparable. 

Rafe unties your wrists, letting your arms fall and relax. Next he moves to untie the ribbon that ties your feet to the bed. Once you’re completely free, he gives you a moment, knowing how tiring that was for your body. He knows you need to recover if he wants to get more orgasms from you tonight. 

Though you appreciate his generosity, you want to help him out too. So you take him by surprise by placing your hand over his hard cock through his boxers. Except he still manages to be the one surprising you when he speaks. “Fuck…that feels…s’so good baby.” He groans, but moves your hand off his dick. “But let me take care of you, yeah? I know Barry’s got you workin’ a lot, hm? Heard you’ve got the most customers, is that right?” He asks, his hands starting to squeeze and massage at you calves 

“Mhm…” you agree, closing your eyes in relaxation. 

Rafe’s hands move to massage your feet, knowing the tall heels you’re always wearing have to be causing you some discomfort. And he knows he assumed correctly when you let out a deep sigh at his touch. “Nobody ever takes care of you, hm? Always just taking what they want and giving you nothing?” He leans in closer to your ear and whispers, “I like taking care of you.” Rafe starts to nip softly at your ear, making you moan softly. 

After a while, his hands leave your feet, moving back up your body. He gently pulls off the lingerie, setting it on the bed beside you two. He takes a moment to revel in the sight of you, taking in what he is lucky enough to have in front of him. One of his hands finds its way to your slimy folds, gently running over your entrance. He gathers some of your slick and brings it up to your clit as he begins to rub it in steady, slow circles.

Finally, he pulls his boxers off. He uses his other hand to hold himself at the base, gently stroking himself a few times as he looks down at you underneath him. Without much more preparation, he pushes himself inside of you. This time, he moves slowly. His mind isn;t clouded from the effects of cocaine and anger anymore, instead he just wants to help you feel good. He wants to take him time, even though you’re likely not going to last long after your previous orgasm. 

“Shit, so fuckin’ wet f’me. You’re always so wet for me, hm? Such a good girl. Such a good fuckin’ girl.” He groans, his mouth right next to your ear so you can clearly hear all his praises. “M’gonna have to talk to Barry for you. Can’t have you fuckin’ those other guys anymore. This pussy’s for me; it’s mine.” His speed gets faster, his pace more erratic as you get closer, your cunt squeezing around him tighter; ultimately bringing him closer to finishing as well. “Hm? You hear me?”

“Mhm…” you nod eagerly, getting so close to cumming that you can barely form a complete thought. “Y-yes Rafe. Yours, fuck! Yours.”

He gathers all your hair, tugging on it so that your neck cocks back, giving him full access to mark it up. He leaves wet, sloppy kisses all over your neck; sucking and biting at your skin. “Only a slut for me, right? Nobody else, not anymore.”

“Yes…sure, fuck, okay yeah!” You scream. The recognizable feeling of your stomach tightening just for the band to snap, making your back arch off the bed, pushing your body against his as you reach another orgasm. “Ohh…nngghh…f-fucking shit!” You curse, your hand clawing at his shirt, trying to take it off. Rafe understands what you need and does it for you.

It’s not long before he gets to his peak with the way you keep squeezing him; so wet that he just slips right in and out. But before he cums, he asks you a final question. “Can I?”,is all he says but it’s enough for you to know what it is that he’s asking. He’s already done it before, so you don’t see the problem, especially not right now. You don’t even have it in you to say no even if it was what you wanted,

“Mhm…please. Please cum inside me, Rafe. I-I need it.” You admit.

Without wasting another second, Rafe’s movements slow down as he releases his load in you; painting your walls white with his cum. You could feel his warm seed spilling out of you, mixing with your sticky juices. When he pulls out, you feel empty. Your lonely cunt left clenching around nothing. 

Rafe lies down beside you, wrapping his arms around you. You never had taken Rafe for much of a cuddler, but he’s full of surprises tonight. You return the action, wrapping your arms around him and draping a leg over him. 

After you’ve both had time to recover, you still just lie there, enjoying each other's silent company. But you finally decide to break the silence between you two. “Y’know, I have to admit that it is kinda nice to be with someone who can get it up without taking pills.” You joke truthfully, referring to all the old sugar daddies that pay for your services.  

Rafe chuckles at your words. He wants to say ‘I told you so’, to prove that he knew nobody else made you feel the same as he did, but fights the urge. Instead he just laughs. “Oh, I bet.” 

“Did…did you mean what you said about talking to Barry?” You ask on a more serious note.

Rafe looks at you, admiring your soft, tired, fucked-out expression as he runs a gentle hand through your hair. “Oh yeah, yeah. I can talk to him if you want. He usually listens to me.”

“And if he doesn’t?” You ask.

“Then I’ll make him.” He reassures you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I started this, I’m gonna fix it, okay? So don’t worry. You ain’t gotta fuck nobody you don’t wanna no more, yeah? How’s that sound?”

“Thank you.” You mumble to him, your eyes starting to get heavy and droop shut. 

“I hope that means you’ll still fuck me.” He teases, petting your soft hair as he watches you. 

You just nod, too exhausted to engage in his jokes. Rafe just smiles softly, appreciating the fact that he has you all sleepy in his bed; his arms. Of all the time he spent watching you and admiring you at the club, he never was able to imagine this moment.

He presses one final kiss to your head before closing his own eyes, pulling you in tighter. “I’ll take you back tomorrow, that alright?”

“Mhm…” You mumble under your breath, already half asleep. 

“Goodnight.” He whispers, pulling the covers over the two of you. 

Thank you for reading! I greatly appreciate it! PLEASE feel free to leave Rafe x reader requests!! I LOVE getting them!

Again, sorry if this is bad. I'm so tired and too lazy/impatient to proofread/edit. I hope this is good enough to fulfill your request!

[black-ace-culture-is]

Black ace culture is seeing how Black asexuals make up most of the activists and theorists of the asexual community but barely make up any of the representation.

[xavistarlight]

゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ yemi : she/her ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

.ೀ twenty one certified Xavier yapper

( new writer please be nice ����ྀི)

My requests are open pls talk to me 🙂‍↕️

MASTERLIST

⭐️= yemi’s personal favs

Xavier fics

Laundry bunny ( dad Xavier ) ⭐️

Kitchen countertops ( smut Drabble)

Daisy conception fic ramble ( full fic coming 🔜)

To the moon back

Working dad Xavier headcanons

My eternal spring (Daisy conception fic)

Boyfriend Xavier headcanons

Xavier’s breeding kink

Daisy’s cookie jar

Girl dad Xavier headcanons

He already had his with her

Smitten

Caleb fics

Pregnancy sex Drabble

The dressing room ( Caleb lactation kink)

Dad! Caleb and his insecurities (angst to fluff) ⭐️

Fancy meeting you here pipsqueak

My strong girl

Late night projects

Pilot Caleb headcanons

A baby raising a baby

How could I ever be normal about you ?

I’ll watch your life in pictures

Do I wanna know?

Boys don’t cry

I bet on losing dogs

Pretty princess

There were signs

Babyteeth

I’ll be watching you

Lovebites

Pouty Caleb (nsfw)

Little Apple

[rafeslvbug]

(this was a request about how nfl!rafe and reader handle cheating rumours, because it’s a common idea about athletes, but i accidentally deleted it, so if you were the anon here’s your req!)

how nfl!rafe && reader handle cheating rumours…

he hates the rumours. hates the men who actually cheat more.

you don’t like being in the spotlight because you’ve got young kids, but if paps ever shout the question “are the rumours true?” you won’t hesitate to deny them.

you think that most celebs who stay quiet only spiral their rumours, and you’re not trying to worsen what’s outright false.

rafe might be subject to a lot of questioning from his teammates. ones he’s not too close with might nudge him on the shoulder and ask if they’re true

– “have you seen my fuckin’ wife? not a person in the world i’d trade her for, now get away from me ‘fore i do somethin’ you won’t like.”

the ones who are close to rafe already know they’re fake. he’s as a loyal as a dog, won’t even look at another woman if it’s not you.

if rafe goes on podcasts (think podcasts like in the heights w the kelce brothers) best believe he’ll complain about the paparazzi and use it as a platform to deny the rumours.

– “where’d they get off being so fuckin’ nosy?…they’re makin’ assumptions to fuel media drama…i’m loyal to my lady, always have been, always will. if you cheat, quite frankly you’re sickenin’. and to everyone out there who’s happy over the idea of me cheating, you’re not a fuckin’ fan, real fans love her as much as they love me, cuz i wouldn’t be here without her.”

just to rub it in more? a public outing with you and the kids, flipping off all the paparazzi, publicly making out which sickens your kids and holding hands down the road.

[joostabernichtklein]

based on instagram live: reader is in a secret relationship w joost. they’re on the tour bus in his bed and she’s trying to take off his makeup from the night before. he’s being an ass and keeps looking at/showing her instagram reels until he accidentally goes live and can’t figure out how to turn it off until apson joins. lol i thought this was a silly idea it can be fluffy or kinda nsfw idc

-Here you go anon!!

˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅Not so secretive⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚

-Joost Klein x fem!reader

-warnings: none

-word count: 2k+

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

The hum of the tour bus was almost soothing, the gentle rattle of wheels on the road as it coasted along the winding highway, the soft creak of the metal as they rolled through the night. Inside, it was a different world altogether.

You slowly opened your eyes winking for a bit, It was early in the morning, almost too early for your liking. It was the kind of early that made everything feel like it was in slow motion. You hadn't planned waking up this early let alone getting up only if your bladder didn't have other plans. You slowly sat up as you rubbed your eyes looking around. The faint light creeping in through the bus window was a soft reminder that you were far from home — on the road with Joost, your boyfriend of almost 2 years, and the rest of his crew.

You didn’t even remembered falling asleep the night before. It is a blur of flashing lights, the screaming crowd and the euphoria of the performance. You’d barely had a chance to let your head hit the pillow before the movement of the bus lulled you into an uneasy sleep. But here you are, awake now, in a quiet, dimly lit space.

You reached for your phone that was laying beside you in your shared bed, the weight of sleep still tugging at you. You opened your phone squinting your eyes as the bright light hit them, the time read exactly 6:42 am. You exhaled deeply turning your phone off before you looked around the small room, until your eyes landed on your boyfriend still sleeping soundly next to you only in his boxers. His blonde hair was a mess and all over the place, his lips slightly parted in his peaceful sleep, and there was something about the way he looks. He doesn’t always show this side of himself. On stage, he’s always so put together, full of energy, a million miles a minute. But here, like this, he’s just Joost, your Joost.

You always appreciated these little moments yet you never really told him, mostly because you weren't that good at talking about how you felt. It was easier to let the silence speak for itself. It had taken months of convincing from Joost before you agreed to go on this Europapa tour with him, and even now, the fact that you were actually here — with him — felt surreal.

It’s strange, this life you share together. You’ve been dating Joost for almost two years now, but no one knows, not anyone out of your close circle of friends. You didn’t start it this way, didn’t plan for it to go like this. But over the course of your relationship, it had just become easier to keep things private. You loved him, of course, but the thought of the paparazzi, the fans, and the pressure of public relationships just didn’t sit right with you. He understood, and as his career began to soar even higher, it became an unspoken agreement — the quieter, the better.

You think about it for a moment, your heart swelling with a kind of bittersweet ache. The brief touches when no one is looking, quiet kisses when the world is still.

You slowly got up letting your toes hit the cold ground of the tour bus. You were moving carefully towards the bathroom making sure not to wake up anyone in the bunk beds. As you stepped into the tiny bathroom, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror realizing that you didnt take your makeup off from yesterday . You sighed and grabbed a makeup wipe, gently rubbing your face to clean up the mess. You needed to get it off before the day fully started. You remembered that Joost also didn't take his eye makeup off from yesterday, being too tired to even care about it, so before heading out of the bathroom you grabbed some makeup wipes along with you.

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻

Again you found yourself in the arms of the man you loved so much. He was of course still fast asleep when you came back, you really weren't expecting him being awake. As he snuggled closer to you he mumbled something agains your shoulder. You reach over, gently brushing his hair out of his face. He stirs slightly, his arm tightening around your waist in his sleep as if trying to pull you closer. You don’t try to fight it. In fact, you let yourself sink into the warmth of him, taking in the familiar scent of his cologne. You can’t help but smile. Joost’s eyes then flutter open, squinting against the dim morning light

“What time is it?” He asks his morning voice thick with sleep, his eyes barely open as he looked up at you.

You glance at him “It’s early,” you reply softly, feeling your lips twitch into a smile. “You’re up too early for someone who’s supposed to be on tour.”

Joost groaned, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand “Uugh, I haven’t had a real sleep in weeks.” His hand lingers on your arm, and when you look at him, he raises an eyebrow. “How long have you been awake for?”

“Not that long...i think i woke up like 30 minutes ago” you said turning to your side resting your chin on your hand. He rubes his eyes one more time before snuggling agains your chest one more time. It makes you chuckle.

“You should've gone back to sleep.” he mumures agains your chest before placing a soft kiss in the middle of it while his hands found your waist one more time. He looks up at you with his blue eyes a smirk tugging on his lips. His hand already moving from your waist lower until it founds your ass, squezing the soft meat uderneath his hands. Joost moved a little bit upwards kissing your jaw and slowly moving toward the neck to find the sweet spot of yours. You already knew what he's thinking. Its almost like you can see right through him.

You chuckled as you playfully pushed him away “You're such a dog Joost” you said as you turned to the other side so you wouldn't have to meet his puppy eyes that he always made whenever you said no.

“Please baby i would be quick I promise” he whispered almost begging you by kissing on the back of your neck. You rolled your eyes as you quickly sat up looking down at him.

He exhales dramatically “Whatever you are just mean” he said rolling onto his back. You just chuckle. You watched him reach for his phone.

“Love there are also other people in the bus if you actually mind....plus you look like a racoon” you joked as you grabbed the makeup wipes, opening the package taking one out.

“Here lemme help you get cleaned up” you said softly

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻

You now sat cross-legged on Joost’s bed, bent slightly at the knee, as you gently swipe the makeup wipe across his face. Joost laid sprawled out beside you, his eyes now glued to his phone screen. you glanced over at him, annoyed but amused at the same time. His finger swiped lazily through Instagram, bouncing from one reel to another, all while he shifted his body to get comfortable, half-buried in a mess of blankets. The faint hum of his amusement didn’t escape your notice, but it didn’t help that he was acting like an absolute child.

“You can’t be serious,” you mutter, not even looking up as you continue wiping at his face.

Joost doesn’t answer right away. You glance up, and sure enough, his eyes are still glued to his phone, his thumb rapidly flicking through Instagram Reels.

“Joost,” you say, exasperated, as you swipe the makeup wipe across his cheek a little more firmly than you intended. “I’m trying to clean your face here. Can you at least pretend to pay attention for five minutes?”

He looks up for the briefest moment, his lips curling into that familiar mischievous grin. “You can multitask, right? You can clean my face and watch funny cat videos. It’ll make your life easier, trust me.”

You sigh dramatically, already knowing what’s coming. “I don’t need cat videos, Joost. I need you to stop staring at your phone for two seconds.”

But of course, he doesn’t listen. He flips his phone around, showing you the screen, and despite your best efforts, you find yourself chuckling at the sight of a cat doing its best attempt at jumping onto a table and failing spectacularly.

“See?” he says smugly, clearly enjoying the fact that he’s distracted you. “Told you it would make you laugh. Cats make everythin better“

You rolled your eyes, trying to refocus on the task at hand. “You’re impossible.”

“Don’t lie. You love me,” he teases, nudging your shoulder turning his phone towards himself only for him to turn it back towards you in a milisecond, showing you another video of cat almost the same one as before, only this time playing with a string.

Joost chuckled while looking at you turning his phone towards himself one more time, but then suddenly his phone fell from his hands hitting his bare hairy chest. Joost's fingers must've slipped on the screen, because you heard the familiar sound of Instagram's live feed starting up. You froze in your moves. You hands with the makeup wipes still resting on his face.

He picked his phone up as he panicked. His finger hovered above the screen as he scrambled to stop it, but of course, his panic made things worse. He kept swiping in the wrong direction, trying to press the button to end the stream but he accidentally started pulling up the Instagram filters, then comments, then a live video of an old cat meme.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Joost cursed under his breath, desperately fumbling with the phone, his panic rising with every second that passed. “How do I turn this off? What the fuck, it’s live! What do I do?! How did I even do this?!”

He kept swiping in every wrong direction possible, flipping through screens and even accidentally pulling up Instagram’s live-streaming features. The fans of course started flooding in quick. The comments also came flooding in faster than you could read them. You still managed to get a little glimse of them.

“Who's hands are those?!” “Joost’s live? What’s happening?” “Joost’s panic attack, part 1 😂” “Is she his girlfriend???” “OMG ARE THEY DATING??!”

You tried to grab the phone from his hands, but he pulled it away, too caught up in his frantic struggle. “I can’t turn it off! What is happening?!” His voice cracked slightly, and you could tell he was spiraling.

Your hands quickly came up to your body to rest againts your side as you relized that the people in the live could still see them on Joosts face. You sat still watching Joost getting redder by every second passing by. It felt like your stomach did a whole flip. You started to stress out already a bit. You were aware of what his fans were capable of and it scared you a little.

And then, as if the universe itself was playing a cruel joke on you two, Joost accidentally tapped the “Invite to Join” button. The screen flashed with the message: “Appiemussa has joined the livestream.”

You placed your head in your hands trying to calm down. “What the hell is going on?” you then heard apsons voice throught the phone, he also sounded like he just woke up.

Joost froze in terror, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “Apson, help! I didn’t mean to do this, man! How do I turn it off?!”

Apson blinked, clearly just waking up, his disheveled hair and sleepy face now live on the screen for all to see. “Bro, how’d you even accidentally go live? You’re killing me,” Apson said already grinning at the screen and you could hear the amusement in his voice.

Joost let out a frustrated groan, holding the phone as if it were an alien object. “How do I stop this?” Apson now literally exploded with laughter “Dude you just gotta click on the button on the top left” he said before adding “Wait did people see you and—” and before he could finish the sentance with your name, Joost finally tapped the right button, and the stream abruptly ended.

Silence

For a moment, there was just silence, everything felt quiet again. Joost sat back on the bed, staring at the phone in his hands like it was a grenade that had just exploded. His chest rose and fell rapidly with his shallow breaths.

You finally looked up at him and also leaned back against the pillows, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. “Well, that was fun. Wasn't it?”

Joost slumped beside you, covering his face in embarrassment. “I swear the next time im throwing your phone out of the window” you chuckled trying to lighten the mood.

Joost let out a long sigh. “Great. Just great. I can’t believe I almost accidentally made you public. Sorry...I'm so sorry”

You placed a comforting hand on his thigh as you looked him in the eyes "No, no, it's fine, really. I mean, they only saw my hands, right? A small mistake has never been the end of the world… am i correct?"

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

-Thanks for the ask!

-This actually took something within me so I hope you enjoyed!

-Not proof-read

-Don't forget to send more asks we are slowly working on all of them (>ᴗ•)

[noorpersona]

Hey I really love the way you write it’s so fun to read and really fits the characters. I wanted to request you making small drabbles or a series on how the haikyu characters would treat you while youre pregnant. If it’s something you don’t want to write no worries. 🩷

OMGG yesss I love that idea 🙈🙈🙈 It goes so well with my other mini-series ehehe, I'm 100% adding it to the roster!! Thank you for your sweet words, they never fail to make my day.

For you! Gorgeous Human!! Enjoy <333 --

Pregnancy: Ushijima

Ushijima has been overprotective since the very beginning.

The second those two lines showed up on the test, it was like a switch flipped in him. He became your personal guard dog, nurse, chauffeur, meal planner, and human forklift all rolled into one stoic package.

It was kind of sweet—at first. The way he’d gently tug your hand away if you tried to carry anything heavier than a spoon. The way he’d Google symptoms with intense focus, like your morning sickness was a tactical challenge he could overcome with enough research. The way he sat through every prenatal appointment like it was the Olympics and he was preparing to win gold in fatherhood.

But by the third trimester?

You’re one more “let me do it” away from committing actual murder.

“I’m gonna change the sheets,” you say, bracing a hand on your lower back as you waddle toward the linen closet.

Before you even touch the doorknob, he’s there. He must have materialized from the floorboards.

“I’ll do it,” he says.

You blink up at him. “Wakatoshi—”

“The mattress is heavy.”

“I’m not flipping it! I’m just changing the sheets.”

Still, he reaches over you and pulls out the linens like it’s already been decided. “Sit down. I’ll take care of it.”

You stare at him, nostrils flaring, lips twitching, but you don’t fight it. Not yet.

Then come the groceries. The laundry. The vacuum you so much as glance at. And every time, he gets to it before you can even try. Every time, he gently insists. Every time, you swallow the urge to scream.

Until now.

You step onto the footstool to reach the top kitchen cabinet—one single bowl, that’s all you want—and he appears in the doorway like a haunted house spirit.

“Don’t,” he says sharply.

That’s it. That’s the moment you snap.

“USHIJIMA,” you explode, flinging your arms wide in a very dramatic but very off-balanced motion. “I am pregnant. Not porcelain. I can do things! I can move and lift and stretch and reach and I would like to do one thing—just ONE THING—by myself without you treating me like I’m going to spontaneously combust!”

He pauses. Blinks. That stoic face giving you absolutely nothing.

“…You were wobbling,” he says.

“I always wobble! I’m basically a giant, sentient bowling pin at this point!”

“I don’t want to take chances,” he says, calm as ever.

“Well I want to do something myself!”

He hesitates. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head. Eventually, he steps back and says simply, “Okay. Do it.”

Oh. Oh he did not just call your bluff.

You puff out your chest, grab the cabinet door for balance, and go for it. Fingers brush the edge of the bowl, victory within reach—

—and then you realize you can’t quite twist back down. You’re halfway off the stool and stuck. Pride flickers. Stomach tightens. Arms flail just a little.

“…Toshi?” you call, voice small. “I, um. I need help.”

He’s there in seconds.

Strong arms wrap around you, lifting you like you weigh nothing. He sets you gently on the floor like a queen being lowered onto her throne.

“You were saying?” he murmurs, hand on the small of your back.

You scowl. “I hate you.”

“You don’t,” he replies smoothly. “You just hate that I’m right.”

You slump against his chest, bowl in hand, your forehead hitting the middle of his sternum. His hand rubs up and down your spine. You sigh dramatically.

“You’re so annoying.”

“And you’re still holding the bowl.”

“…Shut up.”

[venusbyline]

https://www.tumblr.com/venusbyline/786529675910496256/now-its-time-to-forget-the-soft-modernjacaerys?source=share

And if modern Jace was high after a party and wanted to fuck his sister while she slept?

WOOOW I'm feeling soooo fucking obsessed about those recent pics of Harry 🤭🤭 i need him so bad.

btw nobody is underage in this horny thought, they're college students (but it's not really mentioned besides the fact Jacaerys was enjoying a fraternity's party).

⚠️: SMUT & DARK CONTENT. dark female!reader, dark!Jacaerys Velaryon, Targcest (older brother/younger sister), consensual somnophilia, rape kink, vaginal sex, spooning position, drunk sex, drug use, drugged sex, implied exhibitionism, implied voyeurism, minor Lucerys Velaryon/reader, modern AU. no use of y/n.

"Shsh, it's okay, babe..." Jace purred, his hands on his younger sister's hips as he thrust slowly.

He had been like this for half an hour, touching your body with adoration and possessiveness at the same time, grabbing every curve and whispering dirty compliments close to your ear to reassure you just in case.

The party had been amazing, obviously. Lots of drinking, weed, hot girls to fuck... Hell, he had even enjoyed some Ecstasy that his friends sneaked into the fraternity. Everything had been perfect...

Or almost perfect.

He had seen the "innocent" photo you sent him when he was partying: pretty face, wide eyes and a pouting, showing how much you missed him and hoped he would get home soon.

Oh, Jace knew you very well. He knew that cute face very well, practically begging to be fucked. Practically begging to have his big cock shoved in your pussy.

And the cherry on top: you also texted saying that you would take a sleeping pill earlier because you were tired, but cannot sleep yet.

Jacaerys knew very well the true meaning. You were encouraging him to fuck you in your sleep.

It was a controversial kink that the two of you had in common — besides, of course, the incestuous situationship —. You liked to be fucked while you were sleeping, he liked to fuck you while you were sleeping. It was just a fair trade, after all.

He loved having you completely unconscious, your body warm, innocent face, your plump little pussy tighter than usual...

"Fuck, babe... You take my cock so well, don't you sister? Such a greedy little slut..."

His hips increased their pace, the sounds of slapping skins echoing in your bedroom, an ironic contrast compared to its delicate decorations. A cute bedroom hiding the sick and hot nature between the two of you.

Jacaerys moaned, the spooning position making him bite his lips not to be so loud. He loved fucking you in any way, but taking you from the side always aroused him the most. "Damn, sister. You love being my little whore, don't you? Letting your older brother raping your hole..." The boy growled, grabbing your breast tightly and biting your neck, not caring about the probability of Lucerys finding out what was happening there — it was still dawn and the younger brother would probably be asleep.

"Imagine if Luke saw you like that? His little sister all wet, loving the feeling of my fat cock raping you..." A breathless chuckle escaped, his thoughts running wild, imagining all the possible scenarios. "Or maybe he already fucked you and you never even realized that..."

His cock got even harder when he pictured Lucerys coming into your bedroom at night, rubbing your pretty pussy and jerking off, leaving the bed before you woke up.

He did not know if it was the mixed effect of the drugs, vodka and weed... But there was something interesting about that hypothesis. It was obvious how much Luke was sexually attracted to you, he had already accidentally seen the younger boy watching stepsister porn at night; because porn sites unfortunately prohibited videos about sex between real siblings.

The boy was certainly always rubbing his fist around his pink cock, thinking about you. Or maybe thinking about Jacaerys fucking you right in front of him, teaching him how to fuck a girl properly...

Jacaerys could not help but smirk a little as he felt your walls tightening around him. "Your pussy feels so fucking wetter now, babe. I think I should really invite our brother to fuck you with me sometime."