#owned sinfully sweet

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

A friend sent me a picture of a pissed off Ari and all I can think about is Owned Sinfully Sweet Ari getting mad about one of his working girls being mistreated.

So he hauls in the culprit and strings him up, carving him apart just enough to keep him alive. After he cuts off the mans prized possession and brands him with his offense, he lets him go.

Then returns home to you. He always goes home to you.

[satansdirtiestangel]

Nsfw. Monster fucker mood again :)

Never come close to a demon in heat. Especially an Incubus. Just the smell of his sweat and hormones, the pure feral lust in the air is palpable. His dick struggles to remain in sizes that could be easily taken by a mortal, (by you). He’s shamelessly rutting up and against anything that has your scent on it. Your furniture, your bed, your clothes, which are all torn to shreds now as he fucks and fucks and fucks, eventually just rutting his monstrous cock into some fabric scraps in his hand, lube and precum flowing to the floor as his feral pants, trying to find the release he seeks.

He can’t control his body now, it stretches to the ceiling, his horns scratching holes in the tiles, his body so overgrown, the four arms barely able to grab his cock before it splits into two equally thick 18” long poles, filled and overflowing with his seed. His tail lashes around, trying to find anything that will ease his suffering. Anything that reminds him of your tight holes, your sinfully sweet voice, your adorably lewd behaviours. He needs you, but in his feral animalistic state, you both know that he'd ruin you far worse than anything before. And so he ruts, and ruts alone. He gets creative using his own insanely long tongue, wrapping around his cocks like a snake. And with one demonic groan he cums, rope after rope of thick, sticky seed. All wasted in his mind. Whimpering your name like a broken prayer. But it’s okay, he's not done. He still needs you, to fuck

[lovelivision]

mdni ﾉ pt.2 of gojo making you squirt just because i felt like writing it

Still so sensitive from how Gojo just had you squirting for him and yet he’s begging you to let him try again, eyes pleading with you while he keeps rocking his hips. Each time he grinds into your clit, you shake. Trembling under him from the overstimulation you’re experiencing, all twitchy and pathetic under him.

“I can’t– ah! – it’s too much,” lower lip wobbling at him, feeling like your body is on fire.

He leans into peck at your cheek, cooing softly, “But you’re already doing so good, sweetie.”

The way your cunt is pulsing around him is driving him wild, you’re so sensitive and unbelievably wet. Pussy creaming around him like it loves him, he’s panting out delicate whines about it. Head spinning with how sinfully good it all feels, he’s never gonna get enough of you.

He’s getting all excited again, you’re so cute and fucked out under him, already close to cumming. Just as determined to make you squirt as he was the first time, fucking into all the same places as earlier.

Downright obsessed with how soaked you are, feeling an overwhelmingly greedy hunger for you growing. Debauched groans leaving him, fucked out smile on his face as he watches you writhe and struggle against how good it feels.

“You’re so pretty,” he purrs, licking up the length of your neck, “you gonna squirt for me again?” his breath against your ear has you clenching around him, “please?”

“No– ah!– ‘Toru–” you’re trying to tell him just how overwhelming it is.

“–No?” he pouts, it’s a little mocking, “but I think you are, sweetie.”

He turns his head to the side, biting your cheek as gently as he can bring himself to. Your fingers dig into his hair and tug, mouth dropping open as you moan. Gojo takes the opportunity to kiss you, tongue in your mouth, licking at you. It’s all wet and messy and he’s whining into the kiss.

You’re cumming under him suddenly and all too quickly he’s pulling his mouth back to watch the way you come undone. So delighted to see you’re squirting around him again, he’s shuddering at the feeling. Pitiful and breathy whimpers tumbling from his lips, he feels fucking insane.

The way you’re squeezing so tight around him, pussy trying to milk something sinfully sweet from him and who’s he to deny you. Unable to hold off on his own orgasm much longer, cumming deep inside you. All glazed over eyes and foggy thoughts as he watches his seed drool from your cunt, stupid smile on his face at the sight.

“Ohhh sweetie,” he giggles, “you're such a good little squirter.”

[osachiyo]

'TRYNA GET YOUR BABY MAMA FULL OF THAT DICK !

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — jing yuan, blade, luocha x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — n/sfw content, cheating, squirting, dumbification, neglect (from the husband), overstimulation, toxic relationships, dirty talk, petnames, reader is married, cucking, cowgirl, possessiveness (blade), vouyerism, luocha is your family doctor, etc • i never thought id write something like this but here we are lol anyway, happy reading and i hope you enjoy !! minors dni & not proofread

𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

"bounce on me just like that, baby," jing yuan groaned, palming the fat of your ass as you rode him on your husband's couch. "s'big — you're so big, ji," you bit your lip, trying your best to suppress any moans — not wanting your neighbours to suspect anything.

"yeah? even bigger than him?" a sleazy grin adorned jing yuan's lips, your back arched so sinfully as he thrusted up into you. "ngh —!" you threw your head back, clawing his broad shoulders with your pretty nails, that your husband paid for you to get done.

"answer me, sweet girl," he whispered, fondling your bouncing tits before pulling and pinching at your hardened nipples. "d-don't tease!" you swatted at his hand, which only made him pinch harder.

" 'm not teasing, so serious right now baby," his droopy eyes were glinting with mischief — he knew he looked good. you gasped when his hand reached down to flick and rub at your clit, licking his lips at the way you clenched down on his cock.

"gonna cum, pretty?" he captured your lips in a heated kiss before you could even answer him — as if he already knew what you were gonna say. you could practically feel your eyes rolling from the pleasure behind your closed lids, pussy gushing all over his thighs and abdomen — drenching his cock in your juices.

" yesyesyes — 's so big, so much bigger than him —!" you babbled into the messy kiss, back arching even more and pressing your tits against his own chest —

"that's what i thought."

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

muffled grunts of complaint escaped your husband's gagged mouth, hard cock straining against the rough fabric of his slacks.

"enjoying the view, cheating piece of shit?" blade had you spread eagle on you and your soon-to-be ex husband's shared bed — with you chanting his name like a prayer everytime his cock hit that one spot with unbelievable precision.

"mmph!" your husband growled — veins popping out from his forehead as he tried his best not to hump the air. fuck, you looked borderline delirious getting split open by your co-workers cock; pupils dilated with lust — practically having hearts swimming in your eyes for blade.

"look at 'em, baby — look at how fuckin' hard the bastard is," he forcibly turned your head over to your husband and the man almost didn't recognise you — tongue lolling out with each heavy thrust from blade, sweat dripping down your sinful body.

you didn't even pay attention to the tied-down man — all too focused on the way blade's thick cock rearranged your guts. "see how she turns into a dumb little slut for my dick?" blade spat, cockiness dripping from his words — sharp hipbones digging into the soft skin of your thighs with each slam of his hips.

"who does this pussy belong to?" blade turned your head back to face him, licking the tears that rolled down your heated cheeks. "y-you! all yours — it belongs to you!" you babbled mindlessly, causing a devilish smile to appear on blade's lips —

"oh yeah? and what's my name?"

"bladeee—! oh fu-fuck, bla-de!" you cried out before spraying your juices all over him — some of it even coating his abs.

"good fuckin' girl."

𝐋𝐔𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐀 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

"are you sure you wanna do this?" luocha whispered against your lips, his minty breath filling your senses. "please," you begged, rolling your hips on his lap to show your want — no, need for the blonde man.

it's not like your husband was a good man either — always out drinking and partying, while you stayed at home. alone. he brushed you off everytime you asked about the lipstick stains on his collar — saying you were being dramatic, you were sick of it. could he really blame you for wanting luocha? the young, handsome family doctor — who was also a gentleman at heart.

"i've got you," luocha's smooth, velvety voice cut off your train of thought, a gloved hand tilting your chin up before pressing his lips to yours. his other hand found purchase at your hip, before snaking up to wrap itself around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

you couldn't help but moan into the kiss — he was certainly good at this, better than your husband, at least. luocha was elegant but warm — the complete opposite of your husband, who was rough and neglectful. the softness of the kiss had you melting in his touch.

a gasp left your lips when luocha flipped you over, your back now turned to him while you laid on your tummy. "luocha.." you all but whined, pushing your ass back against his rigid cock, earning a soft groan from him. he pushed your sundress up, bunching the thin fabric at your waist — "no panties?" he mused, landing a playful slap on your plush ass. gloved hands found your cunt before you could answer, rubbing your bare folds.

an amused chuckle left the man once he felt how damp you were, "already this wet? hmm.. the mister has been neglecting you quite a bit, hasn't he? worry not, i will take great care of you."

©osachiyo— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

[endlessdreamworld]

God, I finally caught up on the HSR story and I'm so down bad for this man, this traumatized guy, my poor little meow meow.

So here's some yan! Aventurine X gn! reader headcanons that have been rotting inside my brain for the past few days. Bark bark bark rate up soon please haha!!

In the early stages of your relationship, his behavior matches his superficial self, the shell he shows everyone. One of his first gifts to you would be a credit card attached to his personal bank account. 'Don't ask! Just spend.' He'd get a hit of endorphins every single time he sees a charge coming through from you. He knows it's you because he named the profile attached to that card with some corny pet name with a slew of emojis beside it, taking up an obnoxious amount of space on the screen of his phone.

It doesn't take long for him to be utterly obsessed with you. How could he not? You're just so... everything! His everything. It's at this stage, the mask slips off. Material gifts are no longer enough, and the gifts he gives you are pieces of himself. He'll overrule whatever pet name you gave him in favor of honey -- a reference to his heritage.

And speaking of heritage, he's prepared quite the gift for your one year anniversary. Once the sun had long set on a sinfully indulgent all-day date, and after some desperate and incredibly needy sex when the two of you are tangled up in a knot of your sweat and burning feelings, he'll give you his present. Kakavasha, he'd mutter into the sensitive skin on the side of your neck mirroring his commodity code. It's one of the few things he owns that truly matter to him, and he can only hope you'll accept his humble gift.

He's needy, so very very needy in general, about everything, always, in every single way. Pathetically so. He can't hold your hand like a normal person, your fingers must be laced. Kissing? There's rarely a moment when you're not being kissed, and he's generous with the sheer variety he provides you with. Sometimes it's little soft sweet kisses that are more like whispers against your flesh. Other times, he'll kiss you on the hand or face only to never pull away as if he's moving into the real estate on your bare skin wherever he can find it.

And after a particularly horrible day, he'll return home without greeting you in his usual cheerful way. You'll immediately know something is up, even more so when he puts you into a vice grip, kissing you in such a way where it's like he's trying to suck the air out of your lungs. It's as if he believes you can baptize him with your spit and turn him into something worthy of walking around other human beings, a luxury he can never afford himself. On days like this, he feels so utterly unworthy of the life he's taken from the people who have been unfortunate enough to cross paths with him, one stolen day at a time. Of course, he's shameless enough to steal from you of all people -- the sweet little giving thing that you are.

He dreams about working up the nerve, or maybe stooping so low as to ask for your hand in marriage. Whichever comes first. It's something he would have thought a lot about up until that point. He's got more money than he could ever spend in his lifetime, even if one of his hobbies was lighting huge stacks of credits on fire just for fun. With that in mind, any gem no matter how priceless would be a bauble in comparison to what you deserve for putting up with him. Of course he could carve off a piece of his cornerstone, a piece of him, and give you a fragment of God to decorate your finger. But if life on Sigonia IV taught him anything, it's how quickly your most precious belongings can be taken.

So naturally, there's only one thing he could think of that would be more valuable than that, only one thing comes to mind that can't be taken. The idea came to him in passing, an idea that's quite literally staring him in the face.

He's tried getting rid of his commodity code in the past, but even with all of his money, there's nothing that can make it go away without leaving some sort of mark. It was just easier to accept it and it slowly faded into the background over time.

So what would be more valuable than a piece of him, a piece of God? Why, eternity of course, something truly priceless. It would only be proper to get your wedding band's tattooed. You'd even be considerate enough to encourage him to pick an Avgin pattern.

While the idea of a ring as a symbol of your bond is nice, a ring is an object. Objects can be stolen -- or worse, taken off. Countless times were the things he held dearest taken from him. Although those days are long gone, and even though he's a gambling man, he wasn't about to take any chances. Not now. Not with this.

Having your promise to love one another until death do you part sealed onto your skin would give him tremendous comfort. If anyone wanted to take this away from him, the symbol of his vow to you, they'd have to peel it off of his cold, dead body. But first, they'd have to manage to kill him, of course.

Aventurine is hard to get a read on, which is just how he likes it. He's been many thing: a scoundrel, a villain, a confidante, a friend, a rival, a whipping post, a beggar, a tool, a whore, a hound, a pawn, a con artist, and a killer; all things he wouldn't hesitate to become again if the situation demands it. It's in his nature to adapt to what he needs to do, and who he needs to become. But no matter how much of a shapeshifter he pretends to be, the core of his being is unchanging and inviolable, for better or worse.

He's still that scared, lucky, little shivering Avgin boy no matter how hard he tries to play dress up. He needs you to find Kakavasha underneath all of the masks and bullshit he hides behind.

Every day he bets on you to find him, the real him, and love him. The wager? Just the usual -- his life.

[writesvani]

down low | 02

boxer! jungkook x collegestudent! reader

SUMMARY: There's no love, there are no fights with Jungkook—just a twisted addiction that keeps you crawling back. You tell yourselves it’s not toxic. After all, you never argue, never get jealous. Just fuck, lie, and slip back into the arms of the people who will never know.

It’s not love.

But it sure as hell isn’t nothing.

friends with benefits au, situationship au

TRIGGER WARNINGS: cheating, drug use (weed), smoking, explicit sexual content, emotionally toxic relationship, manipulation, infidelity (jk and y/n are cheating on their partners with each other), unhealthy coping mechanisms, morally gray behavior, emotional detachment

comment here for the Down Low taglist;

SERIES M. LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter (pending...)

wc: 4k // date: 25th of April 2025

CHAPTER TWO — Inhaling You, Exhaling Guilt; happy reading my gummies...

AN: hey besties. new “down low” chapter is here and it’s unwell, just like me. this was supposed to be a 15k word monster but i said absolutely not and chopped it into 3 parts—so yeah, this ends on a cliffhanger. no sex yet. i’m sorry. (i’m not.)

BUT the tension? the dynamic? it’s sizzling. they’re one touch away from absolute disaster and i love that for them.

left some easter eggs in there too, so if you catch ‘em, scream at me in the comments or my asks. i’m lurking.

note goal is 600 bc you’re all feral and i believe in peer pressure. hit it and you’ll get part 2 real fast.

read. suffer. tell me your thoughts. love u forever, even while emotionally tormenting you.

The shift is... just another day. The usual crowd of regulars is here, sipping their espressos and making small talk that you would rather skip entirely. The day has been routine too—classes, a quick lunch with Taehyung, then straight into work. It’s all repetitive. It’s boring. And the worst part? You’re counting down the minutes until you can sprint to Jungkook’s apartment the second your shift ends at 10pm. You hate it. You crave it. And Jungkook’s not making it any easier.

Because right now, you're standing there, phone in your clammy hands, staring at a picture he just had to send you. Jungkook, in the middle of his boxing practice, hair messy, tattoos peeking out from his oversized black shirt, a cigarette hanging from his lips like he owns the damn world. He’s standing outside—because Namjoon doesn’t let him smoke inside (honestly, who’s the athlete here?)—but Jungkook looks so fucking good you almost forget where you are.

He knows it too. He knows exactly what he’s doing. That picture isn’t just a tease; it’s a reminder. A reminder that you should be thinking about being in his bed, not focusing on perfecting lattes. But here you are, trying to breathe through the urge to drop everything and run to him.

You can’t focus anymore. Your brain is mush, your hands are clumsy, and the espresso machine might as well be a spaceship for how little you're processing. You accidentally make an espresso instead of a double one for Mark—the sweet old man who comes in daily and tips in coins like it’s 1993. He stares at you like you just insulted his entire bloodline. You apologize, mutter something about being tired, and shuffle back to your station.

But your hands are twitchy. Your eyes dart to your phone every two seconds. Still nothing. Jungkook hasn’t sent anything else—no texts, no pics, no emojis. Just that one, cursed, sinfully sexy picture of him looking like every wrong decision you’ve ever made and wanted to make again.

And now? Now you’re stuck. One hour left of your shift and your brain is spiraling. You’re mentally unwell. Not in a tragic, poetic way. In a feral, "why isn't he texting me back when I clearly need to ride his face into next week" kind of way. You're restless. Desperate. Left alone with your thoughts and an absolutely unhinged amount of need clawing its way through your body like a caffeine-craving demon.

Only your message stares back at you, mocking, lingering, and gnawing at the edges of your sanity. It’s there, like a cruel joke, one that you can’t stop laughing at even though it’s slowly driving you insane.

you: stop teasing me kook

And then, nothing. Not a single reply. Left on read. Just like always.

Jungkook has this game down to a science, doesn't he? The art of push and pull—never fails to leave you dangling on the edge of your patience, teetering on the line between wanting to strangle him and wanting him to do the same to you. You’re on the verge of losing it, fingertips hovering over your phone, waiting for the next message that might never come. He knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s like a power play, a twisted form of control that drives you crazy in ways you can’t even put into words.

Every time you’re about to meet up with him, just when you think you’re close, he disappears. Doesn’t answer. Doesn’t care. Leaves you with nothing but your own burning desire and a game you never agreed to play. It makes you want to scream.

And it makes you want him more.

But despite the shrill, maddening thrill of his little game, there's one thing you're sure of—Jungkook wants it. Wants you. And that’s what makes him predictable. Comfortably so. It’s the only thread of stability in this whole mess. Because no matter how long he leaves you on read, no matter how quiet he goes, as soon as the clock strikes 10PM and your shift ends, like clockwork, your phone pings.

JK: when will u be here?

You smirk, your fingers moving fast.

you: 20 minutes

He waits. Not long. Just enough to keep the suspense alive. Just enough to remind you that he’s still in control.

JK: kk, see u baby

And that’s all it takes. You're spiraling again—but this time, you're sprinting into it willingly.

Jungkook smirks as he opens the door, like he’s been waiting his whole life just to make you roll your eyes. He leans against the frame with that infuriating ease, one hand—the tattooed one—tucked into the pocket of his grey sweats. His hair’s still damp, messy in that way that makes you suspicious he’s doing it on purpose. He smells like wood, citrus, and a hundred bad decisions. His black oversized shirt hangs just right on his frame, clinging to his shoulders, draping like it has no idea it's breaking rules just by existing.

And fuck him. Fuck him for looking that good.

“You’re late,” he drawls, head tilted, eyes dragging down your body like he has all the time in the world.

You raise a brow. “Didn’t you say I should be here until 11pm? It’s only like, half past ten.”

He shrugs, lips curling. “I did say that. But you always come earlier. I know you wanna see me as soon as you can.”

You scoff, pushing past him. “Jesus, Jungkook. Knock it off and let me in.”

He laughs behind you. Slow. Knowing. Dangerous.

You flop down onto his sofa like it’s your own personal throne. There are new pink pillows you don’t recognize. With a lazy smile, you say, “Cute pillows.”

“Thanks, baby. Eunji got them from IKEA the other day.”

You nod, lips curling. “Noted. I should tell Tae—these would totally match his softboy vibes.”

Jungkook drops down beside you, digging into his pocket like he’s searching for treasure. You already know what’s coming. Sure enough, a small greenish bud peeks out from a crumpled tissue.

“Didn’t know we were smoking tonight,” you murmur, eyeing him.

He shrugs, effortlessly picking the bud apart with skilled fingers. The way he moves is distracting. Methodical. Confident. Hot.

You shift in your seat, trying to ignore the tightening in your core.

“When are we not smoking?” he says with a smirk, not looking up.

“True,” you mumble, sinking back into the soft fluff of Eunji’s precious IKEA pillows. Silly girl. She has no idea the kind of things they’re about to witness.

You glance up—and Jungkook is watching you. Of course he is. Eyes hooded, a smirk ghosting his lips, like he’s waiting. Like he’s daring you to say or do something.

Then, slowly—so slowly—his tongue drags across the rolling paper.

He knows what he’s doing. And he does it anyway. On purpose.

You watch, helpless, skin prickling, heat curling low in your stomach. It’s obscene the way he licks it—like it’s not even about the joint anymore, like it’s about you. About this.

And the worst part? You’re not strong enough to look away.

You’ve never been strong when it comes to Jeon Jungkook.

“What?” Jungkook asks, one brow raised as he brings the freshly rolled joint to his lips like it’s second nature.

“Nothing,” you mutter, eyes tracking the flame as it flickers, kissing the end of the joint. He inhales deep, the ember glowing bright red before he exhales slowly, like it’s an artform. Smoke curls out of his mouth in slow, lazy tendrils, and you’re already annoyed at how sexy he looks doing the bare minimum.

He grins — cocky, annoying, knowing — and pats the cushion beside him like he owns the place. Like he owns you. You don’t even hesitate. You shift closer, tucking your legs beneath you, pretending you don’t care that your thigh brushes his.

Jungkook takes another drag, then coughs lightly, voice raspy as he waves off the moment with a half-laugh. “Okay, don’t clown me. This shit’s stronger than I thought.” His eyes squint just slightly, like he’s studying you. “So… uh, how’re your friends? Lena and Bob, right?”

You stare at him flatly. “It’s Lara and Rob. Do you seriously not remember their names after all this time?”

He shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but the smirk playing on his lips tells you he’s doing it on purpose. Just to get a rise out of you. “Close enough. They doing okay?”

You sigh. This is the worst part. The awkward five minutes of half-assed small talk before the inevitable. Before the high kicks in and his hands are on your skin. The two of you always dance around it — pretend like this isn’t transactional, like this isn’t just desire dressed up as casual banter.

“Lara just broke up with her boyfriend,” you say, grabbing the joint from him and taking a slow hit.

Jungkook leans back into the couch, one arm draped along the back of it, watching you. “Oh, the dude who studies Econ?”

You blink at him. “What? No. That was like… two years ago. This one studies Law.”

His mouth drops slightly. “Wait, hold up. Are you telling me we’ve been doing this for two years?”

You don’t say anything at first. Just pass the joint back and exhale a laugh, soft and a little bitter. “Yeah. Way before Taehyung and me.”

He tilts his head. “Shit. I forgot you even dated Kai.”

You chuckle. “Jungkook, we started hooking up way before Kai. Don’t act like you don’t remember.”

He stares at you for a beat, the room quiet except for the faint buzz of the overhead light and the sound of the joint crackling in his hand.

“So,” he says slowly, lips quirking, “what I’m hearing is — you’ve basically cheated on everyone with me.”

There’s something infuriating about how pleased he looks with himself. You raise an eyebrow, snatch the joint from his fingers again and hold it between yours like a crown jewel.

“Wouldn’t you like that,” you say, lips curling into a lazy smile. Smoke drifts out from between your lips. You don’t break eye contact.

His smirk deepens. “I do like it.”

You roll your eyes, but your stomach twists anyway. Because God help you, so do you.

“So, what’s up with you?” you ask, tilting your head as you hold the joint between two fingers, eyes flickering toward his. The smoke rolls from your lips like a sigh, curling into the space between you like a secret.

Jungkook shrugs, leaning back deeper into the couch, his arm brushing yours just barely. “Nothing much. Just chilling. Boxing and all that.”

You hum, eyebrows raising with mild amusement. “Wow. Riveting stuff.”

He shoots you a lazy grin. “You asked.”

“Yeah, and I keep forgetting that you’re emotionally unavailable until at least two joints in.”

He laughs, soft and warm, and it does something to you that you don’t want to look too closely at. You pass the joint back to him and try not to stare at the veins on his hand or the ink decorating his fingers like poetry you were never meant to read.

For someone whose body you know so intimately—every line, every scar, every sound he makes when you kiss the right places—you know next to nothing about his life. And that’s part of the deal. Or maybe the whole deal.

Jungkook takes a drag and blows it out slowly. “What about you?” he asks. “How’s the glamorous life of overworked and underpaid?”

You snort. “The usual. College, work, crying in coffee-scented bathrooms.”

He chuckles again, eyes crinkling, and it hits you how rare it is to see him smile like that when you're not on top of him.

You glance down at your nails, picking at a chipped corner of polish. “Tae and I are going on a small trip next weekend.”

That gets his attention. “Yeah? Where to?”

“Dunno yet. Probably something basic. Mountains or a lake house. Just wanna get out of the city for a bit.”

Jungkook nods slowly, lips parting like he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. Just lets silence settle between you again.

You don’t push him. You never do.

“This reminds me…” Jungkook says, plucking the joint from your fingers like he owns it—and in moments like these, he kind of does. He leans back, smoke curling around his face like it knows he’s trouble. “Eunji wants me to meet her mom next weekend.”

You scoff, tilting your head. “Damn, dude. How are you gonna survive that?”

He grins around the joint. “Bruh. I’m perfect meet-the-mother material.”

You snort. “Right. Because mothers love tattooed boxers who smell like weed and moral ambiguity.”

“Whatever,” he says, exhaling smoke like it offends him. “You’re such a hater.”

“Not a hater. Just realistic.”

He glances at you, amusement twitching at the corners of his lips. “You think I’m not charming enough?”

You deadpan, “I think you’re more lie-to-your-daughter’s-face material.”

He bursts out laughing, tipping his head back. “Shit, that’s fair.”

You smile, watching him. He’s still hot when he laughs. Annoying, infuriatingly hot.

“But yeah,” he adds, voice dropping a little, “that probably won’t be happening. I’ll have to lie my way out of that one.”

You give him a dry look. “Thank god you’re a good liar.”

He smirks, eyes flickering to yours. “You’d know.”

“God,” you say, eyes fixed on the ceiling, “can you imagine if Eunji actually found out?”

Jungkook exhales a puff of smoke, slow and smug. “She’d kill me. And probably come for you too.”

“She wouldn’t even get the chance. Tae would commit murder first.”

He hums, passing you the joint. “Tae’s scary when he’s mad.”

You take it, inhale deep. “He is indeed. Have you seen his stare? That’s not normal. That’s serial killer energy.”

Jungkook laughs. “Yeah, and yet you still cozy up to him like he’s a weighted blanket.”

“You’re just jealous he takes me on cute brunch dates and actually remembers my birthday.”

“Wow,” he gasps dramatically. “Are you implying I’m not boyfriend material?”

You look him up and down, slow and deliberate. “I’m saying you’re situationship in denial material.”

He bites his lip to hide his grin. “That’s rich coming from you. Miss I’m loyal to my boyfriend except for every time I text you at 2 a.m.”

You groan. “Don’t act like you don’t eat it up.”

“Oh, I do,” he smirks, shifting closer, “especially when you come over all pouty, pretending this isn’t your favorite part of the week.”

You narrow your eyes. “You talk too much.”

“You like it.”

“Unfortunately,” you mutter, flicking ash into the tray.

He leans in, voice soft and cocky, “Bet Tae doesn’t make you squirm with just words.”

You look at him, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Bet Eunji doesn’t know you like being choked a little.”

He raises a brow, but doesn’t deny it. “Touché.”

“And for the record,” you whisper, fingers brushing his thigh, “you’re not boyfriend material. You’re just my favorite craving.”

He grins, low and dangerous. “That’s the sexiest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

“You know,” Jungkook starts, tapping the ash off the joint, “sometimes I think Eunji likes the idea of me more than she likes me.”

You snort. “Well, you do post thirst traps and quote Nietzsche in your captions. Anyone would fall for the illusion.”

He gasps, mock-offended. “Are you saying I’m a fraud?”

“I’m saying you’re a curated experience.”

“Damn,” he laughs, nudging your thigh with his knee. “And yet here you are, front row, backstage pass, meet and greet.”

You shoot him a look, amused. “I never said I wasn’t a fan.”

He smirks. “You’re more than a fan. You’re the president of the Jungkook is a Bad Idea But God He’s Good in Bed club.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you say, even though your grin is impossible to hide. “I’m vice president, at best.”

“Oh really? Who’s president then?”

You take a long drag, pretending to think. “My vibrator. That one never leaves me on read.”

He laughs so hard he coughs, waving smoke out of his face. “Okay, okay.”

You lean in, eyes gleaming. “Bet Eunji doesn’t make you laugh like this.”

He quiets, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “She doesn’t make me laugh like this. Or moan like you do.”

You blink, caught off guard. “That was dangerously close to being sweet.”

“Don’t worry,” he teases, eyes dragging down your body, “I’ll say something trashy in two seconds.”

You chuckle. “You always do.”

“Maybe it’s a defense mechanism.”

“Maybe you’re emotionally constipated.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs, watching you, “but you like me better that way, don’t you?”

You don’t answer, but your silence is loud enough. And Jungkook hears every part of it.

He shifts closer. The joint is forgotten now, burning down between his fingers. His eyes drop to your mouth for a second too long, like he’s deciding if it’s worth it. Like kissing you is both a gamble and a given.

“You didn’t answer,” he says, voice lower, teasing, but almost careful.

You tilt your head. “About what?”

“Me being emotionally constipated. You liking me better that way.”

You smirk, but there’s a beat of honesty in your next words. “I don’t like you better that way. I just… like you.”

His gaze flickers—like the words hit somewhere deeper than you meant them to. And for a second, neither of you says anything. The tension isn’t new, but this feels… heavier. Messier.

“You’re dangerous when you say shit like that,” he murmurs.

You smile. “And you’re dangerous when you don’t.”

He drops the joint into the ashtray and leans in like gravity's pulling him toward you. His nose brushes yours. His breath smells like weed and cinnamon gum and something distinctly him.

“Last chance to stop me,” he says, voice so low it vibrates in your chest.

You blink slowly. “Last chance to kiss me before I change my mind.”

He chuckles—just a breath—and then closes the distance. His lips press to yours, soft but certain. There’s no hesitation this time. No teasing. Just warmth and the kind of familiarity that should scare you but doesn’t.

You kiss him back, one hand curling into the front of his shirt, the other finding his jaw. He tilts his head, deepens the kiss, sighs into your mouth like he’s been waiting all day for this exact moment.

And maybe he has.

When you pull back, slightly breathless, his eyes are still on yours. “So…” he whispers, “was that emotionally constipated, or…?”

You grin. “Still very much constipated. But in, like, a hot way.”

He groans. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” you say, tugging him back down, “you’re still kissing me.”

And he is. Again and again.

He kisses you again, but this time it’s messier. His hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you in like he can’t stand the space between you, like it’s a personal offense. Your mouths crash together, lips sliding, breath hitching. It’s not soft anymore—it’s hungry. The kind of kiss that bruises, that says everything neither of you will ever admit out loud.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, still damp, pulling just hard enough to make him groan into your mouth. He kisses like he fights—like he needs to win, like he needs to ruin you a little just to feel okay again. His tongue grazes your bottom lip and you open for him without thinking, without hesitating.

“Fuck,” he mutters into your mouth, “you taste so good.”

You don’t even respond—you’re too busy climbing into his lap, straddling him like it’s muscle memory. His hands find your hips, gripping hard. Like he’s grounding himself. Like he needs the pressure of your body against his or he’ll fall apart completely.

Your lips are swollen already, your breathing ragged, but neither of you stops. Teeth clash a little, tongues fighting, his hand sliding up under your shirt to find skin. It’s clumsy, intense, addictive. You break the kiss just to catch your breath, only to dive back in like you’re starving for him. Like you’ll die if he’s not kissing you.

“Fuck, baby,” Jungkook groans, lips trailing down to your jaw, your throat. “What are we even doing?”

You pant against his skin, fingers clawing at his shirt. “Being so bad.”

He laughs, breathless, mouth still on your neck. “The best kind.”

And then he kisses you again—hard, deep, messy like a confession neither of you dares to say out loud.

He kisses you like he needs it to breathe. Like it’s not just a kiss—it’s survival.

Your mouths crash again, sloppy and desperate. It’s the kind of kiss that makes your teeth bump and your lips burn, the kind that leaves your head spinning. Jungkook’s hand is cradling your jaw now, thumb brushing your cheek as if that could balance out the chaos happening between your mouths. Spoiler: it can’t.

Your hands are roaming—up his chest, into his hair, pulling him closer when he’s already close enough to melt into. He shifts under you, groaning low in his throat when your hips accidentally roll forward. His fingers dig into your thighs like he’s trying not to lose it.

“Fuck,” he hisses, breaking the kiss just long enough to catch your eyes. His pupils are blown wide, lips red and shiny, jaw clenched like he's trying to get a grip. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Good,” you whisper, yanking him back in.

This time, the kiss is slower—but not softer. It’s a drag of tongues, a teasing nip to his bottom lip, a moan you try to swallow when he licks into your mouth just right. Your nails scrape his neck and he shudders, pulling you tighter against him. Your chest presses flush with his and neither of you can tell where one ends and the other begins.

You don’t know how long it goes on. Minutes? Hours? A lifetime? You’re half in his lap, legs tangled, hair a mess, and breath coming in short, needy gasps. And yet he’s still kissing you like he doesn’t care about oxygen. Like nothing else matters.

And maybe right now, in this twisted little moment where everything is all heat and tongue and hands that won’t stop wandering—you believe him.

He kisses you between sentences—like the conversation is an afterthought, like talking about other people while kissing you is normal. Maybe for you two, it is.

"Does Eunji ever kiss you like this?" you mumble against his lips, barely giving him space to breathe.

He lets out a breathless laugh, teeth grazing your bottom lip before he tugs it. "No. She kisses like she's saying goodbye all the time."

You pause at that, then kiss him again—harder. His hands settle on your waist, dragging you closer.

"And Taehyung?" he whispers into your mouth. "He still hold your hand when you sleep?"

"Sometimes," you pant, mouth brushing the corner of his. "Only when he's not too tired."

Jungkook hums against your skin, mouth trailing down to your jaw, then your neck. "Do you miss it?"

You tilt your head, let him kiss down to your collarbone. "No," you whisper honestly, then pull him back up by the chin to kiss him again. It’s messier now. Hungrier. Your lips glide against each other like you’re both trying to erase the names you just said.

"She makes me breakfast, you know," he murmurs between kisses, "Packs fruit in little containers like a mom."

You lick into his mouth, teeth grazing his tongue just slightly. “You ever think about her when we do this?”

“Only when you’re being mean,” he teases, nipping at your lip. “You?”

"Only when I feel guilty," you admit, then kiss him deeper—because guilt can wait.

His hands are tracing foreign paths under your shirt, his mouth never leaving yours, like he’s punishing you for every moment you spend talking about anyone that isn’t him.

"Fuck," he groans, pressing his forehead to yours, lips still brushing yours with every word. “We’re the worst.”

You kiss him again. “I know.”

But neither of you stop.

taglist part 1: @mochi13 @wobblewobble822 @jkvamp @sunnikthv @kimyishin @asyr97 @pjmname @shesscorpio7 @daarla07 @jeontids @bellefaerie @kissyfacekoo @lily-lilacsky @bammbi-jeon127 @httpjeonlicious @belleilichil @minghaosimp @marrtyaa @septemberskies @yok00k @ioanatodorova @rokshi @b2407 @boommoom @kookienooki @avawants2havefun @bhonbhon @taekritimin123 @oraiseok @thenamesathy @superchamchi88 @lenamercedesworld @candygalx @notsevenwithyou @heesuvk @ahgasegotarmy116 @jeonsinsatiablekitten @saki-gojo @piratekingateez2001 @0-0rot @bangatanily @justbelljust @plusultra0 @softhaes @bangtanily @justbelljust @gguk-lvr @gukkie7 @beomluvrr @iamworldwidehandsome

[lokisswiftie]

Satisfied

2.5k Words

Summary: Spencer can’t take his eyes off of your mouth once he notices your fixation…

Warnings: Smut!!! So much smut!!! Reader has an Oral Fixation, post prison Spencer, Dom!Spencer but he’s pathetic guys, Slightly rough Spencer, Oral (m receiving), Reader wears lipgloss?

A/N: hey guys!!! I’m back with more Spencer and I can’t lie I absolutely loved writing this. I’m taking requests, read details on my pinned post! Enjoy, and tell me what you think ;)

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Spencer knows the exact moment that he became aware of your fixation. It happened at night, when he was among the only people still in the bullpen working away at his mountain of files. He figured that the endless piles of papers to complete are a good distraction from the thoughts that follow him home. So, there he was at his desk, dutifully filling in the paperwork with focused efficiency. That was until his eyes briefly glanced up from his work, with the sole intention of taking another sip of his coffee.

Instead, they landed on you. Spencer had grown close to you since his return from prison, and found himself opening up to you, the newest agent. You were sweet, and hard working and growing on him fast. So, he felt very ashamed for the way he was becoming hard at the sight of you.

Very clearly wrapped up in your own stack of files, your brow was furrowed as you read over the writing. Your hair looked especially gorgeous in the low lighting- but that wasn’t what had him slack jawed. It was that you didn’t even notice that you were chewing on the lid of your pen. Your lips are parted around the cap, your tongue flicking out against the lid. He realised with a shuddering halt that a number of things you had done around him were adding up.

While speaking to him once he can recall you frequently wetting your lips. Another time, he can remember you sucking on a sweet treat. Now, Spencer Reid realised very quickly that you definitely had an oral fixation. And he felt very guilty for how much he was turned on by that. He didn’t say anything, just returning to his files and fighting to ignore the tent in his trousers- but from then on he was always noticing you, even when he tried not to.

He tried over the next few weeks to stop his eyes from drifting sinfully to your lips, whenever you would mindlessly chew on your pen without even noticing. Or, the way you almost always had some sort of candy on your tongue, even in the field. It seemed to him that you couldn’t stop wanting something in your mouth, and it was growing frustrating to him that he was so fascinated by this. It was making his life much harder, when everytime he was around you he was only able to focus on your soft lips, that he keeps picturing wrapped around him.

It was wrong. He knew that, as your colleague and your superior he has a role of responsibility around you. But with your friendly nature it’s not like you ever give him time away from you- always at his side talking animatedly about cases with an enthusiasm he can’t match. He can’t, because he’s always focused on your goddamn mouth. His stomach twists in guilt every time he finds himself staring at you, and he forces himself to look away.

The obsession- he’s given in and started calling it that- has gotten to a point where he lays awake at night, unable to sleep for thoughts of your mouth. He always feels shameful when he wakes up the next morning, and the wet patch on his boxers is evidence that he once again fell asleep to thoughts of you. Thoughts of what he would do to keep your pretty mouth busy.

So far he’s convinced himself he’s doing well at maintaining a professional relationship with you. The problem is, you’ve noticed the difference in Spencer in the past few weeks. It’s becoming increasingly more obvious that he’s been avoiding you, and you’re growing tired of it. In all honesty, you miss the casual interactions before he started putting distance between you.

That’s why when you’re about to leave for the night and notice Spencer staying late like usual, you decided that the pile of paperwork on your desk would be a perfect excuse to spend more time around him.

Spencer Looks up briefly as you return to your desk, and grab a file from the stack. He quickly looks away but internally his heart is racing. A quick glance around the room tells him that everyone else has left- leaving him alone with you. Sure, this is fine. It’s fine. Only, when he cautiously glances at you again he’s pained at the sight of your lips wrapped around the lid of your pen while you’re deep in thought. His cock is already perking up in his trousers at the sight and it feels almost mocking how your lipgloss catches the light in that moment.

“Spencer, why are you staring at me?”

You sigh in frustration, and Spencer doesn’t feel the surprise at your words for a good few seconds, as he’s so busy watching the way your mouth forms them. He snaps his eyes to yours, mouth agape and floundering beneath your gaze.

“I- uh- sorry, I didn’t realise I was- sorry.”

He pathetically stumbled the response, his mouth going dry. God, he feels ridiculous. It’s like you’re doing this on purpose- looking so pretty every time he sees you. He’s recently noticed You applying that shiny lip gloss that feels like it was made specifically to torment him. He wets his lips and shifts behind his desk conspicuously.

You raise your eyebrows and stay silent, staring at him while you lift your pen to your mouth again. You stare at him, analysing his fidgety nature. As far as you know, you haven’t done anything to elicit this kind of reaction from him. He’s been acting off with you for weeks and you’re determined to know why.

“You’ve been being weird with me- what did I do, Spencer?”

You question him seriously, and when you’re done talking you put your pen back between your lips again. The funny thing is, you don’t even realise you’re doing it again. Your tongue flicks against the lid, and Spencer groans prompting you to raise your eyebrows again.

“Fuck- that.”

He gives in relatively easily to the question, and he could kick himself for it. But it’s not entirely his fault- you’ve worn down on his capacity to lie convincingly, with your mouth haunting his mind. You furrow your eyebrows at him, and squint at him with a puzzled expression.

“What?- Spencer, what are you talking about?”

You feel your cheeks get a little bit heated at the way Spencer’s eyes are so locked on you. You squirm a little under his gaze. Spencer couldn’t handle it anymore- not when your bottom lip brushes the cap of the pen again when you speak. He grits his teeth and gets up as your eyes follow him. Pacing over until he’s standing in front of you, Spencer places his hand on your jaw which goes slack in shock.

“That. The fucking pen- you keep biting it. You don’t even know you do it, do you?”

His voice has gotten lower- rightfully so, this conversation is not for work. You stumble for a response, and you find that your heart has started racing with his touch.

“I- I don’t-“

“-You bite your lips too. And you-“

Spencer interrupts your weak response with a low tone, and you don’t make an effort to interrupt his impromptu ramble. His palm remains seated on your cheek while you gape up at him, gripping the pen in your grasp. It’s true, now that he’s pointed it out you run your tongue over your bottom lip. He groans at that, and goes silent.

There’s a moment after that where he just looks down at you, gritting his teeth and his mind racing. His brow has a crease in it telling you he’s thinking intently. His trousers have a tent in them that tells you what those thoughts might be.

“You have an Oral fixation. You seek out stimulation through your mouth- by sucking on those candies or biting your pen.”

He finally says, and the words sit on your head and then fly away. You can’t much think past his crotch in your eye line. From above, Spencer exhales slowly and then his hand firmly directs your head to look up at him. When you do, you can’t breathe much for the fire in his eyes.

“But you’re never satisfied. You drive me insane with that mouth of yours.”

The words spilling from Spencer’s mouth have been restrained for weeks. Weeks since he first noticed your mouth in this lewd way, and he’s watching the way they affect you just as much. Slowly, he sinks his hand back to grip your hair firmly as he speaks with his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you want me to help you fill it?”

You feel your heart stutter in your chest, and without really meaning to you tip your head back for him. When his words register in your brain you realise the throbbing between your legs. You’ve surely soaked through your panties by now. Your mouth goes dry and then when your eyes glance back down to his bulge, you find yourself almost salivating at the thought.

“Yes- please, Spencer.”

You nod eagerly and he groans, which turns into a dry chuckle. He feels like this might be another one of his dirty dreams about you- but at this point he can’t be bothered to care. Instead he gently brings your head closer to his aching crotch.

“Yeah, I thought you might… be good for me, undo my belt sweetheart.”

He exhales. Your hands jump into action and you can’t believe this is happening. You drop the pen and it skids away, while you fumble with his belt hurriedly. The thought of Spencer in your mouth is making you press your thighs together. You’ve always had a tiny crush on your fellow agent, ever since you joined the bau and were introduced to him. You always thought that he was impossible to have… but now as you tug down his slacks and come face to face with his tented boxers, you realise you’re not the only one who wanted this. You pause and look up at him, finding him panting and his pupils blown wide in those brown eyes.

“Fuck- c’mon sweetheart, use that pretty mouth for me.”

He says, his chest rising and falling fast. His hand tenses in your hair, eager to direct you to the source of his arousal. The sight of your face so close to his aching cock is making him impatient. Thankfully, you grin and oblige him, pulling down his boxers. He’s painfully hard, his cock hitting off his stomach and pulling a hiss from his lips. Meanwhile, you have to take a moment to stare at him.

Fuck he’s bigger than you expected. You wet your lips as you think about having to take all of him in your mouth, and you decide you want that challenge. Pearly beads of pre-cum form steadily at his tip, and you can’t resist wrapping your hand around his base and directing his head to your mouth. You deliver kitten licks to him, and look up to find him a mess already.

“Oh fuck- god-“

His eyes closed for a moment, eyebrows furrowing as he gathered himself together. You swirling your tongue around his sensitive head is what snaps his eyes open with a broken moan. He draws in a breath before his hand tightens in your hair and lightly tugs you closer to him.

“Don’t fucking tease me- you know you want to take it all. So fucking take it.”

His voice is low and strained, and it’s making wetness pool between your thighs embarrassingly fast. You wet your lips at his words and you don't wait any longer to wrap your lips around him. The sound that spills from Spencer’s mouth when you start taking his cock into your mouth is borderline pornographic. You stop for a moment in surprise and look up, but when you lock eyes with him and see the desperation in his face you promptly take him all the way in your mouth.

“Oh my god!-“

Spencer’s head tips back, and his hand grips your hair tightly, keeping you like that for a moment while he gets his breathing in check. His eyes have drifted closed and he feels like he’s left the planet for a good few seconds.

“Feels so fucking good baby-“

His voice breaks into a moan when he looks down at you, and you fight the urge to smile around his cock. You slowly start to bob your head in a rhythm, the salty taste of his precum spurring you on. It gets to a point where he can’t take it anymore, and it pulls a choked moan from your throat when he grabs your hair more firmly and starts to direct your thrusts.

“Fuck- just like that baby- you love this don’t you?-“

You’re not surprised that he rambles even now, when your mouth is wrapped around his cock. You smile around your mouthful, and when he sees that he thrusts against your throat with a shuddering moan. The throbbing pulse of his vein on your tongue is addicting. What’s more addicting is that everytime you come up, You swirl your tongue around his head. That pulls the most pathetic of moans from his throat.

“Oh god- oh fuck baby- I’m close, I’m so close-“

Spencer starts to babble, forcing himself to keep his eyes open to watch you. When he fixes his eyes on you he sucks in a breath. Your eyes wet with tears from taking him so well, and drool pooling at the sides of your lips. Your lips- you pull back and then he’s hit with the sight of your lipgloss smeared around his cock. when he sees that, you feel him grip you and slam himself back into your mouth again.

“I’m coming- fuck- I’m gonna come-!”

His voice gets higher, whimpering as he proclaims to you in warning. As if you don’t already know what’s coming, with the way he throbs on your tongue. You lock eyes with him when it happens, and the sight is obscene.

Spencer’s dark eyes almost roll back entirely when he comes with a moan down your throat, his hand holding you firmly in place. You take it all, your hand coming to stroke his hip while you swallow everything he gives you. After the waves wash over him his hand grows slack on the back of your head, and you pull off with a pop.

“Spencer, are you with me?”

Your words come out sly, as you wipe the corners of your mouth from any residue. Spencer’s eyes flutter open, and the moment he looks down at you he’s a mess again. No dream could compare to the satisfied grin on your lips.

“You’re so beautiful.”

The words spill from his bitten lips without any hesitation, and his hand slides to cup your cheek. For a moment the two of you look at eachother, a wrecked smile on his face and a satisfied one on yours. When he catches his breath he fixes himself up- though no matter what he does with his clothes, the fucked our expression on his face remains.

His hand strokes over your cheek and he almost falls down to his knees in his hurry to connect his lips with yours. You decide when your lips lock together that you’d happily let Spencer take care of your cravings like that again.

[bnyf]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤyou ain't my boyfriend ♡

╭﹕୨୧﹒he's a good man, truly he is. diligent and hardworking, honest, sweet and dutiful. so is his son, your boyfriend. you're sweet too, honest, kind... but not hard working. and it bothered him, because women like you were only meant to be wifed up and kept as trophies. his son didn't seem to mind but he did. so he took matters into his own hands, because there's no way some silly girl was about to just get whatever she wanted from him and his son's hard work.

♡ ┊ warnings : female reader, dark content, yandere content and themes, unhealthy behaviors, unhealthy relationship and relationship dynamic, sexual content, noncon, obsession and possession, imprisonment, cheating, creampie, unprotected, forced pregnancy, rough, size difference, stomach bulge, breeding, age difference, all characters are depicted as adults

╰﹕୨୧﹒authoress note : LOL i really like this one, okay? requested by mi punani <3 also peep the title- it's inspired by ariana's song ALSO sorry if it starts boring it gets really good after the cut

yandere! boyfriend's father who immediately takes a liking to you and accepts you into the family once your boyfriend introduces you. he's so nice. so pleasant. always smiling with you, at you. you'd think he's the perfect father and family man one could ever ask for. the way he's so welcoming towards you. complimenting his son on his 'taste in women' and patting the kiddo on his back, teasing him and flustering you, the girlfriend. yet still... you can't help but feel a certain weird feeling, an uneasiness, especially when you're left alone with him.

yandere! boyfriend's father who just can take his eyes off his son's girl. he hates how captivated he is with you and loooves how pretty and perfect you'd be as a wife, so fertile and young and ready to carry beautiful children. those hips, those innocent eyes, paired with that sinfully soft little body of yours just makes him go kinda feral. he can't help but let his touch linger with you.

yandere! boyfriend's father who starts becoming obsessed with you to the point where it starts eating him alive. he's very subtle about everything, though you get a weird vibe from him, no one else would suspect a thing if he just ups and carried you away, hide you away and keep you all to himself... and that's perfect. because no one would suspect a thing, he wouldn't even really cross anyone's mind. infact, his son would be the main suspect in this. if anything had happened to you and you'd go missing, they'd immediately point fingers at your boyfriend. and he would too. his son doesn't necessarily have to go to jail since there wouldn't be any evidence, but he'd just have to be the bait in all this.

yandere! boyfriend's father who decides against that idea and goes for a more physiologically tortuous method instead. like always, he'd help you prepare dinner and clean afterwards, offering to help with anything as though you couldn't just do it yourself, he'd get way too close for your liking yet, you didn't wanna hurt his feelings so you allowed him to hover over you when stirring the pot, left him to be when he stood close to watch how you cut the veggies, feeling strange when he pushed up on you and you felt his semi hard shlong at the curve of your buttocks. at this point, it was too obvious. and you wanted to make a fuss but that tight grasp on your mouth, cover your voice and his hot breath put that to a full halt.

yandere! boyfriend's father who licks your ears and holds you down on the kitchen counter-top, watching and enjoying as you struggle against his grasp. he's a man, you can't fight him off. once that horrific reality sets in and he successfully talks you through it, guilt tripping you, telling you this is all you fault, that he'd never do such a thing to a pretty and fragile girl like you but you! you were so tempting, so impish. you were seducing him. really? he's the bad guy? and you with your flimsy short bodycon isn't to blame at all? sliding up with any little movement like you had no respect for him and his household at all. really, you're just as bad as him, worse even because you know what you're doing.

you really think he didn't notice? how you'd take extra care of yourself? your nails and your hair? of course it's because you want to impress him, right? want him to approve of you as his son's girl, i mean you are beneath his family. the family that he diligently built from scratch working as a law professor into one with some sort of status and wealth. you wouldn't be able to appreciate that. and to make sure you don't wanna marry his son for daddy's money, he'll teach you a thing or two about respect.

he'll make it clear. he isn't against the slutty outfits or the way you pamper yourself so much, nuh uh! he both expects and likes it when girls are girly. however, he's totally against teasing and cock blocking like you weren't the one leading him on.

yandere! boyfriend's father who rolls the thinly fabric of your pink body con dress up your ass and gives a good smack, leaving you to choke out muffled whelps as he scolds you like a kid. like where'd the strict and scary yet sweet quiet older man go? you knew he was harsh with his punish, you'd seen first hand how he yells at his son whenever his gpa dropped even the slightest. but you didn't expect for him to be like this did ya? and that's the thing, his son has a whole life ahead of him, that boy is going one of the most prestigious universities in the country, top of the sports club, perfect grades since he was a child, popular, talented. and you? you were just some dumb girl he managed to pick up who only cared about makeup, clothes and looking good. you didn't have much going for you except the for the fact that you're resilient and you always find ways to get what you want. you're just a distraction. but he'll allow once you don't interfere too much with the boy's success.

yandere! boyfriend's father who pushes your panties aside and fucks you silly on the kitchen counter-top, groaning in your ear and sticking those same thick digits that fingered you just previously in your mouth to shut you up. he manhandles you and practically tears off your bra to let your tits freely jingle with each thrust. he comes inside even though you desperate beg for him to not and watches as your legs give out. but! before you could collapse on the cold floor he holds you up, and pushes you into another position. this goes on until who know how long, till your in and out of consciousness and teary eyed, completely filled with his seed.

yandere! boyfriend's father who cleans up after the crime scene he's committed basically. he cleans your blanked out body and lays you to rest in his bed before cleaning himself and finishing up dinner. you wake in his bed that completely smells like him, and by now you probably wreck of that old bastard. you try to get up and walk but your legs are killing you and you're having sharps pains in your lower stomach. as though there are cameras inside the room, he enters at the perfect time when you're struggling and falling, cooing in your ears sweetly like nothing ever happened and putting you back to bed. with him, he brought dinner.

yandere! boyfriend's father who only laughs and shoves your mouth open to force fed you when you yell you'll tell your boyfriend on him. what? you think he's scared of his own son? the kiddo that he changed his diaper as a baby? LOL! bitch, you must be stupid. you're forced to chew and swallow the food. "your boyfriend dearest will be very busy with his finals right around the corner, he'll be staying in the domintary until he's finished. don't be a distraction like you already are and try to contact him. until then, you'll be left in my care, sweetheart"

yandere! boyfriend's father who basically holds you captive in his home and 'take care of you' (fucking you crazy in every position imaginable until you're weak) while your boyfriend's away. and he leaves you weakened everytime, unable to move. he already taken away your cell phone and told his son nothing but lies about how sick you were and how he was taking care of you. you spend a whole month with him like this, and he's so shameless sometimes he just wants to play with your pussy so he does just that. it usually ends with him fucking you and breaking inside your womb multiple times. "yes, she's so sick fckngh-" he whispers out the last part of his sentence, railing your poor pussy as he reassures his son on the phone. "y-yeah, i'm taking care of her now, don't worry just f- foucs on doing well, okay kiddo? dad loves you, you take care care too, and make sure you drink enough water and sleep well. uhm wha? i sound a lil weird? uhm yeah i'm fine, don't worry about me."

yandere! boyfriend's father who plays with your clit while he studies that tight, creamy pussy of yours with his huge, veiny length. he slaps your pussy and ass, pulling you back onto his cock when you try to run from the dick. he's turning you weird. making you into a cock hungry whore who won't be able to fuck and satisfy herself on her boyfriend's shrimp dick afterwards. this is bad, really bad. you know this isn't your fault but you can't help but feel unimaginable guilt towards your innocent boyfriend who has no idea what's going on. he's working so diligently to surprise and make his girl and dad proud... what would he think if he found out? by now you're probably pregnant with this man's seed. your boyfriend would be shattered and heart broken. the worst part is how good this is all feeling, your mind is twisting and contorting into what this bastards wants you to think and feel. he's turning you sick, like him.

yandere! boyfriend's father who's like a demon on your shoulder, whispering nothing but tragedies into your ear. "maybe you should tell him. tell that boy how you've been moaning while his dad drills this thick cock into you. tell him how full you are everyday of semen to the point you're probably pregnant with more than one child. don't you agree, baby? i know you feel bad, trust me you should. we're both partners in crime here, and it feels too good to stop, doesn't it? i know, baby, i know. that face you're making, it's so cute and hot at the same time. maybe we should make a few movies, you as the star actress of course. think i've probably taken a few clips here and there, a few photos just for keeps sake. you've been such a good girl for me lately, have you accepted 'us'? what we have? sooner or later, you'll be completely consumed by me. the same way i am consumed by you."

things really isn't looking bright at all. it gets to a point where the month is up and your boyfriends back, you feel better than everything's still the same. you're still receiving attention from this man, this secrete relationship you have is still going. and worst yet, you're stomach is looking noticeable round, your breast is becoming soft with milk and "your body looks too sexy not to devour even as your carrying my child."

yandere! boyfriend's father who completely and successfully physiologically breaks and baby traps you and has you as a prisoner to him, his little captive~ don't worry though, your boyfriend thinks it's his and since it's his dad's own, a male who shares the closest genetics with him, even a blood test won't give away your little secret...

[sunnie-angel]

week 4 (oct. 25) | size kink

✮⋆˙ some other love

jason's tried forever and it's never worked out, but the pretty thing that runs one of his community centres is just so earnest in her desire for him that maybe he can have this. (part of the older, jaded jason au)

tags: f!reader, older jason, age gap, size kink, vaginal fingering, penetrative sex, kid as a petname, unprotected sex

⊘ this is an 18+ fic. minors do not interact, you will be blocked

The first time Jason Todd takes you home for anything stronger than a nightcap, it catches you off guard. Not that you knew that was what he was asking you up to his loft for. No, you had thought that like every other week before it, you would sit on his sinfully comfortable couch with a glass of whatever he was drinking this time and go over the week’s reports in a tone that would just edge on flirtatious that he would smilingly deflect.

What had really happened was this: halfway through the numbers on how the community centre was doing, Jason had put down his glass, reached over to take your own tumbler from you and set it on the solid wood coffee table. He had helped you to stand, papers sliding off your lap and into a hazardous pile on the floor. Pulled you to him so that all you could do was look up at him, close enough to see the way time was creasing her way across the corners of his eyes and threading across his temples. Jason had cupped your face in one large hand, impossibly soft as he dragged a thumb across your cheek.

“You work so hard for me, don’t you,” he had asked, only it wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

Dumb with desire, you had only been able to manage a miniscule nod, fearful that anything else would shatter this moment like glass. Your lips had parted with anticipation as he continued to stare down at you, considering in a way his gaze never had been before. Subconsciously rocking up on your toes, trying to draw yourself as close as he would allow, that had seemed to decide things for him. At 8:37 PM on a Friday evening, Jason Todd kisses you for the first time.

Kissing him is like coming home to a memory you’d long forgotten. It’s almost chaste, sweet in its brevity. He’s gentle, palm softly steering you to a better angle so that he can meet the soft plush of your mouth with his own. Jason’s other hand rests low on the curve of your back, touch burning through the thin polyester of your blouse. Warmth and care emanate through your whole body, honey in your veins. With a sigh he pulls back, rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“Only if you want to sweetheart,” he murmurs, like he isn’t offering you what you’ve wanted since the day your mistook him, your sort of boss, for an intruder.

“Please,” you plead and you can’t even articulate what it is that you’re begging for. He must understand because he takes you gently by the hand and leads you to the one room you’ve never been allowed entry to.

His room is inviting, bookshelves covering every available wall and decorated in soft warm tones. The bedside table is messy, but otherwise it’s surprisingly clean and organized. It’s his bed that holds your attention though, so large you could get lost in it. That reminder of what you’re here for, after months of hoping, pools saliva in your mouth and sends weakness to your knees. Turning back to Jason, you realize he’s already far ahead of you, clothes dropping into the hamper.

With unsteady fingers you scrabble for the buttons of your blouse, frustrated by their reluctance to obey. Large hands brush yours out of the way, methodically undoing each button for you in silence. Face to face like this, there is no where to hide from his attention as he undresses you, observes you. It should be ridiculous – him fully naked and you the one still clothed – but it isn’t. Instead you just feel small, doll-like. It’s easier to focus on his hands, track their progress down your front, than it is to meet his gaze. Jason pulls the shirt from your body without brushing even a whisper of skin and every inch of you aches for his touch. He undoes your pants, slides them down for you and your palm burns from where he lets you steady yourself against his shoulder to step out of them.

Standing there in the warm glow of the lamplight in your granny panties and oldest bra, you feel uncomfortably exposed. You are not unaware that you are only the latest in a line of women that have been through this bedroom before and you are possessed by the inane urge to cover yourself. To not give him any reason to compare you and find you lacking in someway. Jason must pick up on your hesitance, presses kisses across your hip bones and tummy to distract you as he pulls your panties down. Kisses his way up your whole body to mouth at your breast through your cotton bra until you are panting and desperate to feel his slick mouth against your skin. He licks into your mouth as the clasps of your bra come undone, falls to the floor somewhere you are to busy to take notice of.

Jason walks you back onto the mattress. Like this, propped up on your elbows with Jason looming over you, you are forcibly reminded of his size, a fact that you thought you had grown used to tuning out. Strong, wide shoulders carry his weight easily and though he’s a little soft around the middle from the creature comforts of life, the strength and muscle of him is still evident. Caged beneath him, soft underbelly exposed, he kisses you and you know that if anyone were to look in on this scene now, the only body they would see is his.

He kisses you and you can feel the hot, heavy weight of him against your hip. Without looking you fumble for him, barely manage to close your fist around the head, fingers stretched wide. He groans into your mouth and you can tell from that one touch alone that he’s bigger than anything you’ve taken inside of you before.

“I don’t– I don’t know if it’ll fit,” you confess, eyes wide. 

“Jus’ need to get you ready first,” he tells you, already sliding a hand between you.

The first of his fingers breaches you and your mouth drops open in a soundless gasp. He’s big, so much bigger than your own fingers. You can feel your walls clinging to each knuckle as he slowly works it in deeper. He crooks it inside of you, goes hunting for the spot that feels like you’ve touched a live wire, then resolutely ignores it.

“It’s easier if you don’t come first, otherwise you’ll be too sensitive,” he apologizes.

Jason finger fucks you methodically, spending as much time massaging your entrance as he does inside of it, getting you used to the sensation of being filled. He watches you, your body, learns to read it’s cues and then plays them expertly. A large, warm hand slides up the side of your ribs to rest just below the swell of your breast until you are keenly aware of neglected they are. Slowly you get accustomed to the feel of him inside you, start to work your hips down to meet his movements.

He smiles down at you, a proud private thing, and asks “Think you can take another?”

You nod and then stiffen, body tight as a bowstring at the feeling of two fingers – only in to the first knuckle – filling you up. It’s a different kind of stretch, just this side of uncomfortable as he works the two of them in deeper. Gets you used to the size of them before slowly scissoring them apart, working you open in your most intimate of spaces. Jason has you gasping around his fingers and still you know that they don’t come close to the size of the cock hanging red between his thighs.

A third finger prods at your hole and you gasp, reach down to grasp Jason’s wrist before he can work it in alongside the others. Fine tremors run up and down your thighs as you stare up at him, a deer caught in the headlights. Jason looks back down at you placidly, content to wait until you’ve worked through your hesitation. Slowly you peel your fingers away from his wrist, certain that if you don’t throw yourself into this now the fear will stop you entirely.

He rewards you as much as distracts you with a kiss. Long and lingering, it makes everything but the solid weight of him melt away so that you barely feel the third finger as it enters your cunt. Jason mouths down the line of your throat and you arch up into him, desperate for more of him. Everywhere he touches your skin lights up on fire. His mouth closes around the bud of your breast just as he starts to finger fuck you in earnest and you keen. It’s too much, too full, to big but at the same time your carefully neglected clit is throbbing. He starts to tug at the rim of your hole and you don’t know if you want to fuck your hips back down on his hand for more or try and escape the stretch.

Seemingly satisfied with how ready you are, Jason lets your tit fall from his mouth as he withdraws his fingers, leaving you to clench down around the sudden emptiness. Hands under your arms suddenly reposition you on the bed, your limbs arranged to his liking. Jason slides his cock through your folds letting them slick him up for what’s coming next. They makes a lewd wet sound as he parts them, thighs already sticky. You swallow. Hard. He feels impossibly large like this, pressed up against your cunt not even trying to enter you yet, blood hot and firm.

One hand on your hip, Jason slowly guides the head of his cock to your entrance and presses forward. Even with all of the prep, the bulbous head won’t fit and he has to bully your cunt into letting him in. Grunts in your ear with the effort of forcing his cock inside of you. You gasp like you’ve been punched in the gut when the thick head of his cock pops through that first ring of muscle, scrabble and twitch like you’re trying to get away from the all consuming pressure of it. Quicker than you can see, Jason’s got a hand around the base of your throat and he uses that grip to pull you back onto his dick.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he gentles you. “M’gonna go real slow for this part. You just gotta relax f’me.”

You whine and shudder as your body gets used to the intrusion, clutch at the wrist pinning you down by the throat just for something to anchor you. Bit by bit Jason feeds more of his cock into you, taking his time with splitting you in two. Not even half way in and he so big you can barely breathe around the weight of him in your gut. Sparks run up and down your skin and you know now why he wouldn’t let you come before because of this. Only a few inches of dick inside and already you’re shaking apart at the seams, mind hazy with how your body is accommodating the impossible girth of him, rim stretched tight around him. Punched out little moans and whimpers fall from your mouth without thought, too consumed with the way he’s prying you open.

He’s nearly in, just an inch or so to go, when he stops, hits a part of you so sensitive it hurts. Your eyes screw tight from the burn of it and you struggle to remember what air is.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay kid, just breathe,” he tells you, holding himself completely still. His hand leaves the base of his dick to smooth up the side of your thigh, rests as a comforting weight on your hip. Sweat prickles at your scalp and between your shoulder blades. “In and out, just like that.”

You hiccup, squirming under his hold, cunt aching but he leaves you no where to hide.

“Almost there, you’re doin’ so good kid. Jus’ need to remember to breathe a little, that’s all.”

Careful not to move inside of you, he leans down and kisses between your eyes. Drag his nose down the side of your cheek and lets out an exaggerated exhale, gets you to try and mimic it with him. Slowly you convince your breathing to even out, deep inhales and long slow exhales that coax your muscles to loosen up. Your knees loosen their death grip from around Jason’s hips and breath by breath the burning pain of the stretch starts to recede.

“You ready now?” he asks and you nod.

Jason holds your gaze – pins you down with his own more like – as he slowly fucks the rest of him into you. Just when you think you can’t take anymore, that he’ll tear you in two if he gives you any more, his hips meet yours. He’s in, in so deep you swear it’s not your cervix he’s pushing up on but your diaphragm, your lungs, your throat. Tremors run down your legs as you gasp and twitch around the complete invasion of your body. You can already tell from the ache in your hips that you’ll feel this tomorrow but that’s a hazy far off worry.

Jason looks down at the pretty thing in his bed, so young they were probably born the year he should have graduated high school, and marvels at how well she takes him. Shifts the hand at her throat to thumb over the soft line of her jaw in wonder. How sweet she is to give him this gift of her trust. How hard she works to give him this, to open up around him. He leans to kiss her, a reward for doing so well, and swallows her hiccuping gasps at the way it changes the position of him inside her. Her warm wet walls clench down around him and Jason breaths heavily through his nose at the feeling of how tight she is.

God this is probably a mistake. But she’s here now, warm and solid in his bed and Jason can’t pretend to regret it now. Tomorrow maybe, when he has to deal with the fact that technically she’s one of the Hood’s many employees. Has to watch that spark of desire in her burn itself out over the coming weeks now that he’s indulged her. Her attention had been flattering, in an abstractly distant kind of way, but he’ll miss it when its gone. Young things, he thinks wryly, always so impatient for the good part that they never learn how to make the anticipation last. She moans as Jason palms at her belly, presses down like he can feel the burning length of him inside of her. Gets her tighter, tenser around him as slick pours out of her. He kisses her through it, nips at the line of her throat and sucks bruises into her clavicles until her breathing stops coming out so rabbit quick.

“Move,” you beg, voice high and plaintive. You paw clumsily at his back, his hips, desperate to feed the hunger growing in your belly now that you can think past the sheer stretch of him.

“Don’t worry kid, gonna give you everythin’ you need,” Jason says and then he fucking moves.

please just assume that this jason also has no boundaries and knows you're on birth control bc he did a full background check on you the first time you looked up at him with adoring eyes

[lovelivision]

・・・♡・mdni・smut・pussy drunk gojo !! we cheered, at least i did >u<

Pussy drunk Gojo who feels like he’s slowly losing his fucking mind, the whines and whimpers leaving him pitiful but he can’t even be bothered to try and stuff them down. So much pleasure running through him at the sinfully tight grip you have around his cock that literally nothing else matters to him right now.

He’s pressed so close to you, almost desperate for skin-on-skin contact, like being inside you isn’t nearly enough. Lips at your neck, nipping and licking and biting, completely ravishing you and leaving all kinds of marks behind.

“So good– hng– I can’t– why are you so–” words pattering off into more moans before he can finish a single coherent thought.

The sloppy sounds of him fucking into your sweet cunt over and over filling him with a possessiveness he usually wouldn’t dare to feel. Head so full of thoughts of your creamy pussy and how much he loves you and how good it all feels and really nothing else but that.

Compliments on how tight and warm you are continuously spilling from his mouth as his hips stutter and rut into you, “So fucking snug– hah– I’m going crazy– I love you– hnn–”

Practically drooling onto your skin as he keeps marking you, trying to leave behind evidence that he’s fucked you within an inch of his life. Eyes glazed over and stupid with pleasure, drunk on the heaven that is your cunt.

Almost impossibly growing larger inside you as his own thoughts only continue to turn him on, mindless and needy thrusts into your hole making him dizzy. His dick only twitching and leaking more when you grip at him and let out a completely ruined whine. Slack jawed and infatuated as he watches your reactions more intently, wanting to hear more of your sweet moans.

“If I died like this, I’d die happy,” he mumbles out, genuinely so far gone that he believes his statement whole heartedly.

Eventually coming undone by your lost gaze and whimpered moans of his name, hips stilling as he stuffs you full to the brim. Cumming so much it’s leaking back down his shaft and onto the sheets, he finds himself brimming with inexplicable greed.

Hips moving again before he can think twice about it, whining at the borderline overstimulation but ignoring it. Your cunt feels far too divine to pull out this early, eyes wet as he just keeps fucking into you over and over.

[bitchface24-7]

THE GORGEOUS PROFESSOR TALIS

synopsis: You didn't think Professor Viktor was the only heartthrob at Piltover Academy, did you? Meet his charismatic, undeniably gorgeous partner, Professor Talis. But please, call him Jayce.

warnings: again age gap (Jayce’s gotta be anywhere in his 30s-40s to be a professor, reader is in their 20s (early to late I don’t really care) ), power imbalance, switch!jayce, this isn’t gonna be a full on story, just bullet points I come up with, Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/f or m/m (implied future m/m/f or m/m/m)

Professor Talis doesn’t have his own class at the Academy, instead he and Professor Viktor alternate in “The Science Behind Magic: HXT101.” The two professors are trying to incorporate a lab aspect to the class; so it's not just theory.

There have been many times Professor Talis (please call me Jayce) has taken over from Viktor due to unforeseen circumstances, such as Viktor having a flare-up in pain and being unable to lecture for three hours straight.

Professor Jayce and Professor Viktor have many similarities. They're passionate, intelligent, and quite funny. But it's their differences that set them apart.

Professor Viktor’s voice is smooth, sultry, and his accent makes everything sound sexy. He's got the perfect voice to do ASMR to make people fall asleep.

Professor Jayce is much more hyper. He talks a bit louder and a bit faster than his partner. But his enthusiasm and bright smile make it endearing to witness.

He's also much broader and taller than Professor Viktor. His shoulders are wide, his waist is narrow, and his thighs are begging to be bitten into.

He's got messy hair, a glorious beard, and a microscopic smattering of grey at his temples. He's got a strong jaw, big eyes, pouty lips, a tantalizing neck, and sinfully beautiful body. He too has a brace, except it's on his opposite leg. And his leg seems to be stronger than his partners.

He's also got incredibly sharp canines. You can't help but squish your thighs together envisioning how they'd feel against your neck, your chest, your thighs.

Professor Jayce seems to enjoy receiving praise just as much as giving it to his students. You'll never forget the time you complemented his teaching style and he got all flushed. Shyly looking down as a sweet smile graced those plump lips.

You wanted to devour that man right then and there.

One day, you almost did.

Professor Talis had just casually walked into the classroom, wearing an all-black outfit with red detailing. His sleeves were rolled up, his hair artfully messy, and his slacks obscenely tight.

You felt like leaping across the desk like a lioness to feast on the meal right before your very eyes.

Professor Jayce seemed to be oblivious to the stares he received. You thought that until he stopped right in front of you; ceasing his walk around the classroom, and his bulge was damn near eye level with you.

It was big. Massive really, and quite girthy from what you could make out in the dark fabric. You coquettishly look up as you suck on your lolly, knowing exactly what you're doing.

Professor Jayce just quirks an eyebrow at you as he taps his finger on your table, making you look down at your sheet of paper, “Have you finished your assignment?”

You can't help but impishly nod, “Yes, Professor Talis.” as you give a long lick on your lollipop before popping it into your mouth.

Professor Talis’ eyes darken as his jaw clenched. He's heard about you from Viktor. The smart, slutty student who has a throat to die for and delectable moans that'll keep your spank bank full until the next time you need them.

Jayce just smirks at you and tells you to stay behind after class, there's something he needs to discuss with you.

You were curious.

You weren't expecting to be folded like a pretzel as your gorgeous professor pounded away into you like it was his last day on earth.

Your body is delectably sore, you're stuffed to the brim in cum, and you have bruises all over your body. Hickies surround your neck and chest, hand shaped bruises are on your hips and thighs. You even have some bite marks. You had a feeling his canines would feel amazing. Called it!

You also called it that Professor Talis enjoys praise and being told what to do. Telling him how good his cock feels and that he's doing amazing really amped him up.

You can't help but wonder how demolished you'll be once both Professor Viktor and Jayce get their hands on you.

(You’ll die very happy and very satisfied)

[rafessecret]

Step!sister and rafe infront of his friends where rafe and his friends are golfing and step!sister is sitting in the golf car. Rafe tells her to come and hit a ball and he’s standing behind her holding her hands helping her hit one and he starts kissing her neck? And all of rafes friends are just watching and what would their reactions be ?

⋆˚࿔ step¡sister reader && rafe cameron

JUST TAKE A SWING PRETTY.

The late afternoon sun beats down on the manicured expanse of the golf course, a golden glow casting long shadows across the pristine grass. The air is thick with the scent of freshly cut greens, expensive cologne, and the lingering sweetness of the piña coladas Rafe has been slipping you since you arrived.

You’re perched in the passenger seat of the golf cart, one leg tucked under you, the other stretched out, bare skin glistening in the sun. The breeze flutters the hem of your little white skirt, teasing against your thighs as you giggle, half-drunk and weightless. Rafe had insisted you come, practically dragging you out of the house with that smug, knowing smirk, and now you know why.

Because Rafe looks good. Sinfully good.

His polo shirt clings to his broad shoulders, the crisp fabric stretched taut across his chest. The expensive watch on his wrist glints in the sun as he adjusts his grip on his club, rolling his shoulders, muscles flexing beneath golden skin. He’s the picture of effortless decadence, all sharp jawlines and easy arrogance, the kind of rich boy who belongs here—who owns this place in the way he carries himself.

And he hasn’t taken his eyes off you.

Kelce lines up his shot a few feet away, muttering something under his breath as he swings, but you barely hear it. You’re too busy watching Rafe watch you. His gaze trails from the condensation beading on your glass to the lazy way your fingers toy with the straw, then lower—to the way your thighs press together, the way your bikini top peeks from beneath your cropped tank, the way you’re so blatantly comfortable, drunk off sugar and rum and his attention.

Then, his voice—low and syrupy, curling around you like heat.

❝Come here, baby.❞

You blink up at him, lashes fluttering, pretending you don’t notice the way his friends go quiet, how their conversation stalls as they glance between you two. You’re used to it by now—the judgement, the disbelief, the thinly veiled disgust. But no one says shit. Not anymore. Not after the last time Rafe lost his temper.

Still, their presence lingers, a silent, collective breath held in wait as you slip from the cart, wobbly from the drinks and the warmth pressing in from all angles. Rafe’s already reaching for you by the time you reach him, his hands settling firm on your waist, pulling you close until your back is flush against his chest.

❝Wanna take a swing?❞ he murmurs, the words brushing against the shell of your ear, thick with amusement. His hands slide lower, gripping your hips, steadying you as he presses his front into your back. You feel him—solid, unyielding, all heat and hunger and barely restrained indulgence.

You let out a breathy giggle, batting your lashes over your shoulder. ❝I dunno how to.❞

❝That’s what I’m here for, pretty girl.❞

Rafe adjusts his stance behind you, guiding your fingers over the club, wrapping his hands over yours. The motion presses you deeper against him, his chest firm against your back, his breath hot against your cheek. The golf course is quiet, save for the distant hum of crickets, the lazy trickle of a nearby water hazard, and the sound of your own heartbeat hammering against your ribs.

And then, he moves.

His lips graze your jaw, slow and deliberate, before dragging lower, tracing the delicate slope of your neck. A sharp inhale slips past your lips, your grip faltering on the club as his mouth finds the sensitive spot just beneath your ear.

❝Rafe—❞

❝Shh,❞ he soothes, nipping lightly, his tongue flicking against heated skin. ❝Focus, baby.❞ But how could you?

His hands tighten around yours as he guides the club back, the motion smooth, controlled. Your stomach flips, a heat pooling deep in your belly, the air suddenly too thick, too charged. You barely register the way he helps you follow through, the dull crack of the ball soaring down the course, because all you can feel is him—the press of his chest, the possessive grip on your waist, the way his lips linger, just barely there, just enough to make you crave more.

And the worst part?

Everyone’s watching.

Kelce clears his throat, shifting awkwardly, while Topper lets out an exaggerated scoff, rubbing a hand down his face like he’s witnessing something blasphemous. ❝Jesus fucking Christ, man.❞

Rafe hums, utterly unbothered. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t stop his fingers from tracing slow, idle patterns against the curve of your waist. If anything, he tightens his hold, dragging you back against him as if to remind them all—remind you—that this, you, belong to him. Kelce exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. ❝Are you serious? Right now?

❝What?❞ Rafe drawls, pressing one last, lingering kiss against your shoulder before finally letting you go. ❝She wanted to try. I helped.❞ Topper makes a disgusted noise, dragging a hand through his hair before shaking his head. ❝You’re fucking unbelievable.❞

❝And?❞ Rafe grins, all sharp teeth and dark amusement. He doesn’t care—not about their opinions, not about the tension crackling in the air like a live wire. His focus stays on you, on the way you shift in place, flustered, the way you bite your lip, eyes flicking to him for some kind of answer.

And he gives you one.

❝C’mon, pretty girl,❞ he murmurs, slipping an arm around your waist, tugging you back toward the cart. ❝Let’s get you another drink.❞

You don’t argue. You never do.

Because Rafe always wins.

And you always let him.

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : Thanks for the request anon.

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025

[leighsartworks216]

Cup Runneth Over

Sylus x fem!Reader

I was supposed to go back to bed but then this possessed me

Title from "Cup Runneth Over" by Kiki Rockwell

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: smut, established relationship, swearing, creampie, stuffing, size kink, aftercare, praise kink, biting, kissing, licking, begging, overstimulation, explicit consent

Word Count: 1,274

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

"One more..." he breathes heavily by your ear. His chest rubs against your back as he shallowly rolls his hips with a low groan. "Please, my love, one more... You can take it, can't you?"

Sylus has never been one to beg. The man will find workarounds and push buttons until people are begging him. But not this time. Not when you're a shaking, whimpering mess beneath him, drooling dumbly into his pillow and fighting to find any conscious thought that he hasn't yet fucked out of you.

He supports himself with one hand as the other reaches under you to glide along your stomach. He peppers kisses all over your neck and shoulders, already marked up from his unrelenting bites. Down further, at your lower abdomen, slick with sweat and the overflow of cum that's spilled out of you, he presses down. You cry out in a sweet gasp, weakly trying to press your hips back against him.

"Feel me right there, kitten?" He sighs shakily, biting softly at a bare spot on your shoulder blades. He's already hard again, twitching and eager. He's insatiable, he can't get enough of your perfect pussy squeezing around him. "There's still a little room left... Just one more, beloved. Need to stuff you just- just one more time."

There's no room left. How could there be? His cum runs down your thighs, your belly, coats his cock so thoroughly he doesn't need your slick to lube him up anymore. But the breathy desperation in his voice reaches past the haze, serenades you with the promise of being taken care of even as he uses you as his own personal cocksleeve. You nod as best you can.

He coats his fingers in the cum, brushes lightly over your abused clit. You whimper with overstimulation. "Use your words, baby... Need to hear you say it."

He's unbearably patient. To distract himself, he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses along your neck and upper back. He can feel the jagged imprints of his teeth left behind. He licks over a particularly deep one that he hopes will last for at least a week on your pretty neck.

"Yes... Nhnn, need you to... to fill me..."

"That's my girl."

He holds your hips up with his hand on your belly. He refuses to sit up, far too addicted to caging you in like this to even dream of it.

He starts slow. You're so pliant for him. Your poor abused cunt is so slick, stretched so perfectly to welcome his greedy cock, over and over again. It's a feeling that goes straight to his head. Only he can see you like this. Only he can fuck you dumb like this. No one else will ever come close, will ever get the chance. Only him.

He groans, unable to keep himself from speeding up at the thought. Wet squelching mixes with the slap of hips, a beautiful symphony. With each thrust, more and more of his sticky spend is pushed from your pretty weeping hole, dripping sinfully onto the soiled bed sheets.

His hand glides from your belly, presses against the bed to grab one of your tits. It squishes and sits so perfectly in his palm. He pinches your nipple just to hear your choked moan. He chuckles at just how well he knows your body.

"You're so good to me, beloved," he whispers. His canine digs into your earlobe before he sucks it into his mouth to soothe the sting. "My good girl. Isn't that right?"

You nod without even processing what he asked. You just know he asked something, and that you want nothing more than to please him. He already knows you're too cockdrunk to know what the hell he's saying. Just this one more and he'll take care of you. You deserve it, his sweet little dove.

He's close. He can feel it, just right there. He presses you even further into the mattress with his weight. Releases your breast to rub frantic circles in your clit. You squirm against him, so sensitive, so overstimulated. But he wants you to finish with him. Needs you to. Needs to feel you clench around him and milk him of what he has left to give you tonight.

You clutch helplessly to his pillow. Your cries muffled by the plush, sputtering out nonsensical pleas.

"I've got you. I've got you, dove. Fuck." He thrusts wildly, pounding into you relentlessly, chasing this one last high. "Cum for me, please, pretty girl. Be a good girl and cum for me."

A choked cry tears from your throat. You clench and spasm around him. It's the last push he needs to bury himself as deep inside you as possible, cock kissing your cervix as he fills you one last time with his hot cum. He moans lowly by your ear. His chest heaves against your back, breaths hitching as at last he's milked dry. He stops his onslaught on your clit to tenderly stroke your side.

"That's my good girl," he pants adoringly. He kisses your cheek gently, watching your reactions as he slowly slides his softened cock out of you. "Let's clean you up, hm?"

His weight carefully lifts off of you. Your body is tight and cramped from being in one position for so long. He takes his time helping you out of it to lay flat on your stomach, calloused hands massaging your muscles as he goes.

Any other night, he'd love nothing more than to bury his face between your thighs and clean you with his tongue. Suck out your combined releases and swallow them down greedily. But you're far too gone for that. So instead, he disappears into the bathroom to start the shower. Once it's the perfect temperature, he retrieves you, cradling you in his arms as he presses sweet kisses to your forehead. There's a shower seat installed just for you, for moments like this, where he sits you down and kneels on the floor to take care of you.

You're already asleep when he's finished. His hands working the soaps and oils into your skin sealed your fate.

Wrapped up in a big, warm towel, he lays you down on the couch so you can continue sleeping while he changes the bedsheets. They're most certainly completely ruined, but he doesn't give a damn. He can order more. He has to change the cover on his pillow, too, given the drool that soaks through it.

He gets dressed first, with sleep pants that sit low on his hips. When it's your turn, he's careful not to wake you as he slips fresh underwear up your legs and one of his shirts over your head.

At long last, he carries you as you cling to him like a koala, and lays down with you in the freshly made bed.

He lays awake for a while longer. Plans run through his mind for just how to pamper you come morning, when you're going to be too achy to do anything. Breakfast in bed, plenty of cuddles, a massage if you desire. Through it all, he's most excited to see your eyes blink up at him with all the fondness in the world. He covets that look like no other.

But for now, he'll admire your peaceful sleeping face, devoid of any stress. And he'll brush the lightest of kisses to your lips, ever so careful not to disturb you. And he'll tuck your head under his chin and slip his hand under your shirt to rest on your bare back. And he'll go to sleep, dreaming only of you.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry

[thewickedjazzy]

Level 3: “Stay Still!” [Dry humping] for Kinktober.

⤷⊹₊fyodor d. x afab! reader.

⊹₊Synopsis: it's your own roman empire, where you and fyodor continually indulge in lust-fueled escapades during important meetings.

⊹₊Warning: ņsfw, mdni, smųt, dry humping, agoraphilia, risky sex/secret sex, orgasm control, praise kink..etc.

⊹₊Word count & a/n: 1k, animated lines by @/cafekitsune. this was a very fun level to write honestly, a sweet thank you to bb rem @remlionheart for beta reading, ilysm<3

“stay quiet, дорогая (dear). if they notice, i’ll stop, and you wouldn’t want that, right?”

that might be the last coherent thing you hear before fyodor starts his meeting with nikolai and sigma. you’re face-down on the cold, rough metallic table, wobbling body pressed between him and the edge, feeling a familiar, simmering need flooding through your senses. three agonising months of work have kept him busy, and you’ve missed him terribly. so, if this is the closest you can get to feeling him? then fucking be it.

you grind your bare folds against his clothed bulge, the friction sending your whole body numb with pleasure. it feels too good, almost overwhelming, and you can’t hold back the quiet whine that escapes your lips.

“...we'll need a distraction, something to divert their attention while nikolai can execute our plan.” the russian states calmly as if your pussy is not soaking the hell out of the fabric of his trousers at this very moment. honestly, you can't fathom how he maintains such composure while you squirm beneath him, desperately trying to stretch out the pleasure that’s building quickly in your lower belly. maybe you can hold out until the meeting is over.

you’re doing your utmost to hang in there.

“the weretiger is an easy target...”nikolai exclaims, on the other hand, sigma is already rolling his eyes in boredom, clearly frustrated that they still haven’t addressed his casino issues yet.

you squeeze your eyes shut trying to drown out their conversation, focusing solely on the one command fyodor has given you: “don’t cum until I say so.”

such a cruel man he is. why? because he's slowly grinding his hips back against you, he knows that you're desperately close, it's in his nature to push all the right buttons, only to leave you mourning the loss of his touch afterwards.

you do your best to stifle a moan, but a soft whimper slips past your lips instead.

his slender fingers tighten in your hair, tugging just enough to make you tilt your head back, forcing you to meet his devilish gaze as he shoots you a warning glance, seeing you nod obediently, trying to stifle the needy whimpers that escape as you force yourself to slow down, biting your lip to keep quiet.

“their unity is what gives them strength; without it, they're weak,” fyodor continues, his left hand tightens around your hips, guiding your rhythm with maddening control, while his other hand slides down to tease your aching clit, circling it with deliciously slow, torturous strokes.

your eyes roll back, vision blurring from the overwhelming pleasure, and you’re caught between trembling restraint and the impossible need to let go. fuckーhow can he expect you to hold back when he’s sinfully pleasuring you like this?

It's been half an hour, and you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out. an aching need swells within you as you clutch his hand, fingers intertwining with his, silently begging him to quicken his pace, desperately craving that sweet, sweet release that feels just out of reach.

once the russian has his mind set on something, no amount of begging, sweet words, or tears will sway him. his long, pale fingers slip between your folds, thumb tracing lazy circles over your clit hood to add to your mounting pleasure and you can’t help but roll your hips against him, grinding harder with each passing second. you're acutely aware of the risk that his body might jolt, drawing the unwanted attention of his oblivious subordinates.

you can't hold back anymore, the pleasure has woven itself tightly within you, each pulse layered like bricks in a tower that only fyodor’s permission keeps standing, until the same bricks of bliss snap at the base of your spine once his hand, which had been gripping your hair, taps against the cold metal table twice.

it’s the sign you’ve been begging the heavens for. you're now rolling your hips faster against his hard cock, finally riding out your long-awaited release—jaw slack, eyes rolled back, a trace of drool slipping from your parted lips as you soak his fabric, bliss coursing through you like the light of a thousand stars from the milky way.

as you shudder in ecstasy, the three of his fingers continue bullying your swelling clit—coaxing you through the rest of your release as he draws sharp shapes on the puffy nub.

“that’s it, my love keep that orgasm going for me.” he leans down out of the camera's field to pressing searing kisses to the nape of your neck.

ironically, the meeting continues, oblivious to your plight.

nikolai’s enthusiastic breaks through your sweet bliss. “...and that’s how i’ll handle the weretiger situation.”

while sigma rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “can we move on? i still need to discuss my casino issues.”

clearing his throat, fyodor straightens up, his trademark icy professionalism settling back into place once more. “then let’s wrap this up. we’ll reconvene later to finalise the plan.”

you try to regain your composure, still feeling the aftershocks of erotic pleasure, as the meeting draws to a close. fyodor casts you a sidelong glance with a small loving smirk as he adds, “i trust everyone will stay focused now.”

frankly, you can’t shake the feeling that your relationship won’t stay a secret for much longer. especially given how risky you both are being by engaging in sexually-driven activities like this.

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguru @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr @perlaslibrary

[glasvera]

La Petite Mort Dorée

Adam Warlock x Fem!Reader

Description: The follow up to Golden Morphine, in which you and Adam explore the rising sexual tension between you and experiment with the arousing effects of his healing on your body.

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), cursing, dry humping, oral sex and fingering (female receiving), Adam is a virgin

A/N: I'm so normal about him, I swear. So normal that I've written close to 6k words for him alone in the past few days. Yeah. This is basically pure filthy smut, so please enjoy!

Word Count: 2.4k

Unceremoniously, you sweep everything off of the table you’re sitting on. Adam doesn’t even get the chance to protest the fluttering papers and clattering baubles before he’s forced to brace his hands on either side of you, pulled down on top of you as your lips find his again.

Well, he supposes, that mess can always be cleaned up later.

Your shirt bunches up around your neck, pressing your bare chest to his. His lips and skin against yours feels like heaven and tastes like honey, sweet and decadent. Moaning into his mouth, you lock your ankles behind that sinfully slim waist of his and muss your fingers into his hair. You know you had tangled your hands into his hair earlier, yet it’s just as smooth and silky and perfect as the first time you touched it. You’re almost jealous.

Almost.

But it’s hard to focus on things like that when Adam finally finds himself again, balancing himself on one hand as the other comes to cup the underside of your breast. It’s all instinct, pure intuition, but he knows now that he quite enjoys the way your flesh gives beneath his hand as he gently squeezes it. And he certainly enjoys the gasp it pulls from you even while your lips meld and mash together.

It’s an accident the first time, but when his thumb just happens to swipe across the edge of your nipple, your head falls back with a soft thud. It’s like he’s constantly emanating that golden energy with every touch, so even the barest of brushes is like an electric shock through your system. Your nails dig into his scalp, drawing a husky groan from him. 

“Adam… oh…”

“Yes. More. Just like that,” he whispers against your lips. “Tell me. Show me how to please you.”

His face is inches away from your own. Your breaths intermingle as his hand continues to paw at your breast, desperately trying to recreate the sound you’d made moments before. Your kiss swollen lips draw up into a lazy smile as you take his hand. Squeezing, molding, you guide his movements, unable to contain your steady moans as he continues to pour that healing energy into you. He needs to do something with his lips, but he daren’t muffle the sounds coming from yours. Instead he busies himself by burying his head into the crook of your neck, placing open mouthed kisses to every inch of skin he finds. You taste divine to him, and he eagerly laps at the salt from the lingering sweat on your flesh.

Your eyes roll back and your hips roll soon after. You want to take it slow, to let him explore, but it’s so difficult to be patient when you can feel just how hard he is already. A broken, muffled moan vibrates against your neck before he eagerly begins to rut against you.

“P… Pinch my nipple between your fingers. Gently.” Even in the lust-addled haze that falls over you both, you can tell he listens to your every word intently. Between his thumb and forefinger, he finds the peak of your breast and gently, experimentally, pinches just as you told him to. Just that, coupled with his healing, is enough to draw needy whimpers from your throat.

“You feel divine,” he whispers reverently against your neck. “And sound just as heavenly. Give me more. Please.”

His praise sends only further tingling straight to your core, and you can feel the wetness beginning to pool there. Never before had you even considered the possibility of someone making you orgasm without so much as grazing your clit, but this man might just be the one to find a way.

“You,” you gasp out, the words catching in your throat as your nails rake across his skin. “It's your healing. The energy. It…” you pause as his fingers tweak the bud between them, unable to stop the moan from humming low in your chest. “It amplifies it. Everything,” you manage to breathe out finally.

“I see,” he replies simply, his nose brushing against your ear. The feeling of his breath and the low, almost gravelly tone of his voice thick with arousal, leaves you panting and trembling beneath him. He pulls back just enough to see your face, and your lips are swollen and shiny with spittle. Your eyes stare into his, half-lidded and longing, and truly he does not think he's ever seen an image so beautiful. 

“Do you want more?” he whispers, his lips hovering just above yours as he leans in close.

You're not even sure you can take much more. It was already overwhelming, like a million golden fireworks exploding throughout your body with every touch. To know that he could will it to be even stronger, that everything up until now had mostly been accidental or residual…

Despite any reservations you may have, you whimper softly and nod your head in affirmation.

He wastes no time, claiming your lips again while his hand travels up from your breast to possessively cradle your head and thread his fingers into your hair. It’s all the warning you have before he's pouring that delicious golden feeling straight into your head.

Gods, you were not ready for that.

Your mind nearly goes blank as you scream into his mouth. It almost startles him, but then he feels your thighs clamped tighter around his waist. He swallows your cries as the energy ebbs and flows from his fingertips, wanting to taste more of this bliss as he begins to caress your tongue with his own. Even there, conscious of it as he is now, those healing waves dance across your lips and into your mouth. All you can do is take it, take every ounce of that delicious energy as your nails claw into his back and your ankles lock behind him. He rolls his hips into you almost frantically, groaning into the kiss as he loses himself in you.

“So beautiful…” he breathes against your lips. “Such wonderful music. Can you give me even more?” he asks, his husky whispers laced with innocent curiosity.

A chortle rumbles in your chest, and Adam swears there’s almost a glow about you when he opens his eyes to look upon your face. You rub soothing circles with your fingertips along the raised lines you’ve scored into his back, taking the moment to recover from the ridiculous euphoria you just experienced.

All the same, you crave more.

“Lower,” you whisper hoarsely. “Touch me…” You pause, placing your hand over his and guiding it to the waistband of your pants. His golden fingers look so pretty trailing down your stomach.

“Please,” you beg, and Adam thinks perhaps that might be one of your prettiest sounds yet.

Yet still, he hesitates, even as his fingers toy with the elastic of your waistband. “I… do not know how,” he admits. A flicker of doubt flashes across your eyes, and he clearly sees it since he adds, “I want to. I only fear that I will do poorly.”

Your gaze softens, and you extract your legs from his waist. He stands back up and opens his mouth to protest, but quickly shuts it as you lift your hips to shimmy your pants down your hips and kick off your boots. Left only in your underwear, you beckon him back to you, and he follows your command readily. Cupping his jaw in your hand, you smile sweetly at him.

“You’ve been a quick study so far, Adam. Let me guide you.”

He nods, dumbfounded by the situation he’s found himself in even if every action both of you have taken would clearly lead up to it. Your hand finds his and you place it over the damp patch of your panties, and his brow furrows.

“It is… warm. Wet. Why?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

That pulls another giggle from your lips, and you begin moving his hand and yours in lazy circles, sighing as you do so.

“It’s for you, Adam… have you never heard of a girl getting wet before?”

“I-I, well, no-”

“It’s desire, Adam. Every touch, every kiss, every word. You’ve turned me on so much, Adam…” you murmur seductively. “And when I’m turned on, things get wet down here.”

A stuttered breath shakes out of his chest as he continues following your guided movements. Finally he remembers why he’s doing this in the first place, and a wave of healing light pours forth from his fingers straight to your dripping cunt. You keen loudly, bucking against his hand, as white hot flames lick their way from your core out to your extremities.

If you thought it was intense before, you had no idea. And there was no way you were going to last long at this rate.

“Fuck, Adam!”  you cry, covering your mouth with your free hand before biting down on your finger.

He feels how wet you are, how much wetter you get with every swipe of his fingers, and it leaves his throat feeling parched. If it meant you making these sounds, he could do this all day, he thinks. His cock is achingly hard in his pants now, and he finds himself palming it through the fabric and breathing heavily. Catching a glimpse of that only serves to heighten your arousal even further.

“M…More…” he practically groans out, his brows worrying together as those milky white eyes stare down transfixed with every circle of his fingers. He takes the initiative and slides his hands beneath your panties, his fingers meeting your soaked folds as he continues his earlier movements. The direct contact enhances the feeling tenfold, and even his inexperienced hand leaves you gasping and whimpering.

“Y-Yes, oh gods,” you babble, rocking your hips in just a way that his fingertips brush against your clit. “So good. Feels so good.”

So, when he retracts his hand from your underwear, you can’t help but whine at the loss. But then he’s bringing his fingers to his face, spreading his fingers apart and admiring the glistening, syrupy wetness that webs between them. And then they meet his lips, his tongue peeking out as he sucks and licks the digits clean, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything hotter in your life-

-That is, until you swear those white gold eyes of his darken with newfound lust. Overtaken with his desire, he drops to his knees between your legs suddenly and tugs your panties to one side.

“Adam? What are you--oh fuck,” you moan out as his tongue paints a stripe up your labia. Your head falls back and your hand finds its place buried in his golden locks, urging him on.

He eats you out like a man starved, parched, desperate for every last bit of desire you can give him. It’s crazed, and his technique is obviously unrefined, but as soon as that golden bliss pours forth from his tongue, none of that matters. Energy flows through you, strikes through you like lightning, and your back arches as you buck your hips into his face. He doesn’t complain one bit, instead humming his approval into your sensitive flesh as his tongue and healing attack you in tandem. When his free hand squeezes into the plush of your thigh, you are bombarded by even more of that delicious feeling as it spreads through from his fingertips.

You sing for him breathlessly, your throat growing hoarse from the stream of wanton moans that echo endlessly in the room around you. His name spills from your lips followed by several curses, some of which he’s never heard you speak. That wave crests higher and higher, so high, and without meaning to you tug at those golden strands between your fingers. From the groan it elicits, he doesn’t seem to mind.

All he knows is that those beautiful sounds are growing higher and higher in pitch, more frantic with every sweep of his tongue, and he matches that pace with a fervor as he ruts into his own hand.

“A-Adam, so close, I’m so fucking close,” you breathe out desperately, even if you know he likely has no idea what that means.

But finally, finally, his tongue finds your clit, and you let out a particularly loud cry. Taking the hint, he focuses on that spot, swirling the tip around it before lapping at it greedily. The fire within you reaches a fever pitch and you absolutely explode, gushing onto his face as he drinks you up completely. It’s the most beautiful and erotic thing he’s ever witnessed, and he feels that pressure low in his belly come to a breaking point. A broken, gasping moan leaves his lips as he releases, stream after stream, cumming in his pants. His cheek falls against your thigh as he comes down from his own high, panting even as your taste lingers on his lips.

The healing energy that overwhelmed you up until now finally subsides, and a dazed smile spreads across your face. The hand that still rests on Adam’s head now pets him gently, carding your fingers delicately through his silky golden hair that you finally turned into a complete mess. He hums lazily in turn, taking a moment to catch his breath as his thumb brushes circles into your inner thigh.

“Did I do well…?” he finally asks, his voice laced with obvious fatigue.

You sit up to better look at him, tilting your head to the side as you admire the way he looks just as fucked-out as you. “I might need you to carry me back to bed. You’ve tongue-fucked my entire body into Jell-O.”

A mixture of concern and confusion pull his mouth into a frown as he looks a bit disappointed. “That… sounds terrible. I am so sorry,” he replies sheepishly.

That draws a hearty laugh from you as you shake your head. “No, Adam. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. The good ones can leave you feeling a little wobbly,” you explain before your lips settle into a wide grin. “Besides, you know, if you want…” you start, pursing your lips to one side as your gaze travels toward the ground. “...We could always practice more later. You know, if you want to learn more.”

His bright white eyes brighten impossibly further as he perks up like an excited puppy. All traces of shame that his face wore moments ago were gone in an instant. “Truly? Then, yes. Gladly.”

You sit up as best as you can before leaning over to capture his lips in a tender kiss, not caring about the lingering wetness staining his golden face. A dopey smile draws upon your lips as you press your forehead to his.

“I look forward to it, my Golden God.”

[rafesteddy]

My Valentine - Rafe Cameron Blurb

+18 Minor DNI

Older!Rafe x Girlfriend!Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️

+18 Minor DNI

warnings: swearing, pet names, fingering, rafe and the reader watch their porno

📖 What do you get the man who has everything on Valentine’s Day?

✨ “You want your gift, daddy?

“This is enough, truly,” he mumbles as he slides your bra straps off your shoulders. “But I’m a greedy man, honey. Let me have it.” ✨

800 words

Reader’s POV:

Valentine’s Day… What do you get your boyfriend? The man who has everything and anything he’s ever wanted, including you.

You pass him the little gift bag, watching his eyes sparkle as he takes it in, knowing he’ll most likely get something shiny purchased on his card. He humors you sweetly nonetheless, giving you that smile that makes your heart race a little faster.

His eyebrows pinch together as he pulls out the flash drive. “What do we have here?” He eyes the little device in his large palm, his curiosity peaks, turning the faux surprise genuine. He looks down at you, waiting for your response, but you simply shrug and giggle. “Alright. Alright. Let’s see what my girl got me. Yeah?”

He whisks you off your kitten-heeled feet, taking you into his arms, walking down the long hallways of Tanneyhill to his master bedroom. You let out a little gasp as you take everything in, the usual gifts and flowers, but Rafe loves how excited you get each time, regardless.

“Rafey…” You coo, making the high-points of his cheeks blush as you fawn over his sweetness and how well he takes care of you.

“Daddy’s always got you. You know that, princess,” he hums, dressing your new Tiffany necklace around your throat as he kisses his way to your ear. “Can’t wait to see what you got me, baby girl.”

“Why don’t you get comfortable? And I’ll go put something on,” you whisper onto his lips, to which he happily obliges.

You stroll over to the nightstand, littered with gifts purchased by Rafe, eyeing the lingerie sets.

“Somethin’ pink, princess,” he aids.

You change quickly, slipping into the matching silk robe before stepping into your heels again. Snagging the flash drive, you pop it into the tv, sauntering toward the bed as Rafe stalks your movements with a preditory stare, waiting for you to drop the delicate fabric.

His eyes are only on you for a moment before they roll back—Rafe grabbing for you fast, drawing you closer. You straddle his legs, feeling his cock, hard between your thighs.

“Tonight is going to be a good night,” he smiles, his hands drifting around to your ass, gripping tightly.

“Mmm… All night long?”

“All night long, angel. Gonna make you so dumb you forget your own name,” he chuckles raspily against your glossy lips.

“You want your gift, daddy?”

“This is enough, truly,” he mumbles as he slides your bra straps off your shoulders. “But I’m a greedy man, honey. Let me have it.”

You reach over to the nightstand, grabbing the remote, pressing play. Rafe’s eyes double with his devilish smile as he takes a rough grip on your curves. “Fuck, was this Moracco?” He rasps. “Did you record-” His voice trails off as he watches your naked body come into frame before adjusting the camera slightly, ensuring the perfect angle for him. “Holy shit. My girl looks fuckin’ good,” he moans before slapping your ass. “God damn. C’omere, princess.”

He snaps at the little band of your thong guiding you to slip it off. You finger the clasp of your bra flicking that away before relaxing your back into his muscular chest. Rafe snuggles into you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as you kiss on camera.

“Look at how good we look. Shit,” he sighs, kissing you gently on the neck, drifting up toward your ear. “My own personal pornstar,” he groans sinfully. His soft voice in your ears gives you the giggles. “Ugh… Not the giggle too. Just kill me, princess.”

He draws his hands up to your breasts, taking a hold of them, massaging them in his large palms. He circles your nipples slowly, making you whine.

“Fuck, I gotta big dick. You think she’s gonna take it all in that tight little pussy?” He taunts. Rafe’s hand drifts over your naval, lowering to your sex, his other hand resting lightly on your throat.

He massages the inside of your thighs with a heavy hand, dangerously close to where you’re craving him most. “Mmm…” you purr. He grabs your chin roughly, directing you toward his lips.

You let out an airy sigh when he slides his fingers through your folds, the tip of his ringed digits dipping in and out of your entrance. His fingers rub around your clit, small waves of pleasure with every stroke of the hand.

“We’re gonna watch this again and again,” his fingers mirror his words; a smile felt against your lips.

“Please, daddy.”

“So polite, princess. So good f’me. Look at you take my cock. Fuck m’givin’ it to you so good,“ he hums.

”So – So good,“ you pant as Rafe adds more friction. ”Just like that.“ You plead. Rafe kisses your neck roughly—your heart starts beating faster.

He lets out a wicked laugh as you repeat yourself on camera. “Yes, Rafe just like that. Fuck!” Your desperate cries come pouring out of the tv speakers. He repeats your words teasingly through kisses which only makes you wetter, the squelching of your own pussy making the video hard to hear.

”Bet you can’t wait for me to stuff you full of my cock. Hmm? Look at you beg for me. I’m ruining you, honey. Jesus fuck. N’you’re just takin’ me like the whore you are,” he grunts. Rafe adds all four fingers, his strong hands rubbing your bundle of nerves. You hit your crescendo. “That’s it, baby,” he growls. “Cum for me.”

You feel yourself pulsing, shockwaves gripping your body as you ride the waves of your orgasm. Rafe’s fingers slip along your pussy, sinking in and out of your entrance slowly, just playing with you, letting you soak in all your pleasure.

You watch yourself fall apart on camera as Rafe cums with you. The two of you reaching for air, panting and kissing between breathes as he plays with the cum slipping out of your soaked hole, before stuffing it deep inside.

He lift his finger to his lips, sucking them clean before reaching for the remote.

“Round two, princess.”