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how do u feel about rape?

I personally do not like it, if I write it, it would be cnc instead. I will not try cnc in real life since I don’t like it and I’ve been raped before by different men.

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Save a horse ride a cowboy 😏😏

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- smut, black!coded reader, f/m, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, crying (y/n tho lol), crude language, mating press (pos.), overstimulation -

FRESHLY MANICURED NAILS clawed at the wrinkled pink sheets of your bed. your tangled, newly installed weave was sprawled across your many plump pillows. you were practically folded in half— ankles dangled by your ears and your body felt sticky with sweat and cum.

"take it, baby— give me another one 'n cum on this dick.."

his words went through one ear and out the other while he pounded his cock in your tight pussy. your toes curled at the feeling of overstimulation flowing through your veins— watering eyes flickering to the back of your head. you moaned softly and tears fluttered down your hot cheeks. everytime his wet cock split apart your creamy folds; you squealed— biting don hard on your bottom lip. the wet ripples of your skin with every slap of his hips against yourself filled the room.

"s— stop," you sobbed and hiccuped on moans as his thumb raked circles over your swollen clit. ".. 'can't cum no more! stop p— please!"

"yes you can— now shut the fuck up 'n take it, pretty." he grunted— harsh breaths left his red lips.

you furrowed your brows and glanced down. your tits bounced on par with each of his thrusts and your tummy jiggled— his pace was unforgiving. the pads of his rough fingers rubbed the sensitive bud which made little whimpers flow from your sore throat.

"no! no! i— i'm.." you jerked your hips back— the feeling was overwheming.

he pressed his body closer to your own— your arousal coated his dick with ever every thrust. a creamy, white ring formed around the base— his cum from previous rounds smeared on your inner thighs and leaked from your hole.

"ya wanted this— walked around like a slut in public just beggin' to get fucked," he raised his slightly hand and slapped your clit. "now you got my dick but y're still complainin.."

you whined, "I— I'm not! baby please..!"

"baby please," he mocked— a wide grin spreading across his face. ".. now make me cum— it's all yours, mama."

CHARACTERS - TOJI, SUKUNA, todo, reiner, CONNIE, eren, MIGUEL O'HARA, draken, HANMA, TAIJU, sanemi, AOMINE

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cw. size kink, breeding kink, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), implied overstimulation, lmk if i forgot any!

"c'mon baby, gimme one more."

he groans, lips pressed against your clit and your legs over his shoulders. one of his hands is occupied with fingering you, the pads of his ring and middle fingers massaging the spot he knows drives you insane.

his cock is just too big for you, and he has to make you cum at least once just so he can finally put it in. not that he's complaining, of course. he loves making you cum on his tongue and the feeling of your hands pulling at his hair, almost as much as he loves the feeling of your cunt around his cock. almost.

when he finally thinks you're ready, it takes all his willpower not to just slide all of it in immediately. you're so wet, folds easily parting and letting him in. but he can't. he knows he's big and he doesn't want to hurt you but god, is it fucking hard to hold back when he can feel the way your cunt is sucking him in.

slowly, inch by inch, he manages to sheath himself fully and oh, god... his head is spinning with the whimper you make as the head nudges against your sweet spot, your eyes glossy with tears because it just feels so good. he wants to give you a few seconds or minutes to adjust. really, he does.

but when you gasp and tell him "s' so big..." while you press against your lower stomach and look up at him with hearts in your eyes... all his patience and restraint goes out the window because he can't think of anything else other than stuffing you full of his cum.

sighhh. big men who try to be patient and gentle but still end up making you sore with how much they want to fuck a baby into you.

BAJI, draken, TAIJU, kakucho, mucho, daichi, USHIJIMA, KUROO, iwaizumi, kunigami, + any of ur favs!!

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Love, love, love, love that!!

old price sketch

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You, in the quiet after midnight

Gojo Satoru x female!reader

Summary: You’ve known Gojo since college. Now he’s your boss, you’re his secretary, and neither of you talks about the nights you spend tangled together. It was fine—until the party, the jealousy, and everything you’ve been avoiding finally comes out.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, friends with benefits, emotional vulnerability, jealousy, past relationship, slow burn, unresolved feelings, suggestive content, boss/secretary dynamic, miscommunication, college flashbacks, complicated emotions, soft heartbreak, longing, no happy ending

wc; 1,925

You’re sitting at your favorite corner of your cluttered desk—where chipped coffee mugs, a jumble of handwritten notes, and faded polaroids of long-ago college days create a world all your own. Tonight, your anonymous blog is alive with hundreds of followers who crave your raw, unfiltered truth. And as you begin to type, you can’t help but spill out every detail of a story that has defined you: the story of how you met Gojo in college, how that quiet connection blossomed into something fierce and forbidden, and how life twisted your fates so that now you’re not just a distant memory from his past but the one he calls his trusted secretary.

It all began on the sun-soaked walkways of your sprawling college campus—a time when every moment felt limitless and every heartbeat echoed with possibility. You remember that first day, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of fresh grass. Amid the chatter and rush of new beginnings, you caught sight of him. Gojo was nothing if not magnetic even then—a mischievous glint in his eyes, an effortless smile that dared the world to dream beyond its confines. In lecture halls and quiet corners of the library, you gravitated toward him, drawn in by his unspoken promise of secrets and escapes from the ordinary.

Late nights found you both in conversation, hidden away from the indifferent hum of campus life. Between the clatter of dormitory laughter and the soft rustle of turning pages, you shared stories of youthful hope and reckless ambition. You became each other’s confidant, a confidante who understood every unpolished desire and every uncertain whisper of longing. Together, you scribbled down your ideas on scraps of paper and poured your hearts into midnight essays on life, love, and the endless possibility that seemed to flicker in every stolen glance. Every shared smile was a secret pact—a silent promise that the bond you were building was unique, worth cherishing despite the chaos of a world that rarely spared such delicate treasures.

Time marched on, and the carefree days of college faded into the inevitable hum of adulthood. While you both ventured toward your separate destinies, fate conspired to reunite you in the most unexpected of ways. Gojo transformed before your eyes into the unstoppable CEO he is today—a man whose brilliance and ambition now command entire boardrooms and shape corporate empires. And you, with all your quiet strength and the gentle wisdom honed through every heartache, found yourself by his side yet again, chosen to be his secretary—the one person who knew him as intimately as the pages of your secret journal.

Tonight is the firm’s annual party, an extravagant affair dripping with high-powered allure and the promise of a shimmering future. The ballroom glows under dim, artful lighting, the walls echoing with laughter, clinking glasses, and a music beat that vibrates through the soles of your worn-out shoes. You enter in a dress you spent hours perfecting—a dress that hugs your curves, speaks of quiet confidence, and hides a storm of conflicting memories underneath its delicate fabric. Every step you take carries the weight of your past and the uncertainty of what the present might bring.

Across the room, behind a cascade of elegant suits and brilliant smiles, stands Gojo. His presence is commanding, as it always has been, yet there is a palpable tension that sets your heart racing as it did in those long-forgotten college days. The man in front of you is now the epitome of success—a brilliant CEO whose every gesture speaks of power and responsibility. Yet as your eyes meet his, you catch a glimpse of the tender vulnerability that once made him the playful rebel of your youth. For a fleeting moment, you see the echo of those late-night confessions, that unguarded glimpse into his soul that you captured in countless scribbles and whispered lines.

But tonight is not simply a reunion of old memories—it is tainted by a recent betrayal that lingers like a bruise on your heart. Just days ago, you had almost stumbled on a secret that shattered your once unblemished trust. In a moment of unexpected clarity, you’d passed by his sleek, modern office and had paused at the slightly open door. There, a scene unfolded that you could neither ignore nor forget: Gojo, laughing with another woman in a way that would have been so tender, so intimately charged, had sent a jolt of bitter disillusionment crashing through you. It wasn’t a scandalous affair in the public eye, but to you, it was as if every cherished memory had been defiled by an act of careless indifference.

The memory clings to you as you wend your way through the shimmering throng of colleagues and admirers. Every interaction at the party—a flirtatious glance, a whispered word, even the subtle turn of an eyebrow—brings you face-to-face with both the love of your past and the scars of betrayal. And then, amid the soft murmur of negotiations and the superficial glow of success, you sense Geto moving gracefully through the crowd. Geto, your confidante and staunch ally in every twist of fate, has always been the one to speak truth wrapped in playful sarcasm. As she nears, her eyes lock onto Gojo and, in a low but piercing tone meant only for him, she murmurs a teasing yet charged admonishment: “If you keep staring like that, you’re gonna burn a hole in her dress.” Those words slice through the ambient noise, a reminder of every instance when words left unspoken and actions left unchallenged had carved deeper into your wounded heart.

Before long, the charged atmosphere compels you to step away from the ceaseless parade of polished smiles and forced laughter. You find solace in a quiet alcove—a dimly lit corner near an unpretentious bar where the world seems to slow down just enough for secrets to spill and hearts to bare themselves. It is here, amidst the soft hum of background music and the muted glow of candlelight, that Gojo finally approaches you. His footsteps are soft but deliberate, each one echoing the burden of unspoken memories and the gravity of a decision made too late. Standing in this private haven, away from the relentless scrutiny of the party, he speaks in a tone that trembles with all the vulnerability you never dreamed a CEO could show: “Can we talk? Somewhere private…?”

For a heartbeat, you are suspended between desire and defiance. The man before you—the man who once shared whispered secrets in the hush of the night, whose laughter had lit up your world—now looks at you with eyes heavy with regret and longing. And as his words hang between you, every memory—the stolen conversations under starlit skies, the exchanges of heartfelt promises scribbled in notebooks, the laughter that once bridged the gap between youthful hope and the ache of reality—comes crashing back, raw and undeniable.

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you try to articulate the storm inside you, yet the betrayal, the hurt of that recent moment, steals your voice. Finally, with a tremor that betrays both your resolve and the deep fissures in your heart, you whisper, “I don’t think there’s anything left to say, Gojo.” The words are soft, almost lost in the heavy silence that envelops you both—a silence as long and lingering as the nights you once spent pouring your heart out on your anonymous blog to hundreds of loyal readers who understood every tear-stained confession.

For a long, agonizing moment, the space between you seems infinite—a vast expanse filled with every forgotten dream and every regret left unspoken. In that stretch of time, the ambiance of the party retreats, leaving you alone with the swirl of your memories: the passionate debates about life’s meaning in the college dorms, the impulsive declarations of undying loyalty scribbled in hurried texts, and the secret poetry of your soul that once believed nothing could ever shatter the bond you shared.

Then, as if summoned by fate itself, Geto reappears like a ghost from your past—a steadfast reminder that while the past is etched into every contour of your being, you must forge a future too. Her previous teasing words reverberate in your mind, a bittersweet echo of opportunities missed and hearts left waiting for answers. With every beat of your aching heart, you realize that this confrontation, this charged exchange, is merely another chapter in a story that has spanned years, one that has seen trust and betrayal intertwine like ink on paper.

The party, with its polished veneer and glamorous distractions, continues unabated around you. Yet in that secluded corner, every fleeting glance from Gojo, every subtle shift in his stance, speaks volumes of a past that refuses to be erased. You watch him—his eyes glistening with an intensity that mirrors your own inner turmoil—and you know that despite the confident façade he maintains in boardrooms and high-profile meetings, there is a part of him that aches as deeply as you do. That part of him that remembers the effortless connection of shared dreams, the quiet moments when the future seemed bright and unburdened by the weight of betrayal.

As you finally step back into the swirling current of the party, your heart is heavy with the collision of past and present. Every whisper from the crowd, every flash of an approving smile from a stranger, feels like a reminder of the many layers of yourself that have been worn and weathered over time. You can already sense that later tonight, away from the watchful eyes of a world that only sees what is polished and perfect, you will return to the solitude of your room. There, by the soft glow of your computer screen, you will document this night in a post on your anonymous blog—a post that will capture the raw, unedited truth of your experience as if it were a confession meant for a trusted friend.

In that moment, you realize that while nothing may be resolved tonight—the betrayal remains, the unspoken words still linger, and the promise of what once was dances just out of reach—you are standing at the precipice of a new beginning. The story you have long chronicled on your blog is far from over. It is a living narrative, evolving with every heartbeat, every missed chance, every tender memory, and every painful secret.

So you take a final, lingering look at the glittering ballroom and the man who has haunted your dreams since college, and you carry with you the hope that someday, the shattered remnants of the past might be gathered up and reassembled into something whole. Until that day comes, every unsent draft, every raw post, and every tear-stained line you write is proof that your heart—despite every betrayal and every quiet goodbye—still dares to hope. And in that hope, there is a promise: that the love you once knew, with all its messy imperfections and unspoken truths, will one day be more than just a secret lost in the echoes of an anonymous blog.

⸻

You lean back, the clack of the keyboard fading into silence as you read over your words one last time. The room is quiet now, the noise of the party just a distant murmur, and in that stillness, you know this isn’t the end. It’s simply another entry in a story that continues to unfold—one where every scar, every whispered regret, and every hopeful heartbeat is immortalized in the unending search for healing, understanding, and maybe, finally, reconciliation.

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Bo Sinclair P!Links

MDNI ( MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!)

Warnings; rape, fingering, creampie, flashlight use, vibrator, p in v, unprotected sex, anal, threesome mmf, cowgirl, gun use

Part 1

He needed to stuff you full part 2 part 3

Forced creampie

Riding him

Tried escaping again

He loves punishing you part 2

It’s been sooo long

Threesome with Vincent

Wanted to try anal

Porn hub

Can’t get enough

Type of video he’d send you

Tags;

@anthropologiesnail

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Okay but like I feel like in the show, Rafe never had any female attention and like I need a season 2 Rafe with reader where he’s just a withering mess the first time he has sex with reader, like he’s still dominant ofc but he just can’t control the whimpers and shaking 😩

rafe planted his hand on the pillow near your head, his free hand wrapped around him, teasing and dragging the head of his cock against your slick folds. you squirmed under him each time his tip prodded at your sopping hole, “p-please, rafe…need you inside me.”

“yeah? needy little thing just wants to be stuffed full?” rafe teased, “oh fuuuck,” he groaned, his jaw going slack and his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his skull as he slipped inside you. rafe had to give himself a few seconds to adjust to the way your cunt felt. he was used to fisting his own cock in his hand, and sure, he's been with a few girls here and there, but you? nothing could compare to how you felt around him; he's never felt anything like it before. it was pure fucking heaven to him; you were so warm and tight.

his hand encircled your throat, his thick cock dragging against your inner walls as he started to thrust into you. "shit..." he moaned, pulling your legs up to wrap around him. his hips snapped into yours relentlessly. soft moans slipped from your lips, and your hips chased after his, meeting his thrusts, silently begging him for more. "god, you feel so fuckin' good," he buried his face in the crook of your neck, trying to muffle his small whimpers into your flesh. "fuck baby, you feel like heaven...don't think i'm gonna last," his body trembles, desperately pounding into your willing cunt as your walls suck him in deeper.

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can you make p links with actual links or twitter links about what kinks you think rafe would have!💜

What kinks would Rafe Cameron have ? . . .

꩜ .ᐟ x/twitter porn links

he definitely has a somno kink

rough sex 1 / 2 / 3

100% anal

overstimulation 1 / 2

strength difference(idk what to call it lmao)

riding 1 / 2 / 3

creampies 1 / 2 / 3

꩜ .ᐟ website porn links

overstimulation (spankbang) / 2 (Rafe rec, ph)

painal (xvideos)

creampie (ph)

⟡ ݁₊ . made by sarahsangelicdoll, 2025 on tumblr! ©

⟡ ݁₊ . i plan on adding more onto this.. didn’t want it to get too packed. Sorry for the lack of actual sites i usually just stick to twitter 😭

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TOJI p!links

daddy kink, punishment, eating pussy, fingering, older man

Fucks his little housewife after work

Sugardaddy!Toji fucks you for the first time

You like being punished?

Daddy needs to fill that pussy with his fingers

Daddy needs a taste

Eye contact

Pounding

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Rafe Drabble

Smut! 18+ Not proofread.

Warnings!creampie, bullying, praise

Your friends never believed you when you said you were with Rafe. They always thought you were kidding. ‘Why would he want you?’ ‘He obviously wants me!’ They would tease you and say these nasty things.

After going to his house, you were in tears already. You told him all the nasty things they would say to you. How mean they were to you. Rafe reassured you, he wants you not them.

Next morning, video pops up on their phones. Rafe is fucking you from behind and your back is turned towards him. You’re moaning so loud, your needy cunt is so wet for his fat cock.

‘Good fucking girl. Take my dick like that. Oh yes!’ He said in the background and you would back your ass up to his hips taking him deep. At the end he would fill your cunt up with his cum, creaming your little hole. ‘Good girl, did such a good job.’ He said at the end of the video, slipping out and seeing his creamy dick.

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dark nights

18+

you don't think sharing a room with your lecturers is a big deal. not until professor rogers starts going a little too far with his sleepwalking. thankfully, professor barnes is there to talk you through it.

content warning: dark!steve x f!reader x soft!dark!bucky, age gap, somnophilia, dub/noncon, naive!reader, smut, voyeurism, booby stuff, fingering, penetrative sex, rough sex, cream pie, cockwarming.

As you lie on your side, the gentle sound of rain pattering against the window soothes you. You've never been quick to fall asleep, but the motel's lumpy mattress isn't helping. You are appreciate of Steve's warmth, though, and the fact that you don't feel uncomfortable to be sharing a bed with him at all.

When Professor Barnes invited you on this research trip, you knew you couldn't turn the opportunity down. Two weeks with two of the greatest minds in quantum physics? You had to say yes, utterly honored that they allowed you, a mere freshman barely two months into her college career, to accompany them.

Bucky was happy to take the sofa bed, where he lays now. He's still awake; you can hear him typing on his phone every so often. It's only been ten minutes since you got into bed but they did tell you Steve takes only minutes to fall into a deep sleep. They also warned you that he's prone to sleepwalking, which doesn't worry you - until you feel his arm wrap around you.

"Professor Rogers?" You whisper, turning your head to find his eyes closed as he softly snores.

"Everything alright?" Bucky asks you from the couch. The lamp by the TV is still on so you can clearly see him sitting up.

"Uh, yeah," You reply lowly. "All good."

Not convinced by your tone, Bucky stands up to check on you, his brows furrowing. "Steve sleepwalks, as we mentioned, pay it no mind," He assures you. "Try and get some sleep, flower. Big day tomorrow."

You take his advice, shutting your eyes and trying your best to relax - but then you feel Steve's hand cup your breast. You suck in a gasp, your eyes flying wide open.

"Professor Barnes," You call out to Bucky, who's still standing by the couch.

"What's wrong?" He asks you, taking a step closer.

"He.... he's touching my... chest," You manage to spurt out, cringing inwardly.

Bucky tuts, slowly walking over to you. "I'm sorry about him, but you must stay calm," He tells you firmly. "You can't wake up a sleepwalker."

Steve's fingers start rubbing and pulling at your nipple, making you freeze up. "He... Professor Barnes, please stop him!" You beg him desperately.

"Shh," Bucky whispers soothingly, coming closer to where you lay. His glasses rest lowly on his nose, the pipe in his mouth letting out smoke. "Be brave, flower. It can be incredibly dangerous to wake someone while they're sleepwalking."

"I - this isn't sleepwalking," You whisper, holding back your whimpers while Steve paws at your tits.

"Ah, but it is," Bucky retorts. "Sleepwalkers don't only get up and trot around in the night. I've heard some cases where they cook and eat an entire meal while asleep, and one man even drove all the way to work. It's a dynamic ailment, flower, please be patient with him. I'm sorry, I didn't know Steve's sleepwalking could manifest in a sexual manner, but I'm sure he'll stop soon."

You bite down on your lip and hope he's right. Carefully, you try to move Steve's hands off your breasts, but he only squeezes them harder, making you squirm. Suddenly he pulls up your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cold air - and worse, to Bucky's eyes.

"Professor," You shudder, bringing your hands up to cover your chest.

"Just relax," Bucky says lowly, his eyes dark. "It'll be over soon."

Steve pins your left shoulder down firmly before moving his head down. You aren't sure what he's doing until you feel his lips wrap around your nipple. A whimper leaves your mouth as he sucks on your tit, conflicting feelings coursing through you. Though you're terrified and embarrassed, you also feel pangs of pleasure shooting through you like electricity.

"Remain calm, flower," Bucky utters soothingly. "Let him continue and he'll stop on his own accord. We cannot wake him."

You're slightly frustrated at his words - surely a professor forcing his way on a student, whether consciously or not, is more important than whatever danger to Steve you would be posing by waking him up? You try to push him off you, but even in slumber, he's much too strong and heavy for you to try and fight against him.

Steve's hand suddenly pushes past the hemline of your shorts and bypasses your panties. You almost squeal as his fingers plunge into you with no warning, three digits stretching your entrance. The ease with which he's able to slide in, the juices which coat his fingers, leave you incredibly ashamed.

"Professor Barnes," You cry lowly between shaky breaths. "It - he's hurting me."

"Shh, shh, shh," Bucky hushes you as he places a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry about this, honey, I really am, but there's nothing I can do. Try and close your eyes, think about something else."

You squeeze your eyes shut but no pleasant thoughts can distract you from Steve fucking you with his fingers. He curls and scissors them inside you, making your stomach flip. The sound of his fingers sloshing in and out of your wet cunt fill the room, and you're utterly humiliated.

Small whines and moans rush past your lips uncontrollably as Steve fingers you faster, his mouth still latched onto your hard nipple. You wince, trying not to let the pleasure take over, determined to remain professional.

"You're doing so well, flower," Bucky says as he looks your body up and down, watching as Steve violates you. "Being such a good girl, so calm."

"Please, Sir," You whimper, shaking your head. "Make him stop."

"I'm sure it won't be much longer, now," Bucky assures you, biting on his smoke pipe. "That's it, flower, stay nice and relaxed."

Your heart is beating out of your chest and it only beats harder when you feel Steve's hard cock resting against your bare thigh. Before you can move away from him, he pulls his fingers out of you and rips apart your shorts, panties and all. Your body is frozen in shock as he shoves you onto your side with a gruff grunt, and before you get the chance to realize what's about to happen and brace yourself for it, Steve pushes his entire cock into your cunt.

"Oh, my God!" You can't help but cry loudly. Hoping it's enough to wake him, you feel a sense of relief as he stops moving. There are a few moments of silence and just as you look up and meet Bucky's eyes with your tear-filled ones, Steve begins to roughly fuck you.

His hips snap against yours over and over as he mercilessly probes you with his thick cock. You could swear it feels like you're being torn apart, every inch of your skin on fire as you tightly grip onto the sheets.

"Just stay calm," Bucky says casually as he strokes your hair, watching Steve fuck you like an animal. "That's a good girl, just take it."

"Please," You whimper, crying with every hard thrust he serves you. It makes you feel even worse when the pain begins to make room for pleasure, as though you're just as animalistic and depraved as Steve's unconscious alter ego.

The springs in the mattress squeak beneath you as Steve fucks you harder and the headboard repeatedly smacks against the wall with a heavy thump. He lets out low grunts and growls into your ear, his hands keeping you pinned to the bed. A part of you doesn't believe that he's genuinely sleepwalking when you see the look in his eyes - but you remember what Bucky said. Some people can cook meals and drive cars while sleepwalking - it is so crazy to think someone could have sex while sleepwalking?

Still, though, you refuse to let Bucky know that a part of you is finding the sordid encounter enjoyable. While pleasure envelopes you and cascades down your spine, you keep on a strong face in hopes that it'll convince Bucky you can remain professional even in the most difficult and absurd situations.

"That's it, flower, you're being so good," Bucky mumbles, gently stroking your cheek. "It's almost over, I promise. Just a little longer. You're taking this all so well, being so good for us. We knew you would be."

His words confuse you for a second - did they know this was going to happen? But you shake away those thoughts. There's no way they would have let you come if they knew this was possible, you must have misunderstood him.

Steve's thrusts become quicker and harder as he fucks you into the mattress. Your legs shake and you can't believe how close you are to climaxing. You try to hold it back, refusing to orgasm in front of your professors, but when Steve suddenly begins rubbing harsh circles onto your clit while pulling and twisting your nipple, you know you have no control. With a loud cry, you cum onto his cock, your cunt squeezing around his pulsating shaft.

"That's it, good girl," Bucky mumbles, stroking your slacked jaw as your eyes roll back and your body trembles and shakes.

Steve thrusts a few more times before he cums with a grunt, filling you with his seed. You gasp at the feeling, his warm cum coating your insides, his twitching cock beating against your walls.

"You did so well," Bucky says, his own cock hard and leaking precum, threatening to burst through his pants. "You've been such a good girl tonight."

All you can let out is a weak whimper.

Bucky gives you a soft smile. "Now, get some sleep," He tells you firmly before making his way to the bathroom.

You breathe heavily, trying to process the events of the night, equally as ashamed as you are exhausted. A few moments pass and you wait for Steve to pull out and return to his side of the bed, but he remains where he is with his cock inside you, heavy arm around your body, soft snores leaving his mouth.

You try to push him off you but he only grips you tighter and even thrusts his softening cock in and out of you a few times, scaring you into remaining perfectly still for the rest of the night.

masterlist

buy me a kofi <3

follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifications so you know when I post 📫

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first post! (kinda shit!!)

big dick simon 'ghost' riley who fucks you stupid by accident!

✎ cw: stomach bulge. no use of condom. mentions of female genitals but no gender!

simon doesn't actually mean to fuck you dumb. it's just that his cock is too big – way too big. he knows his cock size is above average and it's one of the reasons why woman avoided him in the past and rejected him. also because of his ridiculous, frightening aura...

he doesn't even know how he managed to get so lucky with you. the way you take his cock so well, letting him slip it in. inch by inch. he rubs your clit to ease you up, to help you accommodate to his size a lot better and when he gets your sign to let him continue.

he drags his hips back and forth. his tip kissing your cervix with ease slow thrust. he makes sure to be gentle with you, he knows how big he is, and he knows that you can't take it quick at first.

he peppers you with kisses while drawing 8's against your puffy clit. he pays close attention to your expression, noticing your already fucked out face. tears building up in your eyes, eyebrows furrowed, mouth wide open, letting out plenty of moans.

he chuckles, "barley did anything to you and you're already out of your mind."

he moves his hips a bit faster, feeling the familiar clench of your cunt wrapping around his cock. he groans as his cock forming a bulge in your stomach. he grabs your hand and makes you feel it. he does this every time, and it never fails to heighten your arousal. he rubs your clit faster along with moving his hips faster until you both crash from your high.

[backstabbvrs]

What binds us // 2

John 'Soap' MacTavish / fem!Reader

Summary:   Returning home as soon as he is able, Soap can‘t help but hope that his wife will reconsider their divorce. 

Content:   civilian wife, lots of hurt/angst and some comfort, divorce (?), swearing, coming-home-from-deployment

Word Count:   2.6k

Part:   1/2/3 <- previous chapter next chapter ->

Notes: I finally got around to finishing the second chapter! Had to write this one in my phone notes, so please forgive any mistakes you might find. I felt so bad for him halfway through, but tried to stay strong. 💔 They also own a cat, everybody say hi to Salome - 🐈

True to his word, Price had arranged a flight home within 72 hours of his first message, and Soap didn‘t even bat an eye at the eye-watering extra fees for his checked luggage and business class upgrade. 

He‘d been all wired up since his wife had called him. He snapped and shouted at everyone except Lieutenant Ghost (he wasn‘t suicidal enough for that - yet) that came too close, asked stupid questions or even dared to simply breathe too loudly in his proximity. Soap felt himself unravel at the edges, one carefully placed stitch at a time.

Only the extensive therapy he‘d been dragged to over the years gave him enough of an outside perspective on the turmoil inside of himself to realize that all that molten hot anger was not directed at the useless driver, or the informant who didn‘t seem to be able shut the fuck up for a moment.

No. Soap knew that all the irritation and itch to hurt was directed at himself. That he‘d messed up badly this time, that it had been going on for months and he‘d been too focused on other things to see it. Or maybe he‘d just suppressed the sadness in his wife‘s voice, the silences and half-assed answers when he asked her about her day and immediately accepted her fine‘s and the usual‘s.

He had been such a colossal prick looking back, it was kind of astonishing that she‘d held out and waited for him as long as she had. Soap had scrolled back through their conversations, had listened to some of her older voice messages, read his own excuses for cancelling again and again.

And even though she‘d assured him that his training and the missions and his career was more important, he should have been better than that. Should have watched out for her, cared more - not lost himself in the work that ate away at his soul and mind when the cure for all his aches was waiting at home.

Soap rubbed over his eyes angrily as he stared out the plane window, long legs stretched far away from himself. The seat to his left was blissfully empty thanks to his second reservation under her name. The stewardess had given up on offering food, but steadily poured him another glass of Scotch when he pressed the little button on the menu screen.

His eyes felt dry and raw, and Soap wasn‘t ashamed to admit to himself that he‘d been on the verge of tears for three days now. His wife had tried calling him twice more since he‘d hung up, then texted him that he shouldn’t do anything stupid. 

Don‘t come home for this, John. I will always be here for you regardless. 

He brushed his thumb over the message, and was silently thankful for the forced airplane mode. The drinks in his system made his thoughts run even wilder, insecurities and fears that most army men carried in their hearts rising up in his throat.

Is there someone else? He wanted to type back. Is that why you don‘t want me to fix it?

But Soap knew she‘d never hurt him in such a way, that she truly thought they‘d be better off on their own. He would just have to prove her wrong.

Soap barely registered the landing, the extensive security screenings and double checking of his gun licenses, then military clearance. It was all standard procedure, he was able to answer their questions in his sleep. 

The only difference was that his wife wasn‘t there to greet him, wasn‘t standing ready with one of those airport luggage trolleys that always seemed to have at least one jammed wheel. The knowledge didn’t stop him from looking for her, traitorous heart beating fast and then dropping into his stomach at her absence. 

Glasgow wasn‘t very busy at this time of night, on a Tuesday no less, and the taxi driver was content to let the meter run when Soap asked him to wait outside the 24 hours supermarket. He picked up the disgusting stuffed olives she loved so much, briefly contemplating flowers before abandoning the thought. They‘d never been that kind of couple, and he didn‘t want to start putting on a mask when what he really needed to do was strip himself.

For the first time since they‘d bought their small house he was glad that she hadn‘t listened to him about completely replacing all the street facing windows with milk glass. Soap was able to see her clearly, sitting at the low sofa table with her legs tucked underneath herself and their fat ginger cat on her lap as she typed away at something. 

Her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, face bare and pale in the glow of the laptop, and he oddly felt like he was intruding on a scene not meant for his eyes.

It took him a couple more moments to unglue his feet from the sidewalk, to push open the rusty door of the little path lined with colored pebbles that ended in their front door. He‘d been meaning to replace it, along with their postbox - when had that been? Two years ago now?

He fiddled with his keys, anxious. What did it say about him that he felt like a stranger standing outside his own home?

Shaking his head and dropping his heavy bags, he rung the doorbell instead.

There was a beat of silence, and Soap could just picture his wife raising her head away from the screen, how Salome had probably squeezed herself under the armchair, hissing. Neither one of the women in his life liked it when unannounced visitors came around.

Then the faint glow from the livingroom became brighter, he could see it through the colorful glass shards of the entrance door - how the dark shape of her moved closer. She hesitated on the other side. He wondered if he could take the blow of her not answering the door, or if his heart would shatter right here on their doorstep with the faint drizzle of rain dampening his curls.

But then she cracked the door open, her big eyes peering up at him for a moment. They stared at each other, and then she exhaled shakily, resting her forehead on the chipped wood. 

"You came," his wife whispered, and Soap ducked his head down to her level, shoulder against the frame as he fought hard not to beg her to open the door further and let him in.

"f'course I did," he rasped, shocked at the raw need in his voice. "Said I would, didn’t I?"

She blinked her eyes back open, and it seemed like she was holding back words heavy on her tongue. That was okay, he knew what she was thinking anyway: wouldn‘t have been the first time you said one thing and did another.

"But you were out on a mission."

There was no question, but he nodded anyway.

"I was."

"And then you left early."

"Yes, ma‘am." 

She snorted, then pulled open the door more firmly and stepped aside. Soap stumbled inside, immediately assaulted by warmth and the smell of her that permeated their home. It was dizzying and intoxicating and it made him want to curl up in a ball and weep.

"Are you hungry?" She asked, apparently unbothered that it was two in the morning and that he was dripping all over her nice new carpet in the entryway. 

"Starving," he breathed, then followed her like a lost puppy as she disappeared into the kitchen. 

Soap felt wrong-footed, clumsy and awkward as he wrung his hands and watched her reheat a plate of spaghetti.

His wife hugged herself around the middle, staring at the rotating dish in the microwave.

He wanted to tell her to be careful as she took it out with her bare hands instead of using the cute oven mitts she‘d gotten from her sister, but all he managed was a weak thanks as she put it down next to him on the kitchen island. 

They stood there, and she didn‘t meet his eyes anymore as Soap stared down at the crown of her head. They were close and yet there seemed to be a chasm, an ocean impossible to cross right between them. He might as well have been back in Afghanistan.

"Baby," he whispered, clutching the countertop so tightly that his knuckles turned white. She shook her head, then leaned away from him with yet another shaky exhale and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

"Mo ghràidh," Soap tried again, undeterred. "Can I hug you?"

"I-" she started, voice thick. "I don‘t know if I want that."

"Okay," he agreed, heart stinging. "Will you keep standing with me just like this then?"

She nodded slowly, leaning against the counter next to him and staring at the floor. 

When he didn‘t move, too busy drinking her in, she nudged him softly in the side. 

"It‘ll go cold."

"I‘m not actually hungry."

"Oh." It was a faint sound, somewhere between exasperated and amused. "I see."

They stood like that for some time, the rain heavier now as it hit the windows in a steady rhythm. Soap almost jumped out of his skin when something warm and furry circled around his legs, purring.

"Fuckin‘ cat is lucky I‘m not carrying," he swore, nudging Salome with his boot in greeting. She purred even louder, rubbing her chin along his shins. 

His wife giggled, then scooped the gingery monster into her arms. The one green eye that wasn‘t blind yet sparkled in the half-dark, and their cat meowed loudly at Soap.

"She just missed you," she smiled, kissing the scarred ears for a moment.

And did you? He wanted to ask, but swallowed the words down. It seemed like he‘d reached his limit of things he was able to leave unsaid for the night though, because the next question slipped out before he could stop himself.

"Did you call the lawyer again?" 

She stiffened a little, then glanced up at him from behind long eyelashes.

"Yeah," his wife said slowly, thinking hard. "She wasn‘t very happy that I called you. Thinks you‘ll talk me out of it." 

Damn right I am.

"What," he scoffed, arms crossed in defense of what might follow next. "She wanted you to just… send the finished papers?"

"Something like that."

Soap ground his teeth hard, trying not to panic again. 

"Well, I‘m glad you didn‘t listen."

"I wanted to," she confessed, and now it was him who couldn’t meet her eyes anymore. "I wanted it so badly, John. I‘ve been miserable and alone, and our whole life just seems to suffocate me recently."

"I‘m sorry," he said, and meant it with his whole heart. "I know I fucked up, that I should have been better for you-"

"No," she interrupted him, and reached out a hand, resting it on his bicep. Her small fingers were cold but it made him feel warm regardless. "I didn’t need you to be better, I just wanted you to be there."

His throat closed up, and Soap let his head drop far enough to rest his chin on his chest, trying to keep the tears at bay. Their cat meowed between them, as he rested one hand on hers without glancing up.

"I lost sight of what was most important t’me," he whispered. "‘s not an excuse but… bein’ out there, it just fucks up your perspective. Days bleed into one big messed up pile of monotonous tasks, violence, and death. I‘m not a good man, never pretended to be. You knew that when you married me, and never blamed me for it. And… I love you so fucking much, it hurts to even just think-"

He had to pause, drag one hand over his face roughly. 

His wife sighed softly, then rested her cheek on his arm where their hands were joined. 

"I know I hurt you, badly. And I know that you said you‘d stay in my life as a friend, but you‘re not. You never have been. You‘re my soulmate, my wife, and I-" Soap swallowed, torn between wanting to get it all out and crawl deeper into himself. "I want us to try again. Price offered three weeks of leave, but if I have to find a doctor that can testify how fucked in the head I am so I can stay longer, I will." 

"John!" She gasped, grabbing his chin to force him into facing her again. "You know that a bad psych eval might mean the end of your entire career!" 

Thinking about that hurt, but not as much as her phone call had. 

"I‘d do it for you," he whispered back. "I‘ll say that-"

"Shut up," she hissed, then dropped Salome on the countertop and shoved the cold spaghetti towards him. "Eat this, and then you‘ll go sleep on the sofa. I don‘t want to hear any of this nonsense."

"But-"

"No."

Chastened, Soap carried his plate into the dim living room and tried very hard not to take a peek at the still open website on his wife‘s laptop. There was a strange sense of relief when he noticed that all their wedding and travel pictures were still up on the walls, and he fiddled with his ring as he slumped heavily on the sofa.

The food was good as always, and he didn’t try to protest when she dragged in two pillows and a blanket, carefully putting it down next to him. 

She stood there for a moment, looking down at him with soft, sad eyes. Soap balanced his plate on a cushion nearby, then gently pulled her closer by the hips until she stood between his legs and he was able to bury his face in her stomach.

His wife didn’t move for a few long heartbeats, then stroked through his mohawk and all the way down to the top of his spine. Soap exhaled sharply, and hugged her, unable to speak as she comforted him when it really should have been the reverse. 

And much, much later, when the lack of sleep and constant worry finally caught up with him, she didn’t comment on the tear-stained blotches on her shirt, or the way his head hit the pillow way too hard. She draped the feathery soft blanket all around him, and the perfume of her skin and laundry detergent was the most heavenly thing he‘d smelt in months.

Just as he closed his swollen and dry eyes, his wife bent down - Soap held his breath as she kissed his forehead and cheekbone.

"We can talk again in the morning, my love," she whispered, and all he managed to do was squeeze her hand one last time before she packed up her things and left.

Tiny, clawed footsteps - then the sudden heavy weight of their cat on his hip startled him from a restless slumber, and Soap groggily patted the gnarled ears as he instinctively listened out for danger nearby. 

"You think we still got a chance, old girl?" He asked, and Salome meowed back. 

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Hopefully everybody got through their Monday alright, I‘m literally fighting demons to even set an alarm for tomorrow lmao. Much love and slobbery kisses! - A✨

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Rafe Cameron Porn Links

minors do not interact! 18+ blog please

warnings: squirting, eating out, fingering, blowjobs, cream pies, cnc, dirty talk, age gaps, daddy kink, incest, step!cest

He fucks you outside near the beach

Making his good girl feel good

He is so pussy whipped

You can’t stop squirting as he fills you up

Sneaking in your room past hours

Jock!rafe loves fucking your pussy and showing you who you belong to

Daddy giving you a reward

BDSM!Rafe training you to take daddy!Barry’s cock

Daddy loves creaming and teasing your pussy with panties on

Pornstar!rafe x pornstar!reader:

Part 1 (30:46 min)

Part 2 (39:03 min)

He loves fucking his favorite little pussy

Fucking his birthday girl

Brother!Rafe corrupting his baby sis

Daddy always knows how to treat you in bath time

Stepdad!Rafe using your pretty pussy in the morning

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Bo Sinclair P!links

This is 18+. MDNI.

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Fucks you after a hard work day

Punishes you for escaping

Pounds your tight pussy

Honeymoon sex

Doggy creampie

Daddy inspects your pretty pussy

You needed it raw

Shower pt 1 pt 2

From behind