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[anglbunny]

RIDING NERD!GOJO'S FACE

smut mdni, nerd!gojo, kinda long, face riding, cheetah!reader

He looked so cute like this—spread out on his twin bed, books shoved off to one side, mouth slightly open as he blinked up at you from behind thick-rimmed glasses.

“S-So, um…” Gojo licked his lips, clearly flustered as you straddled his chest. “You sure about this? I-I’ve never really—well, I mean, I have, technically, just not with someone on me, you know? On my—uh—face. Your fac-” You grinned.

“Relax, genius. You said you wanted to help me de-stress before finals, right?”

“Yeah, but I thought you meant like… a back massage,” he squeaked, then immediately clamped his mouth shut when you started shimmying out of your shorts.

“Does this look like I want a massage, Gojo?”

His throat bobbed in a swallow. “No! Definitely not.”

He was still wearing that stupid sweater vest, his tie a little crooked, his pale cheeks flushed like he was running a fever—and yet his hands instinctively gripped your thighs as you crawled up, settling above his mouth like it was your throne.

He whimpered. Actually whimpered.

“You’re not gonna, like… suffocate me, right?”

You smirked. “Only if it's bad.”

The second you lowered yourself onto his mouth, everything shy about him evaporated. One long, slow lick had your hips twitching. He moaned under you like your taste was better than any cheat code, hands tightening on your thighs as his tongue flicked and circled your clit with shocking precision.

"F-fuck, Gojo—where'd you learn that?" you gasped, grinding against his face.

His glasses were already fogging, nose pressed deep between your folds, his tongue doing filthy things that made your head spin.

He pulled back just long enough to pant, breathless, “I, uh—read some stuff. Research. Y’know. For science.”

You laughed—until he sucked your clit between his lips and you choked on a moan.

That tongue of his? A little awkward at first, but the man was a fast learner. Every whimper you made, every time your thighs clenched around his head, he adjusted—flicking faster, licking deeper, humming like a damn vibrator until your hips were jerking and you were close. “Just like that, nerd boy,” you panted, one hand gripping his messy white hair. “Don’t stop.”

He couldn’t stop. He was drunk on it—tongue gliding through your slick folds, nose bumping your clit, mouth soaking, desperate to make you come on his face like a star student.

You rode his tongue shamelessly now, using him like a toy, grinding your pussy into that flushed, eager face with no hesitation. He looked so wrecked. Glasses tilted. Lips shiny. Whimpering beneath you.

“Gonna come,” you moaned, hips stuttering. “Satoru—shit—fuck—”

And when it hit, it hit hard. You cried out, riding the waves of pleasure as his mouth kept moving, overstimulating you, tongue greedy and starving for more. He only stopped when you collapsed forward, trembling, thighs slick against his flushed cheeks.

You looked down.

His lips were glossy, his chin wet, glasses askew.

“…You okay?” you asked. lifting yourself off just enough for him to breathe.

He blinked, voice cracking adorably. “Y-Yeah. Just, um… when can we do that again?”

"christ, satoru.." you huffed, laughing but your legs were still trembling

TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau @laslowchan

A/N: idk what this is. also i dont write about him enough

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

Masterlist

[cameronsbabydoll]

you’re followin’ him around the house like a little duckling in heart-print pajama shorts, pink fuzzy socks, and a tank top that says ‘daddy’s girl’ in glitter letters.

he’s tryin’ to clean his guns on the coffee table. hasn’t looked up once.

“simonnn…” you whine, ploppin’ down beside him.

“what now.” flat. not a question. a warning.

“i just… i missed you…” you blink up at him, resting your chin on your hand. “also… if a plane crashes on the border of two countries… where do they bury the survivors?”

he finally looks up.

“what the fuck did you just say?”

you smile real pretty. “y’know! like… which country do they bury ‘em in?”

he just stares. dead silent.

“…jesus fuckin’ christ.”

you blink. “did i say something dumb?”

“they’re survivors, love. they don’t fuckin’ bury ‘em.”

you giggle. “ohhh…”

he sighs so hard it rattles the windows. tosses his rag onto the table.

“m’gonna lose my fuckin’ mind, swear to god.”

“simon…” you whimper, crawling into his lap. “don’t be mad…”

he leans back, big hands gripping your hips. jaw tight. eyes dark.

“what am i gonna do with you, huh? my soft little wife. can’t even figure out where a fuckin’ plane goes when it crashes.”
“was just askin’…”
“dumb girl.” he squeezes your hips hard. “head full of sparkles n’ nothin’ else.”

you whimper again, softly, nuzzling into his neck. “but i’m your wifey…”

“fuckin’ right you are.” he grabs your ass and pulls you down onto his cock, already hard beneath his sweats. “mine. my stupid little wifey who follows me ‘round like a lost fuckin’ puppy.”

“’m not stupid…”
“you are.” he kisses the corner of your mouth. “but that’s alright. i like you like this. soft. dumb. needy.”

he pulls your tank top down, lets your tits spill out. sucks a bruise into your skin.

“c’mon, then,” he mutters. “ride me. use that dumb brain for somethin’ useful.”

you bounce in his lap, messy and breathy, moanin’ into his mouth. he holds you like a toy—hands bruising, voice gruff.

“look at you,” he groans. “fuckin’ brainless, ain’t ya? all sloppy on my cock.”

“simon—simon, m’your wifey—”
“you’re my fuckin’ problem is what you are.”

you cum all over him with a high, shivery cry, babbling nonsense. he doesn’t stop. not even after.

“you ask me one more stupid question,” he pants, “and i’ll bend you over the fuckin’ oven.”

[gojoest]

a shape that could be ours — gojo satoru

synopsis: newlyweds are always asked the same question: “when will the babies come?” sometimes, the questions are harmless. other times, they get under your skin. you start to think and you start to imagine. maybe you tuck a pillow under your shirt one time, just to see. and maybe… your husband, gojo satoru, sees it too.

warnings: f!reader (she/her), established relationship (you are newly married), pregnancy/baby talk, pet names (pretty, baby), domestic fluff, not proofread, wc: 2.6k, dividers by @/cursed-carmine

“what? don’t you want a baby with me?” satoru asks as he sets the plates down on the counter and walks over to you. his voice is low and teasing. but not teasing in the usual carefree way; there’s something softer threaded through it, something almost serious. like it isn’t really a question he’s asking at all, but a quiet hope. a request. one he’s afraid to say out loud too often.

you blink up at him, unsure whether to be flustered or frustrated.

dinner had just ended. it was the first time you invited family over since the wedding. a small gathering, really, that still somehow managed to feel like a full-blown event. everything had to be perfect. you spent the whole day cleaning, organizing, cooking. and not just because you’re a perfectionist, but because…

…his clan is, well, intense.

polished and traditional in all the wrong ways where every smile hides a critique, every compliment is laced with a condition. you knew it wouldn’t be easy to deal with them tonight but it mattered to you for the dinner to go well.

and in many ways, it did. except for that constant baby talk. family pressure.

“so, when are we going to hear the pitter-patter of little feet?”

“you two are married now. it’s about time, don’t you think?”

“i give it three months.”

‘three months? i’m hoping to get good news by the end of this month. the gojo blood is impatient.”

the laughter at the table was warm and lighthearted on the surface. but all of it made you want to disappear into your bowl of rice. every eye was on you and satoru — some amused, others expectant. as if you two were a machine that could be activated at any moment to start producing the next generation.

throughout the entire dinner you could barely take a sip of your drink without actually chocking on it.

meanwhile, satoru was just grinning like the menace he is — relaxed, smug and completely unfazed as always.

“we’ve been practicing”, he said brightly, “when the time comes, you will all know. it will show”, while caressing your belly shamelessly.

you nearly dropped your chopsticks. that idiot.

no matter how many times you jabbed his elbow, perhaps at times hard enough to leave a bruise, he kept chuckling, leaning over to kiss your temple like the world’s most supportive husband, and carried on with his antics. entertaining everyone with far too much confidence and far too many innuendos. not embarrassed at all, not for a second trying to avoid the topic when it was brought up. in fact, he kept leaning into it. perhaps because he enjoyed the idea a little bit too much and loved making it known since it involved the two of you becoming even closer. or perhaps as a subtle way of signaling you that he’s ready even if you aren’t. either way, he was absolutely in his element.

you, however, were ready to crawl under the table and stay there until the end of time, embarrassed.

by the time everyone was finally saying goodbye, you could barely fake another smile. several relatives winked on their way out, whispering things like “go work on that baby now” as if they didn’t already do enough damage to your nervous system, but now this too.

hours later, you’re standing in the kitchen rinsing plates, trying to scrub both the dishes and your embarrassment clean.

satoru is still watching you. he tilts his head, eyes a little softer now, like he’s peeling back the layer of jokes he wears so well. he steps closer to you and reaches out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. then his hand tilts your chin upward, coaxing you to meet his gaze.

“i mean it”, he says quietly. “don’t you want a baby with me?”

as a reflex, you try to turn away, but his hand holds you steady. not forceful, but firm enough, like he’s not ready to let you run from the question again.

“i…” you mumble. “i never said i didn’t want that.”

and that’s all he needs. a slow smile spreads across his lips. not a cocky one, but soft. almost relieved. he lets you go, brushing his fingers along your jaw as he pulls back. “good”, he says. “because i already think about it way too much.”

indeed, satoru has been imagining this, fantasizing even, for far too long, before you even got married. and all of his earlier teasing wasn’t just for show.

but on your end, it starts slowly. quietly. like how you start noticing flowers blooming only after winter has begun to fade.

a toddler’s giggle catches your attention in the park. you weren’t even really looking, just sipping on your coffee and scrolling mindlessly on your phone. but the sound draws your eyes up. a little girl in pink overalls is running after bubbles, squealing with laughter. her parents sit nearby on a bench, watching with contentment.

you don’t even realize you’re standing until the bubble pops and the girl turns to look at you, grinning. you smile back.

and just like that, you find yourself looking more often. at playgrounds. at babies wrapped in slings. at tiny shoes lined up in store windows. at couples who walk slowly because they’re pacing themselves with the unsteady toddle of their child between them.

you tell yourself it’s just because everyone keeps bringing it up. that your brain is on autopilot, stuck on a topic you never gave much thought before.

but then, you catch yourself lingering in the baby aisle at the store. just a second too long and just enough to picture what it might be like… a tiny hoodie with a little bear face. a pair of miniature sneakers that could fit in your palm. but alas, you shake your head and move on like that’ll erase the softness creeping in.

of course, satoru doesn’t help.

in fact, he seems to notice the shift in you immediately, even if you haven’t admitted it to yourself yet. one night, while you’re brushing your teeth, he appears in the mirror behind you, eyes sleepy but still, mischievous.

“if it’s a girl”, he says softly, “i want her to have your eyes.”

you pause, toothbrush still in your mouth. you look at his reflection in the mirror, he’s smiling. he says it so casually, like you’d been in the middle of that conversation all along.

pulling the toothbrush out, you gasp. “…what?”

“i mean it, pretty”, he says, leaning lazily against the doorframe. “your eyes. she’ll have me wrapped around her tiny little finger, obviously. but if she takes your eyes? i’m done for.”

you blink at him, unsure if your heart is skipping a beat from his words or because you brushed a little too hard… “satoru—”

“and i want to teach her how to fight”, he adds, grinning now. “so i can pretend i’m cool and strong before she decides i’m not.”

you stare at him. “looks like you’ve put way too much thought into this”

he shrugs, utterly unbothered. “of course i have. i think about it all the time.”

you turn away, rinsing your mouth, pretending your hands aren’t a little shaky from how serious he sounded underneath all the teasing.

another time, you’re curled on the couch, scrolling, when he flops next to you and plops a tiny onesie in your lap. it says: strongest baby alive!

“what— how— why do you even have this?” you ask, holding it up like it might detonate.

he grins. “came across it online. couldn’t resist. look, it’s perfect!”

“satoru.”

“what? just prepping for greatness”, he chuckles. but there’s something in the way he watches you after. like he’s waiting. measuring your reaction. seeing if your fingers linger on the fabric. and when they do — just a second too long — his smile falters. softens and turns quiet.

he doesn’t push it, though. doesn’t mention it again. instead, the next morning, you find your favorite mug already filled with coffee, and beside it… a baby spoon.

you roll your eyes. but you also don’t throw it away.

and that night, while helping your friend babysit her toddler, you let the little boy climb into your lap. he has chubby fingers and impossibly soft hair, and he tugs at your necklace while babbling nonsense. at one point, he rests his head against your chest and sighs. you feel something in your chest flutter, crack open…

when satoru comes to pick you up, the boy doesn’t want to let go of your hand. satoru says nothing on the ride home. but he doesn’t let go of your hand, either. one hand on the wheel, the other resting gently on yours, warm against your thigh.

a few days later, satoru was abruptly called by the higher-ups about something last minute. nothing new. he kissed your cheek, told you not to wait up and vanished with a sweet little wink before putting on his blindfold.

now hours later, the silence he left behind still lingers. there’s no hum of his laughter, no echo of his dramatic commentary from the hallway, no footsteps chasing you down for one more kiss. just you.

you’re folding the laundry — a pile of shirts, a few of his socks that somehow always get lost in pairs, and then… a pillow. an extra cushion from the couch that ended up in the wrong basket.

you pick it up absently, ready to toss it aside, but… your hands hesitate. your eyes lower, thumb smoothing across the fabric. your heartbeat shifts a little and almost without thinking, you press the pillow against your stomach. a little too high at first, then you adjust it lower. tuck it in and pull your shirt over it.

just to see, to feel.

you walk to the mirror, barefoot, and look at your reflection. the shape is awkward and lumpy. not real. but the illusion is enough. your hand rests on the makeshift bump and then, slowly, one starts to move, caressing lightly over the curve.

you know it’s silly, but something within you responds. your face warms. you start to imagine satoru’s hand covering yours. you imagine him kneeling in front of you, placing a kiss against your stomach, whispering some ridiculous name idea he’s already picked out. you imagine tiny clothes, sleepless nights, holding something small and warm that’s half you and half him… you let yourself smile.

fingers brush gently over the fabric again. this could happen — you think — it’s possible. it’s real — and for the first time, the idea doesn’t make you want to run and hide. in fact, it makes your eyes sting a little. you lose yourself so deeply in the fantasy that your ears don’t catch on the sound of the front door open.

satoru didn’t mean to get home this quietly. usually, he makes a noise on purpose — jingles the keys, sings something stupid in the hallway, says something lovesick as soon as he opens the door just to hear you laugh.

but tonight, something stops him. he’s got that feeling. a pull.

the house is dim, soft with the kind of stillness that suggests you’re somewhere in thought. then he hears the faint shuffle of feet — yours — and he follows the sound like a thread, guiding him toward a barely cracked bedroom door.

he’s halfway through taking off his blindfold when he sees it through the narrow crack. you, in front of the mirror. a pillow under your shirt. your hands on it like it’s real.

he doesn’t move at first. his eyes track the curve of your body with something close to awe and he forgets how to breathe, or perhaps he’s afraid that if he breathes the moment will vanish. something primal and visceral hitting him all at once. you’re not smiling in the mirror like it’s a joke. you’re dreaming. touching the false belly like you’re already connected to someone that doesn’t exist — but could…

he thinks he might die on the spot. this is the future he’s been aching for in silence. this is the image that’s kept him up at night, one hand over his eyes, the other gripping the sheets, wondering when (if) you’d want the same…

and then, you see him. in the mirror just beyond your shoulder. startled, you turn. your hands fumble the pillow, cheeks heating up from embarrassment. “i— i was just… you know—it’s nothing. i was just being silly—”

he opens the door fully now and steps in slowly as if he’s approaching a dream he doesn’t want to wake from.

“stop”, he says, his voice barely above a whisper. he walks over to you like he’s being pulled by something magnetic. his hands are warm when he places one over the bump. even if it’s fake, it doesn’t matter. his fingers tremble anyway.

“you look beautiful. so beautiful, baby”, he murmurs, eyes not leaving you. “like it’s already real”, he swallows hard.

god, what i wouldn’t give to make it real, he thinks. to watch you grow round and soft with his child. to see the way your body would change — carry the weight of something made by both of you. to feel your skin stretch under his palms, life blooming inside you because of him.

he would worship you. he already does. but like that? pregnant with his child? he wouldn’t survive it.

he plants a soft kiss to your temple, hand curling protectively around your back, the pillow pressing between you. “i want to give you everything, you know that?” he whispers, but his voice sounds strained like he’s holding back too much all at once.

you nod against him. but, it’s not enough. not when you’ve looked at yourself in the mirror like that, not when you’ve imagined it too…

“say it”, he breathes against your hair. “tell me you want it too”

you look up at him, eyes vulnerable. that same look you gave your reflection.

“i want it”, you whisper. “i want a baby with you”

…and that’s it. that’s the thing that unravels him. letting out a shaky breath, he presses his forehead to yours. eyes fluttering closed as he cradles your face in both hands. he’s barely holding himself from dropping to his knees and pressing his mouth to your stomach, kissing it until you forget every reason you ever hesitated.

“let me give you a baby”, he says it now. clearly. openly. reverently. “let me make you a mother”, his thumb stroking your cheeks as his voice falls like a prayer and a plea all at once. “i’ll take care of everything”, he promises. “you’ll never lift a finger. just be mine. just carry ours.”

his lips find yours into a kiss, slow and aching, full of thousand nights he spent dreaming of this exact moment. and in the back of his mind, there’s only one thought echoing over and over.

she wants it. she wants this. she wants me. she wants us.

…and that’s enough to break him, rebuild him, and start everything new.

he gently scoops you into his arms, carefully — like you’re already carrying something precious inside you. your hands fly to his shoulders, your face closer to his. and it’s one of those rare moments where there’s no teasing on his features. only something quiet, something tender. something that longs.

he carries you to the bed like he’s bringing you home, and when he lays you down, he takes a moment. just a moment, to look at you. the fake curve of the pillow under your shirt, the way your hands settle over it instinctively. the way your eyes never leave his.

satoru sinks to his knees beside the bed, presses a kiss low on the fabric over your belly. one hand slides over the curve gently, and then, looking up at you through his lashes, he murmurs,

“i’m going to make this real now.”

[keirareidss]

tight skirts and nerdy glasses - s.r

♡ summary: spencer gets flustered when you wear a short skirt to work pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut wc: 1.3k inspo

Spencer glanced at his phone again. Read 20 minutes ago. You'd been texting earlier, him telling you about the toast he made this morning, and you letting him know you were going to be a bit late to work because of your doctor's appointment. His last message to you read, 'how's everything at the doctors office?'

You read the message but never responded. Maybe your name was called. Maybe you got some really bad news and couldn't handle talking to anyone right now. Maybe-

The door to the BAU office opened, heels thumping quietly on the carpet floor, Spencer's head lifting to follow the sound. His eyes caught on your figure, watching as you strutted towards your desk, sending a dazzling smile at Derek.

"Hey, gorgeous." Morgan's chair spun slowly as he turned to follow you with his full body. Spencer understood the feeling. The magnetic pull of you, his body being tugged in your direction.

"Morgan." You drawled in greeting, reaching your desk where you set down your purse, turning your attention to the dorky man across from you. "Hi, Spencer."

"Hi." He said, his throat dry. "You didn't answer my text." He was deliberately keeping his eyes on yours, forcing them not to drag down to the short skirt clinging to your legs. The hem barely kissed mid thigh, surely not appropriate for work but you were on good terms with Hotch so he'd let it slide.

Spencer had noticed the skirt right when you walked in. The sway of your hips distracted him from the cute pink and black pattern, his eyes widening. He barely pulled his eyes away from your ass when you reached your desk, not confident that you hadn't seen him ogling.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you know what happened? I responded in my head and I forgot to actually text you back." You explained, chuckling as you tuck your purse under your desk. His eyebrows furrowed, confused.

"Oh." He said dumbly.

"Do you want a coffee? I'm gonna run to the kitchen." You asked, hesitating by your desk.

"No, I'm good." He responds, unable to help the way his eyes follow your ass. He tries not to stare, he really does, but he can't help but be bewitched by the way your skirt rides up the back of your thighs as you walk.

He forces his eyes back to the file on his desk but, out of the corner of his eye, he notices your figure bending down at the waist, picking up one of the stir sticks you dropped on the floor. He turns his head, his breath hitching as he caught a glimpse of your underwear under the skirt.

He quickly averts his eyes, a blush rising on his cheeks. He kept his eyes down as you sat back down with your coffee, sighing softly as you turned on your computer, heading to your email folder. Spencer didn't have to worry about accidentally mindlessly gazing at you, burying himself in his work.

The next incident is when you bump into Penelope as she hurries her way up to Hotch's office. She drops her pen which you bend down to pick up. Spencer's eyes find their way to you once again, burning into you. You hand Garcia her sparkly pen with the fuzzy top back to her, your head turning to find Spencer's stare.

You grin at him and he looks away, blushing as he adjusted his glasses. If there was one thing Spencer wore that you were absolutely obsessed with, it was his nerdy, black and gold glasses. They made him look so cute and innocent. They made you want to get on your knees and suck his cock until the glass fogged up.

You round his desk, leaning back against his and looking down at him. His eyes flicker to your thighs before he glanced up at you.

"Hi, Spence." You smiled, bracing your hands on the edge of his desk.

"Hi."

"Can I show you something?" You asked,

"What is it?" He tilted his head, the gold of his frames glinting in the light.

"Just come with me." You pulled him to his feet, starting to walk away. He doesn't follow right away frozen in his spot by the sight of your skirt, high on your thighs. He blinks quickly, rushing after you, following you out of the bullpen.

You lead him to a dark storage closet down the hall, following him inside. He turns to face you, his eyebrows furrowed.

"What did you want to show me?" You stepped forward, chest to chest with him in the small space, standing up on your tip toes, your lips inches from his.

"I've seen you staring, Spencer." You purred and his eyes widened, cheeks flushing a pretty pink to match your skirt. "Is there something about my skirt that's enticing to you?"

"No! No, I mean, well- yes but, it's just-" You chuckled, your hands sliding down his chest, feeling the soft of his sweater vest under your palms.

"Or is it something other than my skirt?" His face got redder as his back met the wall. Your fingers untucked his shirt from his slacks, finding his belt buckle. His breath hitches as he watches your movements. "Do you want this?" You asked looking up at him. He nodded frantically.

"Yes- please, please." Grinning, you sank down onto your knees in front of him, pulling his zipper down. His head falls back against the wall with a thump when your hand palms him through his boxers.

You free his hardening cock from his pants, stroking slowly and watching a bead of precum dribble from the tip. Your tongue flicks out to taste him, taking him into your mouth, feeling him heavy on your tongue. You take as much of him into your mouth as you can, breathing deeply through your nose.

"God- you, you're so..." Spencer whimpers his hand gripping your hair as you bob your head. You swirl your tongue around the tip and he twitches in your mouth.

A trail of spit follows, clinging to your bottom lip as you pull back, looking at him. You were a sight for sore eyes, skirt bunched up your thighs as you sat on your knees, your hair tousled from Spencer's grip. You were his wet dream come to life. Well, it's more the other way around. His wet dreams were inspired by you, made of you.

His wide eyes stared down at you from behind his glasses as your hand continued to lazily stroke his length, his small whimpers music to your ears.

"I'm close." He warned you, moaning quietly.

"Do you want to cum in my mouth, Spencer?" He swore he stopped breathing when that sentence came out of your pretty pink lips. He could barely make his brain work enough to form a response.

"Y-yeah." You grinned, taking him past your lips again, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked. With a few more bobs of your head, drags of your tongue, and twists of your wrist on the base of his dick, he's coming down your throat, his hot release coating the inside of your mouth, dribbling down your lip.

He moans, cursing under his breath as his hips jerk, his eyes squeezing shut. Once you've pulled every last drop from him you sit back, climbing to your feet. You brush off your skirt as Spencer does up his pants.

"You, uh- you look really pretty in that skirt."

"Oh, honey, I know." You pat his chest, walking out of the storage closet, leaving him leaning against the wall, chest heaving deeply as he stared at the sway of your hips in that skirt. That damn skirt.

Taglist: @superbeaglewitch, @perfectgoopfishuniversity-blog, totallynotabuckybarnessimp, @dramioneforevertilltheend. @cynbx, @diminombre, @tinythebunni

[emisluvr]

getting woken up in the middle of the night by subby!jake because he couldn’t sleep and just needed you so much :(

i'm so obsessed with sub!jake it's not even okay..

✧ tw. smut (18+ mdni!), unprotected sex, sub!jake, riding, begging

jake nudges you awake with the softest little whine, arms wrapping around your waist as he buries his face into your neck.

"baby.. can’t sleep," he mumbles, voice all breathy and laced with need. you already know what he wants, you don't even need to ask. "need to feel your pussy.. please, i'll be a good boy. promise."

you blink at him, eyes still heavy and sleepy. but the moment you feel how hard he is against your thigh, already leaking through his boxers, you’re sitting up with a sigh.

"you’re so needy," you murmur, straddling his lap as he bites his lip, laying flat on the bed. "waking me up like this just cause you wanna get used like a toy?"

he nods desperately, eyes already hazy as he grips your hips, cock twitching under you.

"please ride me," he begs, voice so desperate it almost hurts. "need you so bad, wanna feel you around my cock.. i’ll be good, i swear."

because he asked so nicely, you pull his boxers down to free his flushed cock. the tip's already leaking, pressed to his abdomen. you tug your panties to the side, before slowly sinking onto his length.

he lets out the prettiest moan, head thrown back into the pillow as his fingers dig into your thighs.

"fuckfuckfuck.. feels so good," he whimpers, already a pathetic mess, hips twitching up into your pussy.

you bounce on him slowly, taking him deep with every roll of your hips, watching him fall apart beneath you. his chest rises and falls in shaky breaths, lips parted, eyes fluttered shut.

"such a good boy for me," you whisper, your gummy walls tightening around him as your hands settle on his chest. "needy little thing couldn’t even wait till morning."

his cheeks flush, breath hitching as you squeeze around him, tip twitching inside you.

"wan’ cum, please.. let me cum in your pussy," he cries, voice soft and desperate.

© emisluvr 2025. all rights reserved.

[cherrygirlfriend]

OPPOSITES ATTRACT? ✮

✮ pairing: nerd!rafe x pervert!reader

✮ summary: agreeing to go to a party with you and meeting your friends for the first time causes rafe to have insecurities and doubts.

✮ warnings / tags: angst. fluff. hurt and comfort. punching someone. insecurity. nudity. them being ridiculously perfect for each other. wc: 2k

✮ author's note: what’s been up with me making these two suffer lately… tbh i just wanna deepen their emotional bond!! but dw i have freaky smut coming up for them soon!!

PERVERT MASTERLIST ✮ 5K MASTERLIST

people say that opposites attract, and that saying was a fact when it came to you and your boyfriend. you and rafe were like day and night; all the bouncers at all the clubs and bars within a five-mile radius of your university campus knew you by name, meanwhile every professor on campus knew your boyfriend by his name, all of them delighted whenever they found out they got to teach him. sometimes, a single outfit of yours had less fabric than one piece of rafe's outfit. rafe did more studying in one weekend than you did in a month. he was a virgin when you started dating, and you were... experienced.

and your boyfriend was definitely not a party animal.

"c'mon..." you coaxed, "i can't go alone. besides, i want you to meet my friends!" you whined, "your friends are gonna hate me." rafe deadpanned, his brows raised. "no they won't. so what if you're different from them? i'm sure you can find something to talk to them about." "like what? shoes and purses?" "like how much you adore me." your lips quirked up into a grin and you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, "pleaaase?"

honestly, rafe's assumption wasn't that far from the truth; when you'd first told your friends that you were dating him, they all looked at you like you'd grown a second head. but it never mattered to you; you adores rafe, and even though you two sometimes got strange looks from people and your friends got weird whenever you mentioned him, it never bothered you.

"pleaseeee?" you stuck out your bottom lip, doing your best to put on a 'sad puppy dog' look. "fine." rafe grumbled, running a hand over his face, "only because you're cute."

"this is gonna earn you a reward..." you giggled, biting down on your lower lip and running your manicured finger down rafe's chest, the suggestive tone of your voice and the feel of your long nail against his muscles through his shirt causing his own voice to go hoarse, "i didn't... didn't even ask for that." "don't care." you give rafe a quick peck, "good boys get rewarded."

you'd told rafe that it'd take you around an hour to get ready, but the two of you had finally gotten to the frat house nearly three hours after you'd told rafe it'd take you an hour, but you'd just mumbled, "fashionably late..." into his ear.

but once you got to the frat house the party was being held at, you got past with ease... but the random dude at the fraternity door who acted as the bouncer looked at your boyfriend up and down and let out a disgusted 'eugh', making rafe look down at the ground, his cheeks starting to redden as he switched from one foot to the other, the other boy letting out a belittling chuckle, "sorry, but you're gonna have to ditch him."

you could see your boyfriend's face fall and him starting to step back, only for you to pull rafe back to you and looking at the boy standing at the door with the bitchiest smile you could muster up.

"he's my boyfriend." you said as calmly as you possibly could, even though you truly wanted to punch the living hell out of that dude, "and if you don't want him inside, it's gonna take me about two minutes to get every girl at your shitty ass party out." you smiled widely, "so, if you want a sausage party, then go ahead."

the boy's gaze went over rafe once again, a small groan leaving his lips. "alright, go in…" the faux-bouncer mumbled, and your smile widened as the boy stepped aside, making sure to bump into his side as you passed him.

"you didn't have to do that… i could've just gone back to the dorms." rafe leaned closer to you so you could hear him through the blaring music, only for you to take his hand in yours and squeezing it, "please. like i'd let someone get away with talking to you like that." you smiled up at him, "should we go find my friends?" rafe took in a deep breath before turning to you with a tight-lipped smile and nodded.

rafe felt out of place. when you'd introduced him to your friends with a cheerful, "this is my boyfriend, rafe." and brought his hand to your mouth, pressing a kiss on the back of his hand that left a glossy imprint there.

after your friends had awkwardly introduced themselves to rafe, looking at him up and down the same way the guy outside had, they went back to how they'd been before; chattering about something had no understanding of, with you joining in while your friends acted like he wasn't there.

lately, he'd been noticing all the ways you were different in. you went out nearly every weekend while rafe stayed in his dormitory either studying, reading, or gaming. you felt so confident you brightened up every room you walked into, meanwhile he felt like he was nothing but a dark cloud that followed you around. you seemed to get along with everyone, being able to make a friend in almost any setting, meanwhile most of his friends were ones that he'd met online.

even now, with the two of you being surrounded by crowds of sweaty people pressed to one another, music blasting so loudly the floors sticky with spilled booze were shaking, you looked like there was nowhere you'd rather be; meanwhile rafe's flight instinct was kicking in.

he leaned close to your ear and quietly said, "hey, i'm gonna go to the bathroom." pulling back and trying to give you a convincing smile. "okay." you nodded, and when he freed his fingers from your own, you reluctantly let go of his hand, watching as he made his way through the crowd, a small frown on your lips.

rafe gripped the bathroom sink, his knuckles turning white as he took tried to steady his breathing, his heart beating to the rhythm of the bass he could hear through the bathroom door. "get it together..." he mumbled under his breath. rafe took off his glasses and placed them down, turning the faucet on, splashing cold water on his face, wishing it could wash away all the thoughts plaguing his mind.

all the thoughts about how much happier you'd be with someone who you didn't have to beg to come out with you. all the thoughts about how much your friends would be more accepting of someone they thought was more suitable for you. all the thoughts about how he wasn't good enough for you. how he would never be good enough for you.

rafe was startled by someone beating their fist against the door, swiftly turning the faucet off and drying his face on a towel before turning to the mirror, "just be normal. just... be normal." he mumbled, putting his glasses back on.

the boy spotted you almost immediately as he was making hi way through the crowd, recognizing the outfit you'd spent too much time choosing, but it seemed like you hadn't spotted him. rafe's brows furrowed as he got closer to you, a dark-haired guy leaning close to you, a cup in his hand, his other hand on your arm, your jaw clenched.

"c'mon. we had fun last time, didn't we?" rafe overheard the guy say, almost as if he was boasting, deciding to stop a small distance away to see how the situation would play out. "let's just ditch the party and go to my room."

"that was ages ago. i have a boyfriend, thomas." "so?" the boy laughed, "your little einstein doesn't need to know. everyone knows you're just dating him so you can better your grades." "you think i'm that big of an idiot that i need to date someone to get better grades?" you scoffed, shaking your head, "then, what's it for? you pity him because he has like three friends?"

"i know this concept might be strange for you, but some people actually like others because of who they are and not just because of their bodies." you remarked,

"well, you weren't like that before." thomas rolled his eyes while you narrowed your eyes, "what do you mean by that?" you asked, cocking your head to the side. "i mean, you used to fuck anything that moved, fucking slut. now you're just with some nothing loser who probably doesn't know how to fuck." thomas laughed, rafe's jaw clenching, intending to interrupt until—

THUMP!

your fist made contact with thomas's face, the drunk boy falling to the ground as you took in a sharp breath, shaking your hand with an 'ouch'. "just so you know," you look down at him, your words coming out slightly clumsily, "he's better than you. and bigger. take that." you turned to walk away from thomas, but when you noticed rafe standing there with a stunned expression on his face, you froze, looking like a deer in headlights. "rafe."

but rafe simply chuckled, taking the hand that hadn't just greeted thomas, pulling you through the crowd, hurrying you outside.

you were breathing heavily, goosebumps forming on your skin from going from the hot, packed party to the chilly outside air, looking up at rafe, "rafe, i can explain, i know i shouldn't—"

but you were silenced by rafe leaning down, pressing his lips on yours, his large hands going to cup your cheeks, and as his lips moved on yours, he hoped it conveyed everything he thought, everything he worried about, and everything you somehow managed to make him feel.

when rafe pulled away, he tucked a strand of stray hair behind your ear, his thumb going to stroke the soft skin of your cheek. "weirdly, that was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me." rafe looked down, gently taking the hand that you'd punched thomas with as a hiss left your lips, the boy noticing some bruising on your knuckles, a few of them even bleeding, "let's get back to my dorm and fix this up, yeah?"

every time the antiseptic made contact with one of the cuts on your knuckles, you let out a quiet hiss, each of them sounding unfairly adorable to rafe.

"this is the cost of punching dickheads." he jokingly mumbled, "well, i had to protect your honor." you shrugged, making rafe furrow his brows as he applied lotion onto the cuts, "my honor?" "he called you a nothing loser. i'm not gonna let that slide."

"i thought you punched him because he called you... that." "oh, no. i've heard it many times. if they wanna shame me for liking sex then they can go ahead and do that. but i'm not gonna let them say something like that about you."

your words made rafe's lips quirk up a little, "so, are you my knight in shining armor?" "only if it's one of those ridiculously skimpy armors they give to female characters in games." you grinned, rafe shaking his head. once your boyfriend had applied band-aids onto your knuckles, he pressed a kiss on each of them.

it wasn't long until the two of you were under rafe's blanket, your naked bodies pressed together, rafe holding the hand he'd patched up, "you know, sometimes i worry that i'm not good enough for you." he mumbled, "why would you think that?" "i'm... i'm not like guys you've been with before. i'm not into parties, i'm not cool and confident..." "you're also not a total dickhead." "yeah, that." rafe chuckled softly, "i don't know. what if you were happier with someone more like you?"

"the thing is... i think you are like me, rafe." "how's that? we're... so different." "yeah, we have different interests, we have different personalities..." you bring your hand to rest over his heart, "but when i'm with you... i feel connected to you in a way i haven't before. like we're one."

"that's weirdly poetic." rafe chuckled softly, "i think you're secretly a sap." "shut up." you rolled your eyes, "but i know what you mean. like we're two sides of the same coin."

"yeah. and for me, that's better than anything or anyone else. i don't care if i could have the world's most perfect person. because they'll never measure up to you. i wouldn't want to love anyone else but you."

rafe smiled, bringing his lips to your forehead, "no one else." he whispered, pressing a kiss there.

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[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hiii. I live your stories so much and I just wanted to say you are my favourite author on Tumblr. Could I maybe request Carlos 16 year old daughter celebrating her quinceañeras (it sometimes gets celebrated in Spain). And maybe she smokes a it of weed and Lando and Oscar try to help her hide it. Like in Superstore (that's a show on netflix).

Thank you so much. I love you and your stories.❤️❤️❤️

Quinceañera

The music was loud. The lights were soft. The pastel pink decorations, gold balloons, and flower garlands twinkled in the overhead chandeliers. In the center of the ballroom stood Yn Sainz — fifteen years old, radiant, and more than a little overwhelmed. Her baby pink gown shimmered as she turned slowly, cheeks rosy, eyes wide.

Carlos stood at the edge of the dance floor, jaw tight, hands clenched behind his back, tears welling in his eyes.

“She’s grown up,” he whispered to no one in particular.

“I know,” Rebecca said from beside him, dabbing her eyes with a tissue, but also sipping champagne like a woman who knew this night was going to turn sideways eventually.

“I still remember when she tried to eat a tire at the McLaren garage,” Carlos said, voice cracking.

“That was a Lego tire, Carlos,” Rebecca said gently. “And she was three.”

“She’s still my baby.”

From across the room, Uncle Lando and Uncle Oscar were arguing over who got to cut the cake. Not help cut the cake — cut it. With a sword. Which neither of them was supposed to be near.

“Why would you get to hold the sword?” Lando huffed.

“Because I’m trustworthy,” Oscar replied, holding it up like King Arthur.

“You once got locked inside a portable toilet for forty-five minutes.”

“That was sabotage.”

“By a child.”

“That child had a vendetta, Lando!”

“Okay, boys,” Rebecca interrupted as she passed them, grabbing the sword with ease. “If you want to cut anything, go dance.”

“Fine,” they both mumbled, watching the sword disappear like it had just been taken by a Hogwarts professor.

Meanwhile, Yn and her gaggle of best friends — Valeria, Sofía, and Luna — snuck away from the buffet. They all looked like angels. If angels wore rhinestones and whispered things like “Okay, if we just go around the fountain and past Tío Javi, we can light it there.”

The joint, a skinny thing passed from Valeria’s older brother, was unceremoniously lit behind a floral arch made of artificial roses and pure teenage rebellion.

“Oh my God,” Yn giggled after her first hit. “I think I saw the balloon arch blink.”

“You did not!” Luna wheezed, coughing dramatically into her elbow.

Sofía, the chaos gremlin of the group, took an especially long drag, holding it like she was training for the Olympics. “No, wait. She might be right. That arch is looking at me funny.”

The four of them were now officially high at the most extravagant quinceañera southern Spain had seen in recent memory.

Back inside, the music had shifted from soft salsa to full reggaetón. Carlos was visibly vibrating.

“Who let Bad Bunny on the playlist?” he demanded. “That’s too suggestive.”

“It’s her birthday, cariño,” Rebecca replied, calmly eating an empanada. “She’s not going to become a criminal because Daddy Yankee came on.”

Carlos’s expression said he wasn’t convinced.

Meanwhile, Yn re-entered the ballroom like she was walking on pillows made of glitter. She was high. Blissfully, surreally high. And doing her very best to look like a normal, not-at-all-buzzed young lady.

“Smile,” she whispered to herself. “Smile like you don’t hear colors.”

She made her way to the table where Lando and Oscar were now seated with a plate full of churros between them.

“Uncles!” she greeted, a little too enthusiastically.

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

“Of course! I’m totally... ceiling.”

“...Ceiling?” Lando repeated.

“I meant feeling!” Yn said quickly. “I’m feeling great! So much...pink! Did you know your faces are wiggling?”

Oscar blinked.

Lando dropped his churro.

“Oh no,” Lando whispered. “She’s on drugs. She’s high. She’s stoned at her quinceañera. WE’RE GOING TO JAIL!”

“Calm down!” Oscar hissed. “She’s not going to jail — we are if you keep shouting like that!”

Yn sat down slowly, her hands hovering above the chair like it might disappear. “Is this chair...conscious?”

Oscar leaned forward. “Yn. What did you do?”

“Nothing! Nothing bad! I’m just...you know...a little elevated.”

“ELEVATED?” Lando shrieked. “You’re fifteen!”

“I was peer pressured!” Yn said quickly. “Valeria’s brother gave us a joint. It smelled weird and then we laughed at a balloon for twenty minutes.”

“Oh God,” Lando muttered, staring at his own hands. “What if I accidentally inhale second-hand weed smoke? What if I fail a drug test at McLaren?”

“You haven’t been at McLaren in years, Lando.”

“I still want to pass things, Oscar!”

Oscar, ever the steady hand, turned to Yn. “Okay. You’re clearly high. How do you feel?”

“Like the churros are talking about me,” Yn replied solemnly.

“Okay. She’s not dangerous,” Oscar nodded. “Just deeply paranoid.”

Carlos, meanwhile, was hunting for his daughter with the same intensity he brought to qualifying laps. “Has anyone seen Yn?” he asked random guests. “She was supposed to be back for the father-daughter dance!”

“Maybe she went to the bathroom?” someone offered.

“I’m checking all the bathrooms.”

He stormed off.

Rebecca calmly ate another empanada.

Back at the table, Oscar was coaching Yn like she was about to take her driver’s test.

“Okay, listen. Blink slowly. Don’t talk about chairs having souls. And if your dad asks how you are, just say, ‘I’m happy and grateful.’ Got it?”

Yn nodded solemnly. “I am a rock. I am a professional. I am...toast.”

“Oh for the love of—” Lando stood up. “We have to hide her. We need a closet or a dark pantry. Something neutral.”

“We’re not locking her in a pantry, Lando! What is this, Breaking Bad: Quinceañera Edition?!”

“She needs water,” Oscar said, standing. “And bread. I read that carbs help.”

Lando looked horrified. “She’s in heels and a tulle dress. She can’t exactly go full carb coma in the middle of the ballroom!”

Just then, Carlos returned.

“There you are!” he said, eyes lighting up. “The dance is about to start. Yn, come on.”

Yn turned very, very slowly.

“Hi Papa,” she said, blinking one eye at a time like a confused owl. “You look very...horizontal.”

Carlos froze.

Oscar jumped in. “She’s just tired! Emotional day. Hormones. Gowns. You know girls!”

Carlos narrowed his eyes.

“She smells like burnt leaves,” he said.

“She fell into a bush,” Lando blurted.

“WHAT?!”

“Not a real bush,” Oscar corrected. “A metaphorical bush. The bush of...growing up.”

Rebecca, who had walked up silently behind them, took one look at her daughter and burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” she said, grabbing Yn’s cheeks. “She’s baked.”

Carlos nearly fainted. “YOU WHAT?”

Yn’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Papá! I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to be cool and now I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster that smells like cinnamon!”

Lando was fanning himself with a plate. “This is a disaster. We’re going to be deported.”

“We live here, Lando,” Rebecca pointed out.

Carlos was pacing in a small circle, muttering in Spanish. “Mi hija...mi niña...marijuana?! On her quinceañera?!”

Oscar sat Yn down gently. “She’s not hurt. She’s just high. It’ll pass.”

Carlos rounded on her. “Who gave it to you?!”

Yn whimpered. “Valeria’s brother, but please don’t tell her parents! They’ll never let her hang out with me again and she helped me pick this dress!”

Carlos stared at the ceiling.

Rebecca sat beside Yn, patting her hand. “Sweetie, listen. We’re not mad.”

“We’re not?” Carlos demanded.

“We’re concerned. There’s a difference. You made a bad decision, but you’re not a bad person.”

“I smoked,” Yn whispered.

“I once accidentally shoplifted a roll of toilet paper when I was sixteen,” Rebecca replied. “We all do stupid stuff. The important thing is that we learn.”

“Thank you, Mamá,” Yn whispered, eyes brimming with tears.

Carlos sighed heavily, sitting on Yn’s other side.

“You scared me,” he said softly. “I just want you to be okay. No more joints.”

“Never again,” she said solemnly. “Everything smells like glitter and sadness.”

“That’s because you’re sitting next to Lando,” Oscar muttered.

“HEY!”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you!

-♡○♡

Special love to my hermosa @kaworusgf

[richyjerimovich]

I went to Michael's funeral. What did you just say? THE BEAR, 4.10

[lilac-dreamxxz]

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⠀⠀⠀ 𓈒 ⠀ 𐔌 name⠀⠀Ꙇɑyouts ㅤᰍ.⠀ ͡꒱⠀ ۫⠀ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⠀ ㅤ︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⬭۫ ⠀ 𓈒 ⠀ ⠀name ⠀🎀 ⠀⠀𓈒 ⠀♡゙

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ✿𓂂⠀ ࣭ ⠀ʾ‎ ⠀ ⠀name ⠀⠀ 𓈒 ⠀⠀ 𓏸𓈒

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀˚⠀⠀ ݂ ⠀ ꒰⠀⠀ 🫧⠀⠀⠀nαme⠀ ₊ ⠀ ࣪ ⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ̥ᩙ⠀ ✩ ࣭ ⠀ name ⠀ ⠀꒪ 🌺𓂂𓈒

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ㅤ۫ ‎ ⃝𔓘 ̼ ‎. name ʾ‎ ‎ 𓈒

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀︵⏜ ㅤ۫ namᧉ ⊹ ૂ🪷

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀( © lilac-dreamxxz : ✿ )

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[emisluvr]

hii emii i luvluv ur fics ;< can i request smt jakehoon pls ? like u can cook up anything basically (also this can wait pls prioritize ur health first luvulotsss ^^)

hii bb, thank you sm! <3 i appreciate you being so patient mwahh

✧ tw. smut (18+ mdni!), threesome, praise, slight dumbification, oral + rough sex

"our pretty fuckin' girl," jake grunts, thrusting his cock into you from behind, one hand gripping your waist tight while the other presses into the small of your back, keeping you arched for him. "taking my cock so well while your mouth's stuffed with his."

you're drooling all over sunghoon’s length, trying to keep up with sucking him as he lets out a breathy moan. his hand is tangled in your hair, guiding your head just the way he likes it, hips barely moving as he lets you do all the work.

"fuck, you're such a good girl, aren't you?" sunghoon pants, eyes heavy-lidded as he watches you bob your head up and down. "so messy for us.. dumb little baby doesn’t even know who to please first, huh?"

jake chuckles at his remark, his cock hitting deep inside you as he watches the flesh of your ass recoil with every thrust. your brows furrow in pleasure, your whimpers muffled around sunghoon's cock—spit dripping down your chin. the room's filled with the sound of skin slapping and your slurps.

"don’t gotta think, baby. just let us use you," jake huffs, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead as his cock grows more sensitive from the way your tight and slick walls suck him so perfectly, tip twitching inside you. "you're doing so good, princess. letting us ruin you like this."

your body feels more limp and weak now, thighs shaking as jake pounds into your soaked pussy, the pressure in your stomach building fast.

sunghoon brushes the loose strands of hair off your face, thumb swiping the spit from your cheek as he grins down at you, watching you try your best to suck him while you're getting fucked dumb.

"gonna cum with both our cocks in you, yeah?" sunghoon whispers, caressing your head. "go ahead, baby. show us how good it feels."

© emisluvr 2025. all rights reserved.

[cherrygirlfriend]

──── ALL TIED UP ♡

♡ pairing: nerd!rafe x pervert!reader

♡ summary: you tie up rafe for the first time.

♡ warnings / tags: smut. dryhumping. sub!rafe. dom!reader. rope play. coming in underwear. MDNI WC: 1.1k

♡ author's note: this is my last 5k fic, but this is also another entry for @zyafics MRGA campaign, i feel like this fic fits it!!

PERVERT MASTERLIST ♡ 5K MASTERLIST l

all of this started with one simple sentence that you'd muttered against your boyfriend's collarbone.

"could we try something new?"

now your boyfriend's hands were tightly bound into his wooden bedframe with baby-pink rope, his legs separated, both of his ankles bound to the end of the bed with the same pink rope. rafe tugged on the ropes around his wrists only for them to not move an inch, the boy softly mumbling, "these are... weirdly well done..."

"i was a girl scout." you called out from the small toilet attached to rafe's dorm room, "you ready?!"

"i'm ready!"

oh.

rafe soon realized that he definitely wasn't ready to see you walk out of the tiny bathroom with your bottom lip stuck between your teeth as a you untied the sinfully short pink, silky robe, letting it fall onto the ground while you walked towards him.

you let out a soft, seductive chuckle when you saw the tent in rafe's dark blue plaid boxer shorts, straightening your back even more to let him get a good look at you, and your chest.

rafe swore he could get drunk on the way you looked; the pink, lacy bra just sheer enough to let him see your nipples, a small, wet patch in the matching panties. "i don't think you were ready..." you stuck your bottom lip out in a pout and tilted your head to the side, trailing your manicured nail down his sharp jawline, rafe's cock twitching in his boxer shorts "poor baby. y'gotta be suffering, huh?" you cooed.

you let your finger trail down rafe's bare chest, the boy's hands once again tugging against the restraints when you brought your lips to his red nipple, twirling your tongue around it and sucking the hardened bud into your mouth, letting out a quiet chuckle against the sensitive skin before you pulled back, a whine leaving rafe's lips.

"why are you teasing me?" your boyfriend looked at you through his long dark brown lashes, making you shrug as you sat yourself on the edge of his bed, your fingers continuing to explore until they came across the sandy-colored happy trail leading into his boxer shorts.

you lifted the waistband of rafe's boxer shorts, a sigh of relief leaving his lips, interrupted by the snap! of the elastic meeting his hips as soon as you let go.

"have you ever thought..." you moved your hand to the head of his cock, standing at attention even through his boxer shorts. "that maybe..." you started sliding your hand down his shaft painfully slowly through the fabric, rafe's hips bucking up, searching for more friction as you leaned closer to him, your words quieting down into a whisper "i like making you all cute and whiney like this?"

"it's... nnngh... crossed my mind a few times..."

you grinned as you boosted yourself up onto the bed, moving to straddle rafe, his eyes on your ample cleavage. you chuckled, trailing your hand on the lace of your bra, "you want me to take em off?" you purred, the boy fervently nodding, making you chuckle softly as you leaned closer into him, your breasts nearly in his face, "bet you wish you could take them off yourself."

once again, rafe tugged on the restraints around his wrist, only for you to chuckle as you unclasped your bra, letting it slide down your arms before discarding it onto the floor.

"i bet i could make you cum in your underwear..." you purred, rafe's eyes glued onto your bare chest until you lifted his chin up so he was looking into your eyes, a small "hm?" leaving his lips and it became clear to you that the boy hadn't listened to a thing you'd said.

"nothing..." you mumbled, positioning your clothed cunt over the head of his cock, starting to draw slow circles over his tip, rafe's eyes rolling back in pleasure. each time you could hear him struggle, each time rafe tried to get out of the pink ropes binding him, your clit throbbed.

"please..." the front of rafe's boxer shorts was covered with a mixture of your arousal as well as rafe's, your boyfriend's mouth open wide as if he was in heaven. "please what?" you asked with a breathy voice, your boyfriend letting out a petulant whine. you brought your hand to his chin, forcing him to look up at you, "tell me what you want with words, or you're not getting anything."

"sorry..." rafe mumbled like he was an injured puppy, making you chuckle as you pressed a soft peck on his lips, "tell me what you want." you whispered against his pink lips, "i... i wanna come..." the boy whispered.

you pulled back slightly, only to see that rafe's beautiful, freckled cheeks were turning red. "okay." you said softly, cupping his jaw reverently, "well, i'm gonna make sure my boy gets to cum."

positioning your entrance at the head of his cock, you started circling your hips, held back by two separate layers of fabric. "you're- ngggh... you're not gonna take any of it off?"

"no." you mumbled simply before you sunk yourself down on him, letting out a moan, still able to feel rafe's cock even through both sets of underwear, both of you breathing shakily, and although many layers were separating you, you could feel his cock twitching. "you're close, aren't you?"

"n-nouuugggghhh...." rafe's protests quickly died down once your hand moved to fondle his balls through the plaid fabric, his hips bucking up into you.

you moved yourself up, the front of your boyfriend's boxer shorts completely soaked, rafe's eyes pressed closed tight. "i bet..." you mumble, rolling your hips, your entrance positioned just above the head of rafe's cock, his hips bucking up to meet you, begging for some kind of friction, his wrists and ankles begging to be freed, "you'd cum if i just sink down on you right now."

"no..." rafe mumbled, yet when you let out a soft chuckle, you could see the full-body shivers ravaging through him. "let's test that."

you let yourself sink down on rafe's clothed cock once again, moans leaving your lips with every inch that you felt inside of you, but once he'd bottomed out, rafe started grunting, his hips thrusting up to meet yours, curses leaving his lips as his hips involuntarily started thrusting up into you.

you chuckled as you got off his cock, rafe's breathing slowly getting steadier as you pulled up the waistband of his boxers, the inside of them covered in sticky white cum.

"i won." you grinned, sitting back. "alright, what do you want as your prize?" the sandy-haired boy asked, "are you sure you wanna know?"

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[ivysinclair]

your blog is super cute! ✿♥‿♥✿ how long have u and josiah been dating for!!! ur so cute together!! -leah ( ´˘ᴗ˘)♡(´ ❥ `✿)

THANK YOU.. ♡♡ we have been together since the beginning of time itself.. .. . no only a year but it feels like it .. we were meant to be and we'll stay together forever and ever and ever .. that i have ensured ♡♡♡♡

[baddiezrus]

🎀 𝓙𝓸𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓸𝓵𝓵 𝓢𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓭 🎀

naomi campbell, 1997.

[uroko]

Rainy day in Kyoto

[loversfms]

@amadoures @cherriesfm