mycameron

[mycameron]

SUPPORT DEPARMENT!READER x KATSUKI BAKUGOU ༄ cw for the story: angst, situationship, enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits, bakugo is a bitch and needs a hug, so does reader, fluff, eventual smut, suggestive, cussing. A/N: this chapter is mainly exposition, sorry! i will get into their dynamic in the next part <3 enjoy!

just like everyone else, you grew up fantasizing to be a hero one day. you watched all might all day and night on tv, admired local heroes in front of you, even joined a couple forums online that were all about heroes.

you dreamed of being one, of going to UA, working alongside teens across the country that have the same goals and aspirations as you was intoxicating to think about.

soon enough, your quirk developed, you had your dads quirk, you could take away heat from the air around you and channel it into the tips of your fingers. it wasn’t flashy, it wasn’t big, but you felt like if you trained hard enough, you could make it to the hero course.

your parents had split when you were young, and you were on good terms with both of them so the summer you had developed your quirk, you visited your dad for 2 months.

he was a mechanic, and he lived out in the outskirts of the city, and he was very.. rugged.

you learned quickly that slacking off was not allowed at your dads house. you weren’t allowed to sleep in, you had to wake up before the sun and help him work on cars but soon you got a taste for it. you had grown a love for cars, engineering, welding, etc.

by the end of summer, you were getting up on your own, enjoying seeing the sunrise as you guys went to the junkyard, coming out covered in grime and sweat, grabbing scraps for your new love of inventions.

of course you still were aspiring to be a hero, but you also really loved inventing new things, so you didn’t know what path to choose and your quirk was perfect for welding.

so you talked to the counselor at your middle school, wondering what career paths you could choose that would involve both saving lives and heroes and engineering.

“have you heard of the support department?”

support department?

you searched it up online,

“Students in this department focus on developing support equipment that help heroes out on the battlefield. With a workspace stocked to the brim with all sorts of special tools, the department provides an unmatched creative environment.”

you smiled at what your screen displayed.

it was perfect, so your new dream was to enroll into UA, join the support department, and open your own agency that’d help heroes build the equipment of their dreams that help them fight crime.

so that’s what you studied. you were in your first year of junior school (7th grade) when you realized this, so the next two summers you went back to your dad’s to work on cars and inventions, but during the school year, you trained. you trained really fucking hard. you did not play about getting into UA and chasing your dreams. if you only lived once, you were gonna live it right.

so you changed your schedule, mirroring the one you had during summer. you’d wake up every morning, go to the nearest junk yard which was a mile away from your house. you brought your wagon, and lugged scrap after scrap into it, dragging it back home.

your mom had made your own personal workshop in the basement, knowing how much it was your passion. you’d spend hours on hours down there, and not to toot your own horn but you were insane at engineering. if you could think it, you could build it.

your creativity was through the roof, you started taking commissions and fixing up cars by yourself, earning a bit of money to buy yourself an at home gym to train even more.

before you knew it, it was time for ‘entrance exams’, except for you, for support department students, you had to submit an invention, an original piece that was unique to you, easy to use, but difficult to make.

you spent months on your invention, your admissions essay, and your recommendations. you were overachieving, but you didn’t care.

when you got the letter in the mail, your heart thumped and thumped, your hands started to shake, barely seeing where the letter was sent from, all you could see was the UA stamp.

“mom! mom! it’s the letter!” you called out, setting it on the dining table as you saw your mom excitedly rush out of the bathroom, half her hair in hair rollers. she knew how hard you worked and she was proud of you if you got in or not.

“what are you doing? open it up!” she said, smiling ear to ear. you could swear she was more excited than you.

you picked up the letter, opening up the envelope and taking it out when a little button looking thing dropped out. you furrowed your brows, moving to pick it up before a hologram flickered on. you and your mom were both stunned, taking a step back before getting met with the face of all might, your childhood hero and inspiration, welcoming you to UA, and to their support department.

once the words reached your ears, you and your mom jumped around, hugging each other, beaming from ear to ear. you got in! you were gonna be the best of the best, and you weren’t going to let anyone get in your way.

you then read the letter in the envelope. you got a full ride scholarship off your inventions and recommendations alone. you felt like you could cry, and you did. happy tears streamed down your face. all this hard work? absolutely worth it, and you weren’t gonna slack off just because you got in.

further down the letter, it said they were going to be enforcing dorms earlier than usual. something about teaching future heroes about responsibility before becoming an adult, blah blah blah.. all you could think about was how you got in all by yourself, you won, and getting into UA will go amazing on your resumes and help you open your own support agency in the future.

this was your first step to your dream.

in the months before moving into the school, you obviously kept up your practice, but allowed yourself to relax a bit, you no longer had the anxiety and weight on your shoulders of trying to enroll, so instead of 5AM, you woke up at 7AM instead. you let yourself hang out with friends more, go out more, and spend some of that cash that had piled up through commissions and a job that you had taken up at a local coffee shop as a barista when you thought you had to pay for UA on your own. doing this, you learned about the world outside of your basement or the junkyard, and grew an appreciation for clothes and shopping.

the day to move in crept closer and closer, you started packing your clothes, using 2 suitcases. i mean you were gonna be there for a year, and obviously you were gonna visit home, but you didn’t wanna travel back and forth for clothes. you packed up everything you could, and used moving trucks to deliver furniture once the day did roll around.

walking up to the dorm building was scary. a chill ran down your spine as you stared at the huge building that was shaped like a U. it was smaller than the school, obviously, but still big. general, hero, support, and management students were all mixed into 2 buildings. the school didn’t want to separate students, it saved money and was under the guise that it’d help you make friends with whoever, despite was class you got into.

what they didn’t state was the hidden hierarchy inside the buildings. after a month, you soon learned that some hero students looked down at the rest, most general students looked down at support department students, and management was a weird mix of egotistical assholes and shy people who knew that they were in the ‘lowest’ class. lowest meaning easiest to get into, which wasn’t really true. you felt like you could’ve easily gotten into the general course, but whatever. you didn’t care about that.

back to the dorms, other people were passing you by when someone bumped into your shoulder. it was a tall guy, muscular, and weird blonde spiky hair.

“watch it, extra.” the stranger growled at you.

you were taken aback, annoyed at the audacity. “you bumped into me, weirdo.” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

you thought this was a well-mannered school, guess not. you brushed it off though, lugging your suitcases into the building. you were met with a big common area, there was even a small kitchen with a cafeteria. you smiled, it was modern, fancy, nothing like anything you’ve seen before.

you rolled into the elevator, going to the second highest level, where your dorm was.

you were nervous. still. you didn’t know who you would meet, if you would make friends, if people would like you.. but all you needed to focus on was unpacking.

ding.

the elevator doors opened, and you walked out, strolling down the long hallway until you got to the end. your room was at the very end, it had more open windows, letting a LOT of natural light in. you knew you had to get curtains though, since the windows were so big. you walked in and gasped. your very own living space. obviously you’d have to decorate and make it home, but all in due time.

you walked in, closing the door behind you, looking at your view. you could see the city from here, which wasn’t a huge drive, 10 minutes, 20 maybe if the traffic is bad, which it usually is.

on your other window was pure forest, you could see beautiful mountains. it was stunning, breath-taking view.

you put on some calm music and unpacked, humming to yourself and you hung your clothes, folded pants, ironed your uniforms, and placed your usual tools and books you brought in the shelves and drawers that the school had provided.

you were exhausted by the end of the day, you watched the sunset dip under the mountains and you closed the curtains you had installed earlier as you changed and got into bed and slept for a couple hours before waking up in the middle of the night.

thump. thump. thump.

were those.. drums? music? who the hell was playing such a loud instrument so late at night?

you needed your sleep. you could not be tired on your first day so you got up and out of your dorm, stepping down the hallway a bit. the noise was coming from your neighbor. seriously? am i gonna have to deal with this for 3 years? you thought as you knocked politely on their door.

no answer.

you knocked louder.

no answer, and you could hear their music getting louder, almost as if they were trying to tune out the knocking.

you started to bang on their door before you heard the music stop and angry stomps to the door before it swung open.

a handsome face met you, but it was tainted with a scowl, a disgusted and annoyed look.

wait a minute.. you recognized that ugly hair. it was the same dude that bumped into you earlier. a flicker of recognition flashed on your face before you furrowed your brows.

“the hell do you want?” he growled down at you.

“mind turning down your music? to 0, maybe?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at his audacity (again.).

“mind getting some earplugs, bitch?”

you gasped, shocked a bit.

“some people are trying to get their beauty sleep.”

“yeah, you look like you really need it.” he chuckled in your face, his eyes roaming your disheveled form.

you groaned, “if anyone needs it, it’s you.”

“yeah? well go fuck yourself.” he said before slamming the door in your face. you groaned harder, shuffling back to your room and slamming the door shut as well. you got into bed, trying to cover your ears with pillows to block out the obnoxious drums from next door.

you eventually willed yourself to go to sleep.

maybe tomorrow will be better?

[mycameron]

❝ 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ❞ ︵ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐋

trueform! ryōmen sukuna x angel fem! reader

𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 description. you’ve bewitched him the moment you fell from the sky. sukuna finds himself experiencing feelings he thought he was incapable of harboring again as he nursed you back to health. thus, he can’t let you go—his darling angel.

𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 contains. sfw, fluff : heian era!, non-sorcerer! reader, sacrilege (?), oblivious reader, mentions of injuries & blood, gruff to soft kuna ♡, size difference, usage of pet names (little one, angel, brat). sequel will hold possible yandere themes and smut. wc : 2.5k

nora's ♡ note. this dynamic has been plaguing my head for weeks on end (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥).

In all of your existence you’ve learned that luck was never in your favor. Being clumsy since a young cherub is all you can remember, as if gravity had a personal grudge against you. It’s something you unfortunately had to embrace throughout the years and that same fortune laughs right in your face once more.

It had to be some kind of cruel joke. Your trajectory was particularly wild during this journey, like you’ve been thrown off balance—flight patterns irregular and chaotic causing you to fall straight down from the heavens.

The gods should've taken you back then when they had the chance, shield you from the cold, hard ground of earth and protected their little angel. They should’ve ripped you away from the powerful grasp of a curse with four arms that had found you. Yet, they left you to plummet down without a second thought, breaking one of your velvety wings in the process.

Fate, too, had twisted cruelly. It led you from the arms of the divinity, to the doorstep of a monster.

The air was thick with the smell of decay and ruin, mixed with the coppery scent of carmine trickling down your back. It took a few moments before you regained your bearings and realize your predicament—of the very thing you were told to stray away from since a child.

Earth.

You had never touched the dirt of this planet before, never even thought to do so. Folktales from the elders spewed knowledge of curses that come in all sorts of different shapes and sizes—lurking amongst shadows as well as plaguing the soil. They reigned terror over humans for centuries, it was enough to keep you at bay, to just remain from above.

Looking around to get a sense of your surroundings, your ears listened keenly for any sign of possible danger. Only to have a prickling sting shoot up your spine like little pin needles as you attempted to move. Your breathing was heavy, vision blurry from the impact with your heart pounding against your rib cage—likely out of the unease you felt. Like an impending doom. Everything was excruciating, so much so that the sound of your pained cries pierced through the silence of the forest around you seconds after.

"What’s an angel doing in my territory, hm?" Sukuna's deep gravel voice drips with a mixture of amusement and intrigue, making your bleary eyes finally lock onto his announced looming figure hidden behind luscious greenery. You freeze at the sight of him but can’t help in observing him curiously through sniffles.

How long had he been standing there for? You hadn’t a clue, however he watches with mild interest as you remain weeping—unable to get any words out. In his ears, the sound was strangely melancholic and beautiful at the same time.

“Shit, what a mess.” He steps closer, each movement deliberate as he towers over your much smaller form—broken and ragged amid the wreckage.

The fierce gaze of ruby eyes wandered over the entirety of your sorry state, taking in your feathers. They seemed almost too innocent for this world, much like yourself—untouched by the grimy fingers of sin.

Though now your quills, once radiant—an emblem of grace and your heavenly origins, were terribly ruined. Crumpled and tattered with a stain of an ugly scarlet red that continued to spread across your torn clothes.

With a lazy smirk, he crouched down to your eye level to reach out and brush his calloused fingers roughly against the frayed edges of your mangled wing, as if they ached to touch you. He found the feathers soft and downy, like snowflakes against his coarse skin. It earned a flinch and whimper in his favor, making his initial amusement waver. Your snivel was soft, like a wounded animal—his hand twitches involuntarily from it with a strange ache in his chest, something he couldn’t quite pin.

The image before his eyes should have brought him satisfaction—proof that you, too, could be marred and destroyed—yet it felt…out of place. No, worse than that. It felt like a perversion of everything he ever believed in. For once, Sukuna didn’t like the sight of blood—didn’t relish in someone’s agonizing pain. Especially not on someone as elegant and pretty as you.

He had encountered celestial beings before, but they were all self-righteous, filled with the arrogance of their perceived superiority. You, you seemed different. There was no celestial glow, no regal poise. Rather, a naivety that made him want to laugh.

"Please…help me.” The first words uttered from your mouth had been so quiet, so meek that Sukuna had to strain to catch them. You don’t know what compelled you to plead for him, but the anguish of pain that felt like torture—the resignation of his presence, made it hard to care.

He had not expected such a supplication from you either, one of the divine and benevolent beings. He had expected you to challenge him, to display the same arrogance that he loathed so much in gods and sorcerers alike. Instead, he hears the fragility and sweetness in your voice—a melodic sound like chimes in the wind, silky and gentle. It clashes with the constant darkness that shrouded him. Utterly conflicted was an understatement of how he currently felt.

“Why would I assist you?” he mocked with a scoff, though his regular gruffness was not entirely there.

You don’t catch onto his sneer, clinging to the hem of his hakama in a shaky feeble grasp due to the discomfort of your injuries. His eyebrow twitches in mirth, no one dared to touch him so casually—you were either incredibly stupid or…you might’ve hit your head pretty hard too.

“I don't wish to die,” you hiccuped with pinched brows. “Not here, not like this. I beg of you.”

He stays silent for a moment, his mind wrestling with the incongruity of the situation. Was this feeling clawing at his chest akin to pity? Or something else? He wasn't so sure, but the contradicting emotions that swirls inside him momentarily clouds his usual callousness.

To aid you would go against everything he stood for—everything he believed in. The very idea of succumbing to an angel’s plea was revolting. It was almost comical, but the sheer vulnerability in your tone, the desperation that clung to every word and grip of your small hand made it impossible to treat as a jest.

He’d thought you were better off left to perish. Such purity had no place in this world of cruelty and betrayal, of selfishness and greed. But there was something about the way you peered up at him—your soft watery gaze sparkling with hope, head tilted in interest like a lost puppy that made him stop.

Unlike others who would tremble at the mere sight of him, you showed no signs of terror. There was no care for the many eyes or extra pair of limbs on his tattooed body.

To you, he was just another being. Not a curse. Not a monster. Nothing to be overly fearful of.

His engrossment was piqued by your lack of caution. The way you didn't cower away was a refreshing change he wasn’t used to, it intrigued him. You just regarded him with a certain ignorance, unaware of the actual power he possessed which further pulled him into you.

He should’ve taunted you, relished his superiority over you, and refused your request. Should’ve let you stumble around, defenseless and at his mercy.

But he couldn't. Instead, without another word he lets out a deep sigh, finding himself with a touch more tender than earlier reaching out to you. His fingers grasps your nimble hand—dwarfed in his, startling even himself with the consideration of his own action.

“Hold still, angel. You’ll only hurt yourself even more.” With surprising care, he began to pick you up smoothly, lifting you into his four muscled arms in little to no effort.

Your weight was almost negligible in his hold, your frame against his burly one an odd sight. He tries to ignore the way you felt so small, so fragile against his broad chest, focusing instead on the task ahead.

Sukuna carried you to his temple, footsteps as confident and silent as ever through the wilderness. Despite the dark nature of his existence, he was incapable of leaving you to suffer a slow painful death. As you clung to him weak and vulnerable, his very being was drawn to the innocence that surrounded you. From the way your arms wrapped around his wide shoulders to the way you nuzzled your loving face into the juncture of his neck, all trustingly—naive.

And oh great heavens you smelled so good, luscious hair tickling his nose when he couldn’t stop himself from slightly turning his face. Briefly nosing the tresses—lightly, just barely touching you.

Flowers he breathes, lillies to be specific, fresh ones—much like those on a spring day he burned to ashes in the middle of razing many unimportant villages. He didn’t have the time to take in the sickeningly sweet scent before until now, it filled him with some sort of pleasant serenity.

It was as if you were a beacon of light in his world consumed by shadows, a light he couldn't bring himself to extinguish. You were too untainted for this spoiled land, let alone Sukuna’s grasp.

Yet, here you were in his domain, now in his care. He'd taken you in out of boredom, possibly even a hint of curiosity.

Not sympathy. No he would never admit that.

All curses and mortals say that being in the presence of Sukuna was a fate worse than death. So why is it that the King of Curses—rough hands, skilled with violence and power used for carnage, had tended to you with such reverent care?

Has your luck not forsaken you this once?

Perhaps it was the curiosity getting to the best of him, but he had even allowed you to sit on his lap. You placed your faith in him wholeheartedly as he tugged off your shredded clothing mindfully, the top half of your body bare with your back facing him. He adverts his four eyes from ogling your exposed breasts, something he seemed to really struggle with.

“Since when did I have manners?” He mumbled with a click of his tongue.

“I’m sorry? I didn’t quite catch what you said.”

“Nothing. Look forward.”

His lower pair of arms holds you still by your waist, touch delicate whilst he examines the extent of the bruises and blemishes that sullied your sweet form. The normal brute strength he wields was replaced with a great gentleness that mirrored the touch of a softhearted lover as he cautiously held your fractured wing in one of his free hands, turning it this way and that.

Sukuna concentrates on the issue at hand, his fingers moving almost magically as they manipulate his cursed energy. The healing force pulses through you, mending most of the shattered delicate bones and knitting some torn feathers back together.

“So that’s what sorcerers are capable of,” you ponder aloud. You’re able to sit up straighter now, peering over your shoulder again at him in awe. A cute expression with a sparkle of wonder in your eyes that made him huff followed by another curt response.

“Don’t get used to it.”

Though this wasn’t merely enough, for some reason his reverse technique didn’t work fully on you—it was peculiar, he's the strongest sorcerer but it was as if he weren’t meant to touch you at all.

He grumbles and took it upon himself to do the rest manually. Each damaged quill was smoothed back into place with a patience that seemed to conflict with his standard impatience. And every small whine or wince of pain from your dewy pouting lips would be hushed soothingly, his usual sharp edges softening more with every passing moment.

In fact, he finds himself almost entranced by the small noises you make, the way your body reacts to every touch of his hands. You were quite sensitive, he muses.

Even Sukuna was puzzled by his own behavior. He had never had the need to care for anyone in centuries, let alone a fragile, broken creature like you. But he was so compelled to offer something he had experienced ages ago, something he had long thought buried—compassion.

"Pathetic," he muttered, more to himself than to you. Though the word didn't have the same scorn it would normally hold.

Regardless of the circumstances, there was a strong sense of intimacy in the entire ordeal. Especially with the little to no words being exchanged, something harmonious being shared that can only be understood between you two.

This contradicted everything he abided by. There was no hint of malice in his usually heartless eyes, only what appeared to be genuine concern. He wiped you down with a wet rag, ridding that vile sight of blood marring your otherwise perfect skin and even took the time to trim the mangled feathers of your wing in an attempt to salvage the ones that could be saved.

Occasionally he would brush his fingers over your back, an excuse to feel your supple smooth flesh and witness it prickle with shivers. Each movement was slow and calculated, to not cause anymore unnecessary pain almost like he was afraid to break you.

All the while, you sat patiently in his lap, not batting an eye to the powerful curse assisting your half naked form. You were like a small, trusting bird, submitting to the hands of a monster without an ounce of self-preservation. It filled him with a sense of allurement to your being. He was so close that you could feel his warm breath on your skin and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat which seemed oddly soothing.

"Almost done little one," he whispers lowly, his voice betraying none of the strange feelings swirling within him.

In the quiet moments when he worked on preening your feathers, meticulously picking off the tiniest bits of debris and dirt that clung to them, Sukuna was reminded of a time when he too had been innocent.

Soon enough your wings, once dirty and matted, began to gleam again, their original pristine white slowly returning. Once he was satisfied, he wrapped your wing in a makeshift splint, ensuring that it would heal properly on its own.

Though you were now left in another predicament. Your inability to fly, leaving you vulnerable without your primary source of defense, was a dilemma that left you stuck on where to go. You couldn’t possibly fly back home in this state nor could you travel through unknown terrain that held threats with every step you can’t even fathom.

Sukuna, without much hesitation—quite an unusual decision—granted you the privilege of staying with him temporarily until your wing fully healed. Why he did it? He couldn't say aloud. The building companionship or the responsibility he already began to feel for you kept him from sending you off. Either way, you found yourself in the presence of the King of Curses, a creature far more intriguing and complex than he appeared.

"Thank you so much," you expressed politely as he began to cover you up in the robe that was previously on his large frame. The heat emanating from the fabric brings you a sense of comfort, easing your anxieties further. Everything you had learned about curses growing up was unlike what he had just shown you.

Sukuna was taken aback by the earnest gratitude in your voice. Nobody ever thanked him, especially not for sparing their lives. But here you were, offering him words of appreciation with a smile sweet enough to rival the best of sweets. He pauses, fingers lingering on the robe as he draped it over you and grunted, refusing to acknowledge the slight flutter in his chest at the sight of your curled lips.

His garment was far too large for you, practically swamping your smaller figure. The sleeves hung limply over your hands, and the hem pooled around your feet. In any other situation, anyone else would've looked ridiculous, but there was something strangely endearing about the way it made you look even more delicate and vulnerable.

Sukuna's gaze lingered on you for a moment, his expression almost contemplative as he responded, "Don’t get it twisted, woman. I may change my mind and eat you." He made it sound so nonchalant, but the protective gesture of tying his robe around you to hide your chest betrayed his words.

Ideally you should have taken the threat seriously like anyone would, but you react with a giggle and do the unthinkable—tippy toeing up to place a soft chaste kiss on his cheek.

. . .

What?

If what he felt in his heart earlier was a flutter then now it had just stopped entirely for a second.

Sukuna's eyes widened ever so slightly, a hint of surprise and—dare he say, blushing—lightly coloring his stern features. For a moment, he stayed quiet, not used to such affectionate gestures. A strange sense of flustered confusion washed over him as he felt the imprint of your very soft lips, coupled by the song-like laughter leaving you left a trail of tingling warmth to spread throughout the entirely of his body

If anything he didn’t feel a single bit of displeasure…and that scared him. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure; he can't have this affecting him. No, he had a reputation to maintain—that of a fearsome curse, not a reeling mess because of a simple kiss on the cheek.

“You—!" he began to protest, his curt exterior faltering whilst unable to properly string together a coherent sentence. For the first time in a long while, the great Sukuna Ryōmen was at a loss for words.

"Hm?”

His demeanor crumbled substantially, replaced by utter bewilderment at your obliviousness to the effect you had on him. Sukuna's jaw ticked as you looked back at him, your raised brows and tilt to your head only adding to your clueless reaction, making you appear even more endearing.

"Never mind," he grumbled, expression hardening back into its usual sternness, though the slight dusting of pink on his ears deceived his true feelings before turning to walk away. Not without you trailing after him closely from behind like a shadow—with a pep to your step of course. “Tch, brat.”

© 𝐂𝐘𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐙 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works.

[mycameron]

⌕ Giving ōral, for dummies! ★

Snippet | "Hmm. Increase suction gradually... Got it."

FT║ Fem!Reader ✘ Nerd!Choso K.

Desc | Your boyfriend was a perfectionist—so when you told him his heąd game wasn't that good, he took it personally ➜ Now, with a book and determination, he's is set on proving you wrong. But when he starts flipping pages mid-act, you realize you might've created a monster.

Cw║ ørāl f!xát!on, crack/šmųț (proceed with caution 18+ ⚠️) ōvėrstım, praısė, service dom!choso, fınġer!ng, pıv implied at the end, volleyball!player reader, mărk!ng, choso has braces & glasses, nerd/dork! Choso duh, sızę difference (if you squint,) + college au.

WC ➜ 2.1K ♪ ML

11 min read & Oneshot.

Your boyfriend was a perfectionist at everything he did. And when it came to pleasing you? Best believe there was no exception.

When you were reluctantly honest with him, telling him his head game skills weren’t that good, it hurt at first, yes, but he urgently became dedicated to getting that statement to eventually change. Proving he could take criticism well, he studied multiple articles and at one point even bought a few expensive books that fairly put a hole in his wallet on how to give a woman pleasure.

Which led you to being here in his neat dorm room after volleyball practice.

Head spinning like whirlpools as you leaned up on both elbows, staring down extremely fascinated at your boyfriend in between your spread thick thighs.

His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, pale flushed face buried into your pussy all while checking every second to read another step.

“Cho, w-what’s with the book,” you stammered, already becoming a breathy whiney mess, from the tutorial he was following. “You could’ve–”

He must’ve finished reading a step off of the page or something, since he cut you off. Not with words, but with slow gentle wet kisses on your clit. As if he were taking little nibbles on his appetizer before getting to the main course.

Your whole body jerked. “Oh, fuuuck…” A long drawn out cry fell out from your mouth, sauntering over to his ears that were painted light-pink at the tips.

Choso hummed like he’d just confirmed one of the fun-facts about the clit having 10,281 nerves. Briskly adjusting his tortoise-shell glasses before flipping to the next page in the book propped open beside him titled “Giving Oral Sex, For Dummies!”

He kept his face relished between your legs, licking long, careful stripes across your slit—like he was terrified of leaving you unsatisfied again.

“Choso!” You abruptly gasped at his mouth working itself on you, tossing your head back, before blinking up, staggering eyes watching him. Unsure whether your stomach began to twist in arousal or secondhand embarrassment.

You were too lost in ecstasy to fully process what was happening either way, the only thing your brain could maybe manage to pick up was the faint buzz of the TV static in the background.

He continued, moving away for a moment to bring his head towards your slightly sweaty inner thigh lips latching onto the soft flesh, sucking delicately, as if the spot had a fragile sticker placed on it.

His tongue flicked against the skin in lazy strokes while a deep low groan vibrated against your thigh, and you felt it—the sensation rumbling through your skin, sinking into your bones.

You shivered. A whimper left your lips before you could stop it, secretly hoping his roommate wasn’t there. Your thighs twitching ever so slightly as heat charged through you.

Choso lifted his lips about thirty seconds later, admiring the deepening mark blooming on the fat of your thigh. He smiled, exhilarated at the sight of his masterpiece, his fingers kneading possessively at the painted flesh.

“Shit, it looks so beautiful on you, angel.” He murmured, voice spilling with warmth. His half-lidded eyes dragged over your skin, pupils dilated with admiration.

Your stomach flipped at the lovesick haze in his expression, heart hammering at how beyond gone he looked over a single bruise.

Then, Choso’s lips curled into a small, knowing smirk, fingers tracing the sensitive mark he’d left behind.

“Damn,” he uttered, amusement sprinkling his voice, “what’s the team gonna say when they see this, huh?” His confidence had soared—fed by the pretty sounds you repeatedly gave him, the way your body responded so easily to his mouth. Thanks to this little guide he knew he’d never receive poor ratings on his oral skills again.

Your breath hitched. A fresh wave of heat rolled through you at the realization—your shorts weren’t long enough to hide it.

“Shut up, and just make me cum.” You shot back, face heated in embarrassment, still making it your business to humble him somewhat.

Choso let out a deep, throaty chuckle against your thigh, the vibrations sending a fresh wave of heat straight to your core.

“Yes, ma’am!” He grinned, flashing just enough of his braces to make your mind dizzy, eyes gleaming as he lowered himself back between your legs. His wet muscle circled your bud at a deliberate, teasing pace—never too fast, or too slow, just enough to keep you desperate.

His mouth was hot, breath fanning over your slick sticky folds. When he pulled back just slightly—lips and chin glistening—his braces caught the bright light.

You swore you felt weak at the immense sight, everything about this man turned you on.

Choso licked his lips, not even bothering to wipe the mess off his face, and let out another low hum.

“Mmph, the book didn’t mention you’d taste this good, baby.”

You would’ve rolled your eyes at the comment—if his tongue wasn’t currently making your legs shake.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend’s violet eyes switched back to the page in front of him, scanning the text like he was preparing for a damn exam.

“Choso—oh my god—what are you even…”

“Shh, relax for me, okay?” He mumbled shushing you, pink lips still strikingly warm against your pussy.

Then—he turned the page, mouth poked out paired along furrowed brows. Tilting his head seriously too concentrated on what he read.

You blinked in disbelief, jaw dropping wide at the action nearly like you’ve seen a ghost. Did he just skip to another page?

“I need to see what step five is.” He added on, eyes glued to the details on what to do next.

“STEP FIVE?!”

Your head shot up, barely able to focus through the waves of pleasure crashing over you. But sure enough—Choso was nodding to himself, eyes scanning the page, mustering under his breath like he was taking mental notes.

“Hmm. Increase suction gradually… Got it.”

A second later, he wrapped his lips around your puffy clit and sucked, languid but firm, and your whole body convulsed. Your legs snapped around his head, locking him in place as your face contorted in pure, unfiltered pleasure.

“Choso—fuck—what exactly are you studying for?!” you yelped, genuinely confused, fingers tangling into his dark brown ponytails for support.

Your boyfriend actually pulled back, pushed up his glasses, and raised an eyebrow at you like you asked him the most obvious question ever.

“For you,” he answered back, completely calm. Then—without hesitation he dove right back in, swishing his head back and forth as his pointed nose brushed on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Holy. Shit.

You were fully losing it, while he remained completely composed, taking his sweet time applying every technique like he was testing out a new experiment. His fingers gripped your thighs, keeping you extended open like a damn science project.

“Ooh…ngh—Choso, wait!“

He did NOT wait.

In fact, he casually flipped to another page and straight away tried a new tongue technique.

Your back almost arched off the bed. Your head fell back. You were so gone.

And then you heard a fucking pencil scribbling?

“…Baby, the hell?” You heavily panted chest rising and falling on loop. “Are you seriously taking notes?!”

A long pause poured throughout the room, then sheepishly followed behind a high pitched…

“Maybe.”

If you weren’t seconds away from falling apart on his tongue, you’d burst into rib-hurting laughter.

“You’re doing amazing,” he praised, like you were the one putting in work—like you weren’t the one seeing stars.

And as you felt his fingers easily push inside, curling just right, your stomach tensed.

Your own fingers never felt this good.

Your body recognized that telltale tightening in your core—the coil rapidly winding down.

No fucking way.

No way your boyfriend—who was literally using a goddamn manual—was about to make you cum off of it.

You swallowed hard, body trembling.

But with the way Choso was fingering you—intent, precise, full-on committed—you had a sinking feeling this was about to be the best orgasm of your life.

And you were right.

“F-Fuck—Choso, I’m…“

He didn’t stop. His fingers pressed up against that spot, tongue moving faster, tighter, messier, fully loyal to the task at hand. His glasses slid down his nose a second time. His face was dripping with you, and he didn’t even care.

If anything, he looked like he was thriving.

“C’mon, baby,” he coaxed, lapping you up like you were his drug. “I know you’re close.”

You were. Too close, causing you to have an almost love-hate relationship with his attentiveness.

Your thighs shook around his head, your fingers scrambled for something to hold onto, the tension snapped in your belly, and suddenly—

You were coming so hard you forgot your own name for a minute.

A sharp sob tore from your lips as your back arched off the bed, pleasure crashing over you in thick, electric waves.

Trembling, while Choso whimpered low. Desperate with arousal, like you just did something to him.

Then you felt it.

His hips rolling against the mattress, shaking the whole bed.

Grinding into it like he was losing his damn mind, whining softly as his fingers dug into your thighs nearly leaving more marks.

The awareness sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

Even with his mouth on you, his hands on you, his tongue deep in your pussy—he still needed more.

Finally, your body collapsed—unable to lean on your elbows anymore. Boneless, breathless, outright ruined.

Choso pulled back, shining with your slick on his chin, glasses fogged, pupils blown like a hot air balloon as he stared at you, awestruck. His breath came in uneven pants, chest rising and falling as if he’d just finished a marathon—except the only thing he had been running was his tongue against your cunt.

You let out an unhurried, quivery breath, body still trembling in the aftermath.

“…Gosh, you’re so ridiculous, babe.” You sighed, still trying to catch your composure, the remnants of pleasure making your voice weaker than intended.

Choso grinned, bashful, swiping the back of his hand over his chin as if to wipe away the mess—only to smudge it further. “Listen… it helped at least?”

Your core throbbed, empty, still fluttering around nothing. The ghost of his fingers, his mouth, the relentless precision of his tongue, lingered between your thighs, and it was very clear—you weren’t stopping here.

You tilted your head, voice firm. “I want your cock inside me. Now.”

Choso choked on his own spit.

His whole body tensed, hands gripping your thighs a little tighter, lips parting like he wanted to say something—but nothing came out. His pupils were blown, his breath shaky, and fuck, he was practically vibrating with restraint.

But who was he to deny you?

His fingers fumbled to undo his sweats, shoving them down just enough to free his cock—already painfully hard.

The tip drooled an ample amount of pre-cum, glistening under the dim light, a desperate testament to just how much eating you out had ruined him.

He exhaled sharply, giving himself a few slow, measured strokes, watching the way your thighs trembled, the way your lips parted when you saw him. A deep moan rumbled in his chest, and he finally lined himself up, running the swollen tip along your entrance, smearing his slick against your heat.

Then—he fucking picked up the book again.

Your eyes popped open.

“Choso.” Your voice was sharp and dangerous.

Forcing him to freeze.

“Uh—“ He glanced at the book. Then at you. Then back at the book. “I just wanted to see if there’s a section on penetration—”

“Boy if you don’t put that damn book down.”

Choso’s eyes widened, and the book was on the floor in seconds.

“Okay, okay—fuck,” he laughed breathlessly, his hands finding purchase on your thighs again. “You’re so sexy when you’re all bossy.”

You felt the massive tip press against your entrance, splitting you open as he steadily pushed in.

Yeah, you could tell you were in for a long night.

By the time morning hit, your entire body ached—not the good kind of sore after a tough practice, but the kind that made you rethink all your life choices. Your legs felt like jelly, muscles strained and overworked in a way even the most brutal drills had never managed.

It was worse than endless blocking reps. Worse than the time your coach made you do wall sits for five straight minutes after missing a serve.

You groaned as you shifted, a sharp ache shot up your thighs. Your abs protested, your hips throbbed, and as you carefully swung your legs over the edge of the bed, you had a horrifying realization.

There was no way in hell you were walking normally today.

Your toes barely touched the floor before your knees buckled, forcing you to grab onto the nightstand for balance.

Already dreading the moment you had to step onto the court.

All you could do now was pray your coach wouldn’t notice how funny you were walking.

➜ Masterlist.

➜ A reblog, like, or comment is highly appreciated!!

➜ A/n | I had this silly little idea a few days ago, so I hope you enjoyed it :) + this was lowkey supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away

Divider/Boarder creds | hyuneskkami + adornedwithlight.

[mycameron]

cw: no boundaries, possessiveness, spit marking, mild coercion

Give me a Ghost who is absolutely down bad and disgusting for you. Never heard of the term called boundaries in his life.

Teammates? He steps outside to clear his head—craving fresh air, only to find you with a cigarette between your fingers. Asks for a drag, but pushes it aside when you try to hand it over. Instead, he leans in, big grin plastered on his face, lifting the mask just enough to expose the tip of his nose. "Blow." You hesitate. He doesn't. A firm grip on your wrist ensures you won't slip away. Mouth open, waiting, he insists that every drag you take isn't for you. It's for him.

Neighbours? After months of absence, you find him waiting on the stairs of your apartment complex. He doesn't talk much, but you know he listens. You tell him about how you've been, what's changed. Maybe you mention someone new. Maybe you don't. Doesn't matter. He doesn't hold back—just sinks his teeth into your neck, sucks at the tender flesh with the intent to leave a mark. With his task completed, he cups your face, gazing down at your big doe eyes and mouth wide open in surprise. Takes this chance to spit in your mouth, marking you inside and out. "Sorry, doll. My scent wore off since last time. Had t' sort that out'."

part 2 with a yandere!Ghost is up, so go check it out if you’d like ♡

[mycameron]

WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS: 002

002 series masterlist previous chapter next chapter

liked by kiecarrera, notpopee and 294 others

youruser tipsy in vegas 🪩🍸

view all 67 comments…

sarahcameron how many letters in devoured??

↳ youruser EIGHHHTTTTTTT!!

cleoo wishing all those bubbles weren’t there 😍

↳ johnbee ayo??

jjmaybank_ think ur more than tipsy 🤔

↳ youruser shhhh 🤫

kiecarrera prettiest EVA😫💞

topontop hope you’re having fun

↳ youruser …thank you…

↳ jjmaybank_ yo what’s he doing here

↳ youruser literally no idea i’m scared

rafewcameron ‘tipsy’ she says while she faceplants

↳ youruser hey! u said that would stay between us😞

🏷️𝜗𝜚 — taglist ( comment or inbox me to be added ) @st8rkey @xhunnybbyx @gloomyluvr @lili-swagalicious @malibuhearts @emmiesummers @ijustwanttoreadlols @littlefreak-liz @chalahyung01 @vcnillafairy @cherubfille @pogueprincesa @adoreeyou @lolasangelz @xoxosblogsblog @aawdrea @bayouxxqueen @drewstarkeyspecs @luvrclub @partywithjay @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme @vanessa-rafesgirl @isimpforfictionalcharaceters @yktayy9669 @luzstarkey @hannaa20002000 @rafesbbdoll @jeonjungkaka @mattyskies @drewsswifeyy @wtfisastiles @mymadokamagica @kissesandmartinis @icaqttt @yesterdaysproblemm @rrosiitas @princesspeaxhh @blondrafe @drewstarkeytruelove @leclerc16s @scream4mami @blushmimi @laniirackssss @mycameron

[mycameron]

⟢ synopsis : rafe apologises to you. content warning .ᐟ oral sex (f!receiving) 18+

“babygirl.”

you haven’t looked at rafe since he set foot into your room. curled up against the headboard, you’re scrolling mindlessly through your phone, every inch of your posture radiating pointed disinterest. the mattress creaks as he sits beside you. he watches your mouth set in that stubborn little line that makes his pulse throb in his temple.

“gonna ignore me all night?” still nothing. rafe leans forward, elbows propped on his knees, and starts to chew at his thumbnail. he’s thinking, running through his options. six months ago, he’d have ripped that phone from your hands and thrown it across the room, maybe even yelled. you would’ve snapped back, and it’d have turned into a fight. now, though… he hesitates.

“what’s it gonna take to get back in your good graces?” his voice is casual; cajoling, even. “a formal apology? flowers? what do i gotta do to get back in your pants tonight?” he reaches for your thigh, but you jerk away like you’ve been burned. regret prickles in your chest when you catch the slight flinch that crosses his face. so you lift your gaze, making a show of considering his words. then, flatly—“depends on how hard you grovel.”

⟢.

your body is an altar, and rafe is on his knees.

the ceiling fan above is a blur, but you’re not seeing it. spine curved taut like a bowstring, your legs are draped over his shoulders, heels digging into the hard muscle of his back. all the petty anger from earlier is siphoned out of you like air from a punctured lung. in its place, there is only heat. dizzying pressure. your mind is soup, nothing but a mess of shattered thoughts, synapses misfiring, pleasure warping the edges of your awareness until the only thing that exists is him. and of course, that maddening, glorious mouth.

“still mad?”

another slow drag of his tongue, and reality tilts, shatters, stitches itself back together. your thighs clench around his face, a knee-jerk reaction, but rafe doesn’t mind—if anything, he welcomes it, hands tightening on your hips like he’d hold you here forever. your lips part on a breathy, broken sound—not a word, not even close. a knowing chuckle against your fever-hot skin, wholly devastating.

“yeah, that’s what i thought.”

[mycameron]

clingy!rafe who takes you with him wherever he goes, whether it's to a party, a hangout with his friends, or running errands, you're right there beside him.

clingy!rafe who always needs to be touching you. holding your hand under the table at dinner, a hand on your waist when your in public, squeezing your thigh while he drives, or having you beside him while he sleeps, he'll do anything to touch you.

clingy!rafe who'll go crazy when you're mad at him and giving him the silent treatment. he'd be all pissy with everyone until you forgive him. in response, he shows up at your doorstep with a bouquet of your favourite flowers and candies, saying sorry and asking for your forgiveness.

clingy!rafe who acts all nonchalant when you're not around, but he's waaittinggg for when he gets to come home to your pretty little face and have you in his arms.

clingy!rafe who immediately wraps his arms around you once he gets home, smashing his lips onto yours.

clingy!rafe who now has you on the bed, hovering above you as he kisses your neck and fucks your sore little cunt with his needy cock. he loves hearing your moans and whimpers while he shows you just how much he missed being away from you.

[mycameron]

rafe who keeps a buzz cut because he has sensitive hair follicles and you could have him on his knees

he’s a dominant guy, rarely letting you have even an ounce of control in the bedroom. that is, until you thread your fingers through those auburn locks and pull

the first time it happened he whined, fucking let out such a pathetic noise that you couldn’t help the devilish grin that crawled on your face. he must’ve been caught off guard too because he just stared up at you riding him with those pretty wet blue eyes

so you did it again, and he rutted his cock back into you desperately. you leaned down to suck hickeys into his tanned chest while still holding his hair until he came deep in your pussy with a pained cry

he clearly did not like the amused look you had afterwards, because the next day he came home with the whole mess of hair shaved off :(

[mycameron]

texts with rafe cameron

content warning: suggestive content

summary: reader has a sonny angels obsession, which bf!rafe has to deal with every day

taglist: @bambiangels ♡

[mycameron]

Simon would be every bit of a man his father never ever was.

Silent, angry, impatient, nonchalant ?

That's not him. He'll never be that.

He's pulling out your chair, listening to you talk for hours, even the most mundane things which surpassed over his head.

He's taking yours and his plate, washing them because what ? It hardly ever takes a minute.

He sits next to you, watching the program you like so much. Football can come later, or never, what does it matter against the way you giggles and smack his thigh ?

He comes home with flowers, or ice cream tub, or whatever that you ask for, and don't even ask for. He knows.

He's a man of action, if the shelf is too small to cater all your books then the man would be sweating in the shed cutting wood planks and making you the most brilliant shelf, because he would rather die a million times then ever tell you something like, ‘read less, woman’

He meets your family, loves them in his own way, it's okay if he personally doesn't light up the room with his pun or taking cue, but the simple gesture of fixing your mother's old car, and oiling the hinges of door, wordlessly, is everything.

Ignoring children ? No. He picks up the crying child and coddles them so, while you are busy with your own work, or just napping. He shows them the plants and sky and moving clouds, tells them how you are so precious and beautiful and the best person in the whole world.

He's not his father, and seeing your eyes twinkling at him is an everyday reminder.

Masterlist

[mycameron]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ morning wood

pairing: rafe x bsf!reader synopsis: rafe wakes up with morning wood next to his best friend . warnings/tags: smut, somnophilia?, piv a/n; i think this was my most popular fic in my old blog and it was also amongst one of the first smut fics i wrote so this brings me back! new fic coming friday btw!! originally posted 08/01/2024

rafe masterlist ♡

wherever rafe went, you followed; and even though it annoyed some of his friends, they didn't dare to say anything about it to rafe, because the one time they did, he got so angry they thought they were getting their asses kicked.

everywhere, also happened to include his bed. it had started after you had accidentally passed out on his bed from how much you drank, and he didn't care if you were there or not, he was sleeping in his own bed. now, it had gotten to the point where you couldn't sleep without him, and vice versa.

but you weren't a couple, of course not. rafe wasn't one for relationships, and you were just his friend since childhood, and even if he fucked you into the mattress a couple of times per week, or the fact that he never allowed any other girl to be in his bed, or that he thought of you whenever he hooked up with someone, it was just friendship.

"come on, wake up pretty girl..." he mumbled into your shoulder as you started stirring awake, rafe holding up one of your thighs up slightly as his hand rubbed his hard cock against your panty-clad pussy.

"come on, rafe..." you mumbled sleepily, and the blonde pressed a small, warm kiss on your shoulder over the fabric of his t-shirt. "why'd you wake me up? can't you see that 'm tired..."

"princess.. i need you..."

"rafe, we already went three rounds yesterday..."

"please, baby..." rafe mumbled, pressing soft kisses to your neck, the action causing shivers to go down your spine, and you could feel your panties starting to get wet, sticking to your puffy folds. "i'll do anything... just need you so much right now..."

you looked at him with half-lidded eyes as he pressed lazy kisses on your neck, "anything?"

"anything for you, princess. including murder."

"will you buy me those vivienne westwood earrings i want?"

"hell, i'll get a matching necklace."

and that's how you ended up with your best friend on top of you, pounding into your already sore pussy from the night before, your face pressed against the sheet as you let out moans that got muffled by the pillow, a handful of your hair around his fist as you closed your eyes in pleasure, your fists gripping the sheets to try and anchor yourself as he spoke in a low tone with every thrust "such a good girl for me... you're mine... this pussy's all mine... no one's gonna fuck this pretty girl like i do..."

yeah. just friendship.

[mycameron]

fucking shy!simon for the first time

shy!simon who overthinks it to death. it’s not that he doesn’t want it, he does,. he wants it so badly the thought of your sweet, tight cunt keeps him up at night—but he gets stuck in his own head. he’s big and oafish, maybe a little dumb in this department, rough around the edges, and this is you. he’s terrified of messing it up, of ruining something he doesn’t even know how to name.

shy!simon who (when you finally, FINALLY corner him in the mess and drag him back to your quarters) hesitates every time his hands skim over your skin, like he’s waiting for you to change your mind. and when you don’t, when you lean into him instead, he lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for hours.

shy!simon who freezes the first time your tiny, warm hands slip under his shirt and skim over his bare skin. muscles tensing, breath catching, eyes squeezing shut like he’s trying to keep himself from falling apart. he’s shaking and he swears under his breath, cheeks burning, but he doesn’t stop you.

shy!simon who still asks, "you sure?" when his cock is lined up with your dripping hole, in this quiet, almost broken way, because some part of him still doesn’t believe this is real. and when you tell him—beg him "please just put it in", when you tug his chest flush to yours in instead of pushing him away, something in him finally gives.

shy!simon who starts off so damn careful, like he’s convinced he’ll hurt you if he’s not. you take him easily despite his girth because you just need him that badly, but despite that, he thrusts so slow and hesitant into you, like he’s waiting for some kind of sign to let go.

shy!simon who is absolutely weak for praise. tell him how good his cock feels , that you want him, that you've never been fucked this good before in your life (even though he's barely moving. he's just the perfect size) and he completely loses himself in you, lips letting loose as he babbles your name into the crooks of your neck, grip tightening around your waist and ass as he slobbers against your skin like he can't help it.

shy!simon who is completely gone, pussydrunk off you within minutes. whatever restraint he had disappears, replaced by something raw and aching. he’s still careful, still treating you like something worth holding onto, but now he’s just desperate with it, humping his cock into you until you're whining from overstimulation and until he cums deep inside your tummy with a shudder and wet eyelashes.

shy!simon who doesn’t say much after, but his hands never stop moving, tracing slow circles against your hips, fingers running through your hair. he might not be able to tell you how much he loves you yet, but the way his thumb brushes over your cheek says it all.

[mycameron]

prisoner!geto who gets sent to the infirmary after getting into a fist fight with another prisoner. His knuckles and lip are bruised and busted and he’s doing the walk of shame down the jail hall. But he doesn’t expect a pretty young woman to be running the infirmary, nearly drooling at the sight because it’s been almost 3 whole years since he last laid his eyes upon one. He’s eyeing you up and down look a piece of meat while you tend to his wounds, completely ignoring his advances because it’s unprofessional. Though, you do find him quite handsome with tattoos all over his arms, a muscular build and his long silky black hair, his smile adding the cherry on top.

“You new here? I’ve never seen you around before.” He watches you put some gloves on, grabbing a roll of small bandages. “Pretty brave of you to be working in all male prison, don’t you think?”

“You must end up in here quite a lot if you know everyone who works here,” you sigh, grabbing his hand and wiping down the dried blood from his knuckles. “I transferred from another prison. It’s nothing I’m not used to.”

He smirks, narrowing his eyes at you. “Oh, yeah? Must be used to all the flirting then.”

“Wow! How could you tell?” You say sarcastically and toss the dirty wipe into the trash beside you. You wrap his hand up with the bandage and toss your gloves into the trash. “You’re all set.”

“Did I mention my head is killing me?” He winced.

“If you’re trying to get pain killers prescribed to you, it’s a whole different process. So I suggest you stop lying and wasting both of our time.” You place your hands on your hips, staring at him.

“Fine.” He stands to his feet, tall stature shadowing over you. You step back a little the more he steps closer to you. “I’ll cut to the chase. I haven’t properly fucked someone in nearly three years, and I’m dying…dying to get a feel of your sweet, sweet pussy.” He backs you into a corner, neck craning down as he whispers in your ear. “Think you can help me with that, doctor?”

You blink at him, your throat feels dry and your heart is pounding against your ribcage. “That is very, very unprofessional.” No matter what words come out your mouth, your body is feeling the complete opposite. “I’ll call the guards right now—”

“C’mon, pretty please?” The corner of his lips tweak slightly. “I know you want to. I seen it on your pretty face since the moment I walked in.” He raises his bandaged hand and runs his thumb over your plump bottom lip.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sternly say. Oh, but he does. He’s reading you like a book right now and that smug look on his face knows it all.

“Okay,” he chuckles, stepping away from you. “Just know I’ll see you around.” He turns to walk out the infirmary and let the guard know he’s all set, but he suddenly turns back around. His eyes look at the name tag pinned to your shirt. “Such a beautiful name.” He teases. “Bye, doctor.”

[mycameron]

toji zenin, who has only stayed with the zenin clan because he just can’t give up the sweet pussy of his personal servant—you.

because you don’t adhere to the strict rules given to the servants. and you can’t bring yourself to care about them either.

because why should you wake toji up by parting his window shutters and letting the sun stir him awake, when you could rouse him from sleep with your lips wrapped around his cock instead? you’re sure he prefers waking to the warmth of your throat, delicate eyes looking up at him through your lashes as you take his length to the base.

his hand, even in his half-asleep state, reaching down to push you even further on his cock until he can feel the back of your throat and your nose is tickled by his dark pubes. because there’s no better alarm sound than that of you gagging on his cock as you swallow the load he gifts you.

and how could he bring himself to leave when he has you at his beck and call at all times? all he has to do is shoot you a look from across the room and you’re ducking out to meet him in a quiet corridor or empty room so he can hike up your robes and drop to his knees to return the mornings favour. sure, he’s a selfish man, but he’s greedy and indulgent when it comes to tasting you.

you always try to be quiet when cumming on his tongue but you never succeed, and toji loves it. he loves knowing the assholes in his clan hear it every time he sinks into you, because you’re moaning his name so pretty that any lesser man would cum as soon as you tighten around his pulsing cock. he loves knowing every time you serve him in their presence they’re only imagining the way you serve him with your cunt behind closed doors.

god, he doesn’t even care to close the door half the time. too many times has a clan elder walked in to see you, pressed up against the wall as toji fucks you from behind with fast strokes and drawling groans. and he never stops, never slows down or even bothers to care about an unwelcome audience—because you never care. you serve him, not them, and if worrying about prying eyes takes from your duties—you’d rather take his affections in stride.

because you are his in every aspect of the word. you serve him hand and foot, you take his cock into your mouth each morning, you let him fuck you full of his cum each evening, you turn his scowl into a gentle smile with each kiss you lay upon his lips. your heart is his, and his yours.

and one morning before the sun has risen to find toji in the servants chambers, his lips patched around your clit and two fingers already pumping into you. he plays the servant, and wakes you for once. you cum not once, but twice around his fingers, back arching as pleasure washes you clean. and as he pulls away with a glistening lower half of his face and presses the most gentle kiss to your inner thigh, he whispers something that changes the course of your life entirely.

“let’s get the fuck outta here, whaddya’ think, dollface?”

[mycameron]

18+

toji fushiguro came home with tongue piercing and he became relentless, sending you to oblivion and can’t function properly. he had you sitting on the couch while he was sitting on the floor, your legs over his shoulder, spread wide with his two muscular arms wrapped firmly around, preventing you from moving.

he eats your pussy for hours, making you cum and squirt on his face while laughing maniacally before burying his face once again despite your crying and whimpering; despite your shaky legs, he doesn’t care. his face is wet from your cum and your squirting. his jet black hair sticking to his forehead along with his damp eyelashes kissing his red cheeks.

you want him to stop—no, not really— but the way he plays the round metal around your swollen clit is too much to ignore, and every time you are moaning and crying in pleasure.

he has you lay there, trembling and overwhelmed as toji’s relentless tongue assaults my sensitive folds. his powerful arms hold you in place, rendering you helpless against the onslaught of pleasure-pain. tears stream down your face as you cry out, your voice hoarse from screaming. your eyes lock onto his, a mix of anticipation and desire flashing through their blue depths.

“please... oh god, please stop! need to catch my breath,” beg between gasps, but toji just chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your dripping sex. he seems to take perverse delight in your distress, his eyes gleaming with sadistic glee. pleadingly, despite your attempt to stop him, your body betrays you, arching into his touch.

your legs quiver and jerk, trying to find purchase on his broad shoulders, but it’s futile. he’s too strong, too determined to make me submit to his depraved desires. another wave of ecstasy crashes through you as he sucks hard on your clit, sending you spiraling into another intense orgasm.

“ohhh, that feels incredible,” breathe out, your fingers tangling in his jet black hair. “feel good, baby... don’t stop.”

you arch your back slightly, pressing your core more firmly against his mouth. the combination of his skilled licks and the subtle sting from the barbell piercing sends shivers down your spine. moans and whimpers uncontrollably as toji continues his relentless assault on your sensitive folds, the cold metal of the piercing sending jolts of pleasure through you with each pass.

your thighs tremble and clench around his broad shoulders, slick juices dripping down to soak his hair as another orgasm crashes over you, more intense than the last. squeals and cries out, feeling the warm rush of your release coating his eager mouth and chin, your hips bucking wildly against his face as you ride out the waves of ecstasy.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkkk.”

toji groans at your filthy language, the vibrations adding to your overwhelming pleasure. he drinks in every spasm of your climax, tongue swirling and probing deep within your convulsing channel.

as the aftershocks subside, he slowly releases your thigh, trailing kisses up your inner leg before whispering huskily, “that’s another one, doll. you’ve got a few more orgasms left in you. let’s see how many i can coax out...”

with renewed vigor, he dives back between your thighs, tongue delving into your still-quivering sex. he focuses on your g-spot this time, applying targeted pressure as he suckles your clit, determined to send you spiraling into ecstasy once more.

[mycameron]

back to the kittty, cause she's kinda pretty!

pairings ⸺ (SEPERATE) bf!sukuna x reader x toji, masseuse!nanami x reader, bully!suguru x reader, childhood best friend!choso x reader, best friend!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ jjk men as overused p0rn tropes! (part 2) inspired by this awesome post by the cool and super talented @/osamucide! pls check it out and the rest of his work :3

warnings ⸺ SMUT (mdni), sub!satoru supermacy, porn no plot, vaginal sex, doggy, fem reader, "sloppy seconds," pre-established consent for all, reader accidently eats an aphrosidiac for choso's, bullying in suguru's, oral (m and frecieving), fingering, semi-public humiliation, lowk pathetic toji, art by 3aem, nOT EDITED

a/n choso's is my favorite yet again i love a pathetic man that rails me into next tuesday <3

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

KAMO CHOSO ⸺ MY HOT CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND ATE SOME WEIRD CHOCOLATE AND WANTS ME TO DICK HER DOWN!

Your best friend, Choso, was lounging on his couch, flipping through different movie options on Netflix while you were in the kitchen, bending and squinting through the different options. It’s a Friday night, and the both of you opted to stay in for movie night.

“Choso!” You complained, huffing while putting your hands on your hips to shout at him in the living room. “Why do you only have fuckin protein shakes and raw chicken in your fridge?”

All you get is a noncommittal shrug while he pauses on the preview for some shonen anime. “There should be some chocolate.”

Gasping in excitement, you go back to rummaging through his fridge like a raccoon and there you find it—-a pink chocolate box titled “tabs.” Smiling to yourself in excitement, you don’t hesitate before popping on of the bars in your mouth, appreciating the cherry flavor while grabbing another one. With your mouth full, you ask, “Do you want one? These are sooo good, where'd you buy them?”

“Nah, I’m good. Just come over here, you’ve been taking too long.” He sends you a glare and motions for you to sit next to him, to which you set the chocolate back in the fridge and pad your way over to him. “I think Sukuna bought these off the internet and that they were kinda bougie.”

You look at him, slightly alarmed. “Isn’t he going to kill you?”

He looks over at you—a little softly, you note—and ruffles your hair, to your dismay. “It’s okay, I’ll buy it again for him. Gonna blame your big back ass for it being gone.”

“Die.” You stick your tongue out, crossing your arms while settling into his side. 

Choso noted that you were being a bit more cuddly than usual, touching him more as soon as you got onto the couch. He decides to ignore it. “Ok, we’re going with Spider-man, k?”

You nodded into his side—he could tell you were flushed by the way you had continued to grow warmer and warmer, with beads of sweat dotting your temple. He paid it no mind, choosing instead to click on the movie and watch it play.

You were heating up. 

You tried to ignore it, because you hadn’t felt feverish before or done anything in particular to cause you to be sick (your coffee and ramen diet had been fixed after midterms season after Choso got on your ass about it). But about 25 minutes into the movie, you couldn’t bear it anymore, your vision blurring at the edges as you mumbled, “‘ts too hot. Gonna take off my shirt.”

Choso, who had been focused on the movie, tensed and looked at you, eyes slightly widened. “Wh—” Before he could even get a word out, you stood up—eyes slightly unfocused—arching your back while grabbing the bottom hem of your t-shirt and peeling it off, causing Choso to gulp as you uncovered the swell of your breasts in your red lace bra. You went back to borrowing yourself on his side, the softness of your boobs pressing against his arm. 

Choso closed his eyes because there was nooo way he was popping a boner for his best friend. No way. As both of your eyes went back to the movie, Choso focused on reciting the Japanese National Anthem to distract himself from the soft breaths you were letting out near his ears—and the way they tickled them—as well as the rise and press of your chest against his arms as you heaved. 

You, on the other hand, did not feel relieved. At all. There was a stickiness in between your thighs that made you think your period had started, but it had ended a week ago. You were probably just ovulating. Cuddling into Choso further, you put your legs on either side of his torso, burying your face into his neck and taking a deep sniff. At this point, you ignore the movie as you tried the soothe the heat that was going through you.

“What are you doing?” Choso was ram–rod straight and turned to peer down at you incredulously while reciting in his brain, until the tiny pebbles, grow into massive boulders. 

You continued your whiffing—-he just smelled sooo good—and sobbed, “I don’t know, but it hurts.” At this point, the feeling between your thighs was unbearable. You started to subtly grind on the side of his torso, much to Choso’s surprise. “‘M sick, Cho, but I’ve been eating healthy! I promise!” you whined. “Except for the chocolate right now. It hurts!”

At that moment, he knew he fucked up.

These were the tabs chocolates Sukuna was buying for his girlfriend. The ones viral on social media for serving as aphrodisiacs.

“Fuck,” he groaned while you continued to rub yourself onto him, now fully moaning and sighing as you tried to chase relief.  “Fuck! I fucked up.”

“Choso,” you whined loudly, prompting him to leave his state of anguish to look at you worriedly. “I feel so empty.”

Choso snapped.

Bent over, face buried in a pillow on the couch, Choso rams into your creamy, wet pussy, the squelching sounds echoing across the empty apartment. Punctuating his words with a thrust, “is-” plap! “what-” plap! “you-” plap! “wanted?”

“Yes!” you squeal, body bouncing as his rough snaps of his hips jostled you around, “You’re making me feel so good, Cho!”

“Do you know how much of a tease you’ve been?” he growled, balls hitting your ass as he pulled a hand back to spank you, red handprint imprinting itself on your cheeks. He groans at the sight of him leaving his mark on you. “Gonna take my cum, right?”

FUSHIGURO TOJI AND SUKUNA RYOMEN ⸺ I GET MY BEST FRIEND’S SLOPPY SECONDS! (a/n lol im not gonna lie this is just me ovulating and wanting to be creampied by two men)

Whenever Toji was at Sukuna’s place, it was like you, his girlfriend, pretended he wasn’t there. Because why were you always dressed in the tiniest of shorts and a tank top that could barely even hold your tits in and keep them covered? Sometimes, Toji thought it was Sukuna’s play—dangling you in front of him like a piece of meat, reminding him what he couldn’t have. 

Sukuna and Toji did have a bit of a…competitive friendship—one of good nature, of course. Toji, nonchalant as he is, didn’t really care whether he lost or not in the little skirmishes they had, whether it be seeing who can lift the most at the gym or walk somewhere faster. But he’s definitely seen Sukuna eye his groin in a mental competition to see if he was bigger or not.

Safe to say, Sukuna relished in the win. In a sense, he was obsessed with the submission. Not that Toji could care. He didn’t care when he flaunted his girlfriend around, groping you in front of him just to make him feel jealous…right?

Because why was his dick hard, him all hot and bothered as he listens to your moans and the plap! plap! plap! and squelches of Sukuna’s dick drilling in you? You’re both in the room, and Toji’s in the living room, confused as to why the fuck Sukuna asked him to come over when you clearly had a dick appointment with him. 

“Mmm, Sukuna you’re making me feel so good!” You whine, and Toji curses, closing his eyes and cursing whatever god was out there to make him subject to such torture. In his gray sweatpants, his bulge is undeniable as he hears Sukuna pleasure you. 

Then, he hears Sukuna call out to him, jumping as the other man yells, “Yo, Toji. I know you’re out there, man. Come in!” He then laughs meanly, speeding up to silence whatever protests you were making. Toji curses once again and moves to open the door just for his eyes to widen at what he’s seeing.

There is an obscene amount of cum oozing from your hole, it looked battered and swollen from the abuse Sukuna has dealt to it. There are tears in your eyes, a pretty pout on your face as Sukuna continues to use you as your fucktoy. And Toji realizes that Sukuna is looking at him while his hips languidly gyrate into you.

 “‘kuna–” you sob, embarrassed and cheeks heating up even further as you felt Toji’s eyes rove over your form, utterly decimated by Sukuna.

But you’re interrupted out of any potential protests you can make as Sukuna smacks your ass—Toji’s eyes not missing the jiggle—as he abruptly pulls out and motions Toji to come closer. “I’m gonna let him borrow you, okay baby? You see, Toji’s kind of pathetic here. Might as well give him sloppy seconds, right?”

With that, Toji is moaning as he slowly enters you, your pussy sweetly clamping on his dick as he can literally feel Sukuna’s cum every time he thrusts. The utterly debauched feeling of his still-hot come lubricating his every thrust makes his eyes roll back, lost in the feeling of your pussy as you whimper and squeal everytime he hits your g-spot.

“Yo,” and Toji’s attention is temporarily swayed to Sukuna, who’s watching the both of you with darkened eyes, manspread in a chair. “Come inside, okay? It’s my treat.”

NANAMI KENTO ⸺ DIRTY MASSEUSE GIVES HOT BABE A DEEP TISSUE MASSAGE! (WITH A HAPPY ENDING)

Working in corporate was hell.

Sitting in a chair all day slaving away at spreadsheets and emails was definitely not something your younger self imagined you doing, but alas, you were only but a slave to capitalism. Even your hip flexors could feel it—they were tight, and your upper back hurt a lot.

So, here you were, in the waiting room of this bougie massage salon that you decided to treat yourself to. After all, you’ve been a good girl with your savings, making sure not to spend loads on stress-virtual-shopping so you can blow lots of bucks into this 2 hour service. The lobby is neat and glamorous, as you wait while rubbing your back. You’re currently engrossed in watching a compilation of Moo Deng videos until a deep cough interrupts you. “Miss?”

You turn to face the rich, baritone voice that’s said your name, and then suddenly reeling back. In front of you was probably one of the most handsomest men you’ve ever seen, with blond hair and sharp cut facial lines. He’s rubbing his palms together, which seem laden with oil as he looks at you plaintively. “Shall we take it to the massage room?”

“Y–yes. We can do that,” you nervously affirmed, gathering your purse and belongings to tightly follow behind him. 

When you arrive at the room, the stoic man motions for you to get changed. “Please put on a towel. We’re going to be doing a deep tissue massage, so the towel will serve as a protective measure.”

You blush at the thought of this man seeing your body covered in nothing but a towel, but follow his directions regardless, putting your belongings in a corner while you step out of the changing room and into the massage room once again. You try to preserve your modesty as best you can as you go to lie down on the table. The only things you hear from him are the clinks of bottles as he rummages through different oils, uncovering them. The smell hits you dead on, soothing your senses already with the essential oils. 

And then, his rough, big hands are on your back, pressing into your shoulder blades. You jump, like a scared deer, and he lets out a deep chuckle. “My bad. I’ll be doing your back side first.”

“Okay,” you whisper in response, already closing your eyes in bliss with the way he’s roving his thumbs over the planes of your back, pressing in deep as he works out the kinks in your back.

In one particular spot in your lower back and hips—the one that’s been hurting like a bitch because of your endless time sitting in a chair—he presses his thumbs with the exact right pressure, and you moan.

You can’t help it—the chronic back pain has always been there, but he makes it disappear with a languid movement of his fingers over your back. But he pauses slightly as soon as the whimper comes out of your mouth. “Miss, are you alright?” Flushing, you are quick to affirm. “Yes, sorry.” With a lower voice, you say, “That was, um, that was just really relieving.”

He laughs melodically and continues his ministrations, going even lower, but pausing right before putting his hands on your ass. “May I pull the towel up? Direct contact will be helpful in this region for a deep tissue massage.”

“Y-yeah,” you say softly. “You can do that, you’re the professional.” He’s just doing this for massage reasons, right? With your consent, he slowly inches up your towel to uncover your bare ass to him, you clenching your thighs with the fact that he can see everything.

He then puts his hands on the fat of your ass, moving his hands in a circular motion that spreads your ass every time he moves in an outward rotation. Kento’s trying really hard to stay professional, but seeing your glistening wetness makes him groan inwardly. “Miss,” you perk up slightly as he refers to you, “I’ll continue with the deep tissue massage as requested, okay? There’s a spot that I believe really needs my attention.”

Innocently, you nod, and Kento can’t help but feel so aroused that you’re so naively believing him, letting him touch you as if it’s an appropriate part of his job. His hands inch closer and closer, and soon enough he’s fingering you while languidly licking you up.

“Does this feel good, miss?” Kento is out of breath as he nudges his nose deeper into your pussy while you’re squealing at the feeling of his fingers slamming into your g-spot, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he goes in, sucking at your clit just perfectly.

“It’s rude not to answer someone,” your masseuse gives you a slap, and quickly soothes it over. 

“‘M sorry!” you squeal, bucking your hips as soon as you feel like you’re getting closer, “It feels soo good.” With that, he pauses his ministration to give you a gentle kiss on your pussy, and the plush of his lips is enough to set you squirting, riding his face as you drench him in your juices. Safe to say, you were feeling very de-stressed.

GOJO SATORU ⸺ BEST FRIEND CATCHES HIM MASTURBATING, JOINS IN ON THE FUN!

Satoru groans, squeezing his ball at the base to avoid cumming prematurely. What he was originally doing was trying to find some porn to empty his balls to, releasing stress and gaining dopamine from masturbating. But eventually—like he’s been doing a lot these days—his fingers direct him to your Instagram profile. You, his best friend.

 Satoru does this in secret, waiting until he’s alone in his and Suguru’s apartment to go into his room, close the door, and sin by thinking of you in a way friends don’t of each other. So, he’s trying not to bust too early while he zooms in on your tits in the cute bikini picture you posted just last week, the ones he took of you. The pixels of your magnificent breasts zoom in, sweat and water glistening off of them as your bra hugs and makes them sit just right. He groans, throwing his head back as he feels his cockhead pulse again, deciding to end his edging to cum. 

In his focus on stroking his dick—the squelching and whines echoing in his room—he doesn’t notice the sound of the door opening. Nor of the footsteps heading towards his door, because he moves his hand up and down, up and down, up and down until he’s so close to cumm—-

“Satoru! I got us some mochi!” You yell loudly, and Satoru screams in return, albeit for a different reason. As your head whips up to look at him, alarmed at his shout, you register that his cock and balls are out. And that, in his left hand, is a photo of you. 

You blink, and Satoru blinks back, except with a red, throbbing length in his hand. Then, slowly, you ask, “Why is my picture open, Satoru?”

Satoru swallows, already hearing funeral bells and utters out, “I—I—that was a mistake. I meant to be on Pornhub. Haha! I mean,” he continues on rambling, “why would I be looking at your picture? Obviously, my hand slipped while I was jerking off I mean—” he cuts himself off, because in his yapping, he’s failed to notice how you’ve stalked over to his bed, now straddling him while spitting on his cock.

“Fuck,” he curses, as his pupils dilate watching the thicky, frothy mix of your spit ooze down from your pursed lips onto his dick. “W–what are you—” You motion for him to stand up, orienting yourself so that your throat was hanging off the bed and you were on your back on his mattress. 

“Since you’re so desperate,” you give him a deadly sweet smile as he stands, dick above your face. You give his tip a little kiss, and he shivers. “You can fuck my throat.”

Satoru definitely takes you up on that offer.

He can’t even believe that he’s here, you deepthroating his dick so nice. “Thank you, thank you,” he whines, gyrating his hips sloppily into the tight, wet heat of your mouth as your lips suckle on him. “Needed this so, so much.” You’ve even uncovered your tits, them bouncing nicely as Satoru continuously lodges himself in your throat. “Please, please let me cum.”

You gently push against his hips, indicating you want him out of your mouth. Raspily, you wipe the trail of spit that’s left your mouth and laugh meanly and give him a deceptively sweet kiss on his balls. “You have to last at least 10 more minutes, okay?”

And Satoru can do nothing but obey you, driving himself to the hinge of climax but never over, whimpering as your mouth swallows him up. 

GETO SUGURU ⸺ BIG DICKED BULLY FUCKS CUTE ANIME GIRL INTO SUBMISSION!

Your safe haven is your library. There, the man who’s been torturing you for most of your college career, Suguru Geto, doesn’t know where you hide, nor does he frequent the place. You’re focused in on your assignments right now, having fallen behind due to Suguru’s antics of bothering you and disturbing your peace to humiliate you across campus. It’s late at night, and there’s not a lot of people to disturb you. You thought.

You’re wrenched out of your state of focus as someone harshly pulls your chair back, grabbing your chin to meet your eyes with his. Your bully, Suguru.

 You gasp in surprise as he roves his eyes over you and what you’re wearing. A short skirt, one he dare wouldn’t admit made you look cute, and a sweater. Silently, he sits down while you tremble, looking at him with shaky eyes that makes his cock swell in his pants.

He smirks. “You thought you could hide from me?” He then ticks his head towards your textbook. “Whatcha reading? Recite it to me.” 

Even though you were confused as to why he would have you do that, you hurried to do as he said. Meanwhile, his siren eyes roved over your form, choosing to settle in between your thighs.

“Schroedinger’s theory had proved classical physicists wro—-“ You’re interrupted by your own gasp, because Suguru’s laid a hand that’s gently caressing your inner thigh.

“Go on,” he purrs, getting closer and closer to the heat of your pussy.

You swallow and go on. “…had proved classical physicists wrong, showing that unexplained phenomena in spectroscopy and atoms demonstrated discrete—-“

Meanwhile, he’s inched his hand inside of your panties, softly rubbing at your clit in a manner unbecoming of the mean Suguru you know. Before you know it, your orgasm was creeping up on you, and your legs were trembling while Suguru buried his face in your neck, giving you soft kisses. 

“Cmon, you slut,” he whispered, the softness of his voice contrasting with the harshness of his words, “are you too stupid to read?”

You whimper as he delves a finger into your hole, collecting the ooze there and going back to your clit. “…atoms demonstrated discrete properties, referred to as quanta—-“ It’s with a nasty lick to the shell or your ear that you’re cumming, squealing loudly as you cream on his fingers, humiliated at the show you were forced to put on in the library.

Suguru pulls his fingers out and sucks on them languidly, looking you in the eye. “Now slut, you’re going to do that seated on my dick. Got it?”

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

a/n hiii pookies this was late sorry </3 but ANYWAYS im excited to write (and ride) cowboy geto and spiderman!gojo next! consider joining my kinktober taglist if you're interested <3 part 1 of this here btw

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots :p

TAGLIST

@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae

@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto @cheescakebroom

@r0ckst4rjk @callmeagardengnome @rottmntrulesall @blankwashed @sindulgent666

@honeynanamin @obsessgurlll @starrnai @herefor-tojis-tits

[mycameron]

rafe shows you just how much he missed you.

ᥫ᭡. tit obsessed!rafe. smut, nipple sucking, small description of m!masturbation. lots of titty touching ;) based on this ask!

“no, bro, seriously. rafe is so fuckin’ lucky. did you see y/n’s tits in that picture mia posted?” kelce’s voice rang through the air, rafe’s ears perking up as he listens from the other room.

“dude, yes! and they’re natural tits too. like, fuck, man. rafe’s got it goin’ for him. one lucky son of a bitch.”

exchanged words that rafe overheard from kelce and top, was all he needed to hear. of course rafe saw the pictures mia posted. ever since you left for that girls trip, rafe’s been watching his phone like a hawk in case you called, texted, or any pictures were posted or sent. and soon as mia posted those pictures of you girls all at the beach in your bikinis, rafe zoomed in on you and nearly moaned out loud right there.

every night you had been away, rafe found himself jerking off to pictures of your tits in that stupid-good new bikini top you just bought. when you sent rafe a picture of yourself at the beach with the caption “missin’ you angel boy.” he immediately ran to the bathroom, hand furiously pumping his cock, blowing his load all over his phone, right where your tits appeared on screen.

so when you came home from your girls trip, topper and kelce’s words rang in rafe’s head again, and he knew he had show his girls how much he missed them. he was going to show them how much he missed them regardless, but hearing topper and kelce talk about your tits made him wanna worship them even more. it was but seconds after you walked into the door, rafe had you laying on the bed, his mouth attached to your nipple.

“that feels good, baby.” you breathed. your fingers gently scratching at the back of his neck as he sucked and swirled his tongue around your hardened nipple. “missed you so much, baby. don’t ever leave me again.” he practically whimpered against your nipple, completely blissed out over the fact that he finally had your tits within hands reach again.

“my poor boy.” you cooed, stroking the back of rafe’s head as he continue to suck on your nipples frantically like they might leave him again. “you missed me that much, huh? you missed us that much?” you ask, referring to yourself and your tits. rafe nodded his head, his mouth still attached to you, sucking, biting, licking. rafe’s other hand came up, palming and kneading your other breast, not a single one going neglected.

rafe barely took his hands or mouth off your nipples and tits for the rest of the night (or next day). he fell asleep with one hand resting protectively over one tit, and his face pressed up against the side of your other tit. he just missed his girls sooo much.