Thoughts On Fireman Toji Who Breeds You? 🤩

always practice self love. work out, journal, meditate, shop, take care of your skin and body, take your vitamins, take yourself out on dates, set boundaries and stand on them, buy yourself flowers. think about how you would treat the person you love the most in the world and do all that for yourself. fall in love with yourself.

hi sal,, would u perhaps,,, consider doing a cum review (like u did dick analyses) for the hq boys?? 👉👈

sure why the hell not :D disclaimer that this isn’t meant to be realistic in any way, just for fun! so if you see something n you’re like hm, that’s not possible! yes it is. it is. i said so.

includes; bokuto kōtarō, iwaizumi hajime, oikawa tōru, miya osamu, miya atsumu, suna rintarō, matsukawa issei

let me know if you want some other boys done!

HAIKYUU CUM REVIEW

bokuto kōtarō; i once saw this video of this guy orgasming and he came in buckets. like there was so fucking much and it was so thick too. that is bokuto. he cums so much it’s not a joke, like his balls are always so full. his cum is a very thick white and sticky and it doesn’t taste half bad?? like he’s an athlete so he’s obviously taking care of his health, but it’s mostly just warm and takes like nothing, with kinda a salty aftertaste? in other words, tolerable! also, king of overstimulation <3 (on himself & you). like he’s not usually sated with one orgasm, and has to cum more than once ykyk. so it’s a proper mess with him.

iwaizumi hajime; omg okay so his cum’s kinda more watery, still sticky and slippery though, but it’s a little clearer yk, so a transparent white? tastes kinda mildly bitter but he’s an athletic trainer, so he’s also obviously very healthy. it‘s not bitter in the sense that it has you gagging, it’s bitter in the sense that it has like. no taste. more texture than anything. he cums a moderate amount too, like it’s a good couple of strong spurts. he physically cannot get himself to cum more than once in a row, like the pain is kinda paralyzing, but he can go multiple rounds don’t doubt that <3

oikawa tōru; ugh :( ik he has a sweet tooth and because he’s desperate to stay healthy, he eats so much fruit. in turn, his cum probably has a sweeter tang to it, like it’s obviously not sweet, it still is generally tasteless but it’s a lot more tolerable because of his diet and food preferences. it’s milky white and he cums in thinner spurts, but still like relatively a lot. he is incredibly, and i mean incredibly, sensitive, so you’re gonna need to give his dick a minute or two before it can be touched again. wait also tōru leaks so much precum and has pretty pink balls bye

miya osamu; cum bucket part two lmfao <3 cums in thick spurts, and it goes on and on and on and on. his cum is very thick too, like the texture is less sticky when he first spills because of how thick it is. it’s a bright white color like pure white. says it looks so good on your skin <//3 tastes hella salty :/ but it’s not disgusting it’s just. salty. yeah. it hurts to, but he can withstand to keep fucking or let you keep sucking after an orgasm. he’s got breeder balls after all <3 he’ll only leave you alone when his balls are empty empty.

miya atsumu; if there’s one thing the twins have in common is that they both have so much to give <3 atsumu’s dick is a lot more sensitive than osamu’s though, so while osamu can withstand the pain of overstimulation, atsumu can’t. will he stop though? no. he cums in thick spurts, but his actual cum is less thick than samu’s, and it’s a duller white. very sticky :/ also very salty :/ but it gets better the more he takes care of his diet as a professional athlete. like it starts to have more of a salty aftertaste than for it to be salty in general yk?

suna rintarō; his cum tastes so bitter help. kind of like atsumu, when he becomes more professional and it’s kind of his job to take care of his health, it starts to taste less bitter, and more like nothing, but there’s still that dull aftertaste. so sticky too, but less so when he first cums and more when it’s like all dried up. let me do my best to describe the color. it’s white, a bright white, but it has a translucence to it? not clear or see through white, or grey, because it’s a deep bright white, but also translucent. anyways. he’ll need a minute after cumming but that’s all. just a minute :)

matsukawa issei; i remembered to add him after i posted pls anyways. thick thick thick cum, but it’s a translucent white also, similar to suna’s description but brighter and less clear. thick spurts, thick texture, thick everything help. it tastes kind of?? metallic?? like the aftertaste?? he has less incentive to take care of his health after high school so yk, it’ll stay like that. and !!! he likes fucking you till his cum has no choice but to leak out so,,, overstimulation? he’s with it <3

i’m down so fucking bad help me <//3

‘ ALLLL ON MY TONGUE I WANT IT ★ ?!

𝜗℘ feat. toji, gojo, geto, sukuna, higuruma. how the jjk men eat you out, ‘till the jaw aches

cw. fem! reader, cunnılingus, dirty talk, praise, edging, nose riding, hair pulling ( geto ), slight mommy kink ( choso ), squırting, overstim, p spanking, dumbification, puśsy drunk men, spıt kink, biting, i forgot nanami nuu, sukuna uses his hand mouth.

wc. 4.0k+

☆ SUGURU GETO.

“i’m hungry. spread ‘em,” balmy hot breath fans against the inner parts of your thighs as you sit still. lazily, you lean back against your bed, meeting the feral gaze of a very feral man with dark raven strands running down each sides of his face. there’s an almost pout forming on his lips before he kisses your pretty twitching pussy through your panties.

without hesitation, he ogles as your legs sprawl away from each other. he rests on his stomach, preparing to dig in before you stop him, lightly grabbing him by the hair. “s- sugu,” you breathe, feeling a tingle brew inside of your tummy, mixing along with a fluttering concoction of butterflies. he stares at you with a raised brow before you pull out the sable black hair tie that was secured around his wrist, pinning his hair up into a messy ponytail.

“oh,” he hoarsely hums with a shrug before preparing himself to dig in - licking a long sloppy stripe that forms a sticky wetness against the cottony fabric of your panties. “thank you baby. always so thoughtful.”

geto didn’t have to tell you twice. whenever he came home, he wanted you. whether it was thirst or hunger, the only thing that would clench his thirst and feed him right was that pretty thing between your legs. he’d eat you out for hours, up until his tongue is numb and his jaw is just aching.

“thirsty,” he huffs, and you could hear him swallow every few slurps. your legs were already shaking in dire anticipation. geto’s irregular breaths were gruffly strained—he runs his calloused fingertips against your slick folds before lapping them up with his tongue. “mhm,” dark eyes flicker back toward you and he grabs your wrist that’s dug into his scalp. “pull. harder,” he grunts, instructing you to tighten your grip against his hair. you’d almost forgot it was one of the many kinks he’s told you he’s into. as you gather a good enough feel, you drag his hair by the ponytail, pulling harder and harder until he grunts. a sly smile presses against your pussy before he chuckles. “good girl. better had.”

as he’s shoved face first into your cunt, you notice the shine on his lips were painted a pretty crimson. with his eyes close, lengthy black lashes flap every so often as he’s devouring his favorite meal of the day. of every day.

“sugu, sugu, suguuuu,” you whimper, the sensitivity of the nerves that store inside of your clit making you fail to stay still. he inhales, gathering a decent wad of saliva before spitting right onto your cunt. it’s so nasty, he’s nasty. you watch with wide eyes, feeling yourself twitch even more before he licks it right up with no shame. out of nowhere—you felt yourself blurt out your thoughts you didn’t expect to come from your mouth. at least not so soon. “s- spank it, sugu.”

“spank it sugu,” he mocks your words, rolling his eyes before briefly moving his lips away. “don’t tell me what to do,” and within seconds later, he spanks your cunt anyway. damp droplets of your slick plop onto his palm and he groans. “last time i checked, i don’t take orders from sloppy wet girls so lie back ‘n let me finish eating, yeah?”

“yes, s- suguru,” you pant, the quake within your thighs never subsiding.

there’s another eye roll that comes from geto, and he goes right back to eating you out like a starved man. he doesn’t even need to use his fingers, his tongue was just enough. more than enough actually. orgasm after orgasm, he’s emitting out the most sweetest sounds from you. you’re so loud that it bounces off the walls. he hears the reverb of your voice and it makes him snicker. “louder,” he growls, slurping up a remainder of your saccharine flavored juices. your grip remains in his hair and you bite your lip, preparing to finish yet again. “i wanna hear you. i want the neighbors to hear you. i wanna hear a scream come outta that pretty tight throat.”

and he meant it — your pleasure meant everything to him. with the way he’s sucking, you wouldn’t have lasted a second longer.

the moment you end up reaching your inevitable climax, a potent bawl rips out of your throat raw. he’s munching on your pussy, eyes shut with an innocent smile on his face as if he hadn’t just made you an entire broken mess. “s- suguruuu!”

you’re shaking, panting.

it’s as if every finish was way more powerful than the last one. a breezing squall of wind prises from your full lungs before you fall back. your legs remain spread, mouth formed into a circular shape whilst you’re still making a cute attempt at trying to catch your breath. “c’mere,” a low voice murmurs to you, and he sits up to go toward you. geto’s sweltering body heat radiates against you. he tenderly wraps a hand around your neck before pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb. “open.”

with half lidded eyes, you open, already knowing what’s to come. as you part your plump lips apart, rolling out your tongue, sharp hooded eyes stare down your throat before he leans in and spits right inside. you moan, feeling his free hand toy with your cunt some more, clearly not finished. “uh huh. now, swallow ‘n give me a kiss, sweetheart.”

as his hand squeezes against your pulsating pussy, you whine—swallowing, shutting your heavy eyelids before pulling him into a sloppy wet kiss. beads of sweat from his forehead press against yours before he returns the gesture, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“mhm,” he grunts, now starting to suck on your tongue. it took you a while to realize geto’s eyes were already open, and he was looking straight at you. abruptly, he pulls away and gives your forehead a kiss. “good girl,” but then he makes you lie back, spreading your legs even further.

“but ‘m still thirsty. let’s see if i can make ya squirt this time, pretty.”

☆ HIGURUMA HIROMI.

“dove, you wanna ride my nose, don’t you?”

a low voice coos at you as he’s reclined back against the sofa. he’s sexily manspread, work clothes still on and unkempt — tie pulled off halfway and he hums, watching your abashed expression grow. “it’s okay, i don’t bite. c’mere.”

and with an usher of two swift finger motions, he tells you to come closer. with your panties still on whilst you’re slowly sticking your own arousal between your legs, you prepare to hover over his face.

you pause, parting your knees apart and on each side of his face before huffing. “a- are you sure? i don’t wanna suffocate you, ‘romi.”

“that sounds like heaven, trust me,” he whispers, grabbing ahold of both of your thighs. it was a secure grip. with two broad hands, he outspreads them - gentle thumbs stroking against your sweet, candied skin. “so perfect. so nice ‘n soaked jus’ for me, huh,” and after about a few seconds, you take your seat down on his face. higuruma gruffly grunts, a low guttural moan escaping from his lips before he smooches against your cunt. it’s slick, not only slick but sweetly sweet. “that’s it, dove. ‘s just you ‘n me, don’t be shy. ride it.”

you whine, biting down on your bottom pulled lip as your pussy grinds against the bridge of his nose. the second you ride against it, the feeling sent your entire body into overdrive.

with your lashes fluttering, you feel the bumpy texture of his hooked nose - it’s rough and gnarled—perfect for riding against.

higuruma lowly grunts at seeing the way your hips leisurely pick up its pace.

you were a natural, moving against his face whilst your hands find their way into his hair. his messy, knotted strands was like a maze. your slender digits entangle through his darkened roots, giving them a firm tug before your head tosses back in ecstasy.

“f- fuuuck, hiromi,” and you start to feel his tongue lay itself flat. you’re rubbing your cunt against his slick-spit lips and his nose back and forth.

over and over, you’re already spiraling,

profusely, your legs shake and jitter before you whimper out a desperate wail. “jus’ like that, ‘romi. p- please,” and as you continue to use his face, he’s meeting your eyes. it’s only been seconds and he’s already pussy drunk. a sly smile spreads across his lips before he slides a thumb down the opening of your cunt. “ngh, fuck.”

“yeah, dovey. ride my face—mphm,” and he’s interrupted by your cunt silencing his words. your taste, he just couldn’t get enough. higuruma’s already got a slippery snail trail of your arousal that’s coating his chin. it’s got an almost glow to it, you yank on his strands until his head falls forward. a throaty chuckle comes out of him before he flicks his tongue against your clit. “heh, easy now. my hair’s one of my best features.”

you couldn’t even laugh because pretty soon, you were about to reach your chilling climax. its shivering, frigid and you felt like you were walking on eggshells.

“fuh— fuck,” you clench your jaw, feeling your legs merely collapse right then ‘n there. it was unpredictable, you were an entire full blown mess and his tongue wasn’t making it any better. as you continue to thrash your hips into his greedy mouth, you’re clinging onto his hair tightly. his nose, the bumpy texture continues to rub off against your swollen cunt before it finally comes.

you come,

it comes all at once - an overwhelming bundle of nerves surge straight out of you, electricity pulsing through your veins as you come undone.

you’re sucking your teeth and you don’t even realize it. as you’re slowing down by default, feeling his lips steadily suck against your tender slick folds, he purrs.

“oh, my love,” he breaks away for a moment to breathe, warm breath titillate against your twitching heat. “made quite a mess out of me, huh,” and with a thumb, he rubs against your pulsating clit, giving the nub one final kiss. “such a good girl. my good girl.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO.

“baby? c .. can we try this?” and you have a sheepish grin once choso’s showing you a video of a woman getting ate out. however, he’s imagining it’s you the entire time, feeling his mouth water at the pure thought of tasting your sweet cunt for the first time. it’s lewd, probably too lewd for him but he just couldn’t help it.

“sure, ‘cho,” you give him a soft smile. even your smile alone was enough to get him hard.

and it did.

with choso though, despite being over hundreds of years old, he was inexperienced but he was also a very quick learner. he tried to remember the video, the tongue work, how the man made the woman feel. but the second he’s diving into your cunt face first, there’s no prying him off.

you’re laid flat on your back whilst he’s right between your thighs, using a single thumb to trace down alongside your curves. he makes sure to pay attention to every part of your body at least he tries to. heart eyes blow its way into his pupils, dilating as he admires your pretty frame. “y- you’re so pretty, baby,” his voice was so soft and gruff. it almost sounds like a whisper.

not even seconds go by and he’s already drooling right before your pussy. a shimmery coat of saliva pours down the inner cracks of his lips as he gets a view of his meal. god, he couldn’t wait. every few seconds, he’d pull away to coat your slit with a multitude of amorous, sweet kisses. once you wrap your thighs around his face, he’s slurping anything and everything out of you.

you could barely stay still, going into a state of shock of pure pleasure. choso’s tongue was long, he makes it extend all inside of you, not missing a single spot. it curves its way through the inner parts of your cunt, taking time to swallow your taste and moan at the flavor that now lives on his tongue. your flavor. it doesn’t take him long to reach your sweet spot - because once you release that cute squeal, he sucks against it even harder.

“w- wanna make my princess feel good,” he murmurs, already drowning in your slick. your pussy was sopping wet, coating his chin with such ease. every once and a while, he flicks his tongue against his chin, relishing in your taste. “fuuuck,” he whines, feeling a cute tug of your hand drag his ponytail against your cunt. “use my ponytails like handle bars baby, ‘s okay— mmm.”

like a good boy, he slurps you clean, pressing a hand gently on your tummy, brushing a thumb against your navel as he’s happily luxuriating in your taste. “c- chosooo,” you mewl, feeling the intense shake of your legs arise.

it’s like a wave, everything’s preparing to crash down all at once. with the way you sung his name, it sounded like a harmony, a symphony.

his pointed ears twitch at the sound of your voice, the way your hips thrust into his mouth makes him drool for more.

already . . you’re stupefied. he’s drunk from your pussy and you’re drunk from his tongue. “ugh, jus’ like that, baby. you’re doing so good, making me feel so good.”

“i- i am?” his face cutely lights up. choso gives your cunt soft licks, delving his tongue in and out, exploring every depth. choso’s head moves side to side in a quick motion. it’s attractive, he’s already sweating and strands of black hair stuck against his forehead like glue. choso was a sucker for praise, especially whenever it came from you.

he can’t help but creep a hand down between his legs as he lies on his stomach, touching himself. he groans against your pussy, feeling your hips stutter from his erotic tongue work.

“y- yes,” you whimper, grabbing ahold of both of his soft dark ponytails. his eyes lock onto yours and he’s entirely pussy drunk—droopy eyes and that sheepish little grin. he looked so pretty, but the moment he stares down, choso knew that your sweet cunt was even prettier. as he’s lapping up your honeyed taste, slurping against your folds, you rub him against your soaked entrance with a more hastily tempo. “so good, choso. m- make me feel so good all the time.”

“i- i do?” he whimpers, moaning from your taste. he’s trying not to rush, he wants to savor the flavor of your cunt. your praises, it was enough to make him make a mess in his pants.

so much so to where he can’t help but reach down to touch himself. reach down into his obsidian black boxers, stroking his flaccid veiny cock. with choso, he gets off to you, your pleasure was always his pleasure. once he sees you nod, he lowly moans again against your cunt, quickening his tongue work and pace. “i- i do,” he repeats, kissing your folds again, and again, until you end up cumming on his tongue.

hard, it comes quick. it had your mind going for a loop — you couldn’t think nor could you register anything out of your little empty brain. you feel a hard pressure pressing against your abdomen, a pool of heat ghosting on your body and you get euphoric tingles. right away, your legs give out as he’s still dug between them, flopping back and landing with a cute oof. choso’s lower part of his chin was soaked and he loved it. he slides your panties back toward the center before having a soft pout. “are you okay? w- was i like the video?”

with a soft exhale leaving your windpipe—you huff, cupping his face. “even better,” and you lean down to kiss him. he moans into your lips, leaning into your gentle touch, sitting up to press his body against yours. swiftly, your tongue licks against his upper lip, tasting your taste that was lingering on his tongue - it’s sweet. choso could feel his heart racing, and you gasp once he slowly trails a hand down between your thighs. as he’s on top of you, he gives your cunt a gentle feel before licking a needy stripe up your neck. “c.. choso, you want more?”

“yeah,” he whines with a subtle nod, and he doesn’t even realize that he’s humping against your leg. “please— pleaseplease, take care of me now m- mommy?”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“nuh uh, no ya don’t. get the fuck back here,” and a small squeak leaves your throat as he’s dragging you back by the hips. clumps of creamy cum stick against the fat of your thighs - it’s spilling, oozing out and he licks his lips at the sight.

you moan from his touch, feeling his hand caress against your curves. “bend f'r me, yeah,” he whispers hoarsely, witnessing the limp arch your body submits. “atta girl,” he coos roughly, bringing his face directly up close to your ass. “what a fuckin’ mess,” he smacks his fat angry tip against your needy slit. kissing his teeth, toji grunts. “really milked the shit outta me, babygirl.”

indeed you did - as he drags a thumb down the swollen bulb of your clit, he stares at the excess cum that pours out of your hole.

“ngh,” you whimper, feeling his toasty warm breath tickle against your wet folds. the second you feel toji’s tongue lap against your entrance, your thighs only grow weaker. you were already so sensitive from before, and the moment his tongue licks against your pussy — you were over. toji’s nasty, smearing his face all over your drooling cunt with the most cockiest grin on his face. the curving slant of his scar brushes against your folds and your toes curl at the rough texture. “tooojiiii,” you gasp out a sweet elongated hum, slapping a hand over your mouth.

“such a fuckin’ messy girl, huhhh,” he quips, flattening his tongue to slurp you full. your legs shiver as your eyes start to roll back, feeling his thumb tantalizingly plug its way against your puckering hole. “messy baby, gotta fuck you ‘n clean you right up,” and his breath against your cunt only makes you twitch more. you moan over and over until your voice was a broke record.

it feels peculiarly cool, a frigid slick coats against your folds as he latches his lips. you whimper, muffled moans clashing against the soft surface of your palm before he playfully bites your pussy.

“such a crybaby, maybe i should stop hm? ‘s it too much? thought you were a big girl.”

“n- no, please,” you choke out a weak sob, the pleasure practically giving you whiplash. your ass swerves against his face briefly, making an attempt to rut your rear against his face. “i am your big girl—don’t stop, ‘toj. ‘m gonna cum, hngh.”

with a scoff, he continues to swipe his tongue across - flicks turning into sloppy, sultry sucks.

it’s to the point where he’s practically just making out with your pussy, tongue kissing and giving it solid french kisses. sloshing sounds of your wet pussy rings against his sensitive ears before he inserts a single thick digit. with gracious ease, you clamp around his finger and you let off a breathless moan.

“c’monnn, give it to me. all on my fuckin’ tongue, girl,” and as he’s sucking you clean, you heave, feeling the plush of your tummy cave in in rapture. once he gives your cunt a rude abrupt spank with his free hand, you let off a cute whine. he tchs, narrowing his jade blown irises at you. “fuckin’ slut. get turned on from jus’ about anything, huh,” and your thighs jiggle with recoil. your shrilling babbles only pitch and grow louder before he’s nibbling harder against your pulsating nub. you huff, digging the edges of your teeth into your flesh. already, you’re dumb and it’s moments until you cum right on his tongue. “mhm.”

as you blissfully succumb to your teeth shattering release, your chest slumps into the mattress and you’re left stupid - entirely stupid.

your tongue was lolled out and your eyes flickered back to the very depths of your craniums “fuck, fuck, fuuuuck, toji,” you slur your words on melodic loop, chewing on each individual syllable. as you collapse, you feel yourself dampen between the crevices of your thighs.

“allllll clean,” he snickers, giving you pussy another smack. you whine, feeling your cunt all tender and sensitive. toji pries his lips off, licking them clean before dragging his thumb across his scar. it was wet, his stubble was drenched, and toji leans in to give your filthy folds one final suck. you’re too stunned to speak, trying to wriggle your ass away from his mouth but he drags you right back again. “not so fast, baby. ‘m not done,” and before he flips you over on your tummy, he spanks your ass just to see the little jiggle. “but since y’er a good girl, i think you can give me one more, right?”

“well—”

you’re interrupted with a mean slap to your pussy.

“that’s enough talkin’ baby. ‘s time y’er pussy gets the mic,” and the dark haired man gives your folds a soft, loving kiss. in a low, hoarse whisper, he hums, staring straight at your twitching entrance. “ain’t that right, princess? uh huh, thought so.”

☆ SATORU GOJO.

makes you squirt for the first time and immediately gets addicted to it.

“heh, angel if i had a dollar for every time you squirted f'me today, i’d be rich— well, technically i am rich,”

and of course with gojo, not only is he a good eater but he’s a fucking blabbermouth.

he’d literally talk your ear off while you’re riding his face. white thin strands of hair nearly occlude his view of vision. as he’s lying flat on his back, he needs to take a few seconds to dig his hand through his hair, combing the strands back in place. your legs tremor with desirable euphoria.

as you shifted your weight against him — his chiseled jaw all shiny and glistening with your arousal, he simpers as you prepare to speak. “s- shut up, ‘toru,” you repeat yourself for the nth time, eager for him to start up again. his tongue had you craving for more. this was his favorite view of you, without a doubt. just straddling his face, rocking your rickety hips back and forth until you gush out again. sucking in a long breath of air, you bury your shivery fingers into his smooth snowy-rich scalp. “ngh, talk so fuckin’ much just finish.”

“ugh, well excuse me,” he rolls his eyes, pretending to be offended. the white haired male used a single thumb to pry your legs open before he rolls out his long tongue. it’s clean, a pretty pink tongue that’s already watering at the tip. drip after drip. your breath hitches at the sight, he’s hungry for more and so were you. “let’s try with my fingers this time, pretty girl. think we can do that?”

you nod, inching a hand down to touch yourself but with quick reflexes - he grabs your hand only to then spank your pussy, earning a cute yelp from you. “ah ah. words, i was speaking to you, not your pussy, dummy.”

“y- yes,” you hiss, feeling the stutter in your waist accelerate. if it wasn’t for gojo’s hand gripping against your left hip, you’d have surely collapse onto him. “i can take your fingers, ‘toru.”

“fuck yeah you can,” he purrs - hot breath going right up against your slick folds. you whimper, watching with hazy doe eyes as he starts up again. gojo feels your cunt sporadically twitch in his mouth and he groans. he creates a swirl with the tip of his tongue before slowly inserting one finger. one eventually turns into two and the stretch, your legs were on its last final final hinges. you moan at the thickness of his digits curling all around your soaked gripping walls, swabbing up a nice amount of your slick slippery sweet. “yeah, listen to her. she’s got so much to say unlike you.” and his pristine azul eyes were staring straight at your cunt, not you. the wet wet squelches from your own slobbering folds makes your hips jerk forward quicker.

as he’s vigorously plunging two fingers in and out, his tongue continuing to slurp you clean. you whine, tugging on his hair, holding onto it tight for support. a hand claws into his silky strands before you hear the sloppy sluuuurps that slither out of his annoying mouth.

“sa— fuck, satoru,” you sob out, gasping once the tips of his digits locate your g-spot with such ease. he was so quick, his fingers knew exactly what to do. mimicking a bowling ball grip, he fucks his fingers into your swollen cunt, still latching his lips onto your pussy. “ngh, ‘toru. i just finished. satoruuuu.”

“babyyyy,” he mocks your moan in a faux manner, fully exaggerating the way you sounded. you rode his face at a more steady yet faster tempo, already feeling yourself about to collapse.

the stimulation had you floating on an incredible high. white thin brows of his arch into a furrow as he’s melting in your cunt, laying his tongue flat before overzealously sucking against your clit.

“mhm, that’s it. make another mess. awh. don’t be shy, ‘toru’s gonna clean—mmph,” he pauses with a grunt, giving you a half glare as you yank his hair forward. his smug grin returns and he briskly pistons his fingers further into your gummy walls. “as i was saying, ‘toru’s gonna clean you right up. always liked the mess.”

you’re spasming — the only thing you could see was a multitude of bright colors. as your jaw drops right on lewd cue, dangling goofily, you felt a gush of pleasure ripple out of you again. your thighs practically stuck together, the numbness adding its own kind of gripping sting before he quickly snatched his soaked fingers out. now, you’re just a drooling babbling puddle—with huffed breaths, you glance down at gojo who’s got the biggest grin.

as he’s lapping up your mess, you feel the tip of his nose swipe its way against your folds. he couldn’t help but smell you, your heat. you were so hot, in more ways than one. cerulean blue eyes meet yours one more time before he snickers, a tiny pout curling against his lips.

“oh, baby. are you cryin’?”

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

“no, go on. finish touchin’ her,”

hoarse low words embarrassingly creates a pulse between your thighs. as you stare at sukuna, not only are you knuckles deep into your swollen pussy but you’re also caught red handed.

curses, you knew full well how sukuna wasn’t fond of you touching what’s his. to him, you were his and that included your precious cunt. crimson red eyes bore into you as you slouch back, continuing to pump your sloppy drenched digits in and out. “keh. the audacity.”

you felt a burning heat settle against your skin, its feverish. you take a minute to swallow, a slimy coat coating the entirety of your fingers before you whine.

“kuna,” and he sucks his teeth - staring at you play with yourself right in front of him. with two hands, he spreads your legs, not wanting you to hide anything else. his touch send a feverish thrill up your spine and you gasp once he lightly smacks your hand away. “p— pleas-”

“quiet, woman,” he grouses, using the fat of his thumb to spread your quivering cunt lips apart further. he gets a full face view of how soaked you were. as you remain sat against a fluffed pillow, you gulp at the sight of the demon - licking his lips, forked tongue baring out a single fang the more his mouth stretches opens. within a second, he lolls out his long tongue before getting a sweet taste of your soppy pussy. you whimper, the texture of his pink muscle makes you shiver. “mhm,” he grunts, the low vibrations tickling against you.

but you start to feel an extra tongue glide against your soddened folds. voluntarily, your back arches and you heard a loud slurp before meeting the view of one of his broad hands.

you remember sukuna telling you how he had tongues on … certain other places of his body.

he’s told you about his stomach but never his hands. “s- sukuna,” you whimper, the texture feeling frigidly cold. it tickles at first, his clammy hand smearing back and forth against your cunt. “fuck, fuuuuck,” and your head leans back, all types of emotions foiling at your brain. and your irises slowly became docile. both slippery tongues were forked, long, and slimy. you shudder the entire time, gasping in long exaggerated breaths as your thighs try to stick together from the growing heat. “gonna cum, ‘kuna. ‘m not gonna last.”

“yes you are,” he snarls in correction, the mixture of two fat tongues diverting against your clit sends you pangs of obscene rapture.

he hums in amusement at the sight of your back and how it effortlessly arches for him and only him. another one of his hands creeps between your legs, plucking them open some more. his words were dangerously husky, they stirred something inside the empty depths of your tummy, making you pulse. speaking of, he feels the crazed pulse throb against each tongue, and his slurps become more carnal. “my, what a sloppy cunt. the audacity to be touchin’ her though is beyond me, little one,” and you could hear the possessiveness lingering off his tongue.

within each slurp, suck, and suckle—you just knew it was impossible to last. the stimulation of both concluding muscles against your folds makes you go further and further toward the edge. you’re so close that you could almost taste it on the tip of your tongue. sugary sweet with a sprinkle of saltiness. “sukunaaa,” you whimper, too weak to even pull at his hair.

you were at his very mercy - one of his favorite things in the world. the way you’d murmur out his name in that sweet pathetic voice, a desperate cry for more.

but alas, your words would always fall on deaf ears. he’d edge you ‘till the end, until you’re begging. with your legs feeling like practical mush, your jaw tightens before he finally lets you finish on both jarring tongues. “you’re so dramatic,” he grouses with a scowl, allowing you to conclude at your climax, heaving large breaths every few seconds. even though it was just minutes, with sukuna, he made anything seem like orgasmic long hours. “good girl, thaaaat’s it.”

and he moves his mouth away, allowing his hand tongue to do the remainder of the cleaning. the sensation was unlike anything you’ve felt before. you whimper, achy pipes in your throat all scratchy and hoarse from how vocal you were just a few moments ago. the tongue that rests against his palm sucks you clean—it’s more tender and gentle and you’re a stammering mess, secretly adapting to the strange yet pleasurable feeling..

you’re still trying to recollect breaths, invisible glue sticks and glosses between your legs before you glance up at sukuna who’s got a sly smile. “w- what’s with the look?”

“oh, nothing,” the demon retorts wittily, leaning up to press a soft kiss against your neck. his touch made you shiver and you wrap your arms around him almost instantly.

his cologne as always, was loud and made its name known across the entire room. leaning up against your ear, he licks it - which turns into seductive nibbles before he whispers. “i was just thinking. i think you’d prefer my stomach tongue a lot more, princess. i promise i’ll try not to swallow ya, heh.”

well kept [1] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, bdsm elements, rafe has control issues, some sugar baby vibes, future NONCON/DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 4.8k

In which you interview for a low-level position at Cameron Development, but instead, you unexpectedly find yourself chosen as Rafe Cameron's personal assistant.

rafe cameron masterlist

The sky was dreary. You looked up to see dark and ominous clouds staring down at you. Taking a breath to steady your nerves, you continued walking along the pavement. At least the southern sun wasn’t beating down on you. Maybe you’d appear less sweaty and nervous to your possible employer. 

Charlotte was a big city you hadn’t fully explored, but your walk was familiar. A few blocks down from the Cameron Development headquarters was the Mug & Muffin, where you’d been serving coffee for the past year. You practically only served housewives who had the time to grab coffee at 11 in the morning and suits who were on their way to the giant buildings downtown to make more money than you’d ever see in your whole life. 

Today was your day off; however, it was the only day of the week that you weren’t working for ten straight hours. Somehow, you’d been selected to interview for a Filing Clerk position at Cameron Development. You thought it was some kind of mistake that out of all the places you applied to through online portals, a legitimate company wanted to interview you. Not only was it legit, but they had their building downtown. The building was no skyscraper, but looking up at twenty dark steel floors, huge windows wrapped around each side, and a sparkling gold sign that read CAMERON, you felt incredibly intimidated. 

When you finally pushed through the revolving doors, you reminded yourself that it was a small position. A small position you weren't qualified for, but there was no need to worry. The receptionist on the first floor barely glanced at you when you approached her. You took a deep breath, slowly releasing it before starting your sentence: “Hi, I have an eight-thirty interview with Andy Speer in the Record Management department.”

She spoke curtly, “Twelfth floor,” She pointed to the elevators hidden behind a corner.

“Th-Thank you,” You mumbled, your shoes clicking against beautiful marble floors as you made your way to the elevators. You weren’t expecting to go so high up the building. The ride felt like an eternity, with each floor reminding you of how out-of-place you were. Even the receptionist who worked on the first floor acted like she was above you. You wiped your sweaty palms on your dress, grateful you’d chosen a black one. Well, you were thankful that you’d chosen the second out of the only two nice dresses you owned. 

You were now the age you should've graduated college at, you couldn’t work at a coffee shop forever. If you ever wanted to not have to live with three other people then you needed a serious job. You needed to take advantage of this opportunity. If you somehow landed it, this was the type of job where you might be able to grow. Who knows? Maybe you’d eventually be able to afford a car payment. Those thoughts pushed you forward as you walked down the hallway. 

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N,” The male voice came from behind you and you whirled around to see a short, bearded man approaching you. He wore a blue dress shirt and navy tie and was carrying a coffee from no other place than the Mug & Muffin. You spotted a small brown spot near his shirt pocket wear he’d clearly spilled some, “You’re here about the Filing Clerk position?”

You nodded, your heart beginning to race, as you stuck your hand out for him to shake. You weren’t sure if you were overdressed, having worn your outfit at your cousins wedding, but you added a red cardigan and ballet flats to make it more professional, “Yes,” You smiled, “That’s mmm-me.”

He didn’t seem to look you over more than once, and his smile remained despite the bump in your speech, “Great, my name is Andy Speer. I manage the department. Come on into my office.”

Breath, you reminded yourself. Start your sentences slow. Take a pause if you need to. If you get stuck, don’t get too frustrated. Try not to bring attention to it. 

When you settled into his office, relatively small but with a large window that had a lovely view of the city, he began the interview. You folded your hands in your lap, trying to be acutely aware of your facial expressions and your body’s posture. 

“So, tell me a little about your experience,” He started. 

“Well,” Breath in and slowly release, “I’ve actually been working at the Mug & Muffin as a shift lead for the past year but, before that, I worked in retail for several years. I’m v-vvvv-very organized; that’s why I’ve been able to help with-with both managing inventory and scheduling tasks.”

“Organization is key in a position like this. And you also know how to work on your feet. Our clerks travel all throughout the building, retrieving documents and assisting with things like file purging and managing file systems.”

Deep breath in. Start slowly. 

“I’m totally capable of being in service to others. Working in customer service will teach you how to deal with people very quickly and I’m sure there are similar ups and d-downs even within a company. I think it’s important to show a p-p-person that you’re listening, even if you c-c-can’t help them directly.”

He nodded, “People tend to forget that. What else interests you about working in Records Management?”

“I like the idea of keeping things in order. Making ssss-ssss,” Too fast. Slow down, “Sssss-sssss-sure. Uhm. Making sure everything is in place. It ssss-sound sss-small but it’s s-something I’m good at. And I’d like to be a part of a bigger company where I can grow and learn.”

Andy’s lips parted, and he gave you a look that you were no stranger to, “Ms. Y/L/N, if you don’t mind me asking–”

“I have a stutter,” You finished his sentence before taking another breath, slowing down as much as you could, “I have it managed, mostly. When I’m asked direct questions, or I’m especially nervous, it can flare up. But I-I-I am nervous. I’m interested in this job.”

Andy smiled softly, and your heart seemed to rest slightly. The pounding in your chest was about to make you go crazy.

“I appreciate your honesty. I have more questions for you but there’s no need to be confined to this office. I’ll show you around the building.”

You were more than relieved, instantly nodding. He seemed to understand how tense you were and undoubtedly the conversation would feel more casual if the two of you were walking at the same time. The interview continued, and Andy allowed you time to ask him questions about your possible role. 

Still, you felt small, like a child in an adult’s world. Andy touched on your lack of secondary education but didn’t press it. You explained how you’d completed two years of your undergrad degree, majoring in accounting but had to leave for personal reasons. You explained that you eventually wanted to finish your degree, but in reality, you’d only chosen accounting because it was one of the few majors that didn’t require you to take a public speaking class. 

You followed him through corridors with large glass meeting rooms on either side. Again, everyone you came across looked like they belonged. You walked past a room with a long, sleek table, and it seemed like at least twenty people were sitting at the table. At the front of the room was a tall man, impeccably dressed in a navy blue suit. His back was slightly turned, but the air of authority permeated through the glass all the way to you. You felt it against your skin. 

His voice was raised but was muffled by the glass barrier, “That’s Mr. Cameron. Our CEO.”

Your lips parted when you caught a real glance at him. He was older but much younger than you expected. Certainly younger than a CEO typically was. His hair was buzzed short, his skin a nice tan color, and blue eyes that locked on you. Briefly but intensely, “Let’s continue our tour.”

The rest of the tour happened in a blur. You felt that you made a good impression on Mr. Speer. He was accepting of your stutter and resonated with all the examples you shared from your past jobs. He informed you that they were interviewing four other applicants but that you’d receive an update in the next week about whether they’d chosen you. 

You felt slightly more confident than when you arrived and you reached for your phone, wanting to text your roommate how it went and that you’d be home soon but you ran into wall of muscle as you stepped onto the elevator, “S-Sorry,” You gasped, reaching down to grab your phone which had slipped from your grasp, “Ssss-so sss-sorry.”

Just shut up, you told yourself, and you found yourself actually speechless when you looked up into Mr. Cameron’s eyes, “Careful,” He said, slightly patronizing, and you wanted to crawl inside your skin. You tucked your phone away into your bag, stepping aside until you were on the other side of the elevator. 

The elevator door closed, and your eyes widened when you realized the elevator was not going down, “Oh,” You breathed, “You’re going up.”

Of course he was going up. The CEO works on the top floor. And now, here you were, stuck in an elevator with the CEO himself, a barista dressed up and pretending to belong in a place you had no right to be.

“Yeah, you can usually tell by looking at the arrows before you get on.”

You pressed your lips together, determined not to say anything more, even though you could feel his eyes on you. He sighed, “You’re new, I’m assuming.”

You shook your head. Breathe, start slowly. “I interviewed today. File Clerk.” Keep it brief, you reminded yourself. There was no need to try to impress the CEO—he was far too important to be involved in hiring someone like you. It was better not to embarrass yourself.

The elevator dinged with each floor that you passed, “Ah, well, I hope you were impressed by all the company has to offer,” he said as the doors opened, revealing a sleek black wall with the Cameron Development logo etched in gold. A waterfall cascaded down the marble surface, exuding elegance, “Enjoy your ride down.” 

“B-Bye-” 

Shut up. 

You reached to press the lobby button, watching as his large figure slowly disappeared down a hallway before the doors shut again. 

 There went that small sliver of confidence.

You went down a rabbit hole googling Cameron Development, of course. Rafe Cameron was just shy of thirty but he inherited the company from his father, Ward, when he was only twenty. It went from a company centered to the Outer Banks to one that served clients across the entire country. According to a website you weren’t sure was actually reputable, his networth was close to 1.3 billion dollars. 

And he thought you were an idiot. Most likely, he wouldn’t remember you all. 

You hoped you wouldn’t run into again when you returned to the Cameron Developent the next week. Andy had called you to let you know that you’d been chosen for the job, but when you approached the receptionist on the first floor, she informed you that you should check in with the receptionist on the twentieth floor. 

Was there another portion of the hiring process that involved meeting someone higher up in the company? You asked her if she’d actually meant that floor twice before the woman rolled her eyes and pretended to answer a phone call. 

The twentieth floor. 

You splurged on a new outfit, hopeful that your new job’s salary would soon replenish your funds. You’d be making ten dollars more per hour, after all. You chose a black, square-neck top and soft cream-colored pants, pairing them with your trusty ballet flats that matched almost everything.

When you arrived on the twentieth floor again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that security might escort you out at any moment. Walking past the elegant waterfall, you found the receptionist desk. The redheaded woman behind it was stunning, and though her smile lacked sincerity, at least she looked you directly in the eyes.

“Hi, I’m supposed to meet with Andy Speer in Record Management?” 

“Are you Y/N Y/L/N?” You nodded as you let out a breath. At least you weren’t in the wrong place. 

“Follow me,” she said, stepping out from behind the desk. She was dressed in a sleek, navy dress adorned with gold buttons down the front, tied with a bow at the waist. You couldn’t help but admire her style, your gaze trailing down to her elegant heels. “You’ll be meeting with Mr. Cameron today.”

“Wh-” Your lips paused in an uncomfortable, rounded position before the block in your speech passed, “Why?”

She didn’t respond, and there wasn’t time to press her as she led you to the end of a long hallway. You found yourself in front of two imposing, black double doors. With a push of the large, gold handles, she opened them to reveal the most elaborate room you’d ever seen.

The sheer scale of the room was breathtaking. Your eyes immediately went up to ceilings at least two floors tall and a gigantic window covering the farther wall. You thought Andy’s view was nice … you could see all of Charlotte from this window. Long black curtains hung from the ceiling to keep some of the light out. When the curtains were drawn, the room would undoubtedly take on a different character—moodier, more intimate, and even more private.

To the right, a stunning black marble fireplace dominated the wall, flanked by a bookcase that stretched the entire length of the room. A plush seating area featured leather couches that looked as comfortable as they were luxurious, with a low coffee table in front. Nearby, a polished bar cart stood ready, stocked with an array of crystal glasses and top-shelf spirits. No doubt to impress clients.

“Holy…” You spoke, as smooth as ever. 

To the left was Rafe and his expansive mahogany desk, positioned to take advantage of the view of the city’s infrastructure. His desk was organized with files stacked neatly, a computer with multiple desktops, and a mug that held steaming coffee. Expensive art pieces were framed on the wall behind him, carefully selected to aid the overall aesthetic of the space. They were dark and imposing like him. 

His chair was high-backed and leather, and as you met his eyes, you noticed he was just as tailored as the room. Broad shoulders and lean frame … you wondered how much time he spent carefully crafting it. He set aside the folder he had been reviewing as the redhead, Eleanor, announced your presence.

"Mr. Cameron, your ten o’clock meeting," she said.

“Thank you, Eleanor. That’ll be all,” His voice was smooth and commanding, “Come sit, Ms. Y/L/N.”

He emphasized the leather chairs in front of his desk and although your legs felt like weights, you crossed the room. You couldn’t help but continue to stare at how impressive it was and now that you’d learned more about him through your research, it made sense. What didn't make sense to you was why you were sitting in front of it. 

He leaned forward, his hands folding together, and instinctively you moved further back in your chair, “I got a chance to look at your application and resume.”

Your eyes widened, “Really?”

He nodded, “You never finished college. Why’s that?”

“I…I don’t understand,” You couldn’t hide the confusion on your face, “I didn’t think I-I would b-b-be …I thought Mr. Speer would be here.”

“He works for me, doesn’t he?”

“Y-Yes-” “You want to work for my company, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you repeated, your voice smaller this time. His head tilted slightly, his gaze sharpening.

“Did you forget my original question?”

“N-No,” You blurted before you took a breath. Relax, you told yourself, despite being aware of the environment that Mr. Cameron had already created, “I …I-”

He was patient but unyielding. You tried to imagine that you were just telling a story and not answering a pointed question. He was worth a billion dollars, not you. You had to answer his questions truthfully.

“I had a bad flare-up with my speech during my sophomore year. I …all throughout highschool it was very mild, but for some unknown reason, it got really sss-severe. My professors were … not accommodating. It felt immm-mmm-impossible.”

He stared at you for an uncomfortable amount of seconds. His piercing gaze had a way of making feeling like you were naked. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, “I see,” He tapped his finger against his desk, “It took me almost eight years to finish business school. By the end, my professor’s were only passing me because of who I was.”

Your lips parted in shock at his sudden candor. 

An ugly truth for an ugly truth.

 “Oh,” you whispered, not knowing what else to say. 

“I’m saying this because it doesn’t matter how many boxes check or how good of a person you are. It doesn’t matter to me what you think you deserve.”

“Okay,” You nodded, still unsure, “I don’t think think I deserve this job. But I want it.”

“How bad?” His lips pulled into a smirk. 

You searched your mind for all the rehearsed interview answers that you’d practiced, “I think I’m a really g-good fit for the–”

“No, what would you do?” He interrupted you, not in the way that people usually did because you were taking too long to speak. He was just completely uninterested in the words you had to say, “Let’s say six months from now, you’re up for a promotion and Andy corners you in his office. It’s ten-thousand more a year. Would you fuck him?”

There was a version of you, the rationale un-scared version of you, that would’ve stood up and walked out of the room. But you froze in place as you searched his eyes for whether he was asking you a trick question. 

Breathe in, let it out slowly, “No, I wouldn’t. I don’t understand.”

“If he hired you as a File Clerk, it would be a great way to get promoted,” Rafe said, “I looked at the other applicants, they’re all more qualified, but you’re more beautiful. It’s a pattern I’m starting to notice with him.”

You couldn’t comprehend why he’d brought you here just to tear you down—to belittle someone who would be working for his own company. Shaking your head, you stammered, “I-I made a mmm-mistake,” as you reached for your bag. But Rafe held up a hand, stopping you in your tracks.

“Don’t worry,” He stood up from his chair. You took a breath and swallowed, trying to keep your heart inside your chest. Hands in his pockets, he walked around the length of his desk until he was in front of you. Even as he leaned back on his desk, his presence seemed to cloud all of your senses, “Mr. Speer does want you to work for him in his department and you’re free to do so. However, I want to hire you as my personal assistant.”

“Uhm,” You blinked, caught off guard. “M-Me?”

“I’m between assistants right now and I think you’d be a perfect fit,” His watched your reaction carefully, his lips in a thin smile. 

Rafe Cameron was a complete asshole. 

“You want me to be your personal assistant?” You asked slowly, trying to prevent a stutter. 

“I want you to be my personal assistant,” he echoed, looking amused, “I think you’re cute.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Because I’m a c-college dropout www-with a stutter?” 

“Not just that,” he shrugged, his nonchalance making you want to scowl. You should’ve walked out already, but something kept you rooted to your seat.  “I think it would be mutually beneficial. The pay starts at eighty-thousand.” 

“A year?” You asked, feeling foolish immediately. 

“That’s almost triple what you make at your barista job.”

You eyed him curiously and wondered how exactly he knew that, “Yeah …”

“So, do you want it or not, Ms. Y/L/N?” The words hung in the air, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say "no." What choice did you really have? Work for a boss who might eventually cross the line—or work for one who’s offering to triple your salary?

“I’d love to give you more time to think it over,” he continued, glancing at his watch, “but I have a meeting in five minutes and will be out of the country for the rest of the week. You’ll need to decide now.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and anxiously picked at the fabric of your pants until you said, “Ninety-thousand.”

“You’re negotiating when you have no experience?” He wasn’t angry, just surprised. 

You nodded, although you were afraid you’d made a mistake. Now, you’d be escorted out by security. But you’d seen something in his eyes—something he wasn’t trying to deny. For reasons you couldn’t quite grasp, he wanted you.

“Eighty-five thousand,” he countered.

You paused, “Okay.”

“Okay?” You nodded again. “Great.”

He clapped his hands together, “W-When would I ssss-start?” 

“A week from now. Monday morning at seven. I get in at seven-thirty, and I expect you to be waiting here. Eleanor will work on getting your new wardrobe delivered to you before then.” 

“Wardrobe?” You echoed, bewildered. 

“I would’ve given you a hundred if you kept pushing,” he said, waving you off as he retreated behind his desk. Your jaw dropped as he added, “That’ll be all.”

The doors to his office opened again, and the redhead waited patiently for you to gather your things and hurry over to her. You glanced behind you to see Rafe intently focused on his computer screen. 

When you finally had enough distance from his office, you asked, “What happened to his last personal assistant?” You thought you might hyperventilate when you were finally alone with your thoughts. 

“Mr. Cameron can be difficult to please,” She smiled down at you, but her eyes were solemn, “Let me take your measurements.”

“Oh, I c-could just t-t-t-tell you,” you stammered, trying to get the words out quickly.

“They’ll need to be exact,” You followed her behind the reception desk. 

You looked at her closer—voluminous hair, a sharp jawline, winged eyeliner that executed perfectly. She was tall, slender, and beautiful, and you felt like you were nothing like her. Again, a child in a place meant for adults. He’d chosen someone like Eleanor, that made sense to you, but you couldn’t wrap your mind around what he saw in you.

Cute, he’d said. You always got cute. Never beautiful. Eleanor probably always got called beautiful. 

You stood still as she took your precise measurements, including around your hips, thighs, and bust. It was another moment where you probably should have run. “About this wardrobe I’ll be receiving…” you began cautiously.

“You’ll only wear what he picks out for you,” She said. 

Breathe. “That’s a little crazy, right?”

“Your job will ensure he has everything he needs—every hour of the day. You want to be nice to look at, don’t you?” 

And you don’t look nice to look at right now.

“Will I have a desk?”

Eleanor gestured to the one across from her, the second of two black desks in a square-shaped pod, “That one is yours, technically.”

“Technically?”

“Did he mention he works from home on Fridays?”

“No-”

“You’ll report to his house at seven a.m. on Fridays rather than here.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Eleanor said with a knowing nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll type this all up in an email for you.”

Later, you sat in your apartment's living room, still in your pajamas. Your roommates, Imani and Angel, were at work for the next few hours, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You scrolled through your old laptop, reading the offer letter from Cameron Development three times: eighty-five thousand dollars plus excellent benefits. You hadn’t even been to the doctor in two years because of how expensive and terrible your insurance was.

You could afford your own apartment. You wouldn’t leave your roommates hanging, of course, but maybe you could in a few months. You could get your own cat like you’ve always wanted. That money would change your life. 

Your clothes arrived with a delivery man who was already frustrated with you. He had to make three trips to bring in all the garment bags Rafe had sent. He grew even more frustrated when you begged him to return some of it. They filled your entire living room, and you’d be a horrible roommate to keep all of it. You’d have to throw out all of your clothes to make them fit in your room. 

When the delivery man left, you started to zip the packages open and examine their contents. Your hands shook when you read the first price tag: a twelve-hundred-dollar Giorgio Armani dress. You began to notice a pattern as you looked at thirty different outfits. There were no black dresses or dark colors at all. Many of them were sad excuses for a woman’s professional work clothes. 

You couldn’t deny that the outfits were sophisticated, but they all seemed to follow a particular theme. If one didn’t feature a mini-skirt, it showcased a sleeveless top. Many had a professional air, with neat rows of buttons running down the front or crafted from rich tweed material. Yet, they were also undeniably frilly and elegant, teetering on the edge of overly dainty. You couldn’t shake the feeling that if you wore one, you’d resemble a Barbie doll more than a personal assistant.

Breaking a sweat, you piled all of the garment bags in your room, leaving only a small amount of room for you to walk from your bedroom to the bathroom. That was going to be a problem. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if you returned some of them. How many outfits did you really need for work? 

The man also brought in a trunk—an oversized, luxurious piece you couldn’t dream of fitting into your tiny shoebox of a room. Once you cleared enough space in the living room, you finally managed to open it. Inside, the left side was lined with rows of pristine heels, each pair more exquisite than the last. On the right, several items were wrapped in burlap sacks made from fine material. You carefully unwrapped one that bore the name GUCCI, revealing a small lilac handbag that looked both delicate and expensive.

God, you thought despite the fact you didn’t believe in him. 

Your roommates were going to think you were some kind of sugar baby or escort. Even if you explained what happened, they might still believe that. 

When you checked your laptop again, there was an email from Eleanor. 

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

Congratulations on your new position at Cameron Development! We are pleased to officially welcome you as Mr. Rafe Cameron's Personal Assistant. 

Below are some key points regarding your new position:

Start Date: Monday, 7:00 AM

Work Location: Cameron Development Headquarters (Mon-Thurs) / Mr. Cameron’s residence (Friday)

Responsibilities: 

You will be expected to manage Mr. Cameron’s daily calendar, remind him of upcoming appointments, and ensure he is well prepared for them. 

You will coordinate all aspects of Mr. Cameron’s travel, including booking flights, accommodations, transportation, and hotels. 

You will complete all of Mr. Cameron's personal errands.

You must maintain strict confidentiality regarding Mr. Cameron’s personal and professional life. 

You will ensure all of Mr. Cameron’s personal needs are met. 

Salary: $85,000

Benefits: Comprehensive health insurance, paid time off, and a company-provided phone and laptop.

Confidentiality: Due to the sensitive nature of your work, a strict non-disclosure agreement (NDA) will be required upon your first day.

A few tips for looking your best: 

Wardrobe: Please adhere to the dress code. Your new wardrobe has been tailored to Mr. Cameron’s preferences. At work, you will not wear dark colors or pants. The items are non-returnable. Always opt for the heels provided. I suggest you practice at home if you’re uncomfortable wearing them. 

Makeup: Your go-to should be a light foundation, a touch of blush, and a subtle lip color. Avoid anything too bold when it comes to eye makeup. 

Hair: A braiding appointment has been arranged for you this upcoming Saturday, fully paid for. Mr. Cameron prefers a more extended length, but you’re free to choose the color as long as it’s natural. 

Remember, the goal is to look effortlessly polished. 

Best regards,

Eleanor Thornton

Executive Assistant to Mr. Cameron

Maybe Rafe Cameron was a sociopath.

Please reblog WITH your thoughts on the chapter to be added to the taglist for the story :)

vampire geto

perv! toji who doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s ogling at your ass every time you bend over

perv! toji who scrounges up his money to buy you pretty little lace panties

perv! toji who then steals those panties and uses them to jerk off when you’re not around

perv! toji who will massage you after a long day just because he likes hearing your little moans

perv! toji who records himself cumming to your nudes

perv! toji who snaps at your bra straps and comments about how much he likes the color on you

perv! toji who purposefully buys too-small towels for when you shower at his place

perv! toji who also persuades you into showering together to ‘save money’

perv! toji who has nightly wet dreams about your lips stretching over his thick cock

perv! toji who then wakes up painfully hard and calls you to come fix the mess you’ve created

perv! toji who gropes your breasts through your shirt anytime you walk around him braless

perv! toji who can’t wipe the stupidly smug smirk off his face whenever you let him hit it raw

basically, perv! toji

Hello! 💕 Can I request semi-public sex with Mohawk Mark? You make him unhinged like he actually is and I love that. (And I know this is very specific but.. can you include the doggy position? I feel like he’d be very into it, and the reader’s ass in general.)

BENT FOR A KING — mohawk! mark grayson x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: smut, semi public sex, swearing, slight degrading, getting caught.

It starts with his hand around your throat.

Not hard. Not yet. Just enough to make you breathe a little differently, feel the weight of who he is. Mohawk Mark—unhinged, dangerous, and untouchable—rules this world with blood-stained hands and a half-smirk that never quite reaches his eyes. You’re lucky he hasn’t crushed you under his boot like the rest of them.

No, he’s chosen you.

And tonight, on the rooftop of a crumbling building overlooking his broken kingdom, you’re reminded exactly what that means.

“Stay quiet,” he murmurs into your ear, voice low and hot. “Or don’t. Either way, I’ll still fuck you like you’re mine.”

His hand slides down the curve of your back, and the moment it reaches the small of your spine, you know exactly what he wants. You always do. He’s a man of habit, of power, and of instinct. His fingers grip the flesh of your hips, tugging you into position, pulling you closer to him as though you’re the only thing that matters in this world—this world he rules with fire and blood.

You can feel his gaze on you even before he speaks, his eyes burning with an intensity that both excites and terrifies you. It’s the way he looks at you—like you’re the most precious thing, but also the most breakable. It’s not just that he wants you—he needs you. The kind of need that consumes everything in its path.

His obsession isn’t just about your body, though that’s a large part of it. He’s consumed by the way you respond to him—how you give in to him, how you arch for him when he demands it, how every inch of your body fits into his hands like it was made just for him. He sees something in you that no one else does—a rawness, a vulnerability, a surrender that he can’t find in anyone else. The power he exudes comes with a deadly confidence, but with you, it’s different. There’s a tenderness hidden beneath that twisted exterior, a need to control, but also to keep you, to protect what’s his.

You drop to your hands and knees, the gravel biting into your skin as you do, the roughness of it grounding you in the reality of your situation. The city sprawls beneath you, its flickering lights barely reaching your high perch, but there’s a strange sense of thrill that makes your heart race. The risk—the fact that someone might look up and see you like this, used, wrecked by him, the king of this crumbled world, it ignites a fire in your chest.

But what feels even more dangerous is how you don’t care. Not even a little bit.

You’re here with him, in the most vulnerable way possible, but it’s an honor. It’s more than just sex, more than just being his favorite. It’s a privilege that you can’t find anywhere else in the world.

There’s no one else who would ever claim you like this—no one else who could. He owns you, yes, but in a way that’s deeper than possession. You are the only one who gets to see the cracks in his armor, the only one who gets to feel the raw, unhinged version of him—the one who could tear down everything for you, or burn it all to the ground if anyone ever tried to touch what’s his. You’re his, and he makes sure everyone knows it.

And there’s a twisted satisfaction in knowing that the world watches him rule with bloodshed and fire, but only you get to experience the darker parts of him—the parts that are soft and broken, the parts that see you not as a trophy, but as the one person who can hold him together when the rest of the world wants to tear him apart.

Being with him isn’t about just giving your body. It’s about surrendering to him completely, trusting that no one else could ever hold the same power over you, the same hold on your heart. When he calls you his, it means something. It means you’re the one person who can shatter him, who can make him feel something real in this warped world. It’s an honor to have that kind of access—to be his addiction, his salvation, and his destruction all in one.

His hands grip you tighter, pulling you toward him, and the thrill of being seen as his breaks through your every thought. You close your eyes for a second, feeling the weight of his presence, the honor of being the one to witness it. You know that, as broken and twisted as he may be, you’re the only one who gets to call him yours.

That’s the honor. And it makes every part of you ache to keep giving more.

Mark pulls your hips back into him, hands rough, greedy. His nails bite into your skin. “Fuck… look at you,” he groans, one hand gripping your ass hard, spreading you open so he can stare. “Made for me.”

You whimper when he slides in—slow just to tease, but you know he doesn’t have patience. Not really. Not when he’s like this.

He slams forward, and your breath escapes in a gasp. His thrusts are brutal, rhythmic, like he’s trying to fuck the shape of his cock into your body, so no one else could ever forget who you belong to.

“Say it,” he growls, fucking into you hard enough that your palms scrape against the gravel. “Say who you’re for.”

“You, Mark—only you,” you gasp out, voice broken and sweet.

He growls like an animal. One hand snakes up to tangle in your hair, yanking your head back so he can lean over your trembling body.

“Damn right. The whole world bows for me. And you—” he punctuates the next thrust with a sharp slap to your ass, making you moan helplessly, “—you bend over for me. Perfect little thing. My perfect fucktoy.”

The way he says it—it doesn’t feel demeaning. Not from him. Not from the man who’s torn empires apart with his bare hands, who’s crushed entire rebellions for daring to even look at you the wrong way.

You know what you are to him. Not just a toy. Not just a body to fuck.

You’re the center of his madness. His favorite obsession. His only softness in a world he rules through fear and fire.

And when he calls you his perfect fucktoy in that low, hungry voice, it doesn’t make you feel small. It makes you feel chosen. Desired so completely that it borders on worship—twisted and dark, but real in a way nothing else in his world is.

He shows it with every punishing snap of his hips. With every brutal thrust that steals your breath and leaves you gasping for more. With the way his hands clutch at you like he’s trying to mold your body to fit him—like no other shape exists but the one you make together.

“You’re mine,” he growls again, more animal than man now. His hips slam into you with a desperate rhythm, frantic and raw. “You don’t breathe without me. You don’t come unless I say.”

Your moans are soft, broken things, muffled by the way your cheek presses against the rooftop, but he hears every single one. Lives for them. You can feel how deep it runs—this need to own you, brand you, bury himself so far inside you that even death wouldn’t tear you apart.

His grip on your waist tightens. One hand drifts back to your ass, squeezing it, spreading you wider like he wants to see the way you swallow him whole. He groans—low, filthy, reverent.

“Look at that,” he murmurs darkly. “Even your body knows you’re mine. Takes me so well.”

You can’t speak. Your voice is lost in the pleasure, in the way his cock keeps hitting that spot over and over, making your toes curl, making your thoughts go white. But you feel it—how much he needs this. Needs you.

And underneath all that violence, all that terrifying strength, there’s something else. A desperation. A fear of losing you.

Because in a world he could destroy in a heartbeat, you’re the only thing that matters enough to keep. And he’s going to fuck that truth into you until it’s carved into your bones

You lose track of time—of everything but the sounds of him. The raw rasp of his breath, deep and grating, almost primal as he fucks you with relentless force. Every exhale he takes is a promise of something darker, something more savage that you need him to give. The rhythm of his hips becomes your only anchor in a world spinning faster and faster, leaving you gasping for something, anything, to hold onto.

The sting of his hands on your skin is electric—each touch searing, a claim. His fingers grip your body like he’s afraid someone might take you from him, like this—this very moment—is something he can’t afford to lose. His nails scrape over your flesh, marking you, and the pain only drives you higher, deepens the hunger coiling inside you. It’s as if your body is made for this, for him, for the way he owns every inch of you with just a touch.

And then there’s the heat building deep in your core, growing impossibly hotter with every thrust, every roll of his hips. It’s frantic, it’s all-consuming, a molten fire flooding through your veins, turning your mind to mush. Your body can’t take it much longer, but you don’t want it to stop. Not now. Not when you feel so alive, so completely his.

Your voice starts to waver, climbing higher and higher, until it’s a desperate cry. It’s not just the pleasure anymore—it’s the way he’s tearing apart everything you’ve ever known about yourself. The way he’s filling you up in every sense of the word. Your voice gets breathless, broken, like you’re drowning in him, in his touch, in the heat he’s flooding you with. And Mark? Mark lives for it.

His grin stretches wider, lips pulling back over clenched teeth. His eyes gleam, almost predatory, like he’s watching you break, like he wants to see you shatter completely under him. It thrills him, that power. That control. And every strained, breathless sound you make only pushes him further, encourages him to go harder, faster. He wants to hear your voice crack, wants to taste every shred of desperation in the air between you.

His hands grip you tighter, pulling you deeper into him as if your body was a tool meant for his pleasure. But you know, deep down, it’s not just about that. He wants you—wants to claim every inch of you, and the dangerous part is that you’re more than willing to let him. Your submission isn’t out of fear, but out of respect. Respect for the man who could crush the world beneath his boot, yet chooses to keep you close, tangled in his every whim.

His voice cuts through the air, dark and rough, just as commanding as his actions. “You like this, don’t you? Knowing that no one else could ever have you the way I do. No one else gets to see you like this. Not like me.” His breath hitches as he thrusts into you, his fingers digging into your hips.

You bite your lip, barely able to suppress the moan that threatens to escape. You can feel the rawness in his voice, the possessiveness, and you can’t help but smile, your body betraying you with its eager response. “Yes, Mark,” you breathe out, voice trembling. “Only you. I’m yours, all yours.”

His growl sends a shiver through your spine. “Damn right you are.” His hand comes down sharply on your ass, the sound of it echoing across the empty rooftop. You gasp, but it’s not from pain—it’s from the satisfaction of knowing that each strike is his mark, his claim.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he mutters, the words nearly lost in the raggedness of his breath. “You arch for me like you were made to. Every part of you… made for me.”

His words are like fire, igniting something deep inside of you. You feel his grip tighten as he begins to push deeper, harder, faster—his rhythm wild, untamed. You can hear his breath grow more frantic, like he’s losing himself in you, like he can’t control the force of his desire.

“You’ve got to be mine, don’t you?” he growls, his voice rough, hungry. “Say it. Tell me you’re mine.”

You arch your back more, meeting his thrusts, every inch of you burning with need. “I’m yours, Mark,” you gasp, your words shaking. “I belong to you. Only you. I’ll always be yours.”

He growls, low and pleased. “Good girl.” The praise is a rare gift from him, and it makes you shiver. His hands move to your hair, tugging it back so he can lean down, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re mine, and no one else gets to have you like I do. Not now, not ever.”

A dark thrill pulses through your veins at the thought. The idea that you’re the only one who gets to feel this—the only one who knows what it’s like to be held by him, controlled by him, taken by him.

His pace doesn’t slow. If anything, it picks up—faster, harder, until the world around you disappears. The only thing that exists is him, the hard press of his body against yours, the raw intensity of his thrusts, the sound of his voice demanding your complete submission.

“Don’t ever forget who you belong to,” he grits out, his hand tightening around your throat again, not enough to choke you, but enough to remind you of his dominance. “I’ll make sure you remember. Every time I fuck you, you’ll remember who owns this body.”

You gasp again, your voice shaking with need. “I’ll always remember, Mark. I belong to you. Only you.”

His lips curl into a dark smile against your skin, and for a moment, his pace falters as if he’s savoring the sound of your words. “That’s right,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re mine. And you’ll never forget it.”

“That’s it,” he murmurs through a wicked grin, his hand clutching your hip, forcing you back against him as he slams into you with unrelenting force. “Let me hear you scream. Let me hear how badly you want me, how fucked up you are for me.”

You can barely form words anymore. You’re so close—so close to the edge, your body trembling with anticipation, but still, there’s something inside you, something twisted and desperate, that wants to drag this moment out. You want him to keep breaking you, keep pushing you, to keep using you until there’s nothing left but his name on your lips and the raw burn of his hands on your skin.

His laugh comes out in short, jagged bursts, almost cruel in its delight as he watches your body tremble, your breath hitching with each deep, punishing thrust. He can feel it, too—that delicious tension, that impending explosion.

“Come on,” he urges, his voice low, almost mocking. “Let go. I’m right here, baby. I’m right fucking here.” And that’s it. That’s all it takes.

The heat inside you bursts wide open. Your body goes rigid, muscles locking as you lose yourself completely in him. The cry that rips from your throat is nothing but a raw, guttural thing—a mix of pleasure and surrender. And Mark, Mark watches you as you fall apart for him, watches as your whole body shakes with the force of it.

And with a final growl, he follows you, burying himself deep, claiming you in every possible way. He finishes with a low, satisfied groan, burying himself deep and holding you there—his hands gripping your hips like he owns every inch of you. And he does.

“Next time,” he whispers, lips brushing your skin, “we’ll do it on the Capitol steps. Let them all see who you belong to.”

And the worst part? You want that too.

You collapse forward, trembling, skin slick with sweat, knees sore from the gravel, but it doesn’t matter. None of it does. Not when he’s still inside you, so deep it feels like he’s fused to your spine. Not when you’re dizzy from the aftershocks, from the way he took you—like he needed it, like he’d fall apart without it.

You feel him exhale behind you, breath ragged, chest heaving against your back as he leans over you. His hands are still on your hips, thumbs rubbing absent, possessive circles into your skin, grounding himself in the feel of you.

“…fuck,” he breathes, more to himself than to you.

There’s something wild in the way he touches you now—softer, almost reverent. His fingers trail along the bruises blooming on your thighs, the prints he left behind, the heat radiating off your skin. He doesn’t apologize. He never would. But there’s a tenderness in the way he shifts, lowering you gently onto your side like you’re something breakable. Something precious.

“You okay?” he asks, voice quieter now but still rough, still his. His mohawk flutters in the wind as he hovers above you, studying your face like he’s looking for cracks, for signs you might slip through his fingers.

You nod, breathless. “I’m yours, remember?”

That gets a smirk out of him—crooked and dark, but it’s the closest thing to peace you’ve ever seen in him. “Damn right you are.”

He lies beside you on the rooftop, pulling you into his chest like a dragon curling around its treasure. The stars blink above the ruined skyline, and for a second, the world is still. He tucks your hair behind your ear, fingers rough and calloused but shockingly gentle.

“I hate this world,” he mutters. “Filthy. Weak. Useless.”

You hum against his chest. “But you like me.”

He pauses. The kind of pause that means he’s battling something inside—something he never lets anyone else see. Then he answers, low and deadly serious:

“I don’t like you. I need you. You keep me from turning this whole fucking planet to ash.”

His fingers trail down your spine, resting low over your ass—his favorite place, the one he claims over and over like it belongs on an altar. “If I lost you… there wouldn’t be a world left.”

You believe him.

You shift closer, tilting your head up. “You’ll never lose me.”

He kisses you then. Not soft. Not sweet. Just real. Teeth and heat and need. The kind of kiss that says: You’re mine. Forever. Even if I have to tear through every universe to keep you.

And you kiss him back, silently telling him what he already knows. You’d let him.

You’re still on the rooftop, curled in his jacket, legs weak and heart slowly returning to a steady rhythm when you hear it— the crunch of boots on gravel below.

You freeze.

Mark doesn’t even flinch. His eyes snap open from where he was lazily nuzzling your shoulder, his body already tense, ready. On edge. “…Hello?” a voice calls from down below. “Is someone—shit. Hello?”

You move toward the edge of the rooftop, careful but curious, peering over with Mark’s massive jacket barely covering your thighs. Below, a young man—probably a patroller or worker—stands in the alley, looking up. His eyes land on you, wide, startled—

And then his gaze lingers. He gasps. “Oh—uh—I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—!” His face goes red as he stammers and immediately looks away, hands raised in apology. “I thought the place was empty!”

You blink at him, unsure whether to laugh or cover yourself more tightly. “It’s okay. Just… don’t look.”

He nods furiously. “Right, yes, of course, I didn’t—I wasn’t—!”

But that was enough. Behind you, you feel it: the air shifts. The weight of fury. The silence before the storm. And then, in a blur of motion, Mark is gone. CRACK—the impact below echoes up like thunder.

You rush to the edge again just in time to see the man slammed into the alley wall, feet off the ground, Mark’s hand tight around his throat. His naked body gleams in the moonlight, but modesty is the last thing on his mind—his rage is all-consuming.

“You looked,” Mark snarls, voice low and lethal. “You looked at her.”

The man chokes, hands clawing at Mark’s wrist. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“She spoke to you. You spoke to her.” Mark’s grip tightens. “That alone’s worth breaking your spine.”

“Mark!” you shout, grabbing the edge of the rooftop. “Stop!”

He doesn’t. “I should fucking kill you,” Mark growls, eyes glowing like a warning. “You think you get to see her? Get to hear her voice?” You leap down, landing hard and stumbling, Mark’s jacket still clutched around you. “Mark, please. Stop.”

He growls, muscles trembling with restraint as he glares at the man, who’s turning pale under his grip. You move in front of him, pressing a hand to his chest. “He didn’t touch me. He didn’t even try anything. He’s just a dumb kid who looked up at the wrong time.”

His jaw is clenched so tight you can see the muscle ticking. You cup his face, forcing him to look at you instead of his prey. “Please, Mark. For me.” He breathes through his nose. Once. Twice. Then he rolls his eyes with a grunt and drops the man, who crumples to the ground, gasping for air.

“You should be dead,” Mark growls at him. “You even dream about her, and I’ll rip out your tongue and force you to swallow it.”

The man whimpers and crawls backward, disappearing into the shadows without another word. Silence returns. You look up at Mark. “You didn’t kill him.” He tilts his head. “Don’t act like that wasn’t impressive restraint.”

You laugh softly, stepping closer. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I am,” he says, dragging you flush against him, voice dark and low. “And you love it.”

His hands settle low on your hips—palming the curve of your ass again, possessive and unrepentant. “Let someone try that again. Next time, I won’t ask for permission.”

You kiss him, rough and quick. “Next time, don’t make a scene while I’m still half-naked.” He grins, wicked and wild. “That’s your fault. Walking around looking like sin in my jacket.”

And before you can argue, he lifts you into his arms like nothing in the world matters but you and takes off into the sky.

hi. i really need youngbin possessive boyfriend. jealousy. whatever kinks u want. pls.

I'm gonna do bullet points for this! (Mainly cuz you didn't mention if you wanted a scenario 💀)

Warnings: 18+ and written for female anatomy. The regular ones really. Choking, spanking, daddy/sir kink, possessive duh, marking, dirty talk 😙, edging, overstimulation. Lmk if I need to add more.

Jealous Possessive Youngbin will include:

Oh man you know you've fucked up big time when he gets jealous cause he's quite calm bout almost everything

Legit the moment you enter your room or any secluded room, you're pushed up against the nearest wall or bent over a clean surface

He will grip your ass with as much strength as he has omg

Bruises bruises BRUISES FOR DAYS

Definitely manhandles you, not too much tho don't worry 😉

Now it might go in two ways from here

Situation 1

He will pull down just your pants and underwear or rip them

Basically exposes your heat and removes his pants too and just goes to town

Very rough 🤤

Spanks you so much you ass is red almost purple

Grips your hair hard enough to make you cry

merCILESS

Ends up overstimulating you while chasing his own high

Makes you beg him to stop

Moderately low chances of choking you

Dirty talks so much

" You are mine. Just mine. All mine." as he's literally pounding into you

" You think they could fuck you better? Make you cum as many times as I can?"

His daddy kink comes into play 🤭 only if you're into it

Okay but he'll drive his dick into you at such a fast pace you're moving away from him cause it's too much

But you can't move away cause there's no space so you end up squirming so much it makes him smirk his evil smirk

Vampire bites your neck

When you cum for the final time he's made sure that you physically can't stand on your legs anymore

Super caring after tho 🥺

Situation 2

Comes up close to you, presses his body to yours so you cam feel his hard cock on your ass

One hand moving your hair to one side while the other applies pressure to your throat

Licks your ear before talking to you

Makes his voice super deep and lustful 🤐

" I didn't really like the stunt you pulled today. Maybe I should teach you a lesson babygirl. "

Brings you to the bedroom, ties your wrists together so you can't touch him :(

Fucks your face for sure

Bends you over his knees, asks you to counts the number of spanks 😶

Suddenly slips like 3 fingers into your aching wet hole, no warnings what so ever as his thumb will find your clit

Teases you while interrogating you

Better respond with 'Sir' or you won't get to cum tonight or a week

" Aren't you my good girl? Why were you acting like that? Have I not trained you enough by now? " With such a calm voice that it seems like an Innocent question

Edges you so many times. Like 7 or 8 times 😳

Finally gives in and fucks you like you two are the only people who need to repopulate the earth

Chokes you as he leaves so many hickies on your neck and oh Lord you won't know how to cover them no matter how much you try

Makes you cum till your legs shake or you squirt

Rough grips every part of you

Delicate aftercare cause it's just as important

This was fun.

something about powerplex needing to self-harm to boost his power levels

oh this actually hurts like on a physical level