me as soon as im home:

warnings ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა : oral ( f rec. ) , bluecollar!rafe ( dada mannn )

you loved to watch bluecollar!rafe eat . . . 

yes, i know that sounds weird, because why would you like watching your husband eat? but here's the thing about him, he always ate like the food was gonna run away from him. 

you noticed—well, it was hard not to—on your first date. he was quite literally scarfing down the plate within milliseconds of the food being served. 

and no, you were not taking your food home because once you placed your fork down, you practically read his mind. "you want the rest?" you didn't mind, simply because you found his big appetite endearing. 

to be honest, you found it hot too . . . 

like just imagine rafe being exhausted after being out in the summer heat from sunrise to sunset. his skin was slightly flushed from sunburn, probably in an airy white tee and shorts. 

but then he begins eating like he's been starved, despite the plethora of food you packed in his huge lunchbox before he left. 

large, rugged hands gripping the spoon handle like a vice, completely dwarfing the utensil. both elbows are planted on the table as he hunches over his plate. he doesn't let any exaggerated sounds escape as he inhales his meal like a vacuum cleaner. 

so just having this beefy man at your dinner table had you wondering one thing: if he eats like that, imagine how he eats cat. & boy did he eat it well . . .

everything was wet. your pussy, inner thighs, rafe’s face, and even the sheets below you. yet that only spurred your husband on because he could and would make you wetter. 

“rafey, m’sensitve now,” you’d mewl, digging your head deeper into your pillow. 

when rafe was between your thighs, he was a man of few words, only grunting or letting out raspy moans to your taste. continuing to slurp down your pussy juices like his day starved him from being saturated in your slick. 

he’d suckle on your clit in a way that had your thighs tensing around his head and your toes pointing into the air. sometimes he’d even have his teeth lightly graze your nub when you’d get too rowdy. “let me eat,” he murmured, circling your dripping entrance before dipping his tongue into your heat to receive more of that sugary sap you flooded his mouth with. 

and when he felt your velvety insides get warmer, he immediately tilted his head and flattened his tongue against your pussy, ready for your cunt to splatter that sticky cream of yours onto his taste buds. 

& cream you did. once you felt that muffled “cum for me,” vibrate against your throbbing pussy, your thighs trembled around his head. your cunny pulsing rhythmically around his tongue, because of course, he wasn’t moving until he licked up every drop you gave him. 

when rafe finally let up, you’d watch him wipe his mouth on the back of his arm, mirroring his actions from dinner . . . 

so yeah, having a husband with a big appetite meant he had an even bigger appetite when it came to you :3

xo, blissedbunni

warnings ໒꒰ྀི∩˃ ᵕ ˂∩꒱ྀི১ : suggestive , mentions of sex , pervy!rafe

nerd!rafe was a secret freak. 

that one guy who eagerly volunteered to present in class, just to drone off about who knows what. that one guy who would always "ermm, actually" the professor during each lecture. yes, him.

the one who would always say, "sorry, i have a mathletes meeting today!" when in reality, he was just going to fuck you, his girlfriend. 

like, yes, the top chess player on campus was able to pull, and had a girlfriend who was also willing to let him sniff her panties.

he did it often as well. so much that you had a separate laundry basket filled with underwear for him to sift through. sometimes he'd request one straight from you. but how could you complain when he looked at you with those big blue eyes? :3

but panties weren't the only thing rafe was sniffing, no. sometimes people would catch him taking a whiff out of his glasses? 

when asked, he'd always have a geeky lil smile, claiming, "my new glasses cleaner has a superb scent!" knowing damn well he was nose deep in your pussy earlier and some of your juices splattered on his lenses. like of course, he was an eater too! 

so yeah, rafe cameron was a freak. . . but hey, nerd dih is fireeee so who are you to complain?

xo, blissedbunni

You’re on your back in the middle of her soft bed, legs spread wide around her hips, while she hovers above you. The mirror on the ceiling reflects everything back down at you: your flushed chest, the way your thighs tremble, the desperate little twist of your mouth every time she rolls her hips. “Look up, baby,” she whispers, voice low and enticing against your ear. “Watch yourself for me.”

You tilt your head back. The sight makes your stomach flutter: her body moving over yours, the thick strap disappearing inside you with every smooth thrust, your own face twisted in pleasure, lips parted, eyes glassy, cheeks burning. She smiles when she sees you looking. “There she is,” she murmurs, almost fondly. “My pretty girl. Look how fucked out you get for me, baby.”

Her pace stays steady but filthy, hips rolling in that perfect rhythm that hits deep every single time. One of her hands slides up to cup your jaw, gently turning your face so you can’t look away from the mirror. “See that?” she breathes, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “See how your mouth falls open when I go deep? How your eyes get all hazy when I grind against your clit like this?”

You whimper, unable to stop the soft, broken sounds spilling from your lips. She watches your reflection with dark, loving eyes, like she’s memorizing every twitch of your face, every flutter of your lashes.

“You’re so beautiful when you let go,” she says softly, almost a whisper. She leans down to kiss you, slowly, while still fucking you in that same steady rhythm. When she pulls back, her thumb brushes your bottom lip. “I could watch you for hours.” Your thighs start shaking harder around her waist. She feels it and smiles, grinding deeper, slower, making sure you feel every inch.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” she whispers, eyes locked on your reflection. “Let me see that pretty face when you fall apart.” You do — back arching, mouth open in a silent cry as pleasure crashes through you. She keeps moving through it, murmuring soft praises against your skin, completely captivated by the way you look coming on her strap.