⋆｡𖦹 jessica !⋆.ೃ࿔

── A long shift at the diner has you exhausted, making you return home late from work. Your older boyfriend is waiting for you, and all he wants to do is make you feel better.

♡ : 18+, NSFW, minors dni, everybody is 20+, self-insert, thigh riding, praise kink, mock sympathy.

The front door creaks as you shut it, a loud, exhausted sigh leaving your mouth once you step into the house. It’s dark; only an orange light lit in the small living room, the television turned off, the window cracked. It was quiet, and you assumed that your boyfriend had already gone to sleep, though he left the light on, having the courtesy of not leaving you completely in the dark.

You slip off your sneakers, your tired feet padding along the hardwood floor, only to be stopped by a hand gently tugging at your wrist when you walk by the edge of the couch.

“Not even gonna tell me how your day was?” a familiar voice drawls, and you pause, your eyes finding your boyfriend’s in the dimly lit room.

He had been waiting for you ever since you told him your shift at the diner was running late, making your ten-hour shift into a twelve-hour one. He waited in the living room, chainsmoking like usual, nursing a cold beer in his hand, the condensation dripping onto his denim jeans. You don’t know how you missed him when you entered, but you were happy you noticed him now.

“Come here, girl,” he mumbles slowly, carefully guiding you towards him and pulling you down to sit on him. You straddle his leg, your thighs spreading around his own, and you can feel the denim of his jeans on your bare skin.

“Tell me, why were you so late tonight?” he asks, his hands settling on your hips as his legs spread, and he’s sinking deeper into the sofa with a creak, his head tipped back slightly to look up at you. His voice is possessive, but not accusatory.

“It was so… so busy, and someone called in, and I was on the floor, and they made me close even though I wasn’t supposed to, and now they want me to do a double on Monday,” you ramble on, a clear sign of stress on your face; pinched brows and a frown, all from the twelve hours you spent on your feet, dealing with customers.

“My poor baby,” your boyfriend hums softly, his large hand slipping down to carefully untuck your polo shirt from the waistband of your skirt. “They’re workin’ you so hard, huh?” he asks, his tone on the verge of condescending, and you whine in response.

“Yeah.. Yeah, they are, and I don’t want to go back because they’ll screw me over again,” you complain, feeling a warm hand sliding up your shirt, a palm resting against the flat of your stomach. He’s rubbing gently, nodding slowly.

“Mhm… m’know, baby,” he murmurs as his hand slides to the curve of your waist instead, the other hand finding the top of your thigh. He’s rubbing slowly, letting his hand find your knee, his calloused thumb gliding over the bruises.

“You’re home now, though, right?” he reassures, reminding you that you don’t have anything to worry about – you’re in his arms, on the couch, and there shouldn’t be a worry in your head.

You shrug and look away from him, sighing again, feeling his hands up your uniform shirt and on your knee. He’s rubbing, soothing you, and it’s making you shift slightly against the thick thigh that you sit on. 

“I don’t know,” you mumble and shake your head, your eyes gazing down to your lap; your boyfriend’s hand has slowly gone up the hem of your skirt, and his other one is resting on your bare waist.

“That’s okay,” he mumbles as he shakes his head, his eyes focusing on you despite your lack of eye contact. “You don’t have to think about anything right now.” he nods slowly, his hand leaving your waist to brush away stray hairs from your face. 

You pout and close your eyes for a second, letting your cheek rest in his palm for just a second before he pulls away, his hand finding its way back up your shirt, resting against the curve of your waist. He’s rubbing still, your eyes gazing into each other’s, silence hanging in the living room. 

“You look pretty,” he whispers, watching as you bite your lip to suppress a smile. “Even all tired and sweaty,” he teases, giving your waist a gentle pinch, causing you to shift against his thigh, and he’s watching you, analyzing. 

“I missed you today,” he adds quietly, his other hand leaving your thigh and sliding up to your hips, cradling you there. “You left your old man alone,” he teases again, pulling your body further against his thigh, his eyes never leaving your face.

You wish he didn’t notice, but he did; the way your lips parted as he pulled you closer, feeling an uncomfortable friction between your thighs against his jeans. He smiles when he notices and gives your hips a little squeeze, almost a gesture of encouragement. 

“What, baby?” he asks quietly, letting his tongue swipe across the front of his teeth for a second, and he’s looking up at you through his eyelashes. He knows something is on your mind, and it isn't work that’s starting to nag at you.

He teasingly adjusts you once again, letting his thigh tense up beneath your body, and at the same time, he grips your hips a little tighter. He had always been like this; subtle, but knowing. He knew your body like the back of his hand, it seems.

“Stop it…” You whisper as you shake your head, though you’re giggling quietly and looking away from him. He knows you don’t mean it; you’re just acting like you aren't being slightly affected by the way he’s moving you. 

“Come on,” he coaxes, gripping your hips tighter, this time purposely moving you against him, and this time, your hips follow suit. “Atta girl,” he teases, smiling up at you.

You sigh quietly as a hand lifts, and you’re resting it against his shoulder, your eyes gazing down, watching the way he guides you, purposely grinding you against his thigh. There’s a stark contrast between the softness of your skin and the roughness of the denim. 

“You like watching?” he asks quietly, his own eyes glancing down. “Always been a curious little thing, huh?” he questions with a tilt of his head, keeping you moving at a slow, agonizing pace.

You nod a little as you look up at him, and you’re panting softly, his eyes finding yours. He stares at you in the darkness of the living room, and it’s making you blush, a stupid, flustered mess against his thigh, and he’s basking in the heat of it all. 

“There you go, good girl,” he praises softly, patting your hip gently, coaxing sweet sounds out of you; quiet moans and whines, breathless whispers that only he can hear. He’d usually be taunting you by now, but it’s obvious that you’re too exhausted to take any of that.

“My sweet girl,” he whispers once again, his eyes trailing down your body; you’re still in your work uniform, your skirt bunched up, your polo shirt untucked, reminding you of the urgency of his hands. He was always so eager, never wanting to wait. 

Your boyfriend looks down at his thigh, smirking to himself when he can see the mess you’re making, the way it has already left your underwear and accidentally moved to his jeans. It’s a wet spot, and he won't bring it up yet, but his lips curling give you enough to know that he’s catching on.

“Tell me I’m making you feel good, baby,” he asks, his thumb rubbing steady circles at the waistband of your skirt. “Your body is already telling me, but I wanna hear that sweet voice of yours,” he adds, smiling up at you.

“Feels… feels good,” you pant out with a quick nod, though your head is bowed, your hair is falling in front of your face, and you’re making soft noises that interrupt your own words.

“Ah, ah,” he mumbles as he shakes his head, giving you a light pinch on your warm skin. “Full words, you know how to use them,” he reassures you with a slow nod, and you’re whining in response, shaking your head. 

“You’re making… making me feel… so good,” you stutter out, panting and breathing heavier as your hips move back and forth, all accompanied by the encouragement of his big hands, keeping you grounded.

“Yeah?” he whispers, patting the softness of your lower back, suhering you to speed up and you do. He’s instantly letting his hands move with you, helping you find a rhythm despite your clumsiness. “I make you feel good.”

It’s quiet in the living room, just the soft sounds of your moans and whines filling it, your hips keeping up with your boyfriend’s hands, and you can feel it, that familiar feeling in your stomach. Your boyfriend notices the stutter of your hips, and he slides his hand over, letting his palm lie flat on your stomach.

“Gonna make a mess on my jeans, baby?” he teases quietly, leaning his head forward, letting his nose bump against your chin – he wants to see if he can make you finish from just this, just his thigh between your own, and a few grinds of your hips.

“Come on, girl,” he encourages once more, his voice low and taunting, and he’s moving your hips for you, helping you keep up the pace as you begin to slow down. He can sense it, your body tensing up, your head tipping back.

Your boyfriend slumps deeper into the couch, his thighs spread, his own shirt sliding up just a bit. The clasp of his belt shows, the smallest sliver of his happy trail right above, and he’s grinning, watching you like you’re his own show to watch. 

You pause for a second, your head tipping back as a louder noise leaves your mouth, and he can feel your thighs squeezing around his own. You let out a whine, and it fizzles into heavy pants and breaths, your boyfriend’s jeans now covered in a mess.

“There you go, sweetheart, there.” he nods as he keeps guiding your hips, letting you ride out the orgasm against his leg, and it’s making you embarrassed – you can feel the mess between your legs, and if you can, then he can too.

“Messy baby,” he coos as he shakes his head, his hands slowing down, letting you take the lead for a second, wanting you to enjoy the feeling for as long as you can. He’s watching you, finding it fascinating, the way you move your hips, finding something that feels good for you.

Once you slow down, finally stopping, your boyfriend’s hands slide down the front of your thighs instead, massaging the top of them. He’s humming, his head resting against the back of the couch.

Dry Humping Nerdmin!!

You and your boyfriend had been dating for about 6 months now, you haven’t had sex yet because he was the most shy, nervous boyfriend you’ve ever met. You’ve touched each other before but you’ve never put it in, but, what you didn’t know, was he was also the most perverted boy you’ve ever met.

One night, you were laying on his bed as he was sat at him computer, playing a game. His phone was laying on his nightstand as it charged, you’ve never suspected him a cheater, that man was more obsessed with you then he was his stupid games. You side eyed it, trying to keep yourself from being nosy, but your curiosity got the better of you and you grabbed his phone, he obviously had you as his Lock Screen, your face to unlock his phone, and his home screen wallpaper was you, once again, but once you actually got into his phone, what you saw was the most surprising thing ever. You went into his photo gallery and saw nothing out of the ordinary, but what you really wanted to check was his hidden folder, but it was locked, so, you got up and walked over to his desk and held his phone in front of his face. “Baby, open this for me.”

You thought nothing of it, but when he looked up at the phone in his face, his eyes widened and he yelped and snatched the phone. “Uh, no! No, no no no no, that’s…that’s private.” Your eyebrow quirked in confusion. Nothing was private in your guys relationship, you guys have pooped together for goodness sake, what could possibly be in that folder. “Armin…open it…Now.” You said, firmly. Staring into his eyes with that strict mother glare, his eyebrows furrowed and his breath hitched, he couldn’t hold up when you gave him that look, you were kind of scary. So, he finally unlocked the folder and handed it to you, it did take the jaws of life to pry it from his hands, but eventually, you got it from him and started looking, your eyes almost fell out of your head, it was pictures of you, some of you in the shower when you were shampooing your hair, some of you getting dressed, and some of you just sleeping naked. He’d never told you about these before, but for some reason, instead of being disgusted or upset, you actually liked it. I mean, it would’ve helped if he told you or even asked first, but honestly, the thrill of the photos being taken in secret, made it even more exciting. You scroll through the various photos and finally get to the end after what felt like years of scrolling, and you just stared at him, you literally couldn’t believe your eyes, but after a moment, after processing all this, you couldn’t help but to straddle his lap, grabbing him by the back of his hair and forcing him to hold eye contact with you.

“Armin…when did you take these…?”

You ask in a stern voice, his eyes were teary and his bottom lip quivering. “Uh…I’ve been…taking them since we started dating.” He mumbled under his breath. You scoff in shock, trying to figure out what you should do about this mess, you weren’t gonna make him delete all the photos, but you couldn’t just let him get away with this either, so your solution was to make him dry hump you til he just couldn’t take it anymore, it’s more of a punishment than you think. And that’s exactly what you told him, “hump me.” You say casually, his eyes snap up at you in shock, he’s lost for words as he searches your eyes for any sign of a lie or that you’re just joking, but, he finds none. “Just…just now…?” He questions, his voice barely above a whisper as he places his hands on your hips gently, you nod in acknowledgment and he starts grinding up against you. You continue looking through his photos, pretending like you weren’t paying him any mind, his head falls back and whimper after whimper falls from his lips, soft praises and pleads dragging out with his unashamed noises. His hips continue to buck up, like a dog in heat, tears streaming down his cheeks as he kneads at the plush of your hips and thighs, you sit there, on his phone, not even looking at him, and honestly, that turned him even more. You weren’t even looking at him, how pathetic was he right now?! A beautiful girl sitting in his lap and she’s completely ignoring him as he humps into her clothed pussy, his tip was leaking pre through his boxers so much. “Please… p-please lemme cum.” He shoves his face into your neck, his breathe warm against your pulse point. You debate with yourself for waaay longer than you need to, purposefully of course, before you finally nod, which he immediately cums in his boxers, a huge wet spot forming on the front of his boxers as he shoots his load.

Pairing: Nerd!Rafe x Needy!Reader (i didn’t make him subby bc i still wanted him to be the big meanie we love)

Warnings: A bit non-con, choking mentioned (not reader & rafe)

Word Count: 1.4k

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You’d finally gotten a day off from work, after weeks of packed schedules and poor sleep. To relax, you planned a lazy day of lounging around, running a few errands, and spending time with your boyfriend. 

Except, this morning, you woke up in an empty, cold bed. It wasn’t unusual, but it did catch you off guard, considering he always wrapped you up in his arms, bear-hugging you through the night. You didn’t give it too much thought, turning over and going back to sleep for another few hours. 

You’d grown used to him taking on more work than he could handle. Rafe excused his workaholism as being a perfectionist who’d get a promotion. Despite your reminders that his boss is a penny-pinching bastard.

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By the time you arose, forcing yourself to get out of bed, you walk down the hall to the spare bedroom-turned-office, to find Rafe consumed by the pixels of his computer screen. He’s swamped with work, though you don’t know which part exactly. You usually just nod when Rafe talks about it. Not because you don’t care, but because you don’t know anything about computer science.

You stand there quietly, watching his fingers fly across the keyboard and the pen scribbling messily before being dropped again in favor of the mouse. He didn’t even acknowledge you. He hadn’t spoken to you at all today, in fact, which was unlike him. But instead of starting the conversation, you decide to leave him be, willing him to finish quickly.

You return to the master bedroom, opening up twitter. It wasn’t your fault the video popped up. You didn’t watch porn often. Not when you have Rafe. But this one, it messed with your head. 

The way the guy gripped his girlfriend’s hips. Her eyes rolling back. Hickies down his neck. Hand wrapping around her throat as he got faster.

His glasses and her hair and the way their bodies fit together, like they were designed for each other.

You needed Rafe.

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You enter the office once more, where Rafe sits at a small desk, typing almost frantically. His eyebrows are furrowed, glasses resting lazily on the bridge of his nose. Your eyes trail down to his clenched jaw and the frown on his lips. He’s focused. So focused it’s hot. You know you shouldn’t, but you decide to poke the bear. 

Walking up behind him, you place a hand on his shoulder.

“You’ve been working all day.” You murmur after a moment of quiet observation. He looks up at you, irritation clear as day, holding himself back from snapping.

“I’ll be finished soon.” His voice held a sharper undertone, but his eyes seem to soften amidst the storm brewing below the surface.

“Mm, let me help you…” you purr, taking a seat on one of his thighs. Facing him, you wrap your arms around his neck, admiring all of his features with a longing. He glances at you for a moment, silently. Then he scoffs, focusing his attention back on the computer.

You sigh, feeling deflated by his rejection. Usually he was putty in your pretty little hands.

A few more agonizing minutes go by before you begin slowly rocking your hips back and forth against his leg. He looks back over at you, the annoyance evident on his face as he rolls his eyes. Ignoring his clear disinterest, you pick up the pace, becoming a bit rougher, yet he still refuses to give you the pleasure of a reaction. 

You whimper, forehead dropping against his shoulder as your soaked cunt ruts against his leg, “Raaafe” you breathe, picking your head up to check for a reaction. To your dismay, the attempts at seducing him keep falling flat, leaving you frustrated.

His lack of attention dims the flame that burns in your lower belly. Slowing down, you realize it’s time to leave him be. You even start to feel a bit bad, the longer you think about it.

He’s trying to work, clearly stressed, but here you are getting off on him.

As you finally stop, settling back on his leg, you look at him, waiting for his eyes to meet yours. They do for a moment, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. He leans back, pushing his glasses back up and running a hand over his hair. You watch his bicep flex, only slightly with his action.

He licks his bottom lip, “Get outta here.” he finally says, regretting it not even a second later.

As you stand up to leave, his hands land on each of your hips with an iron grip, slamming you back down onto his thigh. You let out a yelp, feeling your pussy grinding into his tense muscle. You keep your mouth closed, trying not to moan too loud, but god, you wanted to.

That’s when he finally looks at you. “This what you wanted, baby?” He asks gruffly, now sporting a small smirk.

You whine in response, too lost in the sensation of your clit against his denim-clad thigh. He continues to roughly rub your soaking pussy back and forth across his leg, making your body tingle with arousal. His fingers sink further into the flesh of your hips, hard enough to leave bruises in their wake. Rafe uses his strength to keep you snugly, tightly against him. Your moans grow louder as the feeling of pure, unbridled bliss slowly consumes your entire being. 

The fuzzy sensation coursing through your body feels overwhelming, inching you closer to the brink of explosion with Rafe’s every impatient drag.

Your clit is starting to ache as you pick up the speed again, trying to fuck Rafe’s thigh as hard as possible, desperate for that otherworldly feeling of friction. Your panties are soaked, maybe the crotch of your leggings too.

Your breath hitches, “Mm, Rafe...” With your arms around his neck, letting your head rest on his broad shoulder, you’re riding his thigh at a harsher pace. You whine again, feeling the knot in your stomach growing painfully tighter.

“You gonna cum, pretty girl?” He taunts you, reveling in the sight of you falling apart because of him.

“Yes,” you breathe, getting closer.

“Yea? How close, angel?” he asks, mocking you.

Your mouth falls open, choking on a gasp as you cry out, “Raaafe!!” once more. He lets out a low hum, placing a kiss to your neck when your head falls back, enjoying the scene of his girl getting closer.

“Fuck!” you yell, feeling yourself on the brink of release. Rafe brings his face closer, his lips grazing yours.

“Look at me, baby. I want you to look at me.” he speaks in an octave lower than his baseline. That alone was enough to make your legs shake. 

Your whining grows louder, words getting caught in the back of your throat as your pace grows urgent and needy.  Rafe brings one of his hands from your hip to your hair, letting the roots wrap around his long fingers, pulling you back with a brute force you aren’t used to.

His eyes flicker from your face to your restless movements. “You’re so perfect. So good.” he purrs.

“Oh, Rafe!” you wrap your arms tighter around his shoulders, feeling a hot ecstasy flood your body, overcoming you with absolute euphoria. Rafe keeps one hand squeezing your hip, helping it roll sloppily against his body. He bites your shoulder to muffle a soft groan as he watches you ride out your high. 

You clench around nothing, walls aching and pulsating with your orgasm, “Oh my god.” you choke.

“That’s it, baby.” he murmurs, watching you fully fall apart on his lap. Rafe smiles, “Good girl.” he praises, letting go of your hair and allowing his fingers to run through it.

As you catch your breath, he leans in and kisses your forehead. Your eyes meet when he pulls away, giving you the chance to take in his expression. His annoyance is still festering, but he’s visibly less tense than before.

“Now, go. I have to work.” He nudges you off his lap, forcing you to stand on trembling legs. You want to protest, but knew it would be pointless. 

Besides, he let you fuck his leg, you got what you wanted. The knowledge that even when he’s mad, Rafe still pleases you, settles something warm in your chest.

And with that, you leave the office, walking down the hall and taking a left into the bathroom for a shower, secretly hoping he’ll join you in there too.

𐂯  ⁰ᨵᩥ⁰  𐂯

frat!rafe cameron who is irrevocably obsessed with his sister's best friend.

you learned early on after moving into the outer banks that his reputation precedes him. everyone knows who rafe cameron is. most people spend their time trying to get his attention while you spend yours trying very hard not to.

meanwhile, he's spent years watching you trail after sarah. you've become such a permanent fixture in the cameron household that sometimes he forgets you technically aren't family since you're always there.

Sound of Obedience

╰─ Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

What starts as a heated argument about your recklessness dissolves into something far more consuming—a power exchange that leaves you breathless and begging, finally uttering the word he's been waiting to hear.

content: Explicit sexual content, age gap dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, praise kink, rough sex, choking, dirty talk, size difference, possessive behavior, power imbalance, breeding kink, spanking, degradation/praise mix.

word count: 2,213

song: Say It by Tory Lanez

masterlist ୧₊˚ playlist