Kinktober: Dacryphilia

kinktober: dacryphilia

words: 300

warnings: 18+ only, smut, crying, f receiving oral, p in v sex, edging

taglist: @user3729107491 @thelomlisrafecameron @slut4drudy @runningfrom2am @f4ll-for-you @rafescokenostril @sickyrat @darleneslane

“did you just cum without permission?” rafe asks, looking up at you from his spot in between your legs.

“i’m-” you shake your head, knowing you’re unable to deny it as rafe tasted you on his tongue when you let go. “i’m so sorry.” 

“baby.” rafe tsks, looking up at you with disapproval. 

“i’m so sorry rafe.” you let out a sob, tears falling down your face, unable to hold them back from slipping down your cheeks.

rafe looks up at you in awe, cock absolutely pulsing at seeing you crying. rafe stands up suddenly, bending forward and laying his body over yours, pressing his lips to your cheeks. 

“god, you crying shouldn’t be so hot.” rafe mumbles, but you don’t hear most of his words as his cock presses against your entrance, making a few more tears shed as you shake in pleasure.

“i’m sorry rafe, i’m sorry.” you sniff. “i shouldn’t have cum without your permission.” “hey, hey.” rafe says, pushing your hair out of your face as he glides his cock up and down over your pussy, spreading your juices over his length. “it’s okay honey.” rafe feels guilty, not wanting you to be upset and crying but at the same time being immensely turned on.

“i’m gonna fuck you now, do you want that, hm?” he asks, and you nod quickly, large eyes looking up at him as he pushes inside of you.

“feels so good, rafey.” you whine loudly, chest heaving up and down as you are unable to hold back your loud cries, pleasure overwhelming you.

“i know it does, baby.” rafe bends down, kissing along your cheek and jaw. rafe sucks your skin in between his teeth, leaving a purple bruise in his wake as he continues giving you hickeys. “go ahead and cry harder for me, hm.”

“rafe, i-” you try to speak, but his cock presses deeper inside of you, his thumb coming to rub at your clit. you cry out as rafe requested, tears flowing steadily now.

“shouldn’t be so hot.” rafe whispers again, moving faster.

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

russian roulette- rafe cameron

pair: rafe cameron x fem!drug-boss!reader

genre: smut & tiny teeny bit of angst maybe -> 18+ only!!

warnings: knife play, gun play, blood play, blood licking, mentions of death, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, implied sex on drugs, chocking (sexual way)…, i hope i didn’t forget anything but yeah this one here is a little bit darker

even though this is all written with the intention that it’s 100% consensual, please keep in mind that guns, knives (and indirectly drugs) are involved

words: ~5.7k

summary: a visit to his drug boss turned into a fight over control and power which can only one of them win

note: I have never written anything like this before so i hope it didn’t turn out too bad, other than that, enjoy :)

48 hours. That’s the amount of time Rafe Cameron had to come up with five thousand dollars. Sure, for someone like him, this shouldn't be a big deal but his dad cut off his money as a punishment for misusing the money he gave him for generators after the storm “Agatha'' hit the outer banks. He was broke and in deep shit. So deep, that alone the thought of time passing every second sent a cold shiver down his spine. He knew Barry wasn’t one to fuck with, no drug dealer was but it was something else, something that Barry said before Rafe left his house, that wouldn't leave his brain.

“If you’re screwing me, it’s not just me that you’re screwing, it’s her.”

Her.

Now, Rafe Cameron had never met her before but he heard the stories. Stories of cars burning in driveways, stories of boats that fail in the middle of the ocean, and even whole companies being shut down all because of her. Not a lot of people on this island have ever come across her, or maybe they have but never knew it was her. Those unlucky souls that did indeed meet her, described her as a woman made of nothing but cold beauty as if the devil made her himself. Eyes so pure and warm, a body so divine and perfect with a soul so dark and evil, even Lucifer himself would shiver if he ever looked into it.

But Rafe didn't believe these stories. How could a woman, described as barely older than him, be capable of something like that? How could someone with eyes so pure be so evil? And yet, even though he tried to convince himself, alone the thought of being exposed to her anger, sent shivers down his spine.

And yet, he found himself at the address, an unknown number texted him, as word got around that he wanted to meet her. He had to check twice if he was at the right address since he found himself in front of his step moms favorite flower shop.

He let his hand trace over his back pocket, checking if everything he might need was there before he took a deep breath and walked towards the store.

“Hello darling, what can I do for you?” An elderly woman asked as soon as he entered the shop.

“I uhmm…” He paused as he tried to remember the code word that was given to him. “I am here for hmm… black lilies.”

“Black lilies?” She asked as she raised an eyebrow.

“Yep. Black lilies.”

“Well, in that case you have to come with me, sir.” She signalized him to follow her and walked into the private area of the shop where she stopped in front of a door. She opened it with her key before signaling him to go inside. It was an old utility room, or so he thought. In reality, it was some sort of elevator that brought him down into the basement of the building.

When the door opened, he found himself in some sort of dark office. It looked comfortable, even though it had no sort of daylight. Even though the room had no windows, it smelled fresh in there, like flowers. He quickly found them on the shelf next to another door, probably coming from the flower shop above them. In the middle was a desk and behind it, sat a woman, with a glass of brown liquor in her right hand and a newspaper in the other. She was laying back in her chair with her feet resting on the desk.

“I’ve been expecting you, Rafe Cameron.” She said, without looking up at the man in front of the elevator. “Now come on darling, take a seat.” She smiled softly as she gestured to the seat on the other side of the desk. He was only now able to see her whole and they weren’t wrong. She was beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, with eyes so soft he felt like he could tell her everything. Her wavy hair was falling over her shoulders gracefully, matching her silky black dress perfectly. he didn’t see much of it, since it was hidden behind her desk but it was tight, so tight that he could see the borders of what he assumed were nipple piercings, making it hard for Rafe to keep his eyes up.

“Thank you, Miss …”

“(Y/L/N).”

“(Y/L/N).” He finished.

“Now, can I offer you something to drink, Mr. Cameron?” She asked, with a smile so beautiful, one could easily forget who she was.

“I’m good, thank you.”

“So whiskey or vodka? I also got rum but you don’t seem like a rum type of person.”

“Whiskey.” He answered shortly.

She nodded and poured him a drink. He took the time she was distracted to look around her office a little bit more, trying to figure out if she could have any weapons hidden but there was one thing he’d noticed immediately, since the second he entered that office.

“So… are you alone down here?” He asked, trying to hide the slight shakiness in his voice.

She looked at him in disbelief before handing him his drink. “That’s not a subtle way to find out if it’s just the two of us, Mr. Cameron.”

“Oh god, no I… I just thought that maybe you’d have some security or something.”

“See darling, if I’ve learned one thing during my few years in this business, it’s to not trust anyone else with my safety, except myself. She scoffed. “But why are you asking? Are your intentions not as pure as I thought they were?” She asked carefully, her eyes never leaving him.

Her gaze burned right through him, causing him to shit around in his seat. “Oh no, they are as pure as they can be.” He spoke, his voice a little bit shakier than he intended to be and his eyes not leaving the desk in front of him, as he desperately tried to avoid hers. He was nervous and she knew it.

“Hmmm.” She purred as she swung her legs from the table in order to position herself closer to him. He now looked around the room, pretending like he was just waiting for a response when he suddenly felt a cold material against his skin, gently pushing his face up. He didn't need to look to know what it was, he knew exactly what the barrel of a gun felt like. He swallowed at the realization, now slowly looking up into her eyes. What once seemed so warm and welcoming once, now turned ice cold. “Then tell me, pretty boy, why aren’t you able to look me in the eyes? You haven't once since you arrived here, only staring when I wasn’t looking. Such a shame actually, you have such pretty eyes.”

“I…” He wanted to say something but it was like the words suddenly left his brain, but even if he had known what to say, he wouldn’t have gotten any word out due to his throat turning dry as dust.

“Shht it’s okay, darling, I knew about that gun in your back pocket since the moment you got here. You should learn how to hide it better. Now tell me, why did you want to meet?” She smirked, “And before you answer, slowly put your gun up here and leave your hands on the table. Don’t bother lying sweetheart, I’ll know.” Her voice turned dark now, nothing like the sweet sound from when he first got there.

“Fine.” He growled, as he reached into his back pocket and did as he was told. She pushed the gun aside with a grin, her eyes still not leaving him for a second. “I owe you money, a lot actually, and-”

“And you wanted to ask for more time?” She let out a soft laugh.

“Oh come on, don’t pretend like you didn’t know that already.” The boy scoffed and it was as if something shifted in him. “Now you have my hands and my gun, what about you putting that thing away so we can have a civilized conversation.”

“So, so many demands, one could think you’re the one charge.”

“Oh no ma'am, we all know you are.” He smirked, a dark sparkle in his light eyes.

She was surprised at his sudden confidence but impressed enough to put the gun away. “So you came here, only to tell me that you have no money?” She chuckled. “That’s bold.”

“I thought maybe I could do something else for you, to pay my debt.” The young man proposed, causing the girl to raise an eye. “A job, of course.” He added quickly as he realized how his proposal sounded at first. Even though he would have lied to himself if he said he wouldn’t be open to that as well.

“And what job do you have in mind, Mr. Cameron?” She asked as she leaned forward, crossing her arms under her chest. “What could you possibly do for me that would cover your debt?”

“You tell me.” He smirked confidently. “You’re the boss, aren't you?” Now it was him that moved closer to her. It was hard to tell for either of them where this newfound confidence came from when his heart was in his boots only moments ago. But there was something else Rafe was feeling, a feeling that came up every time she laid her eyes on him. He was smitten by her beauty and her power and he didn’t want to admit it but he was impressed. How did she manage to climb that ladder up so high, in a business that was dominated by middle-aged men?

“Right… You know, I might actually have a job for you.”

“Continue…”

She told him about how she needed a driver for her next shipment since her regular one got into an accident. It was an easy job and would pay way more than he owed her. He was in immediately, no further questions asked. She was about to explain the details when her phone started ringing.

“Excuse me.” She mumbled as she grabbed her phone and disappeared into the next room.

While she was gone, Rafe used the time to look around when his eyes fell on the leftovers of some white powder next to her glass. He wasn’t craving anything right now, but he knew he’d be later.

Rafe also knew it was a bad idea from the moment he got it but he knew how the withdrawal would feel like, he had to go through it way too often before. So he got up and carefully looked around, trying to find any sign of her coming back but he could still hear her cussing around in the other room in a language that he assumed was Spanish. It made sense since he knew she had contacts in Middle and South America.

He walked around the desk, trying not to make a sound until he was standing next to her empty chair. He tried to open the drawers but none of them would open except for one. He carefully opened it and there it was, a tiny bag of white powder.

He thought about it for another moment, knowing this would probably be the stupidest thing he ever did, even worse than buying that bike from the generator money, but then, when the addiction hit, no one was able to think rationally, and Rafe Cameron the least.

He took the bag and quietly closed the drawer, again, trying not to make any alarming noises. He took his gun and shoved the bag into his pocket before letting himself fall back into the seat, as he waited for her to come back.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, someone messed up my last shipment and now they’ve got the cops investigating.” She explained as she entered the room. Her eyes immediately traveled to the missing gun on the table, but she chose to let it go.

“I’m sorry to hear that ma’am.”

“Oh don’t worry about it, it will resolve itself on its own soon.” She smirked confidently as if she had a backup plan for something like this all along.

“I’m afraid I have to leave now…” Rafe stumbled, trying to contain his voice from becoming all shaky again but it was hard considering he just robbed a drug boss. “Can you… can you text me the details?”

“Sure.” She answered, with a smile on her face that was way too soft and friendly for his liking.

He got up and reached out to shake her hand, which she returned. “Then…thank you for giving me this chance and I promise I won’t disappoint.” He mumbled more than actually speak.

“Oh, you won’t.” She smirked and got closer to him, dangerously closer to him.

He gave her a stern and a rather uncomfortable nod before he turned around on his heels, dying to get out of there as soon as possible. He thought he did it when he suddenly felt the cold metal of a gun pressed against his head. He closed his eyes at the feeling, trying to stay calm because he knew doing that was his best and probably the only option.

“Did you really think I would just let you walk away after you stole from me?” She whispered into his ear, followed by a soft laugh. “You are dumber than I thought.”

“If you shoot me, you will never see your money.” He spoke quietly.

“You think I’m relying on your money?” She chuckled. “Sweetheart, I'd buy myself a new pair of heels from the money you owe me.” He took a deep breath, trying to think of what to do next. He still had his gun in his back pocket but she was standing so close to him, he was sure that she even felt it against her leg. “Now put your hands up, pretty boy.”

He did as told and slowly turned around, now looking directly into her stone-cold eyes. He tried to keep cool but his heart was pounding like it never had before. He was scared, obviously but there was also something about this scenario that turned him on. Maybe it was the intoxicating smell of her perfume, maybe it was the way her eyes flickered when she scanned him upside down, or maybe it was the way her dress hugged her body so perfectly like it was made just for her, revealing just the perfect amount of skin but not too much. He knew he shouldn't feel that way, she was dangerous, she was a killer and soon she would have his blood on her hands but if she was so bad, then why was he so down for her?

He tried to hide it but she saw the fear in his eyes. He was terrified and she thought it was adorable. She didn’t lie earlier, she never lied, he did have pretty eyes and if she wasn't careful she might have lost herself in them. She had trouble admitting it to herself but she was intrigued. How could such a pretty boy, coming from one of the richest families on the island get himself in so much trouble? Stealing from her? Especially after she was so gracious and offered him a job to pay his debt? She knew what she had to do, she had to keep up her reputation after all but if she knew what to do then why wasn’t he dead on the floor already? Why was he still standing in front of her? If she knew what to do then why wasn’t he on his knees, pleading for his damn life? If she knew what to do then why was she still standing there, thinking about the taste of his lips on hers?

He got closer to her and bit his lips while his eyes flickered from hers down to her lips. He was close, his lips almost touching hers and his breath so hot against her skin it always felt like he could burn her. She was the one with her finger against the trigger and yet her heart beat so fast, she thought it might explode.

“So what, you gonna shoot me now?” He whispered.

“You know I have to. You stole from me.”

“Hm.” He chuckled softly against her lips. “Then do it, sweetheart, shoot me.”

She closed her eyes, preparing to pull the trigger when she suddenly felt his lips on hers. The kiss was slow and shaky at first, considering he still had a gun to his head but it quickly turned into something hungry and passionate. She leaned into it as she pushed him against the wall behind them. She could feel him smirking against her lips as his hand wandered over her hips until it landed on her ass. She tried to stay focused, careful not to lose control with her gun still pressed onto his head, signaling him one wrong move and it could all be over. But she couldn't keep her focus for long, as his kisses got more intense each second and his hand movements became bolder with each kiss. It was as if he forgot about his situation, or as if he just stopped caring. She was about to forget it herself when he suddenly swung her around, making her drop the gun at the harsh impact against the wall. She wanted to do something about it but got quickly stopped by a clicking sound and the feeling of cold metal against her head.

She swallowed at the sudden change of situation, knowing he was in control now. She silently cursed at herself for not taking his gun away when she stopped him in front of the elevator but maybe some part of her knew what they were doing when she chose to ignore it.

“You dropped something, princess.” He smirked, knowing god damn well he won this round. “I’m in charge now.”

“Looks like it.” She whispered as she bit her lip. “Then tell me, pretty boy, what happens next?”

(Y/N) would lie if she said she didn’t like how the tables have turned. She would lie if she said it didn’t drive her crazy how he tricked her into losing her focus. She would lie when she said it didn’t make her even hornier than before and the pool in her thong proved it.

She could regain control of the situation with ease and he would be stupid if he thought otherwise. (Y/N) knew what she was doing, and she knew to never rely on solely one weapon, she knew better than that.

Coward. She thought to herself after she didn’t get any response. She leaned in and started kissing his neck to take matters into her own hand. She knew what she had to do and his lack of anticipation only made it easier for her. Or so she thought.

“Wanna make you feel good.” She breathed into his ear as she gently dug her teeth into his soft skin. “Please.”

“But what gentleman would I be if I wouldn't make sure you’re satisfied first?” He smiled. “Rafe Cameron always makes sure his girl is satisfied first.”

She swallowed at the realization that he saw right through her. Because Rafe knew better than to trust her. “Now head back against the wall, princess.” He grinned. “And don’t move.”

She did as she was told and leaned back. He leaned in and started placing wet kisses on her neck before traveling back to her lips where his tongue quickly gained control of her mouth. His one finger was still on the trigger, his other hand went down and slowly crawled under the dress where he was met with the sharp end of a pocket knife. He laughed at the pain, knowing he was right.

“Hm, would you look at that?” He grinned as he pulled it out from beneath her dress, blood dripping down his hand. “Look what you did to me, baby.” He didn't expect an answer and he didn’t get one. All he got was a wicked smirk on her lips and a look so evil, he could have sworn his heart stopped for a second. She slowly reached for his hand, never breaking eye contact as she put his fingers into her mouth, careful not to cut herself with the knife still in his hands. She sucked off every single drop of blood before releasing his fingers.

“Took care of it, didn’t I?”

He chuckled at the realization of what just happened before leaning back in. The kiss was hungrier now, as his tongue traced her mouth, making him taste his blood on her tongue. He put the gun back into his pocket, knowing it would be easier if he focused on one weapon at a time.

She could feel the sharp blade tracing over her skin as he cut off her thong with one quick cut. She whined at the pain as the knife cut her skin, causing Rafe to giggle. “What? Did I hurt you, sweetheart?” He asked with a tone of fake concern in his voice.

“Just a tickle.”

“Hmmm.” He mourned against her skin as he let his tongue travel over her skin, cleaning up the blood trail the knife caused. “So sweet.”

She gasped at the burning pain when his saliva met her wound but let her head fall back against the wall, as his tongue swirled through her folds and sweet moans escaped her mouth. This man knew exactly what he was doing as he let the tip of his tongue trace over her clit before slamming it back inside. He still held the knife in his one hand, ready just in case she got any stupid ideas but his other hand was free to support his tongue. She held up her leg and laid it onto his shoulder, giving him not only more space to work his wonders but also giving her control over his movements. Because even if Rafe thought he had all the power, (Y/N) would never give up complete control.

She tried to keep quiet at first, not wanting Rafe to know how much she loved this but he saw how wet she was before and he could feel her walls tighten around his tongue, knowing she was close.

“Don’t try to hide your pretty voice from me darling, let me hear you.” He muffled against her pussy, sending vibrations through her body that only brought her closer to the edge.

“Don’t… don’t stop!” She whimpered between her moans.

And he didn’t stop. He kept going faster and deeper until her screams filled the room and he was pretty sure the lady from above could hear them. He helped her ride out her orgasm and licked it all clean afterward, looking like a little boy who just got his first ice cream.

“Now, on your knees.” He demanded as he let his pants slip down his legs, revealing his cock in front of her. She smirked at the sight, disappointed that her plan didn't work earlier but still hungry for him.

She opened up as she let the tip of his length slide over her tongue, the taste of precum traveling through her mouth. He still had the knife in his hand but her movements ripped him out of reality and forced him to forget his environment, only focusing on the touch of her tongue on his skin. (Y/N) knew exactly what she was doing, her tongue tracing over his cock as if it was programmed to do just this and nothing else.

She looked up at him with innocent eyes but he could see an evil sparkle shining right back at him.

It didn’t take long until he was falling apart inside her but she took it all as he did before. He was so wrapped up in the feeling of euphoria that he hadn’t noticed and before he knew she was standing right in front of him with the knife under his chin. As he slowly came to realize what just happened, he tried to carefully reach into his back pocket but he was met with nothing.

“You looking for this, pretty boy?” She smirked devilishly, as she let the small gun spin through her fingers.

He swallowed, knowing that she had it all and he had indeed nothing. “What now, princess? Gonna kill me now?” He got closer to her, completely ignoring the sharp pain of the knife that started to bury itself into his skin. “Do it. Do it baby but we both know that we’re not quite finished yet.” He whispered against her skin, sending a cold shiver down her spine.

She knew she could end it now, end it and she would win. But then she would never know how he would feel inside of her. She would never know how it feels to have him thrusting against her g-spot or how it would feel to be skin-to-skin with his naked body.

“You’re hesitating.” He stated, with narrowed eyes as if he was about to realize something. He chuckled softly, before slowly taking her wrist and moving it away from his throat. “You can let go, sweetheart, I'm not going to run from you.”

He was right, she was hesitating. She didn't know why, she never hesitated before but there was something about him, that made her question herself. Maybe it were his looks, but she had encountered many pretty men before and none made her feel the way he did. No, it weren't his looks. Then she thought, maybe it was cockiness, even though he was scared, he didn't hold back. Maybe it was that, mixed with the fact, that he challenged her, something no one managed to do before him.

She looked up at him, debating whether she should trust him or not. He gently let his hand slide through her hair as he pulled away loose strands and tugged them behind her ear and for a second, he could’ve sworn there was a softness in her eyes that he had never seen before. “I don’t…” She tried to say but she was too distracted. Too distracted by his hand in her hair and his other on her wrist and too distracted by his scent that blew through her nose, intoxicating all her senses.

“Shhh.” He whispered, with his finger now on her lips. “You don’t have to say anything, darling.” He smiled. “Just relax.”

She looked at him, his eyes full of warmth, something that she hasn’t seen too often before. It felt as if he genuinely liked her as if genuinely cared but then who was she fooling, he probably just wanted to distract her into giving in to him once again. And it worked. The moment his lips touched hers she lost. The kiss was slow, not as hungry and passionate as before, as if he tried to calm her down. As if he could feel how fast her heart beat in her chest, how nervous she became with every second. He gently pushed her back against the table, hoping she’d let go of the weapons in her hands but she held steady. He had her but she was still the one in control and he hated that. His mouth wandered to her neck where he traced his tongue up to her ear, gently nibbling around her earlobe.

“Hop up baby.” He breathed into her, causing her to moan out at the tickling feeling in her ear.

The feeling shot through her whole body as she lost control of any power circling through her hands. She lost the feeling of metal against her skin but she didn’t notice, not even the klirr as the gun met the ground beneath her. All she felt was his hot breath against her skin and his erection against her cunt, and she lost sight of everything around her.

She did as told and hopped up on her desk. Rafe let go of her wrist and held up his arms, so she could pull off his shirt. She laid the knife beside her and pushed the fabric of his shoulders while he pushed his boxers down his legs completely. He then pushed her dress away under her ass until he could pull it off her body. He stopped for a second, completely hypnotized by the beauty of her body. The tattoos that marked her skin, a thin, red dragon that made its way up her rips in the right side of her body, a black rose under her left boob and many other small ones such as a date under her right boob. But the one that caught his attention the most was a snake, just between her tits. Thin, black lines with red details crawled their way up her sternum. It only took over a small part of her body, and yet it looked incredibly majestic.

She watched him as he mustered her body, probably thinking about what each of the pictures on her skin meant. He gently let his hand travel over her skin until his thumbs reached her nipples. He carefully slid over the cold metal of her piercings, causing her to get goosebumps all over her skin.

“You’re beautiful.” He smiled softly. “Now lay down for me princess.”

She swung her leg over the table, accidentally pushing off their glasses from before. She winced at the sound of the glass breaking but quickly calmed down as Rafe hopped on right behind her, now sitting on top of her. His lips not even inches away from hers, he let his finger slide over her skin until he reached her clit. He gently massaged her until he slid inside, making sure she was ready for him.

“Please…” She whimpered, but he pulled out his fingers and placed them in her mouth, making her taste herself.

“Patience darling.” He whispered against her lips, “You want me inside of you but I don’t even know your name.”

He was right, she had only told him her last name. Only very close people to her knew her first name and Rafe Cameron, was so far away from close, and yet he was the one she felt the closest to she had felt in a very long time.

“(Y/N)…” She breathed against his skin, “It’s… It’s (Y/N)”

“How pretty. Now, are you gonna be a good girl for me (Y/N)?” He smiled at her nod and gently pushed himself inside her. She was indeed ready for him as he didn’t even need to use his fingers for help.

They both moaned out in sync at the feeling of him inside her. He took her hand and buried his inside, while his other hand went to her throat. She let out a quiet moan at the pressure against it, and let her hand travel through his hair, pulling him down into her lips.

While she dominated his mouth, he had control of his movements. It was as if they were made for each other, his tip perfectly reaching her spot every time he thrust into her walls hugging him so tight as if they never wanted to let him go again.

“You’re so tight, baby girl…” He breathed out, “So perfect for me.”

She wrapped her legs around his back, losing one of her heels in the process. She pushed him even closer into her, almost screaming at the feeling as he thrust into her even stronger. Her walls tightened around him, he knew she was close but he didn’t want it to end yet, no he wanted this to last forever.

“Rafe…” She whimpered, tears in her eyes as he pushed her closer to her breaking point.

“Hold on baby girl, hold on for me.” He whispered as he leaned in for another kissing session. His one hand united with hers, his other leaving choking marks on her neck while her nails traced red lines over his back, so that everyone knew who he belonged to. Her.

She had never felt this sort of connection before, sure he messed up, he had bad intentions the second he entered her office but she couldn’t help it. He had her wrapped around his finger and they both knew it. Maybe it was his smile, maybe it was the way his scent intoxicated her thoughts or maybe it was just the drugs but at this moment she would’ve done everything for him and (Y/N) was never one to fall for anyone.

“Faster baby.” She whimpered between the kisses, a wish he was only happy to grant.

He sped up his pace causing her to scream out his name. “Music to my ears.” He chuckled. He then went even faster as his orgasm started to build up as well.

“Hm can’t hold it anymore…” She cried out, a tear streaming down her face. “Please…”

"Then come for me, pretty girl." He thrust into her harder and mercilessly as her walls tightened around him and they both let out moans and screams of pleasure as they reached their breaking points.

She had her eyes closed, as she tried to recover from her high, a soft smile on her lips. He took that picture in for a second, her makeup all messed up from her tears. It was a beautiful sight and he wished he would never have to look at something different but he also knew what he had to do.

She was about to open her eyes and say something when she felt cold and sharp metal pressed against her throat. She opened her eyes back up and looked at his, eyes dark but with a hint of sorrow buried inside of them.

“Hm.” She laughed. “Of course.” She tried to stay cool but he saw the tears forming in her eyes.

He was still sitting on her, pressing her body down on and cornering her between himself and the cold table beneath them. There was no way for her to turn this around and they both knew it.

He made her give up her weapons and she trusted him. She let down her guard, something that she had never done with anyone before and now she had to pay the price.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into her ear as he leaned down. “But we both knew this could only end in two ways.” He paused, leaning back to look into her eyes, gently wiping away the tear rolling out of her beautiful eye. “And… and it seems like I won.”

“Seems like you did.” She whispered before closing her eyes and accepting whatever fate it was that Rafe Cameron had for her.

tag list: @rafesmoon

- let me know if you want to be added ♡

GUINEA PIG ───

jonathan crane ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I think we most fully understood each other when once I tried to kill him with a kitchen knife.” — ‘South and West’, Joan Didion

pairing. switch!jonathan crane x professor!reader

summary. you and your dear friend, jonathan crane, have an odd relationship: he experiments on you, you experiment on him. one day, you experiment your aphrodisiac on him.

warnings. swearing, use of aphrodisiac & fear toxin, oral sex (m), unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, mention of death, murder, drugs, multiple orgasms, slight breeding kink, face fucking, dubcon(?) SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 6.1k

a/n. the enemies to friends to fucking pipeline is sooo real and i love it. BTW! this is really self indulgent and again, i’m a beginner to writing smut so pls don’t judge😭 the beginning is also oddly plotty, so i apologize for that.

You and your colleague, Jonathan Crane, have a harmonious, albeit slightly sick and twisted, relationship. 

Your repertoires, opposite in every way, complete one another like you were made to match. You are messy, frenzied, intimate; he is neat, calculated, distant. He is impatient, histrionic, stubborn. You are tolerant, deadpan, submissive. 

This is an odd, good-cop bad-cop dynamic you’ve built, but it works. Your traits uphold the order you’ve built around yourselves; you allow each other to function. 

Who ever said something so codependent, so parasitic, would fall apart? That it was dangerous, destructive? Everyone, but in your case, it has been anything but. 

These are the simple rules of your relationship: he experiments on you, you experiment on him. This partnership came to bloom when, after years of competing to be the “better” psychology professor at Gotham University, he sent you a gift that sprayed with you with fear toxin, and you baked him a cake that knocked him out for 24 hours following, heart rate so low he could’ve been mistaken as dead. 

“Fucking - hell,” You murmured under your breath, stumbling halfway across Gotham City to locate Crane’s absurdly lavish condo in the Diamond District, barely able to keep yourself upright. 

You were being visually assaulted by dozens of images, all your phobias no matter big or small, dancing across your senses. Spiders crawled all over your body, you saw yourself about to step off a steep, snowy cliff, you felt yourself suffocate as you were buried to death in a casket. It was utter torture, and you would have to endure it until you found Crane. 

You must’ve looked like one of those tweaking drug addicts from down in the Narrows, shivering, sweating, and rubbing all over your body to remove some of the “spiders” taking over your body. The terror was settling into you, into your spine like a terribly malignant disease. 

At last, you found the apartment building, blearily snuck in behind a drunk couple, and scanned the mail boxes until you found J. CRANE: 525. 

You headed up the elevator, grasping at the walls for dear life, feeling that growing, unmistakable sense of dread start to take over your mind. You felt like you were going mad, now, not just afflicted with something that made you look like it. 

When you finally got to his door, it was left open a crack, and you welcomed the small mercy of Crane’s overarching narcissism: he didn’t lock his door, often, because most days he felt more invincible than fucking god. 

“Crane!” You shouted, clutching at your head and staggering into his large apartment. “Crane!” you repeated, this time more desperate, more fearful than anything. 

However, your deepest fear, at the moment, had come true. You stepped into his kitchen, and found the man laying on the floor unresponsive. 

“Fuck me,” you cursed. You’d sent the man home with the cake twelve hours ago, when he took the half-day off from GSU, and you came home from your after-class tutoring hours just moments ago. 

You’d opened the mystery package on your front porch promptly, and you found yourself having been gassed with a compound that made you see every little thing you were afraid of. Immediately, you’d known it was Crane; the man’s pet specialty was fear. 

As for you, you wanted your… gift, to serve a reminder to him that he should not overstep your boundaries, your territory, as the psychology professor who was there first. If knocking him out was a little bit mad, he was bordering insanity for the toxin he poisoned you with. 

Even so, your threat was an empty one. You weren’t counting on the man to even eat the cake - hell, you’d never seen the man consume anything but straight black coffee. 

You couldn’t judge a book by its cover, you know now, and laid there on the couch of his apartment, waiting for the twelve hours to be over. Waiting for Crane, the fucking madman, to wake the hell up, blaming him for the predicament despite your very obvious involvement in it.

You breathed in and out, harried and rapid fire as you tried to focus, tried to block out the horrific things you were seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting. 

(Your eyes are swarmed, viscerally, by a grotesque hallucination of your family burning to death; you hear them cry out, voices interrupted when they’re fire gets to their lungs; you smell their death, the smell of flesh burning, how the smoke chokes you — you taste their blood on your tongue, how tender a raging fire makes charred flesh. 

Tender, you think on your choice of words again, and almost throw up.

What have you done, you think, and what is going through that fucked up head of yours, Crane?)

You tried to ground yourself, tether your lost mind back to Earth. You’re sitting in a field in Northwestern Ireland, you said to yourself, inhaling. Up ahead is the beach; water is crashing on the rocks. You exhaled, the wind tastes like salt, and it is just you and I, here together. It is only I and you, here, together. 

Like so, 12 hours passed. Not so much passed — that word gave the connotation the hours slipped past you, the way a peaceful stream of water does; no, more accurately, it dragged by, like when an arm slips out of the ambulance cot on its way to the emergency vehicle, and drags on the concrete. The EMT’s don’t notice what’s making their trip so hard, so slow, until the hand is rubbed raw and bloody. 

You repeated that mantra so many times you were starting to get queasy when you thought the words “you’re sitting in a field..” but nonetheless, the string of words kept you sane. 

Sane enough, at least - you weren’t sure you’d be the same blissful person you were yesterday. Sure, you were always a little bit… unorthodox? Petty? Competitive enough to bake so many drugs into a cake your opposing professor knocks out? 

But, with this — this being drugged by Crane — made you feel a piece of yourself break away. There would be no more of your life lived without knowing how fearful, well, fear, is. It's like discovering the Boogeyman and never being able to stop checking under your bed; the paranoia moves into your head and never leaves. 

Crane began stirring, and your eyes opened as soon as you heard the noise. Surprisingly enough, however, you were no longer being hammered with the hallucinations that had been distressing you just half a day ago. 

Had it been the mantra? The near-prayer you now swore was etched on your heart? 

“Fucking…” Crane said, getting up off the floor. He was clutching his head, eyes squinted, body hunched and tense. Looks like spending half a day on the floor wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but you didn’t give a fuck — atleast he was sleeping. If you had to be mentally destroyed by his toxin, you’d best believe you were taking the couch. 

“Why - why are you here? What the hell did you do to me?” He said after noticing you, voice raspy. He hadn’t had anything to drink or eat in a while, after all. 

“I could say the fucking same for you,” You muttered, giving him a pointed look. “You - what the fuck did you spray me with?”

Immediately, a twisted grin was bared on Crane’s lips, despite his fatigued demeanor. “Did you like it? My fear-toxin,” he preened, like the winning kid at a school science fair.

You rolled your eyes, and before you could control your tendencies, you’d swung back and then socked him straight in the face. 

Crane double-backed, looking terribly affronted, as if he hadn’t sent you the gas knowing how it would affect you. “Ow,” is all he said, face contorting oddly around the pain. 

“Yeah, “ow”. Fuck you, Crane.”

Crane raised a brow. “You’re acting like you didn’t feed me a poisoned cake!” He said incredulously.

“It wasn’t that poisoned,” you bit out, teeth gritted. “Not so poisoned I was hallucinating my family dying for twelve hours straight.”

“Ah, thanatophobia, not really one of my favourites—“ Crane started, like he was losing himself in a romantic daydream, before snapping back to reality. “Did you just say twelve hours?”

“Twelve hours for me. Twenty-four for you.” You said, reveling in how panicked he looked. 

“I — that’s long enough for me to be killed a hundred times over,” he mumbled under his breath. “What the fuck did you put in that cake?”

“I never expected you to eat it, Crane. You’re fucking skin and bones, I thought you’d just throw it out.”

“What did you put in the cake?” he repeated. 

“Ugh,” you sunk into the couch, “some amytal, zolpidem. Some melatonin. I didn’t measure, okay, and again, I wasn’t counting on you eating it.” You didn’t know why you had this urging feeling to respond to him, to humor his jabs, his dumb fucking theatrics, but you did anyway. 

“Some amytal? Some zolpidem? Some melatonin? Jesus fucking christ - is that what you wanted? To kill me?” He was leaning down, face inches away from yours now. 

You pushed him away, disgust on your features clear as day. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not some sociopathic fear-freak like you, Crane. I don’t mix compounds in my creepy little office with the thought of drugging out my fellow professor in mind. It was just an empty threat.”

He let out a disbelieving laugh, “Mixing barbiturates and medications into a cake sounds like an empty threat to you?”

“You know what?” You said brightly, getting up off the couch, “I don’t have to argue with you. I came to get my cure, woke up having cured myself.” Then, you burst out the door, fury rolling off you in waves, and you left.

There was something about the incident, however, that seemed to intrigue Crane to no end. Soon enough, he began entering your office during your breaks, asking to have a chat. Or, he’d walk in during your lessons, forcing you two in the hall alone. Sometimes, he’d even wait for you after school, dozing off in front of your classroom and waiting for you to exit your office. 

You couldn’t tell what was making Crane so interested, but he was hanging off you and your every word like some lovesick puppy.

You, on the other hand, also couldn’t get Crane out of your head. Certainly not for some weird, fucked up reason like his, but because of what he had created. A lot of people doubted his intelligence, mostly because of his obsession on things nobody really cared about, but that obsession made way to the destructive fear-toxin you’d inhaled, and it was seriously unlike anything you’d ever experienced, hell, even read about. It was a brand new creation, and downright deadly. 

Your interest in the man was more so on… keeping him in check. As rivals did. But his was on how you’d breezed past the effects of his toxin in just twelve hours. He’s expected you to go half mad, honestly. Your threat was empty… his was, decidedly, not. 

By the end of the next week following the incident, you two began eating lunch together, asking for joint classes, and spending nights over at each other's places. Not in that way, of course — your way was like a group of scientists having a forever eureka, because your minds fit like perfect puzzle pieces. 

Your intrigue had met his intrigue, and it felt natural, coming to a united front like that. You found you had more in common than you thought, something you should’ve found out about a long time ago, 3 ½ years kind of long time ago. Apart, you two were volatile; angry, spewing threats, attempting murder on the other. Together, however, you were absolute perfection: productive, well-mannered, motivated. 

Now, fast-forward coming on two years since the incident. You and Crane - now, Jonathan, have been inseparable since that time. You two were close, closer than siblings or children and parents or couples; you felt like the same person that had been split into two. Being together was the only thing that felt right, being back at the origin, like being at home. 

Fuck’s sakes, you did have the same home — you’d moved in together. Not to his, nor yours, but to a big house you bought on the outskirts of Gotham, with a big yard and an even bigger lab in the basement. It was like a scientist's amusement park. 

Maybe it - this relationship of yours - was codependency. But maybe it was utter genius: your careers had both never seen so many accomplishments until you and Jonathan came together. Partly because you had a greater inspiration when coupled with the other, but, mostly because you had a body to test on during preliminary trials. 

Creating things, like the fear-toxin, required human testing, and finding a way to get that done always slowed Jonathan down. Since finding you, however, it’d been a breeze. 

You offered yourself up readily, given Jonathan would do the same. And, besides, Jonathan had never been worried about you and his toxin very much — after that first time you took the toxin, you could easily find yourself out of its effects. You were the only person he’d ever encountered who could do this, and it was downright fascinating. He wanted to keep you, see how that strong little mind of yours worked overtime to fight his toxin off. 

You, on the other hand, rarely tested anything like that on Jonathan. Your interests lied elsewhere: what smells activate the human mind to recall memories, what are ways to accurately fight off drugs like GHB — all mental stimulation. 

That, however, changed one evening, when you had been brewing up a serum for the past few weeks. You’d gotten to the point in creation where you needed to test on someone, and observe the effects. 

“Jonathan,” you called out, looking down at your notes. The man in question was grading assignments for the psychology class you taught — now, in joint lessons more often than not — sitting at a desk a few metres away from you in the lab. 

“Jonathan!” you repeated louder this time, looking up from your notes. 

“What?” He shouted back, still hunched over on the ungodly amount of assignments he needed to mark. 

“Come here. I need to test something on you.” You said, nonchalant. 

That, however, piqued Jonathan’s interest to no end: you hadn’t tested anything on him in nearly a year. It hurt, a little, to test you endlessly and have nothing to give in return - so this, no matter what it was, Jonathan would take in stride.

Jonathan nodded vehemently, “Okay.” He then dropped all he’d been doing on the desk and made his way over, before sitting in the chair next to you. You made quick work, tying his arms and legs to the chair like he’d done to you so many times before. He watched you work, completely enraptured in how you looked while experimenting. 

“So,” He said, tearing his sticky gaze off of you, “what’re you pumping me full of?”

You sat back in your desk chair and scratched your cheek, a little unsure how to say this. “Well, I created a serum that, once injected, would lower or lose all inhibitions of the victim. They’d be completely malleable, agreeable, if you just, um,” you fanned yourself, feeling a little too close to the man in front of you, room feeling incredibly warm.

“Just what?” He pried, leaning back in his chair. 

You exhaled shakily, “if you just promise to - to provide relief to them. Sexual - relief.”

Jonathan let out an incredulous laugh. “You made a working aphrodisiac?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t exactly — I don’t even know if it works, for sure. If you don’t want to- take it, then you don’t have to.” You offered up weakly. 

“How d’you get it out of the system?” He said instead, ignoring your words and picking up the needle you had ready for him on your worktable, which was filled with a thick, pink liquid. 

You flushed. “You, um, help the victim relieve themselves, until the feeling is gone.” 

Jonathan looked up at you, a sly smirk on his lips. “And you were going to give this to me?” 

You turned away, face red, exasperated. “I told you, you don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.”

“And let you pleasure some random guy you snatched off the street? No way,” he said, before you heard a familiar prick, small whine leaving Jonathan’s mouth.

You spun back around so fast you thought you got whiplash. “Jonathan, wait—“ you said, alarmed. You were really, seriously, considering not giving the aphrodisiac to him — it would disrupt the careful balance you and he had built over the past years. 

You were afraid that if he took the serum, and let you, for lack of a better word, get him off, you wouldn’t be able to look at him without remembering him needy, hot and bothered, calling your name out like it was the only word he knew. 

He’d done it anyway, though. And now, you both just had to get through this… experiment. 

Quickly, you grabbed your pen and notebook, ready to approach this scenario as detached and clinically as possible, ignoring the pulsing need in your insides as you saw Jonathan’s face slowly contort into a warm, heavy-lidded lustful one. 

“How do you feel, Jonathan?” You said, standing further away from him so he couldn’t so much as feel your body heat on him. 

“I…” Jonathan blinked rapidly, licking his lips, looking you up and down. “Warm. I just feel… warm.” He readjusted in the seat, unable to sit still. “And - kind of, tingly? Like I - well, I don’t know…”

You noted his words, as well as some of your own observations: his pupils were dilated, so much so the crystalline blue of his eyes were merely slivers, his lips were pursed, plump, and he was pink all over; pink cheeks, pink ears, pink neck. He was talkative, loose-lipped and a little out of it.

You inhaled, then exhaled, before starting the next phase of the experiment. “Jonathan, how do you feel when I touch you here?” You said, raising the back of your hand to caress his cheek. 

Jonathan was affected almost immediately, eyes shutting tight. “It feels,” he said breathily, leaning into your touch, “ah… nice. Good.”

You nodded, promptly pulling away as soon as he’d finished his sentence. Subject enjoys physical touch. Jonathan then peered up at you, looking slightly… disappointed? 

You shook yourself, getting back on task. “How do you feel now?” You pried, noticing he looked far more affected than before. 

Beads of sweat were dripping from his forehead, making his wavy brown hair stick to his skin. He was breathing heavily, and, when you had touched him, he was extremely warm, like he had a fever. 

“I’m, I…” Jonathan trailed off, eyes shutting, shaking his head. “Mmm… my head feels — fuzzy,” he bit out raspily. 

“Okay. Good. It's exactly as I thought,” you murmured, continuing to scratch down notes. 

You ignored him for a few minutes, writing up a list of side effects and observed results of the aphrodisiac. Then, your gaze drew back to him, who had been focussing intently on you the whole time. 

“Jonathan?” you called out quietly, seeing his dazed expression. “Talk to me.”

Jonathan shuddered, leaning forward in the chair, head hanging low, “My - my body’s, hnngh… it feels— feels weird.” He bit his lip, face screwed up and tense. “I’m warm all over…”

His shoulders were hunched in, and he was trembling. You lifted a hand up to his head, petting him softly, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“Ah…” Jonathan squeaked out at your touch, face going slack, “I feel like I need you to - to…” he sighed exasperatedly, “I need you.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek conflictedly. On one hand, you needed to finish up a few more tests, meaning Jonathan would be teased - or tortured, depending on how fast the aphrodisiac was affecting him - a little longer. On the other hand, he was already a breathy mess, begging for your touch. For you. 

“Fuck,” you murmured, turning away from the man who’s eyes were practically rolling into the back of his head at the way you tugged at his locks. “No, no,” you fought your internal struggle. You would not give in to his pleas - you would finish this experiment. 

“Okay. Okay.” you said to no-one but yourself, extracting your hand from his velvet soft hair. “Let’s be professional about this. Jonathan, I’m going to take your clothes off, but you can’t move, and you can’t touch me, okay?”

Jonathan’s breathing became more labored as you spoke, and you swore you could see desperate tears filling his eyes. “I can’t- I can’t touch you? But… but why not?” He was practically whining for you.

“Because, Jonathan, it wouldn’t be beneficial to the experiment.” You didn’t look your partner in the eye, because his complete and total change in behavior had you feeling, quite frankly, as warm as him. 

You continued by undoing the restraints on his arms and legs, and his sharp intakes of breath as your fingers brushed past his skin didn’t slip past you. Not at all. 

Firstly, you undid the man’s white button-up shirt slipping it past his flushed torso. Jonathan’s skin was actually pink and warm all over, and he was breathing heavily now, gripping the chair so tight his knuckles were white. 

“Are you okay, Jonathan?” you asked absently, as you began unbuckling his belt and slipping down his fly. 

Jonathan’s breath hitched in his throat, and he didn’t answer you, biting down on his lower lip to stop any desperate moans from escaping him. 

You finally finished undressing your partner, then redid his restraints, before you stepped back to see him fully. Jonathan was shivering, faint tear tracks on his pink cheeks, head cocked back. 

“It’s just - one, or two more tests, Jonathan.” You murmured quietly, kneeling down in front of him. 

Your hands pressed flat on his thighs, rubbing him up and down, grazing your fingers lightly on his feverish skin. You had to regularly ground yourself, stop yourself from inching up to the poor, untouched tent in his boxer shorts. 

Above you, you could hear Jonathan let out a low groan, “Ah, hnng— please,” he called out to no-one in particular.

“Does that - feel good, Jonathan?” You ask, getting back up on your feet. His desperate groans were getting to you now, how needy his little keens were. 

“So - good,” he panted. “Your— you, I want— need, I need…” he trailed off, babbling, lost to the pleasure of your touch. 

“Jonathan, if I… touched you more, would you do anything for me?” You said finally. The invention of the aphrodisiac was intended to sway someone's motivations, make them bend to your will. Sure, there was that added sexual aspect, but it was created with less… pleasurable intentions. 

“Anything, anything at all,” he said deliriously, rolling his head around. “Jus’… just need you to- touch me.”

“Would you give yourself fear-toxin, Jonathan?”

“Yes! Yes, just — please… please! Stop asking me— questions… I need you so fucking bad, ah…”

“Jesus,” you said. Your aphrodisiac was stronger than you thought. You were satisfied, however, with the results of it. The first trial was a success, and you saw how you could use this on anyone - even people in particular positions of power, and get them to do your bidding. Quite helpful, indeed. 

Now, you needed to… get Jonathan out of this state. By, ah, relieving him.

You had decided to do this, to test him, so you had to be responsible and help ease him out of this experiment. Quickly, you stripped your own clothing, even your underwear, before undoing the restraints on his arms and legs. 

Jonathan’s eyes widened as he watched you undress. “Are you - are you… gonna t—touch me? Now? Please?” He practically begged, almost drooling at the sight of your naked body. 

“Mhm,” you said, a tremble in your voice. “Gon’ help you get out of this.”

Then, you climbed onto Jonathan’s lap, shutting your eyes as you felt his hard cock within his boxer shorts slide between your legs deliciously. 

He let out a guttural groan as your weight pressed down on him, feeling your wetness soak his shorts. That measly piece of fabric was all that was keeping him from entering your plush, velvet folds, and he was going practically insane at the feeling. 

“M’god,” Jonathan whined out, leaning his sweaty head on your shoulder. “Y’feel so, a—ah, good…”

You couldn’t help the breezy laugh that made its way out of you. “I haven’t even touched you yet, Jonathan, and you’re already so worked up,” you whispered in his ear, hot breath fanning on his warm skin.

“P-pleeeease,” He begged, slowly grinding into you. Jonathan was barely coherent, mind just focussed on chasing the release he so desperately needed.

You raised a brow, but complied, slipping your warm hands down his boxer shorts and pulling his thick length out. You pumped him lazy, feeling how he writhed under you, tasteful whimpers slipping out of his mouth. 

After another second of you stroking him lightly, your thumb grazing past the tip and collected a decent amount of precum, he actually did come, wet hot load spurting upwards on his chest and your face. “Ah - hnngh, oh my — oh my god,” he drooled, jutting into your hand. 

It dripped down from your cheek onto your lips, and Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut, losing himself in the pleasure. You swiped a handful of his cream off your face, before covering his still hard, curved cock with it. 

“You’re not done, aren’t you?” You said to him quietly, his hips stuttering as you artfully smeared his come on himself. Jonathan was arching into your touch, completely putty in your hands. 

“Nuh- no, m’still— still need you, need you so bad.” he whimpered shamefully, hands stuck to your waist.

“Look at you go,” you found yourself cooing, dragging a creamy hand down his equally as creamy chest, your fingernails grazing him. “Let me take care of you.”

Then, you lifted yourself up off his lap, and carefully situated your slit on the tip of his head. “Christ,” you called out as you slid down, “you’re fucking big,” 

Inch by inch, you took him, and Jonathan’s eyes were rolling into the back of his head, a string of senseless groans and whines leaving his mouth. “Feels so warm, so so warm,” he choked out at last, looking at you adoringly. 

You started to lift out of him, your cunt stinging slightly at the sheer size of his cock, when you felt a heated liquid shoot through you, Jonathan’s knees buckling under your ass. 

He’d come, again, even before you could get started. You shook your head incredulously at the terribly horny man beneath you, eyes glazed over in the pure ecstasy he was feeling. 

“Stop, fucking — coming,” you scolded, bottoming his cock into you once more, “you’re gonna get me so — ah— fucking - pregnant if you keep coming.”

“Sorry,” Jonathan said sheepishly, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “Can’t help it— you feel so — hnngh — feel so good.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, then focussed on getting a good pace of sliding in and out, your hips rolling deeper and deeper into his own. You were bouncing quickly on his cock, dick-riding him like you’d never done before. 

With all other sexual partners you had, they wanted to be all vanilla, always just missionary, going slow until they were close, no sense of creativity or any other wishes that just feeling you. With Jonathan - especially in the state he was in now - you could do whatever you wanted, as long as his cock was in your cunt. 

“Good — god,” you screamed out, when Jonathan suddenly gained control over himself and snapped into you, rough hands pinching the flesh of your hips. He rutted into you, hard and fast, for a moment like that continually, before his control melted once more into nothingness, and all he could do was let you take the reins. 

“Please— how’re you so — ah, how does your pussy feel so good…” he murmured, trailing off into a high-pitched moan when you pulled out, then just as fast sunk down on him. 

Jonathan’s fingers trailed up your body, rubbing at your soft flesh, before they found your breasts, kneading you tenderly. He chanced several licks on both your erect nipples, and you shuddered, tightening around him. Your cunt was sucking him in, devouring his length no matter how big he was, and he could feel how his length was stretching your walls wide open. 

“So fucking big.” You panted, arms wrapping around his neck, “fat fucking cock all needy, just me.”

“Jus’… just for you! All - ah, all for you,” Jonathan repeated with a squeak, lips bitten delicately between his teeth. 

Your hands trailed all over his body, and as the pleasure was getting to you, making your head dizzy and your thoughts foggy, you bounced down on him and your nails scratched up his back, surely leaving small wounds. 

This miniscule amount of pain seemed to amplify Jonathan’s endless pleasure, and you could feel him pumping you full of his come once again, the tip of his dick pressed flush against your cervix. His come made you feel so full, fuller than you already did with his monstrous cock nestled into you, continually rubbing up on the toe-curlingly spongy spot in your cunt every time you pushed him back in. 

“Mmf,” Jonathan groaned, pleasure muffling whatever he was was going to say, “m’gonna… gonna get you pregnant,”

“Yeah?” You breathed out, squeezing your eyes shut, “Is that what this needy cock wants? To get my wet cunt full and me pregnant?”

“Yes, yes, hnngh, please, wanna come - wanna come more,” Jonathan cried out. 

“‘kay, okay,” you nodded vehemently, “then make this pussy feel good.” 

Then, you slid out with a whimper, two loads worth of come spilling out of your worn-out cunt, turning around so your ass would face him, before you sunk back down on him. You were chasing your own pleasure now, the unmistakable feeling rumbling within your lower stomach. 

Jonathan was completely fucked out, just a shaking, hot and bothered mess on the sticky wooden chair you’d both occupied, but he still welcomed your warm pussy back on him with open arms. Your folds beat any other cunt he’d ever been in, and he knew nothing, not even his own hand, could match up to how addicting you were, how delectably you took him. 

The new angle had you reeling, your hands gripping Jonathan’s thighs for some much-needed support. You were buckling, getting weaker with every bounce, but were still desperate for release. It affected Jonathan too, and he was pressing his face up against your hair, biting down lightly on your shoulder to collect himself despite the earth-shattering pleasure you were inflicting on him. 

Your fleshy cunt met his rock-solid cock every moment perfectly, and soon enough your back was arching, head leaning back on Jonathan’s shoulder. That knot in your stomach was tightening, a fire burning within you and begging you not to stop.

Jonathan’s needy hands were coursing all over your body, rubbing on you in all the right places, and when his calloused fingers began pinching and twisting at your sensitive nipples, you saw white. That burning feeling dragged across your entire body, your jaw tensing, and you felt positively fuzzy, pure pleasure destroying all coherent thoughts you’d been having, your mind now focussed on the insane way he made you orgasm. 

There was nothing that could compare to how you felt now, this being the hardest you’d orgasmed in your entire life. There was just something about Jonathan — be it how unbelievably big he was, or perhaps the odd tension that surrounded you two for the past few years — that made this experience ten times, no, a hundred times, better.

It was like his dick had been artfully crafted to stretch you out and stuff you full; that thick cock, made just for you. 

In place of your weakening strength, Jonathan kept his hand tweaking your breast, and his other hand gripped your hip tightly, helping you bounce up and down on his cock. Thus, the pleasure was maximized by his touch, and you rode out your high like that for a few more long moments. 

You stayed there, on his lap panting and drooling, for a few more seconds, before you climbed off of him, grimacing at the loss of his sweet cock in you. 

You stood shakily, feeling his come ooze out of your sticky hole, and you were surprised to see that Jonathan was still hard. He was panting, head leaning against the chair, hands and legs trembling, but his dick could probably still pump out another round of come. 

You did always wondering how he’d taste, and after seeing how long and thick he was, you wanted to know if his dick could make you cry, too. So, you kneeled down on the cold floor, pulling him by the ankles a little further off the chair, so you could get better access to him, and buried your pretty little head between his shaking thighs. 

“What’re you— doing?” Jonathan said blearily, but before he could continue, your soft lips wrapped around him, and your tongue began artfully swiveling his sensitive head.

The loudest moan you’d heard so far was drawn out of Jonathan, and more, similar noises came out of him. It was nonsensical, and unintelligible, but you could tell he was having the time of his life — as if he hadn’t just orgasmed three times prior. 

You started slowly, mouth taking his cock until you felt like you couldn’t anymore, before forcing past that point and making yourself take him to the back of your throat. Tears lined the rims of your eyes, your head swimming from lack of oxygen, but you couldn’t help how badly you wanted to hear him whimper and whine out from how good you were servicing him, his pretty groans reaching your ears like music. 

You pulled his cock out of your mouth when you felt like you were going to pass out, and then you began lapping up at his cock, sucking and curving your tongue around his long length. You sucked him hard and fast, and then, his hands grappled at your hair. 

At this point, you believed the aphrodisiac was wearing off, and Jonathan, now a little more clearheaded, began face fucking you, filling your sweet mouth full with his filthy cock. He couldn’t resist doing so, especially with you looking up at him through your tear-stained lashes, hollowing out your cheeks and gripping his thighs like your life depended on it. 

You gagged on him, several times, but he didn’t care, and with a jolted thrust past your swollen lips, he came, squirting all he had left down your throat. You sucked and swallowed every drop of him into your mouth, loving the taste of his salty liquid. 

Now, you were both fucked out, beyond tired, the strain on your muscles settling in. Your core had been properly exercised, what with how many times you rutted into Jonathan, and he, similarly, had a strained back with how much he arched into your touch, his aphrodisiac-clouded mind wanting nothing more but to be touched by you. 

“Good god, woman,” Jonathan said, collapsing into the wooden chair, which was sticky with sweat, come and your cunt’s soaking wetness. “You could’ve just said you wanted to fuck,”

You panted, dropping down onto the cold floor beneath you and wincing. “We’re — we were, just friends.”

He waved away your words, “We live together, darling. Not quite sure if that's “just” friends.”

You looked up at him, before laughing agreeably. “Felt good though, didn’t it?” A smug grin made its way on your lips, remembering how submissive Jonathan had been, how desperate he’d been just for the slightest bit of touch. 

“Amazing,” he said exasperatedly. “But next time, you’re not topping.”

“Next time, huh?” You said brightly, shakily getting up. Jonathan helped you, both of you limping exhaustedly up the stairs to your actual house, where you really should’ve been fucking, instead of the clinical environment of your large basement lab.

Jonathan’s hands found your ass, pulling you flush against him and kneading the flesh roughly. “Why not? Don’t you wanna know how I fuck?” he whispered suggestively into your ear, nibbling at the lobe. 

“I think, you’ve still got some aphrodisiac in you, Jon.” you said, laughing breezily.