Inna

delusional hoe

[innusss]

Hey guys!

So I made a new account (@ghoulmetery) 'cause this one while im using it it's glitch and super lagging. Also when I try changing my profile like pfp, etc.. it will glitch back to the previous photo I had and I don't know what to do with it.

So!

If someone had me added to their tagliat then please unpaid me from it and add my sec account bc I won't be using this one anymore I guess.

Anyways thank you all and love yall!

[sugarboulevard]

[rocknrollangelsblog]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LET ME GET WHAT I WANT

[gabbyyxoxoo]

[littlesparkequeen]

[shimmeringterroroblivion]

[onlyunicornhere]

i want to be a model

[dollyheartzzii]

[donyalelunaaslore]

[bitterswtdvll]

[ultimatelustforlife]

𐙚⋆.˚

wingscal on ig

[niemily]

[hoonieb4by]

Me wanna see my daddy so bad. 😾

[meetmeiinthehallway]

[ririsaltar]

✮ Professor!Rafe . . . Headcanons !

professor!rafe who didn't even register your existence the first week of class. you were just another face in the third row of his Contemporary American Literature class, notebook open, eyes down. you didn't speak for three classes. just took notes, left without a word. he didn't notice. until the fourth class, when you wore a black turtleneck that hugged your tits just right and he caught himself staring mid-sentence. lost his train of thought for half a second. cleared his throat. kept going. you saw it happen. the corner of your mouth ticked up.

professor!rafe who told himself it was a one-time thing. a moment of weakness. you were a student. twenty-two, maybe twenty-three. he was forty something, tenured, respected. he'd fucked grad students before – discreetly, carefully – but undergrads were off the table. that was the line. then you came to office hours.

professor!rafe who fucked you for the first time when you came over to his office fifteen minutes before he left with your B+ graded paper and a tactic. one look at him through your lashes and you were bent over his desk, jeans pooled around your ankles, palms flat against his marked-up student essays. he didn't kiss you. he didn't whisper sweet things. he just pushed your panties aside – black lace, he noticed – and slid into you without warning, one hand on your hip, the other pressed between your shoulder blades. you gasped. gripped the edge of the desk.

"you want an A?" he said, voice low, fucking you slow and deep, each thrust deliberate. "then take this cock like you mean it."

you came on his desk, on his papers, your cum smearing across a student's annotated thesis. he didn't care. he came inside you, hot and thick, pulled out, and watched it drip down your thigh.

"clean up," he said, handing you a tissue. "and be here next tuesday. same time."

professor!rafe who fucked you in his office every Tuesday and Thursday for the rest of the semester. sometimes before class, sometimes after. once during his lunch break, with the door locked and the blinds drawn, while his colleagues ate sandwiches in the faculty lounge down the hall. he never kissed you. never held your hand. never called you sweetheart. but he learned the sounds you made when he hit that spot inside you – a high, broken moan that made his cock twitch. he learned how hard to bite your neck to leave a mark that would fade by morning. he learned that you liked it when he pulled your hair, when he called you a good girl, when he pushed your face into the leather of his chair and fucked you until you couldn't stand. you never spent the night. never ate breakfast together. never exchanged more than a few words outside his office. it was perfect.

professor!rafe who took you to a conference in Chicago – "my research assistant" he told the department head, straight-faced – and then fucked you in his hotel room with a view of the city's towers. he had you on your knees on the floor, your cheek pressed against the cold glass, the city glittering below you, his cock buried in your throat. you looked up at him with tears streaming down your face, and he just watched. let you choke. let you struggle. when he came? he painted your tongue white, then wiped your mouth with the back of his hand. "good girl." he said, and that was the closest thing to affection you ever got.

professor!rafe who stopped giving you grades altogether. you just got A's. no feedback. no comments. just a red A+ at the top of every paper, and when you looked up from your notebook, he'd be watching you from the lectern, eyes dark, mouth set. no one noticed. no one asked. but the grad student who graded for him – a girl named Maya with glasses and a crush on him – she found your final exam in his office. it was blank. no answers. just your name at the top, and a single note in his handwriting. "See me after class." she didn't say anything. she just put it back in the folder and pretended she hadn't seen it. you were already on your knees when she knocked on his door at 5 pm. "one second," he called out, voice steady. you stayed silent, mouth full, eyes watering. "come back tomorrow, Maya." her footsteps faded down the hall. he fisted a hand in your hair and fucked your face harder.

professor!rafe who, after you graduated, disappeared from your life completely. no forwarding number. no goodbye. just a final fuck in his office on the last day of finals, your diploma still in its tube on his desk, your legs wrapped around his waist as he pinned you against his bookshelf. "you're gonna be something," he said, breathing hard, still inside you. you laughed, breathless. "you gonna miss me?" he didn't answer. just kissed you – the first time he'd ever done that – hard and bruising, and fucked you until you forgot the question. you left his office at 7 pm. he graded papers until midnight. the next semester, he had a new student in the front row. blonde. quiet. wore turtlenecks. he didn't think about you once. he thought about you constantly.

© ririsaltar

taglist: @raevyng @coastalcowgirlie @bonjourjiminie @kelbrave @skankhvnt42 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @harrrrystylesslut @raf3cam3r0n @innusss @sexychickenmagnet

💌: i fear i outdid myself with this one

[quotevvr]

MY WEAKNESS

synopsis. birthdays, recitals, drop-offs. they’re the only times you see rafe anymore. you know you need to keep your distance, to maintain a civil relationship, for your daughter’s sake. but a one time lapse in judgement won’t hurt anyone, right?

includes. 18+ scenes eg rough unprotected piv (don’t do this pls), swearing and slight exhibitionism kink from both parties. lmk if there’s anything i’ve missed!!

song rec. — cherry ~ lana del rey

wc. 2.3k+

author note. i hope this is good pls tell me if it isn’t 😔 also my requests/inbox are open!!! pls give me some ideas xoxo + can someone lmk if my askbox is actually visible coz it keeps glitching out and not showing up for people </3

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the sound of children screaming is already grating on your nerves. it doesn’t help that you barely slept last night, instead having spent hours decorating the house with balloons and banners in preparation for your daughter’s fourth birthday party. though, it was all worth it seeing her face light up this morning, her gappy smile easing your exhaustion somewhat.

you’re stood in the kitchen, preparing seemingly thousands of little sandwiches and bowls of chips for the kids to eat when it comes to lunch time, cringing internally at the mess you know they’re bound to leave behind. there’s music playing, viv’s choice, of course, and chatter from parents dotted around the living room and outside in the yard where most of the kids are playing around.

“amazing party, hon.” one of the moms comes up beside you, holding a pink plastic cup of lemonade and resting her hip on the counter. “i don’t know how you’ve managed to do this all this on your own. it’s wonderful.” the compliment sounds somewhat backhanded, but you choose to ignore it in favour of spreading jelly across a piece of bread. “thanks, quinn.”

“i mean, seriously, it’s great. did you make the banners by yourself?” you shake your head, holding back a sigh and forcing yourself to turn to her with a smile on your face. “no, rafe did.” that seems to shut her up, her eyebrows raising and her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “oh, i see. well, they’re lovely.” you hum and turn back to the sandwiches, a sense of satisfaction bubbling in your stomach.

it’s no secret that the moms at viv’s kindergarten don’t approve of her father, most of them more than happy to directly express their opinions on your parenting abilities and how viv not seeing her father everyday ‘isn’t healthy’. you being considerably younger than most of them only seems to egg them on, thinking that they have the right to advise you on what to do and not to do with your daughter. it’s infuriating, but you’ve gotten somewhat used to it by now.

quinn wordlessly steps away to join a group of parents gathered by the french doors, and you can’t help but roll your eyes to yourself. you can’t stand that woman; the only reason you’re civil with her is because viv is close with her daughter, otherwise you would’ve given her the cold shoulder long ago. shaking your head, you’re finishing the last of the food preparations when an arm reaches around you and plucks a sandwich from the pile beside you.

“oh sorry, no they’re for the kids—” you begin politely, spinning around to come face to face with rafe, munching on the food with an unbothered look written across his face. your expression immediately drops at the sight of him, crossing your arms over your chest and staring up at him incredulously, “you’re an hour late.” you don’t even bother mentioning the sandwich.

he huffs and glances around him for a moment before his gaze focuses back on you, “relax. i’m here now, aren’t i?” your eyes narrow in annoyance, but you know arguing with him would be futile. you’ve learnt that the hard way over the past few years. “did you at least bring the cake?” when he nods, you allow yourself a sigh of relief, glad that he at least managed to remember that, not that it’s like the most important part of a birthday party or anything.

“do you really have that little faith in me? who’s the one who made the banners? they look fuckin’ amazing, if i do say so myself.” you turn around and hand him the plate of sandwiches, a deadpan expression etched across your face. “make yourself useful and put these on the table. oh, and let your daughter know that you finally managed to haul your ass to her birthday.” he laughs sarcastically before making a beeline for the dining table, not even aware of the glares from other parents because his little girl is barrelling towards him at one hundred miles an hour.

he just manages to set the plate down when she crashes into his legs, squealing happily. “daddy!” she cries, her soft curls bouncing along with her as she vibrates in excitement. “hey, kiddo.” he says, scooping her up off of the floor and planting kisses across her face, “you look beautiful.” she giggles softly, staring up at him with her large blue eyes. “i got new crayons!” she twists her body in his arms to point over at the pile of presents gathered on the couch, her cheeks painted a gentle pink from exertion.

“sounds good, sweetheart.” she nods quickly, growing restless in his grip when she spots her friends playing tag in the backyard. rafe carefully sets her down, ruffling her hair playfully, and watching her run off to join them. his eyes soften momentarily, and he can feel his heart ache with the overwhelming love he feels for her, when a hand lands on his shoulder. when he turns and sees you stood next to him, his eyes harden once more, his impenetrable walls returning from the moment of vulnerability he’d allowed himself to feel.

“she’s, uh… she’s getting big now, huh.” he says to fill the silence between you, glancing down at the floor and folding his arms over his chest—a defence mechanism he can’t get rid of. you just nod, biting subconsciously at the skin on your bottom lip as you scan the room for anything that may need your attention. “jesus, calm down a little, will ya? making me feel all twitchy and shit.”

you don’t tell him it’s because your skin feels all tingly being stood this close to him—he never lets you this close anymore unless it’s necessary, like when you both had to awkwardly hug to reassure a distraught viv that her parents still liked (tolerated) each other. you also don’t tell him that you miss him, even though it’s right on the tip of your tongue. god, what’s the matter with you? you can usually control yourself a little better than this.

you clear your throat and excuse yourself to the bathroom, your palms sweaty and your heart pounding in your chest. you can’t quite tell whether you’re having a panic attack or if your body is simply going into overdrive from being in close proximity with your ex. this is ridiculous. splashing cold water onto your face to try and snap yourself out of whatever daze you’re in, you blow out a shaky breath and brace yourself against the sink, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

trying to gather the courage to go back out there, you’re interrupted by the door handle rattling beside you. “you good in there? why’d you run off like that?” it’s rafe. oh god. “‘m fine, rafe.” you call back, internally praying that he takes your word for it and leaves you alone. of course he doesn’t, though, the stubborn bastard.

“open the door f’me,” he replies, his voice slightly gentler now as he tries the door handle again. closing your eyes, you debate with yourself about whether or not this is good idea before spinning around and unlocking the door, pulling it open to reveal him on the other side, the sun shining in from behind him and making him look like some sort of greek god. he doesn’t say anything, stepping inside and locking the door behind him. the bathroom is small, so your chests brush against each other when you breath in, and the proximity only makes your head spin more.

his eyes search your expression for any sort of hint as to what you’re feeling right now, his brows pulled together in smothered concern. “you okay?” you can only manage a nod, your mind too much of a mess to form coherent words. when he leans forward and brushes his thumb across your cheek to gather the water droplets from your skin, you swear all rationale flies out of the window. you close the gap between you and press your lips to his, heart thundering against the confines of your chest at the familiarity of it.

he freezes for a moment, body stiff and unmoving, until his hand drops to cup the side of your neck, melting into the kiss. he’s unable to stop himself—he’s weak when it comes to you, even though he refuses to admit it. his tongue swipes along your bottom lip, demanding entrance, which you eagerly give him. your tongues meet, hot and wet, as he backs you up against the sink. his hands drop down to your hips and then find your ass, squeezing it through your jeans and growling into your mouth.

the kiss only gets more desperate and messy when his fingers dance across your fly, teasing the idea before his own impatience gets the better of him and he unzips them and pulls them down your legs. you step out of them and kick them away from you, only breaking the kiss to gasp when his fingers find your soaked panties. “fuck.” he mumbles, burying his face into the crook of your neck and pressing kisses against the skin there as he rubs around your clit, the much needed friction making you buck up against his hand.

your hands claw at his back to try and ground yourself as you arch up into him, your head tipping back as the pleasure courses through your veins and sends goosebumps erupting across your skin. before you can speak up, he takes his hand away from your core and plants it on your hip, easily spinning you around to brace against the sink, as his breathing quickens. “take your panties off.” he orders gruffly and you obediently comply, excitement travelling through you when you hear him unbuckle his belt behind you.

his hands find the flesh of your thighs and he uses his hold to push open your legs, groaning when he sees your dripping pussy waiting for him. “always so fucking wet f’me.” he murmurs, positioning himself behind you and slapping the fat head of his cock against your entrance. you whimper pathetically, shifting back against him in an attempt to find some much needed relief. instead, all you get is a hand across your ass cheek. “wait.” you whine in protest but do as he says, your arms already shaking from holding yourself up.

then, slowly, he begins to push into you, the initial stretch sending your vision hazy. you try your best to hold back the moan that threatens to erupt from your lips, your toes curling beneath you when you feel him finally bottom out. his fingers flex around your waist as he takes a moment to gather himself before drawing his hips back and pushing in again, watching with unwavering intensity at the way his cock glides easily in and out of you. when he hears you moan, it seems to spur him on to go faster, his thrusts picking up speed as one hand reaches up to gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail whilst the other slides beneath your shirt and tweaks your nipple through your lacy bra.

the added sensations only make the familiar knot in your abdomen pull tauter, your legs shaking beneath you and your eyes rolling back into your head. but when he speeds up and tugs on your hair, you can’t help the guttural moan that tumbles from your parted lips; the way his tip repeatedly hits your g-spot has you seeing stars. “you want them all to hear you, huh?” he breathes out roughly, “you want them to hear how good your shitty ex fucks you?”

his words makes you clench around his cock, and he tugs harder on your hair as his cock twitches inside of you. “yes— god, yes.” you babble incoherently, body jerking with every thrust as the pleasure begins to grow to be too much. the hand on your chest slides up to cup your chin, shoving two of his fingers into your mouth. you close your lips around them and suck on his digits, sweat beading at your temple as the heat in the room grows to a crescendo.

he watches you with dark eyes in the reflection of the mirror as your expression shifts and morphs from pleasure to pure ecstasy, and it drives him crazy. “you gonna come?” when you nod as much as you can around his hand, he adds, “me too.” he feels his balls tighten as his cock twitches once more before he gives one last thrust and spills his load into you, his vision whitening at the intensity of it.

your mouth hangs open as your own orgasm crashes over you, whole body trembling uncontrollably. when it eases up, you slump against the cool porcelain of the sink and try to catch your breath, the world spinning around you. he gives a few last shallow thrusts then pulls out fully, hissing at the slight overstimulation. he grabs some tissue to clean him and yourself up, making sure to be gentle with you so as not to hurt you. when you finally come back down, you straighten up a little and turn around to watch him pull his jeans back up and fasten his belt around his waist.

“here.” he passes you your panties from the floor and watches as you pull them on unsteadily, his thumb absentmindedly messing with his lip. there’s a charged pause for what feels like hours but is really only a few seconds before he speaks up, “i’ll see you out there.” with that, he unlocks the door and slips out, leaving you alone and flustered. you can’t believe you just allowed that to happen. and you can’t believe he did, too.

not wanting to overthink it like you know you will do tonight when you go to bed, you pull your jeans back on and run a hand through your hair to make sure you look half presentable. your cheeks flush with mortification when you step back out into the living room, avoiding all gazes of the people around you. you’re so fucked.

🏷️ ⦂ @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @livstarzz

[dearxalia]

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