#mmm. looking into a mirror

[guest-1-2-3]

regulus black is me and i am him jsyk. that’s me right there

[drawbauchery]

Ok so heres some headcannons for your au imposter. :>

Although imposter is mainly shown dealing/helping with others im sure he has got some issues Besides recovering from the killing game and trying to be a better person. Ok first thing,imposter tends to serpress his emotions,like he barrys any thoughts he doseint want to deal with in the back on his mind so he doesn't have to deal with it. He doseint unpack his thoughts often like when he said "ill unpack this later" he never did. Ok next,they hate mirrors mainly because they probably hate there real face,i mean there body is one thing theres nothing extremely discernable about it. But there face is different. When ever they look at there face all he sees is an emptyshell of a man they dont remember being. They weren't allowed near mirrors for awile. And last thing, He felt guilty for lieing to them for so long that he often questions why his friends actually like him.

Also i drew some art that matches with this

Im not good with angst so it kinda sucks BUT i hope you like it :)

[freakalot]

"did you just spank me?" ☆

choso has wide eyes in the mirror's reflection as they meet yours. glossy and blown out with lust, but wide—nervous, like a deer stuck in headlights. you're bent over, back arched down as your boyfriends hands rest gently on your hips. there's a sting that lingers over your ass, and choso is holding his hand out like he's committed a crime with it.

it's not like he's vanilla—you're being fucked ass-up in front of a mirror so that you can watch him take what's his—but he's frozen still like he's appalled at his own actions.

"oh," he's flushing a gentle pink. "i'm sorry, i don't know why i did that. it was just so much and you were so—i mean... i wasn't thinking and—"

"do it again."

he's still balls deep inside of you—hips pressed tight against the flesh of your ass: his cock pulses inside of you, each veiny ridge filling you out like you're made for him. "why would i do that?"

“because it feels good,” you shrug, pushing back onto his cock a little. "cho, baby, i'm asking you to spank me, not commit a war crime."

"might as well be," he mumbles under his breath, looking down at the curve of your ass at his face scrunches up into an expression you've never seen on him before. is that... restraint?

your poor choso has never been all that good at controlling his wants and whims. he's a man whose body often betrays him: he couldn't hold an orgasm back to save his life, nor can he ever stifle those pretty moans of his. much like how he couldn't stop his hand from smacking against the flesh of your ass.

so, of course, you goad him on. clenching tight around his achy cock as you meet his gaze in the mirror. "i want you to spank me again, choso. be mean. make it hurt when i sit down tomorrow."

"i don't want to hurt you."

"don't you? you spanked me first, cho. i think you want it even more than i do."

his eyebrows furrow. its devastatingly cute for a man balls-deep inside of you. "shut up," he says with no real bite. "i didn't mean to."

"your hand just slipped and landed on my ass?"

"...yes."

you roll your eyes, and offer choso a smile in the mirrors reflection. “you look all embarrassed. just like that time you came just from kissing m—fuck!”

a sharp sting radiates over your ass cheek, and once you blink the shock out of your eyes, you’re met with a very sudden snapping of chosos hips into yours. he somehow manages to fuck you even deeper than before. with every thrust he sends you forward on the bed, until you’re no longer holding yourself up with your arms and your face is pressed right into the mattress.

“you always-” smack! “-make me feel-” smack! “-so nervous around you.”

your face screws up. “what?”

he stills, leans forward to take the sheet away from your face so you can look back at him properly. “i’m punishing you.”

“for what, giving you butterflies?”

“yes.” the sweetest of smiles pulls at his lips—you’d think it endearing if not for the way his hand slaps down onto your ass again, and he resumes his mean pace.

live and let cum, you suppose. choso drills into you in such a way that you’re cumming both quicker and harder than you ever have with him. your orgasm, the sweet way your pussy grips him in pleasured need, sends choso over the edge right after you. “mmm iloveyouiloveyouimsorryforspankingyouiloveyou”

of course with another mean spank to your ass, choso pulls out and exhales the prettiest moan you’ve heard from him as he releases all over your tender ass. you’re spent, and fucked so dumb you don’t chide him for then using his fingers to rub his cum around in soothing circles over your ass. you won’t admit it, but it feels kinda nice.

“sorry,” choso whispers as he reaches for something to wash you down with. “you should slap me as payback.”

“you’d probably like it.”

“…yeah.”

[classyrbf]

dad bod!toji who’s still the big, muscular man he is but you can tell he’s gotten older and his metabolism has slowed down a little bit. He’s gotten chubbier in his arms, thighs, tummy. Not to mention, he’s started to gray and grow stubble on his face, the perfect salt and pepper mix. Toji says he hates it, always moaning and groaning about needing to hit the gym but you…? You fucking love it. It takes everything in you not to ravish his right then and there, wanting to pounce on him every second of the day. You’re always kissing up on him, grabbing on him, dragging him to the laundry room while the kids watching tv so you could have a quickie. And he’s so confused on where all this extra energy and affection has sprouted from, but he loves it. You’re always so eager for him, fucking your self on his cock, him waking up to you kissing his neck and stroking his dick, dropping to your knees and giving him head without his asking. He wonders what he’s done to deserve all of it.

He’s standing in the mirror one late night with his shirt off, examining just how chubby he’s gotten. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little insecure, thinking how gorgeous you are and how you shouldn’t settle for him. “I’m losing myself,” he grumbles. “What’s going on, baby?” You walk in the room, a smile immediately on your face when you see his shirt is off, definitely a sight to see. “I need to head to the gym is what’s going on.” He flexes his muscles in the mirror. You giggle and walk up behind him, snaking your arms around his waist. “I think you look so handsome with a little weight on you,” you whisper in his ear. “Does something to me.” You nibble on his ear before trailing kisses along his jaw, and that’s when Toji realizes why you’ve been so affectionate with him, like a lightbulb going off in his head.

Just mere minutes later, you’re riding him like your life depends on it, slamming your hips down on his, creating a sticky mess between you two. “S-shit,” he pants, “slow down, mama—fuck!” His bruising grips on your hips only tighten the faster you ride him. Your pussy sucks him in with each thrust, clenching around his throbbing cock. “I can’t…you get so me so hot and bothered, baby.” You grin, running your hands down his chest.

He swears he could cum right then and there, with the way you were riding him and that look in your eye, he was ready to give you another kid. And now you were kissing his neck, moaning and whimpering in his ear. “You’re so perfect, Toji,” you mewl. “Fuck me.” His eyes roll back before fluttering shut. “Keep going, yes, yes, just like that, mama. You’re gonna make me fucking cum,” he groans. You keep that same rhythm, squeezing your pussy around him, milking him. He suddenly wraps his arms around you, holding you in place as he thrusts up into you, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. “Ah, fuck!” You cry out, your cum dripping down his shaft. His thrusts grow sloppier and harder and next thing you know he’s filling you up, pushing his cum deeper inside of you with slow thrusts. Laughter erupts from your chest as you catch your breath, kissing him slowly and passionately.

“Mmm, goddamn,” he huffs, pulling you to his chest. “Now I finally know why you’re so goddamn horny all the time,” he chuckles. You blink up at him with a small smirk. “Can you blame me?” You trace patterns on his skin. He can see the look in your eye, that hungry stare you’re giving him, wanting more. “What are you thinking about, hm?” He caresses your cheek. “Oh nothing…just how badly I wanna give you some head right now, but I’ll wait.”

[hoshifighting]

   bsf!seungcheol watching you ride a dildo

— where your bestfriend!seungcheol wants his shirt back, but he searches for it inside the wrong drawer.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, sex toys, ''cock'' riding, clit stimulation, lub, voyeurism?, fingering, penetrative sex, reader feels the ''real thing'' after, dildo sucking, dirty talk, choking, overwhelming.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

“yo, y/n, where’s that shirt i left at yours the other day? the black one, with the holes,” seungcheol’s voice booms from your bedroom, and you can hear him already rummaging through your wardrobe like it’s his own. typical. you’re still in the bathroom, pulling a shirt over your head, eyes rolling at how this guy feels so at home in your space, no hesitation.

“it’s in the drawer, you dumbass,” you yell back, adjusting your shirt in the mirror, not giving it a second thought.

and then it hits you.

oh fuck. that drawer. the one you’ve recently swapped out for all your, uh, extra stuff. your eyes widen, and a bolt of panic shoots through your veins. not the t-shirts and gym clothes drawer anymore, no—your sex drawer now, fully stocked and thriving.

you bolt out of the bathroom, hair still a mess, nearly tripping over your own feet, “seungcheol, no! wait—”

too late. he’s standing there, drawer halfway open, a look of pure shock frozen on his face. it’s like time slows down and you can almost hear the dramatic, “dun-dun-dunnnn” playing in the background as his eyes lock on something you really didn’t want him to see.

the dildo. baby pink. glittery. silicone, with a ridiculously realistic head.

“what... the… fuck,” he mumbles, staring at it like it’s an alien. his hand’s on the drawer handle, and he’s so still, like he can’t quite process what’s in front of him. if it was just the lube, or even the handcuffs, maybe you could’ve salvaged this situation. maybe. but nope, he’s standing there like he’s seen the holy grail, except it’s your new glitter dildo, glistening under the light like a perverse disco ball.

you skid to a stop, face burning up. “cheol, no—don't—” but he’s already got it in his hand, holding it up like it’s some kind of trophy. a fucking trophy.

he gives it a little shake, slapping it against his palm with a dumb grin. “y/n… never pegged you for a glitter girl. this—” he waves it around, the thing jiggling like some obscene party favor. “—is this what you’re into now? pink, sparkly dicks?”

you slap your hand over your face, mortified, “it’s new! i—it’s not even—i haven’t—just give it back, jesus christ!”

but he’s inspecting it now, like he’s doing some kind of in-depth analysis. his eyebrows raise, and he looks from it to you, back to it. “it’s not that big, though, right? not thicker than me, at least.” he looks way too smug for your liking, like he’s just cracked some inside joke.

“cheol!” you squeal, lunging forward to grab it, but he pulls it out of reach, shaking his head like you’re a kid trying to snatch candy from a shelf.

“nah, nah,” he chuckles, “hold up, hold up. i just… i just didn’t expect this from you. like, c’mon, this? you could’ve called me. i would’ve come running, y’know. no need to settle for this sparkly piece of shit.”

you’re fully red now, your fingers gripping his forearm as you try and close the drawer with your hip, but he keeps it open, the dildo still in his grip. “cheol, i swear to god, give it back.”

he twirls it like it’s a damn baton, slapping it lightly against his hand again. “so, like... is it better than the real thing? huh?”

“no, oh my god, no! i haven’t even—just—shut up!” you try again to snatch it back, but he’s stronger than you and absolutely milking this moment.

“mmm,” he hums, biting the inside of his cheek like he’s deep in thought, “i bet you’ve been riding this thing at night, hm? fuckin’ bouncing on it, lights out, all alone in this big-ass bed…” his words trail off, teasing, and you want to crawl into a hole and die, right there.

“cheol, stop, i’m not—i haven’t even used it yet, okay?” you sputter, still trying to grab it, but your words only seem to encourage him.

“oh? you haven’t? huh… well,” he holds it up, wiggling it under the light, “why don’t you show me how you would? like, y’know, ride it for me.” the way he says it, dead serious, makes you stop. his voice drops lower, and suddenly the room feels hotter. “c’mon, y/n. don’t be shy. give me a little demo.”

“cheol, stop it. i’m already embarrassed enough,” you say, feeling your breath catch in your throat. your cheeks burn. he just grins, settling back into the chair at your vanity, his eyes practically glinting.

“don’t be shy now,” he says, but you can hear the tease dripping from every word. his back rests against the wall, arms lazily crossed, as if he’s got all the time in the world to watch you squirm. you can’t even deny the flutter of heat that’s been coiling inside you since this whole thing started.

you let out a shaky breath, reaching for the lube, the sound of the cap clicking open feeling way too loud in the stillness of the room. you get on your knees, your fingers tremble as you coat the bottom of the dildo with it, sticking it to the floor, the suction strong as it holds in place. every nerve in your body is hyper-aware of his eyes on you. watching. waiting.

you slowly tug down your shorts and panties, trying to shield yourself as much as possible, your oversized shirt covering your lower half. it’s stupid to feel shy now, considering what you’re about to do, but you still shake your head when he says, “take that shirt off too.”

“n-no,” you stutter, cheeks flushing. you glance at him through your lashes as you start to spread the lube on the dildo, your hand sliding up and down, coating it thoroughly. the way you grip it, the slow strokes—it’s almost automatic, the sight of it in your hand makes his jaw clench, and you can practically hear his breath catch.

he shifts in his seat, eyes glued to the movement of your hand. he swallows thickly, his gaze darkening, and you can see the tension building in his body. it’s not just teasing anymore—he’s feeling this, just as much as you are.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his eyes not leaving the way your hand moves, the way the lube makes the dildo glisten. for a split second, it’s like he can’t even blink, like if he does, he might miss something.

you feel your body flush even more, and you bite your lip as you spread your legs slightly, reaching down with your lubed-up fingers to ease yourself open. “look away for a sec,” you mumble.

he scoffs, eyes narrowing, but he closes them. still, you know better than to think he’s not peeking—there’s no way he’s fully shutting you out. and sure enough, you catch him with one eye cracked open, watching, his arms crossed over his chest trying to look calm and shit, but his body clearly stiffen up. the slick sounds of your fingers working you open fill the air, and you can’t help the small whimpers that escape your lips. each one seems to hit him like a punch, his eyes flickering, the sound driving him crazy.

you can feel your own wetness mixing with the lube as you stretch yourself, prepping so you can sit on it. your breath hitches as you pull your hand away, finally sitting back up on your knees. “i’m gonna… i’m sliding on it now,” you whisper, like saying it aloud makes it even more real.

his—both—eyes snap open at that, and he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, staring hard. “yeah? let me see,” oh, he had his soothed voice, and you can feel the his gaze on you.

your body trembles as you line yourself up, one hand braced on the floor in front of you for support as the other lined the toy. the first contact makes you bite your bottom lip, your pussy lips parting as you sink down, the head of the dildo stretching you slowly. you let out a soft moan, your body reacting to the stretch, the feel of the silicone sliding inside.

“shit,” you breathe out, your head falling forward as you lower yourself further, taking more of it in—the cool, smooth silicone pushing into you, the lube making everything slick and easy. the way it presses against your inner walls has you clenching around it, your muscles pulsing as you adjust.

you can feel seungcheol’s eyes on you, locked onto the way your body reacts, the small tremors running through you. his fingers twitch, his hands squeezing each other so tightly you swear his knuckles are turning almost purple.

he’s almost breathless from just watching. you feel so full, the stretch making your hips shake as you rock slightly, sliding the dildo deeper inside. the pressure builds as your pussy hugs the toy, the texture of it rubbing against you in all the right places.

your shirt brushes against the floor as you lean forward, hips grinding down, taking the dildo all the way in. your hand clutches the floor for balance, the other gripping your thigh as you start to move, slowly at first, testing how much you can take. each slide has you gasping, your wetness mixing with the lube, creating obscene, slick sounds that echo through the room.

seungcheol’s eyes are practically burning holes into you, his breath coming out in short, shallow pants. you can feel his tension, his need to see everything, to watch every reaction, every twitch of your body as you ride the dildo.

“c’mon… let me see your face, baby,” he sulks in a greedy way.

but you shake your head again, hiding behind your hair, your chest heaving as the pleasure builds, too shy to meet his gaze. your pussy tightens around the toy as you rock your hips, the friction making your thighs shake, your moans escaping louder now, uncontrollable.

he leans in even closer, eyes dark and heavy, and it feels like he’s about to explode just from watching. his voice drops, “take that shirt off.”

“cheollie…” your voice cracks, finally looking at him for the first time since you started riding the toy. the moment your eyes meet his, the intensity nearly floors you. he’s been watching you with such focus, so goddamn turned on, and you can see it all over his face—his chest heaving, his lips slightly parted, the eyebrows knit together.

he’s so still for a second, but his eyes flick down to where the toy disappears inside you, watching how your pussy swallows the dildo, and it’s like he can’t hold it in anymore. “lift it up a little, just a little,” he says.

with a shaky breath, you slowly raise the hem of your shirt, pulling it up until it rests just under your belly button, feeling the cool air against your sopping cunt. the moment he sees you fully exposed, he lets out a low groan, like he’s moaning right along with you. his eyes are glued to the way your body moves, the way your slick drips down onto the floor as you rock your hips harder.

“fuck, you’re dripping all over,” he mutters, his eyes flicking between your face and the obscene sight below you. you’re too overwhelmed to even process the words fully, but when you feel his gaze lingering a bit too much, like he’s inspecting every little detail, you can’t help but try to hide again.

you quickly cover yourself with your hand, right over your clit, your other hand flying to the floor to support yourself as your head falls back, mouth open as a loud moan escapes. it’s getting too good now, the way the toy presses up against your walls.

you circle your clit with the hand covering you, the added stimulation making your moans uncontrollable, rolling your hips harder and faster on the dildo. “fuck, cheol… oh my god…” your voice is all breathy and desperate, and you can feel his eyes on you, burning, drinking in every reaction.

he leans forward again, elbows resting on his knees, his voice dropping even lower, almost a growl. “does it feel good, baby? look at you, fucking yourself like that. is it really better than the real thing?”

you shake your head, gasping for air, unable to form any real words as your hips move on their own, chasing the high that’s building. his voice is like gasoline on a fire, making everything burn hotter, the pleasure consuming you. you can't even look him in the eye, too mortified by how good this feels, by how badly you want more, maybe how badly you want... him?

“ride it like it’s me,” he rasps, and you almost choke on your own breath at the words. “pretend it’s my cock you’re bouncing on. ride it like you’d ride me.”

your whole body freezes for a second, the words sinking in, and your mind spins, caught between the fantasy and the reality of what’s happening. the thought of him, of riding him instead of the toy—it makes you instantly clench around the soft silicone.

you breathe in sharply, your chest heaving as you press your hand back on the floor, leaning forward. the angle change gives him the perfect view, your ass sticking out behind you, uncovered, as you start to bounce on the dildo, your knees moving in and out as you grind down harder. your moans grow louder, more desperate.

he groans softly, watching the way your body moves, the way you tremble and gasp. “shit, look at you… would you ride me like that?” his voice is so velvety. and its doing things to you. “would you moan even louder for me?”

the thought of it, of him underneath you, of riding him instead, has you spiraling. your mind can’t shake the image of his cock inside you, of bouncing on him just like this. the fantasy is too vivid, too real, and your body reacts before you can stop it. your hips slam down onto the toy harder, your moans growing higher in pitch, louder, uncontrollable.

he bites his lip, his eyes locked on the way you grind down on the dildo. his hand slides inside his sweatpants, gripping his cock, stroking himself in time with your movements, his breath coming out in shallow, desperate pants.

“fuck, you’d feel so good on me,” he groans, his hand moving faster as he strokes himself. “i bet you’d be so tight, so wet for me. you’re already dripping everywhere, baby… fuck, just thinking about it is making me lose it.”

you’re barely coherent at this point, your mind clouded by the sound of his voice, by the way the toy stretches you just right. the wet sounds of your pussy sliding up and down the dildo fill the room, mingling with your moans and his ragged breathing.

“cheol… i’m… i’m so close,” you manage to gasp out, your body trembling as you push yourself closer to the edge.

his eyes darken even more, his jaw clenched tight. “yeah? gonna cum for me?” his voice is strained.

he moves before you can even catch your breath, standing up from the chair, your hips still working on the dildo, but now, sitting straight again, and you can barely focus as he steps closer, towering over you even as he kneels down, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly.

“cheol, i—” you don’t even get the chance to finish before his hands push you down, forcing your body to slide deeper onto the dildo. you gasp, eyes widening as the toy sinks so deep inside you that it steals the air from your lungs, making you feel it so deep inside you. your hands fly to his chest, gripping his shirt tightly as you tremble against him, the fullness making it impossible to move.

your head falls forward onto his chest, whimpering as your body starts to shake. the pressure is unbearable, the dildo pressing so deep inside you that it makes your whole body seize up. and then he presses you down even further, his hands now gripping your hips, pushing you until the toy is buried to the hilt, the balls of the toy pressed on your clit, you lose it.

“CHEOL! i’m—oh my go-o-d,” you cry out, your whole body convulsing as your orgasm hits, this one even harder than any other. your hands claw at his shirt, your face pressed against his chest as you cum, trembling uncontrollably. you can’t think, can’t breathe, and he holds you through it, keeping you pinned down, making sure you feel every second of it.

he doesn’t say a word, just watches you with that hungry look in his eyes, his hands never leaving your hips as your body shakes against him.

the pleasure finally start to ebb, and you’re left panting, your body slumping against him, completely spent.

he lifts your face gently, his fingers under your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “look at me,” he whispers, his breath hot against your lips, and before you can react, he’s kissing you, desperate, all tongues and messy breaths. the taste of him fills your senses, his lips devouring yours, his hands sliding up your body to cup your face.

the kiss is all heat, your head spinning as you melt into him, moaning into his mouth as his tongue tangles with yours. he pulls away just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. “you’re so fucking perfect, you know that?”

you can barely respond, still lost in the fog, but then he’s pulling you up, guiding you to the edge of the bed. your knees hit the floor as he bends you over the corner, your chest pressed into the mattress, and you can feel him behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he positions himself.

“can i baby? can i?” he growls, and you nod weakly, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you brace yourself. he presses the tip of his cock against your entrance, and the second he starts to push inside, you gasp, your hands clutching at the sheets. he’s so much thicker than the toy, so much warmer, so much real.

“fuck, cheol… it’s so… so big,” you moan, your voice shaky, and he chuckles darkly, his hands tightening on your hips as he pushes deeper.

“you can take it, pretty,” he mutters, his voice strained. “look at how well you’re taking me already, fuck… you’re so wet. such a perfect pussy,”

you can feel every inch of him, the way he pushes you open, the heat of his cock filling you in a way that’s completely different from the toy. the fullness making your head spin, but it feels so fucking good at the same time.

he starts to move, slow at first, letting you adjust to the thickness of him, but soon he’s fucking you harder, each thrust making your body yank forward, your moans getting louder with every snap of his hips.

and then he reaches behind him, grabbing the dildo, and you feel his hand slide around to your face. “open your mouth,” he orders, and you obey, your lips parting as he presses the toy against them. “suck on it.”

you moan around the toy as he slides it into your mouth, the taste of the lube mixed with your own slick coating your tongue. the act of it is so filthy, so wrong, but it turns you on even more, the feeling of his cock fucking you from behind while you suck on the dildo making your whole body burn.

“that’s it, baby, just like that,” he groans, his voice thick with lust. “fuck, you’re so fucking hot… i can’t believe how good you look right now, sucking on that while i fuck you.”

your eyes roll back as he fucks you harder, the sound of your moans muffled by the toy in your mouth. the way he’s talking to you, the dirty words spilling from his lips, makes your whole body tingle with arousal.

“you like this, huh? you like being fucked like this?” he growls, his pace quickening, his cock slamming into you with each thrust. “i bet you’d love to have my cock in your mouth instead, wouldn’t you? bet you’d choke on it, make those pretty little sounds for me.”

you whimper around the dildo, nodding weakly, your body shaking with pleasure as he fucks you harder, deeper. the pressure is building again, that familiar heat pooling in your core, and you know you’re close, so fucking close.

“gonna cum again, huh?” he grunts, his voice tight. “fuck, i can feel it. you’re so close, baby. just let go. let go f'me...”

your body spasms violently, and you barely register the way your throat tightens around the dildo as he pushes it deeper. for a moment, everything goes hazy—your head spinning from the overstimulation, your knees shaking beneath you. the sensation of being so full, of having him inside you while the dildo stretches your throat, sends you into a dizzying spiral, leaving you shaking.

your face falls onto the mattress, your body too weak to hold you up anymore. you can feel him pulling out of you, the sudden emptiness making you shiver, and then he moans—and you hear the sound of his cum, warm and wet against the floor.

he pulls the dildo from your mouth, and you gasp for air, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. your throat feels raw, hoarse from the way you had been gagging around the toy, but you can’t even focus on that, still reeling from the power of your orgasm. your throat burning from how deep the dildo had gone.

he’s still kneeling behind you, his hands resting on your hips as he leans forward, his breath hot against the back of your neck. “you’re so fucking hot,” he murmurs. “you should’ve seen yourself, baby. you looked so fucking good riding that dildo like that... i cant wait to see you riding me, real, real.”

you shudder at his words, a faint whimper escaping your lips. your body is still trembling, you feel weak and shaky, but the way he’s talking to you—so dirty—it makes your head spin all over again. his hands sliding up your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your back, his hands sliding down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “i want you to be that horny for me all the time. i want you to think about this every time you touch yourself from now on.”

you groan, burying your face deeper into the mattress, your heart pounding in your chest. he pulls back slightly, his fingers gently tugging at your hair until you turn your head to look up at him. you close your eyes, your breath still coming in shallow gasps as you try to calm down.

“cheol…” you whisper, your voice hoarse, “i don’t… i don’t think i can move…”

he chuckles softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. “you don’t have to move, baby,” he says, his voice gentle now, softer than before. “just relax. you did so good for me… just rest.”

you nod weakly, him putting you fully on the bed so you can lay fully, your body sinking into the mattress.

“you okay?” he asks quietly after a few minutes, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face.

you nod again, your voice barely above a whisper. “yeah… just… tired.”

he smiles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple. “good. you deserve to rest after that.” he stays close, his warmth comforting against your skin, and you feel his lips curl into a smile against your forehead. it feels so fucking good. and you know, deep down, that this won’t be the last time something like this happens.

[shariasweet]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ angel girl

_._____ 𝒙 f.reader

wc ::: drabble length sharinote ::: contains dumbification and some other stuff! unprotected sex as well as mirror sex… also pet names (SLIGHT daddy kink… im so sorry) and overstimulation + squirting and maybs a little roughness. this isn’t proofread grrr :(

[porn no plot] just your boyfriend fucking you dumb and making you squirt 👻

'dumb baby...' your boyfriend relentlessly fucked into you from behind — his breath hot and fanning against you neck, fueling to the fire that was your arousal.

the mirror in front of you was just as foggy as your brain — your eyes clouded, and rolled back as you babbled incoherently. 'mmm...' a soft groan fell bubbling from between your lips.

'you're drooling everywhere, sweet girl...’ your boyfriend’s rough thrusts coming to a slow halt as his hands snaked around your body. ‘here… give daddy your chin, sweetheart.' his long slender fingers came crawling between the valley of your breasts and past your neck to firmly grip you cheeks.

'look at you, sweetheart. so, so pretty.' as he forced your face up and out of the sheets his lips met your own in a sloppy wet kiss — one filled with passion and desire. once more, his hips forcefully slammed against your ass — red from the friction as he buried himself deep within your sopping cunt.

'good girl...' his hand groped the swell of your breasts. as you were overwhelmed with pleasure, you could feel yourself slipping away. what you’d assumed to be your third, maybe fourth orgasm crept up on you. 'aht aht...’ he tutted in your ear. ‘want you to look... watch it, pretty girl.'

you could feel him roughly repositioning your face yet again to stare into your reflection.

he trailed kisses along your neck, chuckling warmly as he saw your eyes snap open in awe at the scene before you: your thighs littered in hickeys your lips puffy and swollen and your whole body quivering in absolute bliss.

'ah! s'too much... s'so deep!' you squirmed. he pressed on the bulge poking out from your lower abdomen. 'too deep? m'only right here... how about this?' harder. deeper. you suddenly hit the mattress, his grip on your waist faltering as he fucked into you with even more dedication... slamming you down and splitting you open for the umpteenth time on his cock... he continued bullying himself cozily into your cunt as he drilled further, and further within you velvety wet walls. ‘ffuck… always so tight aren’t you, baby?’

'ahw fuck, fuck mh!' gasping, your fingers knotted up in the sheets as you moaned uncontrollably… back arching far into the bed before he lifted you up yet again — his tip practically kissing your cervix.

‘shit! w-wait…’ the knot in your stomach began to wrap itself up. waves of pleasure threatening to fall and crash over you if he continued — which he did.

it only took a few more thrusts — each drag of his cock soothing your high as you’d finally came.

sharp thrust after sharp thrust… you took note of how he carefully overstimulated you. harshly rubbing your clit even after your orgasm. ‘shit! a-already… fuck… I already came.’ you pout, whining. ‘I know, just hold on, baby… need one more thing from you.’

‘unghhh!’ the male had lifted you up once more… your reflection not your own as you appeared completely ruined. ‘how’s it feel hm?’ your sore core ached — burning hot as you cried, leaning into his neck. ‘don’t hide.’

‘feels like im ‘gonna pee…’ you mumbled beneath your breath. he nodded. ‘good girl, let go f’me.’

another knot came forming in your tummy…

‘w-wait! ohmygodohmygod..!’ and clear liquid shot from between you legs. drenching the sheets and you and your boyfriend's thighs.

the two of you breathed heavily collapsing onto one another as he kissed your forehead. ‘angel girl…’ he purred. ‘did so good for me yeah?’

lee heuseng: yang jungwon: choi soobin: kang taehyun: jeong yunho: choi san: taesan: leehan: park gunwook: suh johnny: lee jeno: whoever else your little heart desires 🤍

[mooningningg]

"ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴘᴀʏ ʀᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜ" ᴛɪᴋᴛᴏᴋ ᴘʀᴀɴᴋ ᴏɴ ᴊᴊᴋ ᴍᴇɴ

Toji, Gojo, Suguru, Nanami, Sukuna, and Megumi

Genre, fluff. Notes, I love this trend, thank you anon for requesting!!

★ TOJI FUSHIGURO

Toji was crouched in front of the open fridge, shirtless, halfway through eating cold leftovers with a fork when you leaned on the kitchen counter.

You cleared your throat. “Babe… I can’t pay rent this month.”

He froze. Slowly straightened up, container still in hand. Turned to look at you.

Eyebrow raised. Chewing.

Then — a pause. Swallow. Blink.

“The fuck you mean you can’t pay rent?” he asked, pointing the fork at you.

You tried to keep a straight face. “I’ve been falling behind lately. Money’s tight.”

“Yeah?” He slammed the fridge shut with his knee. “That’s crazy. You ever paid rent?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

He walked over, leaned on the counter, tilted his head. “You said that like you’ve ever paid a single peso to live here.”

“I bought sponges,” you argued weakly.

“Oh, great. You’re contributing to the domestic economy.” He snorted, set the container down, and smirked. “You got real bold talkin’ about rent like it was your fuckin’ bill.”

You couldn’t help but crack a smile. “It was a prank.”

Toji smirked wider. “Hope so. 'Cause the only thing you’re payin’ for here is in backrubs and silence during UFC fights.”

★ GOJO SATORU

You found him in the bathroom mirror, halfway through his unnecessarily long skincare routine, humming to himself with a headband holding his hair back.

“Hey, babe?”

He flicked eye cream onto his cheek. “What’s up, sugarplum?”

“I can’t pay rent this month.”

He stopped mid-swipe. Stared at your reflection in the mirror. Lowered his hands.

“Sorry — you can’t what?”

“I said I can’t pay rent,” you repeated, straight-faced.

Gojo turned slowly, headband still on, a full pause as he looked you up and down.

“You don’t… pay rent.”

“I know,” you said innocently. “But if I did… I couldn’t.”

He blinked. “So let me get this straight. You walked into this bathroom — where I’m moisturizing with serums worth more than your entire shoe rack — and said, ‘I can’t pay rent this month,’ like you’ve ever paid for more than iced coffee and lip gloss?”

“I’m manifesting financial stress,” you defended.

He put a hand over his chest, faking a dramatic gasp. “I can’t believe you gaslighted me into budgeting emotions I didn’t need.”

You cracked. “It’s a prank, Satoru!”

He grinned, pulling you into a hug with sticky fingers. “You’re lucky you’re hot. And lucky I’m rich. And lucky I moisturize. You’d be on the street.”

★ GETO SUGURU

You caught him on the couch, glasses on, reading a book with a warm cup of tea in hand.

“Suguru?”

“Mmm?” he hummed, not looking up.

“I can’t pay rent this month.”

The page paused mid-turn. He lowered the book slowly. Looked at you.

“You can’t pay what?”

“Rent,” you said seriously.

He stared, completely still.

“Darling, when have you ever paid rent?” he asked softly, sipping his tea again. “Did you recently get a job I don’t know about?”

You tried to hold your laugh. “Well, no. But I thought I should let you know.”

Suguru set the cup down gently. “I see. Thank you for your transparency. I’ll make sure to let the landlord — who is also me — know that your 0% contribution remains unchanged.”

You burst out laughing. “It’s a prank!”

He sighed dramatically. “Then I suppose the flowers I was about to buy you for being honest about your finances can now be redirected to a nice psychiatric evaluation.”

★ KENTO NANAMI

Nanami was seated at the dining table, neat papers beside his laptop, glasses perched on his nose. The aura of a man trying to make sense of the world through Excel.

You walked up cautiously. “Kento?”

“Hmm?”

“I can’t pay rent this month.”

He didn’t look up. Just adjusted his glasses. “…You don’t pay rent.”

“Well, if I did…”

Nanami exhaled slowly. Finally raised his head. “Are you saying this to be funny, or are you testing my patience?”

“Little of both,” you admitted.

Nanami closed his laptop. “Do you recall how much the last electricity bill was?”

“…No.”

“Exactly.”

You smiled sheepishly. “It was a prank.”

He gave you a long, silent look. Then stood up, walked over, kissed your forehead, and murmured, “Prank responsibly. Or you’ll be writing receipts for every spoon you touch.”

★ RYOMEN SUKUNA

He was on the couch shirtless, watching some brutal action movie, half a bowl of chips on his lap.

“Hey, Sukuna?”

He didn’t look at you. “What.”

“I can’t pay rent this month.”

That got his attention. His eyes slowly cut toward you.

“You can’t what?” he repeated, low and dangerous.

“I can’t pay rent,” you said again.

He turned off the TV with the remote. Sat up.

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “You think you live here rent-free on charity?”

You held up a hand. “Technically, I do—”

“Exactly.” He pointed at you. “You eat my food, steal my hoodies, shed your shampoo all over my tub, and now you’re announcing your broke ass like I was waiting for a payment?”

You snorted. “It’s a prank—!”

He stood up, stalked toward you, cornered you against the wall with a hand beside your head.

“You better start payin’ in blowjobs and loyalty if you’re gonna pull dumb shit like this.”

You were laughing, face burning. “I do!”

He pulled back, grinning darkly. “Good. Rent accepted.”

★ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

Megumi was folding laundry on the bed when you walked in, pretending to be stressed.

“Gumi… I can’t pay rent this month.”

He paused, shirt in hand.

“…You never pay rent.”

“I know. But I can’t this month either.”

He turned to face you fully, blinking slowly. “You… said that like you contribute more than cuddles and three dirty dishes a day.”

You crossed your arms. “That’s valuable emotional labor.”

He gave you a deadpan stare. “This is why I get gray hair.”

You cracked a smile. “It’s a prank.”

Megumi sighed, finishing the fold. “Okay. But I’m adding ‘rent anxiety’ to the list of reasons why I’m cooking dinner without you tonight.”

[papayainsectorone]

Look at You.

alternative title: objects in mirror may be hornier than they appear

summary: teasing turns into something intense, it’s the beginning of something more: exploration and a growing list of fantasies you’re both eager to check off

content: 18+!! smut, nsfw, mirror sex, voyeuristic elements, power dynamics (soft), mutual teasing, consent & trust, some bondage, public play references, kink discovery, domestic intimacy, lando being a menace, horny but wholesome energy

word count: 5.3k

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

walls are way too thin - series - a´s masterlist

might be confusing if read as standalone

It’s quiet,the kind of quiet that only settles a few days after chaos, when the dust has settled but the air still remembers the storm. The hotel room is dimly lit, the curtains drawn against a pale, lazy afternoon. The TV flickers in the corner, playing something neither of you are watching, some cooking show or maybe a nature doc, sound turned low, narration drifting in and out like a lullaby.

You’re stretched across the wide hotel couch, head tipped back over the armrest, spine curled in something between contentment and exhaustion. Your legs are draped across Lando’s lap, bare skin pressed against the soft cotton of his joggers. A half-eaten bowl of crisps rests on your stomach, crumbs dotting your shirt like little souvenirs from earlier laughter.

Lando’s hand moves slowly, absentmindedly, tracing lazy patterns across your shins. He doesn’t look at you—his gaze is trained on the ceiling like he expects it to blink back at him. There’s a stillness in his posture that feels rare, like he’s finally let himself land after being airborne too long.

And then—he shifts.

It’s subtle, but you feel it. The way his thighs tighten beneath you, the sudden pause in his fingers like a thought just took up too much space in his chest. You don’t move. Don’t even open your eyes.

“What?” you murmur, voice hoarse with rest.

There’s a beat. Then, light and unmistakably mischievous:

“You know the thing you told me…”

You sigh, already bracing. “Lando, I say like... a million things to you every day. Narrow it down.”

You can hear the smirk as he speaks, soft and self-satisfied. “The thing about mirrors.”

Your eyes fly open.

He doesn’t look down right away—just grins like he’s been waiting for your reaction. Like he’s been saving this for exactly when your defenses are lowest. Your legs twitch in his lap, but he grabs your ankle before you can pull away.

“Don’t,” you warn, voice already warm with embarrassed laughter.

“Oh, I will,” he says, finally glancing down at you. His curls fall toward your face, casting shadows across your cheeks. “You said—and I quote—‘I’ve always wondered what I’d look like fucked in front of a mirror.’”

You groan, dragging one hand over your face. “I was drunk.”

He hums like he’s considering it. His thumb circles the inside of your ankle now—barely there, but maddening. “You were honest,” he says, sing-song and smug.

Your hand stays over your eyes, but you peek at him through your fingers. His grin has grown just a little too pleased with himself, like he knows exactly what kind of spiral he’s starting.

“I hate you,” you mutter, half-hearted.

“No you don’t.” His free hand moves to your thigh, thumb brushing lightly beneath the hem of your shorts, casual—but not. There’s intention behind the touch now. Something slower. More curious. “You trust me with your darkest, filthiest secrets.”

You snort. “That wasn’t a secret. It was a hypothetical.” Your voice is muffled against your palm, but your breath hitches all the same.

“Mmm,” he hums, not even trying to mask how much he’s enjoying this. “You said you’d never done it. That you wanted to watch.” He drags out the last word, slow and sticky with intent. “Wanted to see your own face when you came.”

You drop your hand from your face with an exaggerated sigh and give him a flat look. “You are literally insufferable.”

Lando just leans back, completely unbothered, his grin widening into something downright sinful. “But now I can’t stop thinking about it. You. Mirror. Me behind you…” He shifts slightly beneath you, his hands tightening on your thighs as he lets the images stack. “On your knees. On top. Bent over the edge of the bed, maybe. Fuck—bent against the mirror.”

He shrugs with an easy, almost innocent smile. “I’m not picky.”

You sigh again, a little less dramatic this time—more resigned. “You’re such a menace.”

“And you,” he says, eyes gleaming, voice dipping low, “love it.”

He lets that word sit for a second, warm and weighty.

“Maybe…” he adds, almost too casual, “you still want it?”

There’s a beat.

Then his gaze slides across the room—to the tall, sleek mirror propped elegantly near the corner, angled just enough that you can see the bed behind it. It’s glossy and unassuming, entirely unaware that it’s about to become the center of a very inappropriate conversation.

You follow his line of sight automatically, lifting your head from the couch. The mirror gleams back, pure and quiet.

He catches your hesitation. Sees the way your eyes linger just a second too long.

“Oh fuck,” he whispers, voice delighted, “you do.”

“Lando,” you say, a warning, though your voice is already softer. Already shifting.

“Don’t Lando me.” He slides his hand lower, palm trailing along your ribs, your waist, slow and exploratory. “You’re the one who planted the idea. I’m just—” his thumb dips just beneath the waistband of your joggers “—cultivating it.”

You bark a laugh, caught off guard. “You sound like a pervy gardener.”

“Pervy, definitely,” he says, grinning. “But also curious.”

He tilts his head like he’s thinking deeply, but his fingers don’t stop moving. They hook just slightly into the elastic at your hip, not tugging—just there.

“Aren’t you?” he asks.

You don’t answer right away. Mostly because your mouth’s gone dry again. Because yeah, okay—maybe it wasn’t just a passing comment. Maybe you have thought about it since then. More than once. Maybe you’ve imagined watching the way your body moves, the way his hands look on your skin, the way your own expression changes when he’s deep inside you. Maybe that idea has stuck to you like syrup ever since it slipped out of your mouth.

He shifts beneath you, knees nudging until you’re forced to sit upright in his lap. Your breath stutters at the sudden shift in posture, in energy. He’s closer now. Focused. Serious in a way that feels heavy and intimate.

“You want to see how good you look,” he murmurs, voice nearly a whisper, “or do you want to see how good I make you look?”

Your throat is tight, pulse thudding behind your ears. When you speak, it’s smaller than you meant it to be.

“Both.”

His grin turns sharp, almost reverent. “Come on, then.”

He offers his hand—palm up, fingers open, like he’s inviting you to dance.

You arch a brow, resisting the tug in your chest. “What is this, prom night?”

“Don’t make me carry you,” he warns, already bracing.

“You wouldn’t—”

You don’t even get the word out.

He lunges, sudden and unreasonably fast for someone so full of crisps and cockiness. His hands slide under your thighs, then your waist, and before you can blink, you’re off the couch and slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“Lando!” you yelp, legs kicking uselessly in the air as your view flips upside down. “Put me down, you absolute dickhead—!”

He just laughs, a rich, full sound that bounces off the hotel walls. One of his hands pats your ass, entirely too pleased with himself. “Told you not to test me.”

You slap weakly at his back, breathless from laughing. “I swear to god—”

He spins in a tight, dizzying circle just to make it worse, your hair whipping around your face, before finally, finally setting you down with surprising care.

Your feet hit the carpet. You’re standing in front of the mirror now.

It towers in front of you, clean and polished and waiting. You catch your reflection—a little wild-eyed, flushed from laughter, shirt rumpled and falling off one shoulder.

Lando steps up behind you, chest brushing your back, hands still on your waist. His face is close to your ear now, voice low and soft and too sincere.

“You wanna see what I see?”

Your laughter lingered in your throat as you caught your own reflection—wild hair, flushed cheeks, the hem of your shirt now askew from the ride. Behind you, Lando’s hands slid over your hips, steadying you. His eyes met yours in the mirror, playful but darkened by something deeper.

“Better,” he murmured, close to your ear.

“Now look,” he murmurs, catching your gaze in the glass. “Don’t look at me. Look at you.”

His hands move under your shirt, slow and deliberate, calloused fingertips grazing the curve of your waist like he’s rediscovering you. The brush of skin-on-skin sends goosebumps racing down your arms, and for a moment, all you can do is breathe. Shallow, shaky, anticipatory.

Then his hand rises—firm but gentle—tilting your chin with two fingers until your gaze lifts. He angles your head toward the mirror. Forces your eyes to meet your own reflection.

His mouth finds that sensitive spot just behind your ear, lips warm, tongue flicking out briefly, and your lashes flutter, instinct pulling you inward. But he taps your jaw, gentle but insistent.

“Nope,” he murmurs, voice low and curling with amusement, a grin pressed against your skin. “Keep watching.”

You swallow hard.

He peels your shirt off slowly, raising your arms over your head, the fabric brushing your flushed skin as it slides away. He lets it fall to the floor without ceremony. His own shirt follows seconds later, revealing the warmth of his chest against your back. You can feel his skin, hot and solid and there.

You glance at the mirror again—see yourself bare from the waist up, your body molded into his, and his arms winding around you. His hands travel the span of your torso, tracing the curve of your ribs, skimming under the band of your bra. The way your body arches into his touch is automatic. Craving.

And then his fingers slip below the waistband of your joggers, dragging slow over your hipbones, thumbs sliding inward toward the center of you.

“Still just a fantasy?” he asks, mouth brushing your shoulder, voice husky now, the heat rising between you undeniable.

You don’t answer.

You can’t.

Your pulse is pounding in your ears, blood rushing to all the wrong places, and his fingers are already dipping low—confident, familiar, but still unbearably teasing.

He chuckles, and the sound is low and dark and satisfied, vibrating down the line of your spine like thunder.

“That’s what I thought.”

Your knees wobble. You reach forward, planting one hand against the edge of the mirror to stay upright, palm flat against the glass as he presses himself flush against your back. The heat of him envelops you, chest to spine, hips snug. You can feel him hard against you, feel every line of tension in his body. But it’s his focus that undoes you—the way his gaze stays locked on yours in the reflection.

It’s the most exposed you’ve ever felt—not because of how little you’re wearing, but because of how seen you are.

He’s watching your face as he touches you—watching the way your mouth parts with each exhale, the way your eyes go half-lidded when his fingers dip just a little lower. You try to stay still. Try not to squirm or reach for more.

But your hips roll back, seeking pressure, seeking him.

He smirks, maddening. And then he pulls back—just enough to make you whimper.

“Patience,” he whispers, lips grazing your ear, hot and breathy. “You said you wanted to see, didn’t you?”

“Fuck,” you breathe, the word barely audible, your knuckles going white where you grip the edge of the dresser. “Then stop teasing.”

“Oh,” he says, amused and dark, his teeth grazing your neck, “now you want it quick?”

His fingers slip forward again, slow, purposeful, slick with anticipation.

“What happened to the fantasy?” he teases, circling your clit with such maddening gentleness you could scream. “Didn’t you want to watch yourself fall apart?”

You moan softly, forehead resting against the glass, your own eyes blinking back at you—flushed, parted lips, pupils wide with want. He doesn’t let you look away.

His hand at your jaw moves again, angling your face so you have to see. Have to witness yourself unraveling at the hands of someone who knows exactly how to pull you apart.

“Keep watching,” he says again, and this time there’s no grin—just heat. Reverence. Need.

You do.

And it’s devastating.

He pushes your joggers and underwear down in one smooth, unhurried motion—like he’s unwrapping something he’s been dying to get his hands on. The fabric pools around your ankles, and you step out without looking, body trembling with anticipation. The cool air kisses your calves, but it doesn’t register. Not when Lando’s already behind you again, all warm skin and want and steady hands.

You meet his eyes in the mirror.

He’s devouring you.

Shirtless, hair messy, lips parted just slightly, chest rising with slow, deliberate breaths. His gaze is heavy—dragging over every inch of you, lingering at the curve of your ass, the dip of your spine, the tension in your thighs. And then he finds your reflection, locking eyes with you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted.

“You’re so hot,” he whispers, reverent. Like he’s saying it more to himself than to you.

Your breath catches. “Please,” you manage, quiet, aching.

His hand moves then—slides slowly down your stomach, fingers splayed wide. You feel the way his palm presses heat into your skin, trailing lower, lower. You can’t look away. Not from him. Not from you. Your reflection shows everything—the way your mouth falls open, the way your legs shift restlessly, the way your chest rises with every staggered breath.

Then his fingers reach your center.

You jolt—just slightly—as he slides between your folds, already slick and ready for him. His touch is sure, practiced, unbearably slow at first. Just the pads of his fingers, circling, exploring, spreading you open like a secret. He watches it all. Watches you watching him. The way your hips twitch forward against his hand. The flush spreading down your chest. The desperation leaking out of every breath.

He moves with maddening control circling your clit with just the right pressure, dipping down to gather more slick, then back up again. A rhythm that’s measured, teasing, intimate. It’s not just about getting you off. It’s about watching what it does to you.

“Look at yourself,” he murmurs, voice rough against your ear. “Look how you fall apart for me.”

You can’t stop.

You don’t want to.

Every roll of his fingers makes your knees shake, your hand clutch the mirror for dear life. You gasp when he slips one finger inside, then another, curling them just right, his other hand bracing your hip, grounding you, anchoring you.

And in the mirror, you watch it all: the flushed wreckage of your face, the ripple of your stomach, the dark intensity in his eyes as he works you open, coaxing you closer with every slow thrust of his hand.

You’ve never looked so utterly undone.

And he’s never looked more obsessed.

“Fuck, you feel—” he chokes on the rest, breath catching in his throat as your body tightens around his fingers, heat pulsing through you like a live wire.

Your eyes flutter shut without meaning to, overwhelmed—but his hand tangles gently in your hair, tugging just enough to bring your gaze back to the mirror. Back to him. Back to you.

“Look,” he murmurs, voice low and fraying. “Don’t miss this.”

And so you do. You force your eyes open, breath trembling, and meet your reflection.

It nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

Your lips are parted in something between a gasp and a moan, cheeks flushed deep, collarbone rising and falling with every hitched breath. Your skin is glowing with heat, the sheen of sweat already starting to gather where his chest brushes your back. You can see the exact moment his fingers curl just right—your body jerks, stomach twitching, another sound slipping free before you can swallow it.

It’s just his fingers. Just the slow, relentless rhythm of them moving inside you, pressing into that spot that makes your vision go white. But it feels like everything. It feels like he’s inside every part of you at once. Filling you. Reading you. Ruining you.

And still—he’s watching. Not even glancing at the mirror anymore. His gaze is fixed on you, the real you, the shaking, gasping version he’s holding up with one arm while the other works you to the edge with steady, intimate precision. Like he’s memorizing you in real time. Like he’s never seen anything more perfect.

His jaw is tight, flexing with restraint, his breath warm and ragged against your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good,” he groans again, voice breaking into something raw. “So wet for me.”

You try to respond, but your throat closes around the sound. Your whole body is tensing, spiraling fast.

And in the mirror, you watch the moment your mouth falls open. The exact second your thighs shake. The tremor in your fingers as you brace yourself, barely upright, chasing the inevitable.

It’s not just his fingers—it’s his voice, his breath, the mirror, the way you’re both watching you fall apart like it’s the most sacred thing in the world.

“Let go,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “I’ve got you.”

Your hand slips against the mirror, palm slick—every nerve drawn taut around the rhythm of his fingers.

He knows you’re close. You feel it in the way his movements grow more focused, more deliberate. No teasing now. No retreat. Just the steady pressure of his fingers stroking deep, the heel of his palm grinding against the swollen ache of your clit in perfect rhythm.

Your thighs tremble. Your breath catches.

“You gonna come for me?” he breathes into your neck, voice wrecked and reverent, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. His eyes flick to the mirror. “Look how fucking gorgeous you are like this. Falling apart for me.”

You do.

Your reflection is a blur of parted lips and wide, glossy eyes—cheeks flushed, chest heaving, jaw slack. You’ve never seen yourself like this. Not just the way you look, but the way he watches you. Like he worships it. Like nothing else matters. His mouth is at your shoulder, open and hot, his hand at your front dragging you closer to the edge with every pass.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers, and it’s the tenderness in his voice that tips you over. Not the pressure. Not the friction. Him.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

He’s fucking you deep, hard, but controlled, letting the pace build slow enough to make you desperate, fast enough to make your legs shake.

“Lan—” you gasp, but it falls apart when he moves his fingers just right.

“I know,” he groans, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “You’re close. I can feel it.”

You nod frantically, one hand flying back to grip his hip, anchoring yourself.

“Eyes. On. Me.”

You obey, barely. And when you come, it’s blinding. Messy. His name torn from your lips as your body trembles and he doesn’t stop.

You stay like that, breathless, collapsed against jim, both of you shining with sweat, cheeks flushed, bodies humming.

The mirror shows it all: the wrecked hair, the red marks, the wild grins that creep in after the comedown.

He catches your eye in the glass again.

You’re still breathless, your palms pressed to the cool glass, forehead resting there for a moment as your lungs fight to steady. The air between you crackles—humid with sweat and heat, your bodies humming, flushed, open.

Behind you, Lando doesn’t move. But you feel it—that lingering pull just beneath the surface. His hands still at your waist, thumbs moving in slow, reverent strokes like he’s memorizing the afterglow.

And when you glance up, find his gaze in the mirror again, it’s still there. Hunger.

Low, molten, impossible to ignore.

You both look wrecked. Hair wild, skin marked, eyes glazed and grinning in a way that only happens when you’ve finally crossed a line you’ve been dancing around for too long.

You catch your breath. Blink once. Then smile lazy, knowing.

“Fuck,” you murmur, finally turning in his arms. “Like we’re stopping there.”

He laughs, surprised, still catching up but you’re already tugging him backward by the wrist, toward the bed, toward more.

He lets you, pliant and amused, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. You give him a gentle push and he goes easily, landing with a soft grunt, elbows braced behind him, curls sticking to his damp forehead.

“You’re serious?” he asks, grinning like he already knows the answer.

You don’t respond. You just drop to your knees between his legs, fingers finding the waistband of his joggers and tugging them down in one confident pull.

His breath stutters, eyes flicking to the space between you. But just as he looks down, your hand wraps around his thigh—firm. The other slides up, curling into the hair at the nape of your neck as you tilt your face up.

“No, no,” you say, smirking as his cock twitches. “You’re watching now.”

You jerk your chin toward the mirror.

His jaw slackens a bit—something in him tipping from smug to stunned as he realizes what you’re doing.

You lean in, breath warm over his skin but not touching, watching his reflection watch you.

“Don’t take your eyes off it,” you whisper.

You shift closer, knees spreading wide on the soft rug between his legs, hands gliding up the backs of his thighs—slow, deliberate. The muscles there twitch beneath your touch, and he exhales sharply, head tipping back for just a second before he remembers.

The mirror.

You watch his gaze drop to meet yours in the reflection, jaw tight, eyes dark with something deeper than lust. Anticipation. Awe.

Your fingers curl around the base of him, gentle at first. Testing. He’s already hard���hot and heavy in your palm and he twitches at the first light stroke of your thumb.

“Eyes up,” you murmur, just loud enough for the mirror to catch it.

He obeys.

And then you lean in.

Your lips brush the tip—barely there. Just a whisper of warmth, enough to make him suck in a breath through his teeth. You press a kiss to it like you would his mouth: slow, reverent, nothing rushed. His hips jerk slightly, but your hand steadies him, firm at his thigh.

You let your tongue follow, teasing around the head in lazy, wet circles—coaxing a groan from deep in his chest. It’s not needy yet. It’s slow. Intentional. A build.

His reflection is a portrait of tension: head tilted back slightly, eyes fighting to stay locked on himself, jaw clenched with restraint.

You slide down a little further, taking him just past your lips before pulling back again, spit-slick and grinning as his hips try to chase the heat.

“Patience,” you echo back to him, voice velvet-wrapped and wicked.

He groans—muttering your name like it’s a warning, like he’s hanging on by threads. One hand curls into the bedding, the other flexes at his side, but he still won’t break his stare in the mirror.

Your mouth closes over him again, slower this time, lips stretching around the weight of him. You sink down inch by inch, letting him feel every part of it, every stroke of tongue, every subtle suck until your eyes water slightly and his legs tense beneath your hands.

“Holy fuck,” he whispers, voice rough and wrecked.

And still, you don’t rush.

You keep the rhythm smooth, teasing, rising and falling in slow, deliberate waves. Enough to make his toes curl. Enough to keep him right at the edge without falling.

“You’re killing me,” he breathes, eyes locked on yours like he doesn’t want to miss a single second.

And you smile around him, because that’s the point.

You ease off him with one last wet kiss, lips swollen and glistening, a thin string of saliva catching the light before it breaks. His thighs are tight under your palms, chest rising in jagged, shallow breaths, and in the mirror—God—the restraint written across his face is almost more than you can take.

His hands twitch at his sides like he’s fighting not to grab you.

“You’re too good at this,” he mutters, voice hoarse and reverent, like he’s confessing something sacred. “It’s fucking evil.”

You hum, tongue flicking lazily over your bottom lip. “Is it?”

And then you do it again. Slower. Just your tongue this time, licking a stripe up the underside of him, your eyes locked with his through the mirror like a challenge.

His whole body jolts.

“Jesus—” His voice breaks off into a groan, low and ragged, one hand gripping the edge of the bed like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “You’re playing with fire.”

You take him into your mouth again—deeper now, just for a moment, just enough to make his legs shift, to drag another guttural sound out of his throat—then pull back with a pop. Your hand replaces your mouth, stroking him slowly, firmly, letting your thumb sweep across the head with maddening precision.

He bucks into it instinctively.

Then you stop.

Completely.

He growls, actually growls and sits up straighter, grabbing your arms and hauling you into his lap in one smooth, desperate motion. Your knees hit the mattress on either side of his hips, breath caught somewhere in your chest.

“Okay,” he pants, eyes blazing. “We´re not playing games here.”

You blink, dazed. “What?”

He kisses you hard. Open-mouthed, breathless, filthy. His hands are already moving—gripping your thighs, your hips, pulling you flush against him. You feel the heat of him trapped between you, thick and throbbing, and the way he grinds up just once is all promise.

“I let you play your game,” he murmurs against your mouth, voice a dangerous rumble. “But now we´ll stop the games.”

He flips both of you over. Your head hangs off the bed, hair brushing the floor, and the world spins upside-down for a heartbeat before he’s there, his body aligned with yours. You´re watching the mirror again, your reflection distorted by the angle, but you can still feel every inch of him moving above you.

He pushes in, not slow, not hesitant but hard and sudden, like all restraint has shattered. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes watering from the sharp, beautiful stretch. He meets you in the mirror’s glass too, raw and raging, both of you locked in that watching moment.

For a second it's movie-perfect: your muscles clench, his curls obscure his features, sweat tracing down your skin, your breath mingling in the reflection of glass—every pulse, every flicker of mirrored light, everything raw and wild and real.

His hands grip your hips like they're never going to let go, steadying himself. His free hand moves up to curl around your throat—not choking, but connecting just enough pressure to tie you to the moment. You choke out a groan, voice echoing into the glass like a promise you didn't mean to make.

It’s violent and tender both—his tongue brushing over your collar bone, mouth stretched tight as he grunts and moves. You're balancing between pleasure and panic, eyes on your reflection as you feel him fully seated inside you, deep in a way that steals the air from your lungs.

The mirror explodes with movement: your hips rolling up, his thrusts driving forward, eyes still locked, wanting to see every reaction, every sound leaving your mouth. The world narrows to glass and flesh, sound drowned by the echo of your breathing and the creak of bed slats.

“Fuck,” he hisses into your ear, teeth grazing your lobe. “Look at you.”

You shiver, trembling, caught between the burn and the beauty of watching yourself want him.

He pushes inside you harder, faster. Mirror or not, there's no holding back. Hands move between you, fingers finding that spot behind your hipbone, knuckles brushing skin so perfectly, pleasure and want bleeding together.

You drop your head back, eyes flicking back to the mirror again. It’s too much and enough at once.

“Lando,” you moan. And in your reflection, he hears your name like a vow.

He huffs a laugh—raucous, desperate. “Say it again.”

Your voice shakes as you repeat it. He leans in, thrusts a final time, and everything shatters—clenches, breaks, crashes into the silence after.

The mirror registers your wild exhale, his head bowed low, both of you spent and shaking. In that reflection, you see the aftermath: sweat mottled curls, bruising hips, two silhouettes breathing hard, tangled and real.

He pulls you back up onto the bed fully, lips trailing kisses down your chest until he settles next to you. Everything’s loud now: your breathing, his heartbeat.

You stay there for a long moment, chests rising and falling in sync, the mirror still catching every aftershock in soft, glowy angles. Your skin is slick with sweat, your hair’s a wreck, and Lando’s got that dazed, cocky smile that always shows up right after he’s absolutely wrecked you.

Eventually, he exhales a laugh. “Well. That escalated.”

You snort into his shoulder, voice hoarse. “You literally flipped me like a pancake.”

He grins, lazy and smug. “Yeah, but like... a sexy pancake.”

You groan, covering your face. “You ruin everything.”

He props himself up on one elbow, hair wild, eyes still hazy. “Ruin? That was art.”

You squint at him through your fingers. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he says, brushing your hair off your face with exaggerated tenderness, “you keep giving me material.”

You pause, arching a brow. “Material?”

“For the next mirror session,” he says with a wink. “You think I’m forgetting that look on your face?”

You swat him with the nearest pillow, but you're laughing now—giddy and ruined and stupidly happy.

“Okay, Casanova.”

After the mirror, it didn’t stop. If anything, it unlocked something.

You started making lists—mental ones, whispered ones, ones jotted down in the Notes app under fake names.

Places. Positions. Kinks. Scenarios.

Sometimes it was mind-blowing. Sometimes it was hilarious.

Like the time you tried shower sex and both of you nearly slipped and died.

Lando caught you by the elbow mid-slide, shampoo burning your eyes, both of you wheezing with laughter.

“Sexy,” you gasped, bent over awkwardly with conditioner still in your hair.

Or the time he tried blindfolding you but tied the scarf too tight and you got a headache halfway through.

And then there were the wins—lazy morning sex with your wrists tied above your head and his mouth trailing kisses down your stomach.

A hotel balcony in Barcelona, warm night air against your skin while his fingers curled inside you and he murmured, “Keep your voice down.”

Or the time he dared you in a restaurant, completely drunk on red wine and adrenaline and you made him comeunder the table flushed and giggling while he tried to pretend he hadn’t just ruined his pants.

It became your thing.

Not just the sex.

The exploring.

Together. With complete trust and absolutely zero shame.

You laughed when it was awkward. You raved when it was good. You tried again when it flopped.

tag list:

@lifesass @norrisjpg @random-movie @widow-cevans @mxdi0 @graceln4 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @mara1999

[veichua]

how many licks is it gonna take for ellie to reach your meow?

oral sex. fingering. hickey. marking. playful. licking. teasing

“this is stupid.” you scoff, a smirk tugging at your lips as you prop yourself on your elbows, she’s got your leg in her hands, her lips pressed to your ankle, leaving a trail of hickeys.

“just behave.” ellie mutters, her voice muffled against your skin, she’s been at this for a while, her tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path up your leg. “you’re gonna get bored before you even get close.”

“bored?” ellie scoffs, her voice dripping with mock offense. “with this view?” she drags her tongue along your inner thigh, tounge flat on your skin, leaving another hickey that stings just right.

“you’re the one gettin’ all squirmy, can’t handle a little attention?” you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool, but your breath hitches as her lips move higher, her hands spreading your thighs wider.

“im handlin’ it fine.” you say, but your voice betrays you, a little too breathy. “you’re the one takin’ forever, lost count yet?” she smirks, her teeth grazing your skin, and you feel the heat pooling between your legs.

“not yet.” she lies, her voice low and teasing, as she kisses closer, her breath hot against your inner thigh. “but you keep talkin’ shit, and i’ll make you count for me.”

“big talk,” you shoot back, but your smirk falters when her tongue flicks just shy of your panties, her fingers tugging them aside. “fuck, ellie, you’re such a—”

“tease? yeah, i know.” she cuts in, grinning as she presses a kiss to the crease of your thigh, so close you’re trembling.

“but you love it, now shut up and let me focus.” her tongue darts out, finally reaching your clit, and you gasp, a soft moan slipping out as she licks slow circles.

“fuck,” you whisper, your head tipping back, hands gripping the sheets, she’s good—too good—and the way she’s looking up at you, all smug and focused, makes it worse.

“mmm, there’s that sound.” ellie murmurs, her voice vibrating against you, sending a jolt through your core.

“knew i’d get you loud.” she licks again, firmer, her hands holding your hips down as you try to squirm. “how many licks was that, huh? you keepin’ track?”

“you’re—you’re supposed to be counting,” you manage, voice shaky, but your hips buck up, chasing her mouth, she laughs, pulling back just enough to make you whine.

“lost count,” she admits as she leans back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “guess i got distracted.” her eyes flick to your flushed face, your parted lips, and she tilts her head, mock serious.

“what’s that look? you mad at me now?”

“you can’t just leave me hanging like that.”

“leave you hanging?” ellie raises an eyebrow, crawling up to hover over you, her hands bracing on either side of your head.

“i'm gonna make it up to you, baby. promise.” her voice drops, all cheeky confidence, and she leans down, kissing you hard, her tongue tasting of you.

“you want me to keep goin’?”

“obviously.” you snap, but your smirk mirrors hers, and you pull her closer, your hands tangling in her hair. “but you better not half-ass it, williams.”

she scoffs, pulling back to tug your panties off completely, tossing them somewhere across the room. “you’re talkin’ to the pro here, watch me.” she slides back down, spreading your thighs wide, and dives in, her tongue working your clit with quick, precise flicks that have you moaning loud.

“fuck, ellie!” you cry, your hands tightening in her hair, and she groans against you, the vibration making you shudder. “don’t—shit—don’t stop.”

“of course baby, not a fuckin’ chance,” she mutters, her voice muffled as she sucks your clit gently, then licks harder, her fingers sliding to your entrance. “you’re so wet, baby, all for me?” she slips two fingers inside, curling them, and you screamed.

“yes—fuck, all for you.” you gasp, your hips bucking as she pumps her fingers, her tongue never slowing. “ellie, i'm—fuck—i’m close.”

“yeah, i can feel it,” she says, pulling back just enough to smirk up at you, her fingers still moving, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. “c'mon, let me hear you.” she dives back in, her tongue circling your clit, and you’re gone, moaning so loud it echoes.

“ellie—fuck!” you cry, your orgasm crashing through you, your body shaking as you cum hard, her fingers and tongue working you through every wave.

she doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, gasping, pushing at her head because it’s too much, she pulls back, grinning like she’s won something, her lips shiny with you.

“that’s how i make it up,” she says, crawling up to kiss you, slow and deep, letting you taste yourself. “still think i'm a dick?” you’re panting, still dazed, but you manage a weak laugh. “yeah, but a talented one,” you say, voice hoarse, and she laughs, flopping beside you, her arm slung over your waist.

[ickyuji]

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 yuji gets dizzy too easy. gentle touches that should have been seen as innocent… laced, heavy, interwoven with the suggestion of something more salacious.

your pretty, manicured fingers resting along the curve of muscle that denoted his gentle strength planted like it belonged there. wondering what if would feel like if you squeezed, actions inhibited in between throws of pleasure.

“yuji?” you sing songed at him, wondering where he went when he looked off into the distance. pouting with the need to have his attention at all times. sugary sweet, a toothache just waiting to happen.

“mmm?” your best friend answered back, trying to keep the facade that everything was okay in his head. smiling like he wasn’t just thinking about the heat of your cunt.

“where do you go?” you giggled, the hand that had been subconsciously squeezing his bicep slotting itself between the space of his arm and body. pulling yourself in as close as possible, too used to prancing around him. bouncy…

the singular restraint of not spilling the fact that he fantasized regularly about the shape of your body squeezed down between the space of his hips and bed formed a sharp twitch to his brow.

“no where. ‘m right here. do you want ice cream?” he suggested, needing something cool to keep the simmer down. lips curling into a smile when he saw the enthusiasm behind your reaction. eyes wide and twinkling while you nodded your head.

“please! how many scoops can i get?” you inquired, pressing your head to his bicep as a thank you. his hummingbird heart mirroring your own flutter.

scoffing at the question, like he would ever deny you anything.

“as many as you want.” yuji stated. huffing in annoyance with the fact that he would have to trek forward while his cock head pressed uncomfortably against his waistband. a recent addition to his preparation in your hang outs, knowing it would swell the second he saw you. tortured with the fact that he was such a big pervert, priding himself in protecting you- tugging you away from interactions where he could smell less than pure intentions.

stomach twisting with the fact that the type of men he shooed away was standing right next to you.

[antl3rqueen]

fwb!vi gets jealous and fucks you in a party bathroom

18+

warnings: g!p vi. mirror sex. spanking. degrading.

you and vi had an agreement. you two would occasionally hook up whenever you needed to satisfy your urges. no strings attached and you guys had been doing just that. all was well... until tonight.

you were currently at a party on campus and you were having a great time. you had had a few drinks with your friends and you were now making out with a cute girl. vi was at this party too, watching you make out with some random chick. she shouldn't feel jealous because she's done the same thing countless times before. you guys weren't even a couple. you were just a good fuck for her every once in a while and that was that. but seeing you let some other girl shove her tongue down your throat and possibly let her take you back to your dorm room later? no, vi wasn't about to let that happen.

vi storms over to you and grabs your arm, wordlessly pulling you away from the girl. "what the fuck-" vi tightens her grip on your arm and tugs you upstairs, not giving you a chance to wriggle out of her hold. she pulls you into an empty bathroom, locking the door before she turns around to face you, arms folded over her chest. "what the fuck do you think you're doing, vi? you can't just-"

your words were cut off by her lips on yours, her tongue immediately invading your mouth, almost as if she was claiming your mouth as hers. you melt into the kiss, still feeling a little confused about this but hey you weren't complaining. you had a hot girl kissing you... who would complain?

"you're such a fuckin' slut, you know that?" vi mumbles against your mouth, her fingers moving to unbuckle her belt. vi had never called you a slut before, it weirdly made a warm feeling settle in your lower stomach… "letting some whore shove her tongue down your throat like that. i didn't know your standards were that low." vi grabs your wrists and wraps her belt around them, forcing them to be restrained behind your back. her hands grab onto your hips and spins you around so you were facing the sink. you tug on the restraints and attempt to turn around but vi simply presses down on your back, forcing you to be pinned underneath her. "stay down."

vi's tone was commanding and deeper than usual- it made you want to obey her- so you did. as you lifted your head you're met with the sight of your reflection in the mirror, pressed against the sink with vi standing behind you, unbuttoning her jeans.

"if you wanted to be fucked you should've just said so instead of throwing yourself at the first person who was willing to give you attention." you feel vi hitch the bottom of your dress up your hips and pull your panties to the side, your bare pussy greeting her. vi let out a hum before her hand came down on your ass causing your hips to involuntary jerk at the sudden spank.

"now, be a good girl and let me take care of you, yeah?" vi pulled her jeans and boxers half down, her hard cock springing free. she thrusts her hips forward, burying her cock inside of you to a hilt, not even bothering to give you a warning. no, you didn't deserve a warning.

"f- fuck!" your mouth fell open in an 'o' shape as you felt vi's cock invade your tight pussy, your walls fluttering around her length. she gave you a moment to adjust before she started to thrust her hips forward, fucking you deep.

"mmm, that's it." vi growls as she fucks in and out of you at a fast pace. her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your head up so you were forced to watch yourself in the mirror. "look at yourself... look like a fuckin' slut."

all you could do was let out a whine in response and bask in the feeling of vi's cock splitting you open perfectly, making eye contact with yourself in the mirror like vi had told you to. you had never been fucked in this way before and it made you a little concerned at how much you seemed to be enjoying it. you liked having vi bound your wrists, you liked having her call you a slut and you liked having her use your body for her pleasure. it seemed you were learning some things about yourself tonight that you never thought possible.

"such a perfect pussy." vi's other hand collides with your backside again, causing a moan to spill from your lips. "oh, you like that do you? not surprised." she spanks you again, your cheeks flush red from embarrassment at how much you were enjoying this.

"think you can just let other people fuck this pussy, hm?" vi let out a dark chuckle and shook her head, her fingers tightening their grip in your hair, earning a wince from you. the pain only added to your pleasure. "it's mine."

"say it." you felt her thrust deeper, hitting that one particular spot that made your pussy clench around her. her hand met your ass again, your skin starting to turn red from her actions. "go on." spank. "say." spank. "it." spank.

"It's- my pussy is yours, vi!" you were a blubbering, moaning mess underneath her, her cock hitting your g spot deliciously with every thrust. you could tell vi was getting close too because her movements were getting sloppier and her grunts were getting louder.

"that's- hah- that's my good girl." her hand untangles from your hair and drops to rest on your hips, guiding them up and down on her cock. her head falls back as she feels herself ready to cum, her hips snapping into you faster. "yes! fuck- baby!"

vi’s load spills inside of you, filling you up with her seed. her actions cause your own orgasm to tremble over you. she stays inside of you for a short while, slowly fucking you- and herself- through the pleasure. she places a soft kiss on your shoulder and pulls out of you, her gentle actions a stark contrast from her earlier demeanour.

she pulls her boxers and jeans back up, grabs your panties and stuffs them into her pocket- saving them for later- before she tugs your dress back down. she grabs your bound wrists and undoes the belt, freeing your hands.

she grabs your hips and spins you around so you were facing her, her lips finding yours. it was a soft kiss that instantly made your heart flutter. "you're mine, cupcake."

[bi-writes]

mail order bride meeting 141 for the first time 🙏

mail-order bride

he likes the way this moment sounds. it will end soon, when you both walk out the door, but for now, he sits, and he doesn't want it to end.

it's not just the sound of the television. his favorite football team has finally fucking put one into the corner of the net. the announcers cheer, but this isn't all that he hears.

the cat is in the kitchen. he can't see it, but he hears it (the little fucker). she's pawing at the cat grass that sits above the sink now. when he leans forward, he notices her little nose pushing it around before she takes a bite out of it.

she leaves the basil alone.

and then there's the sound of you. your feet in the bedroom. when you pass by the doorway, he can see you in different states of getting ready. when you pass by this time, he can see your eyeliner is on both eyes now, not just one, and your hair doesn't have clips or pieces to hold it in its style anymore. it lays perfectly now; he did a double-take when he saw it this way for the first time. you're rifling through the closet now. your clothes used to be in their own drawers. separated. socks not touching one another. your half of the closet, and his half. perfectly divided.

he doesn't remember when it happened. he found your bra under his t-shirt today. he was going through the jackets because your dresses were now between them. in the bathroom, he almost stuck your toothbrush in his mouth because they rest side-by-side in the holder.

when he looks around the room, he can't see where you begin, and he cannot see where he ends. he doesn't see where he started.

but he can see where you will go.

you bounce into the living room, holding up two hangers. there's dresses on each of them, one a dark color, the other light, and you hold them in front of simon who's still sitting on the couch, his head in his hand as he concentrates on the game (where he pretends like he hasn't been thinking about you too hard to really focus).

"simon?" you call, and he grunts, looking over at you. "which one do you like?"

he looks over the two dresses before looking at you. he hums, leaning back against the couch. he shrugs before looking back at the telly. you would look like perfection in either of them, but that isn't what you asked, and that isn't the answer you want.

"the darker one. like ya in tha' color."

you smile a little before going back into the bedroom, hanging the other dress back up and laying the other one out on the bed. you rummage through the dresser for proper undergarments, picking a soft lace pair of panties with a matching bra. you slip them on before stepping into the dress.

you reach around for the waist, and when your attempts to grab it are futile, you look over your shoulder towards the door.

"simon?" you call out gently. "could you come here, please?"

there's a shuffle of sound before simon steps into the bedroom. you point to your back, smiling at him shyly.

"c-could you help me? i can't reach the zipper."

he makes his way over to where you stand in front of the mirror. you watch as his eyes roam over your back, as he takes in the sight in front of him. you swallow as he drags a few knuckles down the length of your spine, his eyes flicking up to meet yours in the mirror before he takes the zipper in his hand and pulls it up. when he finishes, he steps a little closer, dipping his head to look at you from over your shoulder. you turn your head to look up at him, smiling.

"everything okay?" you ask softly, and he clicks his tongue, sliding his hand from its place on your back to wrap around your middle. he spreads a big palm over your tummy before dragging you backwards, your backside pressing against his front.

"mmm..." he scrunches his nose a little, running a pink tongue over his teeth. "look fuckin' beautiful."

you giggle, looking away, spreading your palms along your cheeks to try and make it less hot, less warm--fuck, it's so hot, isn't it?

you pull away to go for your shoes, picking them up from the closet. you take a seat on the bed, trying to ignore simon's stare (impossible), and you put the shoes down to slip your feet into them. just as you bend to buckle them, simon tsks, and you sit up as he kneels down in front of you.

"simon, you--"

"shut it," he mutters, reaching down and picking your foot up by the ankle gently. he wraps the strap around it, fastening the buckle, and you open your mouth to say something, but then he bends, giving your knee a soft kiss before reaching for your other foot.

your eyes meet again as he wraps it around your ankle. he smirks, just enough, and your lip wobbles a little as he fastens the next shoe before setting it back down on the floor. he puts his hands on his knee to get up, standing to his full height, and your neck strains as you try and look up at him.

at times, you feel at odds. he anticipates your needs before you even know what they are yourself. he pushes your meals in front of you just as you realize you're hungry. he helps you to the top shelf whenever you need it, picking you up from your waist without even a grunt. he feeds the cat when she cries, he wipes the tears from your face just as they fall.

you want to be more. you want to be his wife. your life is leisure and warmth, you are cared for like a fine porcelain doll, but what are you to him? what do you do for him? what is it that you bring, why are you here, why did he ever even want you if he provides and all you do is take, take, take?

the pub is alive. the lights flicker and glow a warm orange, and there's many crowds around tables, cheering and laughing and clinking pints together. you swallow as you look around; a crowded place with lots of unfamiliar faces. you freeze at the door, blinking, trying to take it all in. just as you stiffen, there's a presence right at your back.

an arm circles around your middle protectively. simon's warm hand rests at the curve of your waist, and you look up at him. he stares down at you knowingly. he's wearing his mask, obscuring his entire face except for his eyes, but you've learned to read him all the same. his hood darkens the shadows over him, but you see what he's telling you easily.

'm right 'ere.

simon moves you in front of him, walking just behind you, and he leans over to murmur in your ear as he guides you forward.

"in the corner, luv."

you barely have time to register that your husband just called you love when you see an enthusiastic wave meant for you out of the corner of your eye.

simon showed you their pictures, but the grainy selfies from his phone don't do them any justice. kyle has a pearly smile and round cheeks (troublemaker, he could get away with anything with those eyes). johnny has an infectious grin and wild curls that fall in a line down his head (a wild card, he's got eyes that you can't read and a leg bouncing from his terrible inability to sit still). and then there's john, hidden under a beanie and a rough smile (all business, all thought, because even out here, he can't stop his mind from wandering back to the papers on his desk and the cries for help he can't ignore).

johnny's smile drops a little when you come near. he eyes the hand that simon has on you, the proximity of your bodies. he raises a brow when you hold out your hand to shake, gawking when he eyes your other hand, the ring that sparkles there.

"ach, LT..." johnny swallows hard. "is this...is she--?"

simon clears his throat. "this is my wife."

"steamin' jesus," johnny breathes, leaning back in the booth. he picks up his drink and knocks back the entire thing, choking a little as he looks between the two of you. "what the fawk?!"

you blink, stepping back, and simon takes a seat beside john, shaking his head.

"fuckin' hell, johnny. behave," simon mutters. "'s not--"

"ye said y'were showin' us yer new lass," johnny quips. "not yer wife!"

you look at simon, laughing a little.

"simon, you didn't tell them you were married?"

"tha' was need t'know," simon mutters, rolling his eyes. you giggle, looking around for somewhere to sit. simon doesn't give you much time to choose--you let out a shaky breath as he picks you up from your hips, sliding you up and onto his thigh. he spreads his legs a little to accommodate you, but he's such a big man.

simon holds one hand at your back, and the other lays flat against the table. it's easy, falling into conversation with them. they don't talk about work. they're infatuated with their lieutenant and his surprise wife. they ask if he owns pajamas. they ask if he takes the mask off to sleep. they ask if simon whittles, if he listens to music, if there's a snack that puts him in a good mood (jaffa cakes, you tell johnny, who cackles with delight).

when simon gets up to have a smoke, you're surprised. simon never leaves you alone in a public place, ever. he's always at your back, even at the grocery store. he likes to take you aisle by aisle, and he doesn't care if it makes the trip longer, because he doesn't like to have you out of his sight for very long.

he gives you that look, one that you can read. you're safe with these men.

you agree. they bring simon home, every single time.

"awwww, no' gonna give yer lass a smooch, LT?" johnny winks. "'s alright, we don't care. won't think ye a big softie cuz o' it."

simon rolls his eyes, pocketing his cigarettes as he stands by the table. he dips his fingers into johnny's pint and flicks him with it before leaning over and kissing you lightly through the mask, a chaste kiss that already leaves you reeling.

you blink, caught off guard, and you blink up at simon so slowly, a syrupy smile falling over your face.

"LT, that wasnae a real one," johnny rolls his eyes. "wut, are ye scared of us?"

"shut your fuckin' mouth, sergeant, i'll make y'do laps tomorrow."

"big baby."

you watch simon take the back door, letting it swing shut behind him. you excuse yourself, following after him, pushing the door open and blinking to adjust to the dark light of the alleyway.

there's stars out. they sparkle, and you pause to stare up at them for just a moment before making your way to where simon leans against a brick wall.

it all reminds you that you're just small. not small, but smaller than simon, and compared to what stares at you across a violet sky, you are nothing but specks in time. you're drifters, composites of organic matter that somehow, for some reason, exist at the same time.

simon's eyes find your own in the dark. it's hard to see; the only light nearby flickers, and it's hard to focus, but you can see his eyes clearly, magnetized even when the rest of him seems so obscure, hiding from your view.

your smile is clear, too. the watery lines of your eyes, they glow, and when you come near, you and simon are in your own bubble, a pocket of the universe that cannot be explained. he has found you, and you have found him, and even when the night sky tries so hard to hide the things you know are there, it isn't strong enough to take away what exists in the in-between.

you slide your fingers under the hem of his mask. this kind of thing is practiced. the same thing you do when he comes home every day. the only acts of service he ever allows, the only things he ever lets you do.

you ask yourself always what it is that you provide. what it is that he sees in you that you can't seem to see in yourself.

maybe it's this. maybe it's the grounding. the gravity he never used to feel, the orbit he could never quite get himself to maintain, the taut line of connection that's been severed ever since the only people he's ever loved were ripped right out from underneath his ribs.

he puts his hands over yours when the mask is over his nose. his palms over the backs of your hands, warm skin over soft, something broken over something seeking.

"you don't want this," simon whispers, and you frown a little, shaking your head.

"how...how can you say that?"

"i'm not..." he flinches a little. "not made for this. 's not wha' y'think."

you're eyes water. you aren't sad. you're upset.

"y-you have no idea," you whisper. "i know what i want. you can always tell when i'm lying, am i lying now?"

"'s not--"

"simon," you stop him. "look at me," you sniffle, and he closes his eyes, squeezes them shut, before finding your gaze again. it's frightening, what he sees. he sees nothing that he expects. no deception. no fear. the honesty, it terrifies him. the reality of accepting what he can't understand hurts inside. it trickles deep, down to his toes, along his spine, a curdling in his stomach that he can't believe because there's no way that someone can love me when i can't fucking love myself. "am i lying now?"

"no," he breathes, and your smile is sickly sweet. he doesn't understand. he doesn't get it. nothing in his life has ever been this easy. nothing in his life has ever been just for him, all for him, just his, and no one else's. there has never been a piece of life that has ever pitied him enough to let him have it exactly as it is, and yet here she is, my perfect girl, arriving on my doorstep.

like you dropped straight from heaven. angels with soft hands and a timid face and a shadow with soft fur and big eyes and terrible little temper.

simon's hand is an anchor on the back of your head. tilting you to the side, drawing you near, until you are on your toes, and your face is canted up.

you kiss in the dark. your mouth slots over his, hands gripping the front of his jacket as you try and get even closer to him. he's a little shy at first, letting you lead while he follows, but it only takes a few seconds for you to feel his hand stiffen against your head as he kisses you feverishly.

you smile between kisses. he smiles, too. you giggle, and he huffs, and he chases you with more kisses as you cradle his face between your hands and whisper between soft presses, i'm sorry and i know and it's all i've ever wanted.

when you pull away, he doesn't let you go. he presses your forehead to his, connecting you somehow, breathing in the warmth that you radiate to try and calm the pulsing of his blood that rushes in his ears.

when your eyes open again, and you look at each other, everything is suddenly clearer. whatever he saw before, everything must have been in black and white.

he sees in color. the stars align. they fall, one by one, sparkling as they form a pattern, one undiscovered by anyone before him, one he will keep all to himself in the time that follows. when he kisses you again, he memorizes that pattern.

he knows it will always lead right back to you.

[urmum-lovesme]

Bunny (P6)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.

a/n: this is pretty intense cause shit has offically started to go down guys. Also Bunny and Rafe- they just need to get together already and JJ and Bunny- they need to stop this malarkey cause it's making me upset :( (the plot thickens...)

warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of drugs and drug dealing, strip club, naked women, lap dance, pole dancing, abusive father, harassment (implied assault)

(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4) (P5) (P6) (P7) (P8) (P9) (P10) (P11) (P12) (P13) (P14)

The bass of the club pulsed through the air, a steady thrum that matched the energy of the bodies moving under the neon lights. The haze of perfume and liquor, the blurred mix of men throwing cash they barely thought about, she felt she could slip into a rhythm and let herself forget for a few hours. But tonight, something felt... off. Not in a bad way, just different.

Rafe wasn’t here.

She hadn't seen him walk through the door, hadn’t caught his sharp blue eyes tracking her every move, hadn’t felt the weight of his presence pressing into her skin like it usually did. It was strange- unsettling even. Because for as much as she hated the way he always inserted himself into her space, she’d grown used to it. 

Expectant of it.

She scanned the room, gaze flicking over the usual faces. The regulars. The passing truckers and tourists. The men who came in throwing money around like they owned the world. But no Rafe. No smug smirk from across the room, no lazy, arrogant drawl calling her name just to piss her off.

Good. 

It was good. 

Right?

She exhaled, shaking the thought from her head as she pressed her body up against the cool metal of the pole, swaying her hips slowly from side to side. Maybe he finally got bored. Maybe he’d found someone else to bother. That would be a win for her- but she couldn't deny she found it weird, the past few days his absence had been more than noticeable. The rest of the night passed with a familiar ease. She danced, she laughed, she put on the show she always did, let greedy hands slip bills into the waistband of her outfit, letting the bass shake the floor beneath her feet until it was time to slip away. She collected her cash, shoving the crumpled bills into a paper bag like always, folding it up before stuffing it into her duffle. A pair of heels landed on top, and she yanked a hoodie over her head, the fabric swallowing her whole as she tried to disappear into herself. As she slung the bag over her shoulder and started toward the back exit, Naomi- still wearing her dainty Bambi necklace- caught sight of her from the dressing room mirror, one perfectly arched brow raising as she turned on the stool.

“Going already?”

Naomi asked, voice smooth with curiosity. Y/N sighed, adjusting the strap of her bag.

“Yeah, I’ve got my fill for the night.”

Naomi hummed knowingly, leaning an elbow against the vanity as she lazily twirled a mascara wand between her fingers.

“Mmm. Guess I can’t blame you.”

Y/N forced a small smile, already shifting her weight toward the door, but Naomi wasn’t done. She mused, the teasing in her voice unmistakable.

“Haven’t seen your little boy toy around recently...”

“He’s not my anything.”

Y/N’s shoulders tensed, and she turned just enough to give the girl a look. Naomi just smirked, eyes glinting under the warm glow of the mirror lights.

“With the amount of cash he throws at you? Girl, I’d lock in for life.”

Y/N scoffed, shaking her head as she pushed the door of the changing rooms open, “Well, he’s all yours.”

Naomi rolled her eyes playfully, but there was warmth in her gaze as she pushed off the stool and made her way over. She pulled Y/N into a soft goodbye hug, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek before cupping her face with manicured fingers.

“You okay?”

She asked, voice quieter now, like she could sense something wasn’t sitting right. Y/N exhaled, the weight of the night settling deep in her bones.

“I’m just tired Omi.”

“Go get some sleep babe.”

Naomi gave her a small, knowing smile, her thumb brushing over Y/N’s cheek lightly. Y/N returned the smile, albeit faint, before pulling away with a cheeky glint in her tired eyes.

“Well, that’s what I’m trying to do...”

“-Oh who is you—get outta here.”

Naomi scoffed, rolling her eyes. She swatted Y/N’s ass playfully as she walked out, earning a quiet laugh from her friend before the door swung shut behind her. And just like that, she was back in the night air, exhaling into the quiet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door creaked open, and the dim glow of the kitchen light was the first thing Y/N noticed as she stepped inside. The smell of food hit her nose, and when she looked up, there was JJ, standing in the kitchen, biting into a sandwich, his jaw clenching as he chewed. His eyes flicked up to her, but he didn’t say anything at first. Just watched as she walked in like she was a stranger in her own home. She greeted, voice tentative.

“Hey”

JJ hummed in response, barely pausing his chewing as he shoved another bite in his mouth. She ignored the tension sitting thick in the air and walked past him, heading straight to her room. She dumped her duffle bag onto the bed before peeking into their dad’s room. The bed was unmade, but the room was empty, and that made her feel just a little lighter. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with him tonight. She padded back into the kitchen, her fingers already tugging at the fridge door handle, but the second she opened it, disappointment settled deep in her stomach.

Almost empty.

Of course it was.

A slow exhale left her lips, and she rubbed a tired hand over her face. She was going to have to go food shopping- again. For now, she just grabbed a bottle of water, shutting the fridge with a quiet sigh. She pulled out a chair opposite him, the legs scraping against the worn kitchen floor as she sat down. JJ was now sitting at the table, his sandwich halfway gone, eyes flicking up to her before focusing back on his food. Y/N rested her elbows on the table, rolling the cool bottle of water between her palms. “So…” she started, trying to keep things light, normal.

“What have you been up to?”

JJ barely looked up, “Not much.”

Her lips pressed together at his flat tone, “Saw Kie lately?”

“Yeah.”

She took a slow sip of her water, studying him, “How are JB and Sarah?”

JJ just shrugged.

She exhaled quietly, tapping her fingers against the bottle. He was obviously annoyed with her- she could feel it in the way his words were clipped, how he wasn’t even really looking at her. And it wasn’t fair. He didn’t get it. Didn’t get why she was always out, why she barely came home, why she was constantly exhausted. She was doing this for him. For both of them.

It stung.

“What’s wrong, huh?”

Y/N finally asked her voice soft, tilting her head as she studied him. JJ just rolled his eyes, pushing back from the table. He grabbed his empty plate, dumping it into the sink with a clatter before turning away from her. She watched as he made his way toward his room, not saying a word, not even sparing her a glance.

“Don’t walk away when I’m speaking to you JJ”

She called after him, her voice sharper now. He stopped in his tracks, turning just enough to shoot her an unimpressed look.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you my mom now, or—”

“Excuse me?” she cut in, her jaw clenching, “Whats with the fucking attitude- whats got into you?”

“What’s got into me? What’s got into me?”

JJ let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he ran a frustrated hand through his messy blonde hair. She just stared at him, arms crossing over her chest, brows furrowing in confusion. He was mad- really mad- but she didn’t understand why. She wondered if her missing the bonfire last week really that serious? JJ let out a scoff, shaking his head.

“I literally never see you, Y/N. I never see you.”

His words hit her harder than she expected. She opened her mouth, but he didn’t even give her the chance to respond before he kept going, voice laced with frustration.

“You weren’t at the bonfire last week. You weren’t home when I got back from the chateu the other night. You weren’t here this morning. Jesus, I don’t even know the last time we actually sat and talked- like normal siblings do?”

His voice wavered slightly at the end, but he masked it with another shake of his head and roll of his eyes. Y/N bit at the skin on the inside of her hceek sightly before sighing out,

“J, I know... I’m sorry, okay? It’s not my fault I’ve just been busy- I’m working, I’m doing—”

“Yeah-” he cut in, crossing his arms, “I know. You’re always fucking working.”

She felt her chest tighten, guilt creeping up her spine. She was doing this for him- she'd always say that to herself when she'd dread to get out of bed in the worning, when she'd have to force herself to drive to the club afer her shift with Sofia. To keep To make sure he had food, a roof over his head. And yet, he was still looking at her like she had let him down. JJ let out a bitter laugh, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Whatever. Always an excuse with you.”

His words made her stomach twist.

“Acting like you’re doing something so fucking noble”

His eyes were cold and Y/N’s body went rigid. She could take a lot of shit, but not this. Not from him. Not after she'd been working her ass off for the past few months. Her fists clenched at her sides, her breath coming out a little uneven now. “You think this is a fucking excuse?” Her voice rose, the frustration bubbling over.

“You think I like being out all the time? You think I don’t wanna be home?”

“Yeah well you're never fucking around-”

“-Well, who do you think fucking pays for everything, huh?”

She snapped out voice loud and shaking. “Who pays for you? For the house? For the food in the fridge- oh, wait- there isn’t any, because I haven’t even had time to go shopping and no one else in this house fucking will! Who pays for the electricity? Who gives you money for gas so you can use that dumb ass bike out front? Who pays for you and all the Pogues when you go out? Who does all that- cause it’s not you oand it's definitely not dad”

JJ just stared at her, saying nothing.

The silence between them was thick, suffocating and Y/N was breathing heavily now, her entire body trembling from the outburst. Her chest rose and fell, emotions crashing over her like a wave she couldn’t escape from.

“Jesus”

She mumbled to herself hands coming up to cover her face angrily as she turned away from the boy trying to keep her composure, she could feel the lump rising in the back of her throat. When she looked up to the blonde boy in front of her,

He was just standing there, frozen simply looking at her.

Y/N’s eyes closed for a moment looking away once more, her hand instinctively running over her brow in an attempt to calm herself, but the anger and frustration were still boiling inside her. She was so fucking tired- tired of fighting, tired of being the one holding everything together but still being seen as a shitty sister. Her shoulders sagged as she exhaled slowly, trying to regain some sense of control over herself. But before she could collect her thoughts, the door creaked open.

Luke stumbled in, smelling of alcohol and smoke, his breath heavy with the stench of both. He was swaying slightly, a half-empty beer bottle dangling from his hand. His bloodshot eyes fixed on them, a smirk forming on his lips.

"Little family meeting and I wasn’t invited?"

He slurred, the words dripping with disdain. Y/N’s stomach churned. She didn’t have the strength for this. Not tonight. Not after she'd literally just ripped her brother to shreds. JJ was the first to react, his voice low,

"Dad just go to bed"

His voice a little weary as he spoke to the man. Luke’s bloodshot eyes flickered to JJ, and he sneered unimpressed, 

"Little hero trying to save the day huh?" 

His voice was thick with slurred sarcasm. Y/N pressed her nails harshly into her palms trying to shake off the dizziness that seemed to cloud her mind. She muttered, half to herself, but her voice was tight with frustration.

"It's nothing, just leave i-" 

"-I need some money" 

Luke’s attention shifted to her, his stance unsteady but focused as he spoke out, his voice dripping with entitlement. Y/N let out a quiet sigh, she knew where this was going, and she didn’t have the patience for it. She didn’t want to deal with this, but Luke was stumbling closer, relentless. As if on instinct JJ stepped forward, his body tensing as he saw what was coming. 

"Dad, stop" 

He spoke out firmly, trying to block Luke's path. But Luke shoved past him, shoulder bumping into the boys completely ignoring JJ’s warning, his face now dangerously close to Y/N's. He leaned in, his breath hot against her face. 

"C’mon, I know you got some," he sneered, "Don’t be selfish. Just give it to me."

"I don’t have any"

She spat, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue, but she was desperate for him to leave her alone, to leave them alone. Y/N’s teeth ground together as she watched his face, his eyes narrowing slightly unimpressed with her tone. Her chest tightened. Before she could react Luke’s hand shot out, grabbing her face roughly as she let out a small whimper, as he forced her to look at him, her own hand flying up to grip his wrist trying to pry him off her face.

"Don’t fucking lie to me" 

He growled, his grip tightening. JJ’s eyes flashed with concern, and he surged forward, shoving Luke back with a force that made the older man stumble. But Luke wasn’t backing down- he never had. He shoved JJ back, hard, the blonde boy loosing balance and harhsly hitting his back against the kitchen counter. Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the sight, the sick feeling in her stomach instantly rising asshe saw JJ having to steady himself against the cold tiles of the counter.

"Don't interrupt when the adults are talking!" 

Luke barked, his voice filled with nothing but venom. Y/N felt a wave of panic rise in her chest now as the older man stumbled towards her brother once more, her heartbeat hammering in her ears. She couldn't let this escalate.

"Stop!"

She called out, the man whipping around at the sound of her voice. Her hands moved frantically to her pockets, pulling out the two crumpled fifty dollar bills she’d tucked away earlier before she'd left the club. Her fingers fumbled, shaking as she shoved it into Luke’s hand.

"Just—just leave him alone okay?"

She muttered through gritted teeth. "Take it and go."

Luke’s eyes glinted with satisfaction as he grabbed the money, he turned on his heel as he made his way back through the front door, the wood slamming loudly on its hinges making the walls of the house shake. Her eye drifted over to her brother, whose eys were already on her, taking in teh reddend skin around her jaw. Y/N let out a small sigh, throat feeling tight as she turned on her heel, moving toward her bedroom. JJ called after her, his voice pleading.

"Y/N—"

"Let it go Jay"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N clocked out of her shift at the country club, the weight of another long day settling heavily on her shoulders as she slipped back into the driver seat of her car. Her mind raced- she’d just gotten off a long shift here, and the tension with JJ had been thick lately- after their argument the other day everything felt strained. She slipped her phone out of her bag the familiar hum vibrating in her hand.

Tommy (3)

She stared at the message for a few moments, biting her lip, the screen lighting up her face in the dim light of the parking lot.

Tommy  :  Club’s gonna be real busy 

Tommy  :  Need more girls than usual you free? 

Tommy  :  Pay's double.

The offer was tempting- the money would make a difference. She remembers the last time she got a message like this, she earned almost five hundred dollars for only two hours. She needed an escape- it wasn't like she was going to go home anyways. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment longer, then she let out a small breath, shutting her eyes for a brief second as if trying to push off all the weight off her chest. She placed the phone down and turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life beneath her. The sound filled the car, drowning out the noise in her head for just a moment. As she backed out of the parking lot and onto the quiet streets, her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, the familiar road ahead almost a comfort in its predictability.

The strip club was alive with the hum of chatter, clinking glasses, and bass-heavy music filling the air. The buzzing atmosphere was almost suffocating- Y/N navigated through the crowd, feeling that familiar feeling as she made her way toward the changing room. As she stepped through the door, the smell of perfume, hairspray, and a faint hint of alcohol hit her. The room was already packed with girls, some adjusting their outfits, others touching up their makeup. Naomi was perched on a bench in front of the mirror, her fingers running through her hair.

“Heyyyy girlfriend”

Y/N smiled at her greeting, slipping off her jacket and tossing it on the chair next to Naomi. The girl glanced up at her again, her eyes flickering with curiosity. “Busy night,” she said, her voice low,

“You’re not the only one who got the double-pay offer. Everyone’s here.”

Y/N gave a half-nod, her mind still processing the chaotic energy in the room. “What’s going on tonight?” she asked, trying to ignore the tension rising in her chest. She didn’t want to get caught up in the buzz she just wanted a good payout, but she had to ask. Naomi didn’t miss a beat.

“Your little boy toy-” she said with a knowing smile, a hint of a tease in her voice. “-and his friend are selling tonight. Big stuff, apparently.”

The mention of Rafe made Y/N freeze for a split second. It was subtle, but Naomi caught the shift in her posture—the way her shoulders tensed, the brief flicker of something in her eyes. She hadn’t seen him in days, and the thought of him brought a tightness to her chest- one she coudlnt explain. Y/N licked her lips, giving a slow nod. She didn’t trust herself to say anything.

There were too many feelings tangled up with his name.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled her heels out of her bag. The last thing she needed tonight was to deal with whatever Rafe had going in, yet she knew, deep down, she couldn’t avoid him forever. The music thudded louder as they walked out onto the main floor of the club. Y/N could feel every pair of eyes on her, the weight of their stares almost tangible as she moved through the crowd. She was wearing the tiniest skirt she could find, fishnets hugging her legs tightly, and a little tie top that showed just enough to catch anyone’s attention. That’s when they bumped into Tommy, who was leaning against a pillar near a busy booth. He looked up, a grin spreading across his face when he saw them.

“Just who I’ve been looking for,” he said, his voice laced with the usual business-like tone that masked the eagerness in his eyes.

“Ladies, I need you two for a duet in the far left booth.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped as she glanced over, recognizing that booth as the one Rafe and Barry usually occupied when they were selling. It was one of the higher-paying spots. Naomi didn’t seem to notice, or care. She gave Y/N a quick look, a mischievous gleam in her eye as she nudged her playfully with her shoulder.

“You better shake your ass on me like your life depends on it”

Naomi said, her voice low enough that only Y/N could hear. Y/N let out ana mused hum and although thought of being in Rafe’s vicinity again made her somewhat nervous, she quickly pushed the feeling down. She didn’t have time to second-guess herself. She couldn’t afford to. Not with this much money on the line anyways.

“Trust me, I will”

She said back, her voice steady, though there was a tightness in her chest that she couldn’t ignore. They made their way toward the booth, and with every step, Y/N could feel her pulse quicken, the familiar sense of tension rising in her. It wasn’t just the job. It was him. When they got closer to the booth, Naomi didn’t waste a second. She immediately slid onto Barry’s lap, her movements smooth and confident. Her hands traced down his chest as she leaned in close, her voice low,

"Hey, I’m Bambi"

"Shi, Bambi huh?"

Barry’s grin stretched wider as he raised an eyebrow. He laughed, clearly impressed. His hands were already reaching for the waistband of her panties, slipping cash into the band as she giggled, a carefree sound escaping her lips. Meanwhile, Y/N stood there, watching them for a moment, her heart pounding. The energy was thick, the music pulsing with a new rhythm that seemed to spread through her veins.

But as the beat dropped, her gaze shifted to Rafe.

He was sprawled back on the booth, leaning against the backrest, his legs spread wide and his arms casually crossed, biceps straining against the material. His posture was so damn confident, like he owned the place. His eyes flicked up toward her, and for a second and she froze, not sure how to approach him. The past few days of silence between them hung in the air like a thick fog. But just as quickly as the hesitation struck, she pushed it away. Instead of walking over to him, Y/N turned toward the pole at the centre of the booth, where the soft glow of the lights hit her skin just right. A new song started, the beat smooth and seductive, and she felt the music pull her into its rhythm. She slipped toward it, her fingers brushing against the cool metal as she took a deep breath. The familiar motion of her body flowing with the music was comforting, even if her nerves were still buzzing.

Her body swayed to the rhythm, her movements smooth and fluid as she gripped the pole. Her hips swivelled, hands trailing over her body in the same hypnotic rhythm. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Rafe- his gaze fixed on her, his eyes following her every move, a smirk tugging at his lips and she couldn’t help but feel the heat of his stare, the intensity in it that seemed to burn straight through her. His head tilted slightly, his lips parting as he watched her, as if the world had stopped just for him to witness this. His presence was heavy, and it made her pulse quicken in ways she wasn’t sure she could control.

But then Bambi was there, slipping up beside her, her body just as fluid and confident. She didn’t need words, just the familiar energy they often shared up on the stage. They moved together like they had done this a thousand times before- two bodies locked in perfect sync. Naomi’s hands slid up Y/N’s waist from behind, pulling her closer, their bodies grinding against each other in a perfect duet. Y/N's heart raced as Naomi’s lips brushed against her ear, her breath warm against her skin. They moved together, hands all over each other, teasing, pulling, snapping straps against skin as though their bodies were made to fit together.

Bambi’s fingers trailed down the girl’s spine, as she turned her around both of them now facing eachother. Without hesitation Y/N ran her hands over the girls soft skin, lowering herself down her body before she dropped to her knees in front of the girl. Rafe perked up in his seat eyes glued to the two of them on the stage, yet his focused was set on one more than the other- solely on her. Bambi's hand ran over the top of Y/N's hair and in response the girl arched her back running her hands up from the girls glittering heels to her soft thighs looking up at her from where she knelt on the ground. Bambi let out a playful smile as the whistles from the crowd around them grew louder, a few guys tossing money in their direction, clearly more interested in the show than the drugs being sold.

Rafe’s eyes never left Y/N, he couldn't draw them away even if he wanted to. His teeth ground against eachother, his gaze heavy, fingers tapped on the edge of the booth. The music finally began to fade as the dance came to a close and bills flew past, landing on the floor around the girls. Naomi sent Y/N a kiss, her chest rising and falling with the adrenaline, before she pulled back, a playful wink thrown in her direction as she picked up a few of the fifty dollar bills.

"Thanks for paying for my rent this month"

Rafe had moved now, his back straight as he leaned forward, sitting at the edge of the booth, his posture tense. His eyes were still following the girl standing on the raised platform- but then a guy who had just bought some coke from Barry next to them caught his attention. He was fiddling with the small baggie in his hand, his eyes trailing up and down Y/N’s body with a lecherous grin on his face. He licked his lips, his eyes lingering on her for a beat too long, then he turned to Rafe, the smirk never leaving his face.

“How much for her?” he asked, his voice low but confident as he gestured over to Y/N,

“For a private session?”

As soon as the words left him lips Rafe's jaw clenched, a low scowl pulling at his features as he fixed his eyes on the guy. Without a second thought, he spat out in a cold and cutting tone,

“She’s not for sale.”

The words hit harsh and unforgiving, and Rafe didn’t even give the guy a chance to respond before he stood up and shoved past the man without a glance, his movement swift and purposeful as he made his way towards Y/N. She looked up to find Rafe standing next to her, his gaze running over her, sharp and unreadable. The scowl on his face had softened a little, but there was still something dark in his eyes, something she couldn't fully decipher.

She didn't want to anyways- didn't want to try and understand it... undertsand him

"I want a private session."

His words cut through the air like a knife, his voice low and dangerous. The girl's jaw clenched tighter at the words, an uneasy mixture of anger and something else bubbling beneath the surface. She couldn’t pinpoint it. She didn’t know what to feel anymore when it came to him, she didn’t know where she stood with him, and it made her stomach churn. Naomi overheard from behind her and, with a grin, snuck up close, chin resting lightly on Y/N’s shoulder.

"She’d love to do that for you, wouldn’t you, bunny?"

She teased, the playful tone almost mocking in its innocence. Y/N was still glaring at Rafe, not able to tear her eyes away from him, she didn’t even know how to navigate the mess he'd tangled her in, but this?

This wasn’t what she needed.

Private sessions weren;t anything new. She used to do them all the time, that was before Rafe supposedly banned her from doing so. Either way, it was the nature of the business, and she’d done her fair share. Yet with him- she wasn't sure she wanted to cross that line. But when Rafe spoke again, his offer surprised her, his voice cold as he cut through her thoughts:

"I’ll pay triple."

Naomi’s eyes widened at the offer, clearly taken aback by the amount of money Rafe was willing to throw around. Y/N’s irritation flared—triple? Seriously? She couldn’t even figure out if he was trying to piss her off or if he genuinely wanted a session with her, and that pissed her off even more. Pushing down her frustration, Y/N finally looked away from him, her expression hardening as she nodded stiffly.

"Fine."

Her voice was sharp, but she quickly turned away, heading toward the private rooms, the sound of her heels echoing on the floor as she walked. Rafe followed close behind her, his footsteps deliberate. When they reached the door, she stopped and turned to face him, her hand resting on the door handle. She glanced at him and with a flick of her wrist, she opened the door and gestured inside with a stiff movement.

“After you.”

Rafe didn’t move for a second, his gaze still intense, but eventually, he stepped inside. Y/N turned, taking the little sign by the door and flipping it, the outline of a woman visible now, signaling the start of the session. She moved inside with him, her heart pounding as she shut the door behind her, the heavy silence between them deafening. The bass from the music thumped through the walls of the private room, vibrating the air with its pulse as Y/N stepped in, the door clicking shut behind her. The dim lighting made the space feel smaller, more intimate, as she looked toward Rafe. He was already sitting in the middle of one of the big leather chairs, his posture wide, almost arrogantly so. His thighs spread a little, his eyes focused on her, hungry, predatory.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her cool, walking toward him with slow, deliberate steps. She didn’t show him the nerves that crept up her spine- no, she wasn’t going to let him see that. As she got closer, Rafe’s hand extended toward her, patting his lap. The simple gesture made her stomach flip in a way she refused to acknowledge. She hesitated for only a moment before straddling his lap, the heat between them palpable. His eyes locked onto hers as she settled in.

"I'm waiting"

A slow, deliberate roll of her hips immediately answered his demand. She could feel his breath hitch, his hands coming up to rub over her thighs, the touch warm and possessive. She braced her hands on his shoulders, the grip tight as she moved again, the rhythm of her body building with the pounding beat of the music. Rafe hummed under his breath, clearly satisfied. His hands slid up, teasing the skin of her inner thigh, fingertips brushing the edges of her skirt.

"Not seen you in a while Bunny"

He muttered, voice low and rich with something close to amusement as his head leaned back agaisnt the chair. Y/N smirked, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.

"Not long enough."

His lips curled into a smirk at that, but there was something deeper behind his eyes. As he spoke, his tone almost as if he was savouring the moment.

"Missed that bitchy attitude of yours"

Y/N’s gaze remained locked with his, her body swaying in time with the music, but her mind was elsewhere. Her fingers dug into his shoulders slightly, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way he pulled her in closer with every roll of her hips. She could feel the heat of his gaze, the weight of it settling on her skin causing it to prickle. It only fuelled her determination to make him feel something.

To make him sweat under the same intensity she felt.

His hand slid up her body, sliding over her hips, pausing at the soft skin of her waist before making its way to the centre of her top, fingers lingering by the bow of the material keeping her tits covered. Before she could react, his fingers curled around the soft cotton, tugging at the tie letting the material fall open in response to the action. Y/N bit her tongue, swallowing down her snarky comment, instead her hands came up to pull the top off- revealing the smallest bikini top she owned. It barely covered anything, the triangles of fabric just barely containing her tits. Rafe's eyes flicked down, his gaze darkening as he let out a hum, much deeper than the last. His thumb ran over the edge of the triangle shaped fabric, skimming along the soft swell of her breast.

His hands then slid lower to her hips, pulling her down just a little closer against him. His grip tightened, fingers pressing into her skin as he guided her movements, making sure she felt the full weight of his presence beneath her. He leaned in closer, the heat of his breath washing over her neck, sending a small shiver down her spine. She swallowed, the knot in her throat tightening as he whispered to her,

"Did you miss me, Bunny?"

Y/N’s breath caught, her pulse quickening at the sound of his voice- low, teasing, so incredibly close to her skin. Her body felt hot suddenly, like the room had sweltered into something far more intense. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way, not with him, not with everything that had already passed between them. Her mind raced, and for a brief moment, she couldn't answer. She was caught off guard by the sudden surge of heat flooding her body. The question hung in the air like a weight, as if the answer would say more about her than she wanted it to. She cleared her throat, struggling to steady her pulse as his lips brushed just underneath her ear. The tension between them seemed to stretch, thickening with every passing second. She managed a tight, almost defensive response.

"No"

She said, her voice betraying her own uncertainty as she shifted slightly, the heat between them still uncomfortably intense. Rafe didn’t pull away. Instead, his hands tightened around her hips, pulling her closer again, forcing her to face him, to meet his gaze. There was something dangerous in his eyes- a challenge- but also something else, something far more complicated. He smirked, as though he knew exactly what was going on inside her head, leaning back slightly as he watched her, his gaze never leaving her face.

"I don’t believe you"

He said, his voice low, amusement dancing in his eyes. Y/N felt her stomach twist. She stopped her movements abruptly, the music shifting into a new beat that only seemed to heighten the tension between them and her breath seemed to be heavier now. She could feel the weight of his stare as his fingers trailed down to toy with the hem of her skirt, teasing her with every slight tug of the fabric. He tilted his head, his eyes still locked on her, as though he were reading her every move. He spoke casually, voice dripping with an almost confident sweetness.

"My offer still stands you know..."

"What?"

Y/N blinked, confusion flickering in her gaze. Rafe leaned in just a little, his lips curving into that familiar cocky grin.

"Come back to Tannyhill with me..."

He said, his voice quieter now, but still laced with that undeniable edge. Her stomach dropped, and she shook her head, already pushing herself off of him, feeling that familiar heat rise to her face.

"No"

She said firmly, her tone cold, her chest tight with irritation. Rafe wasn’t done, though. As she moved away from him, his hands shot out to grab her wrists, keeping her close to him and her hands had to come out to steady herself against his chest. His fingers wrapped around her skin like a vice, but not harsh—more like a silent ask for her attention, for her response. He coaxed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"C'mon Y/N- any price you give me"

"No," she repeated, her jaw clenched, her voice rising,

"No- what do you even- no- Rafe just, just stop"

But he wasn’t letting it go even though she was done. She pulled away from him, her chest tight as she turned toward the door. Rafe’s voice followed her as she walked.

"You know I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want"

He said, the words hanging in the air between them. Y/N froze, her hand resting on the door handle. She turned around, her lips curling into a sarcastic smile.

"Yeah? Well, that makes it so much better, doesn’t it?"

She shot back, her voice thick with bitter irony. Rafe didn’t move, didn’t flinch. He only leaned back against the booth with a slight shrug. "Well," he said slowly, his tone a little too calm,

"I’m not gonna change my mind."

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, her hands tightening around the handle. She shot him one last, heated glance before responding, her voice sharp and firm.

"Yeah? Well, neither will I"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She walked out of the club, her trainers scuffing against the pavement in the quiet night air, each step louder than the last. The neon lights from the strip club still flickered in the distance, but she was done. She had clocked out early, barely able to keep herself together after that confrontation with Rafe. Her blood was boiling, and her fists were clenched so tight her knuckles ached. She could still feel the heat of his touch, the way his words had wormed their way under her skin.

He had that effect on her- always had.

Y/N chewed on the thought as she crossed the parking lot, heading for her car. It was complicated. She hated what he made her feel. He knew exactly how to push her buttons, how to get under her skin, and it made her want to scream. Yet, at the same time, part of her didn’t want to walk away, even though her stomach twisted at the thought of him. She hated that she couldn’t escape the pull he had on her. He was everything she didn’t want. And still, there she was, thinking about him when she could be focusing on anything else. Her thoughts were swirling as she made her way to her car, trying to push away the lingering feeling of his presence. She’d never been so conflicted in her life. She slid her bag into the trunk of the car, the weight of the night still pressing down on her, and just as she was about to shut the boot, a voice interrupted her.

"Hey! Hey, excuse me!"

She paused and looked up, her jaw tightening as she saw a guy walking toward her. He was dressed well, too well for someone she'd expect to see around here, and there was something about the way his pupils were blown wide that immediately caught her attention. "Um, yeah?" she responded, clearly annoyed, her arms folding across her chest.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh uh, you're Bunny, right?"

The guy seemed a little flustered as he stopped in front of her, running a hand through his hair, a nervous energy radiating off him. Y/N let out a small sigh, rolling her eyes to herself, her fingers gripping the edge of the trunk.

"Look, I’m not working anymore..."

The guy blinked, quickly recovering, "Oh—oh right. Well, will you be back tonight or…?"

"No, I'm done for the night"

She replied curtly, closing the trunk with a firm click. She was done with the whole night, with the club, and especially with thinking about Rafe. "Right, right," he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to find his words.

"I saw you inside, and… I just wanted to say you were..."

"I was…?"

She trailed off, her patience already wearing thin. Y/N shifted her weight from one foot to the other, not really in the mood for small talk. He spoke, his voice a little too eager, his words almost slurring slightly as if he'd had a few too many drinks.

"...you were really good"

"Thanks"

She muttered, already turning to head for her driver's door, hoping he'd take the hint. But no, he was still following her, his steps quickening as he tried to keep up. "You see," he continued,

"I was inside, and I was talking to that guy and I was going to ask you for a priv—"

"-Look, this is really nice of you and all, but I really just wanna get home."

She cut him off before he could finish, her tone sharp. The guy stopped, his face falling slightly as he realized she wasn’t interested. He gave a small nod, raising his hands a little. But he didn't move. Y/N turned to face the guy again as he didn’t back off. He was still standing a few steps away, an uncomfortable eagerness in his stance.

"I'll pay you well"

He said, trying to sound persuasive, his voice a little more insistent. She scoffed, shaking her head. Her voice was thick with disbelief, the last thread of patience she had snapping.

"Are you for real right now?"

"Come on, I’ll pay you double."

He stepped a little closer, his eyes scanning her like and Y/N’s jaw tightened, her fingers gripping the handle of the car door as she stood between the two cars taking a step back, trying to put distance between them.

"Just back off man"

But he didn’t listen and instead took another step forward, clearly ignoring every signal she was giving him, and she felt the anger building in her chest.

"I fucking said, back up!"

She snapped, her voice cold and sharp. The guy hesitated for just a second, but then his eyes hardened, the uncomfortable edge of desperation turning into something intimidating. 

He clearly wasn’t backing off

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[classyrbf]

super horny babymama!reader with babydaddy!suguru tending to her every needs no matter how dire or casual they may be.

thank you for the request pookieeee, i hope you like it <3

you sat there staring at your phone, an unamused look on your face as you read the text from your supposed to be date tonight.

hate to do this, but I gotta cancel last minute…

all you can do is sigh in disappointment, rolling your eyes and tossing your phone onto your bed. You didn’t have the energy to respond, quite literally drained from scrolling on dating apps twenty four seven and having dates canceled. Getting back into the dating life was harder than you thought, especially now since you were single mother. It’s been tough finding someone, wanting a long lasting relationship and a nice guy who’ll also prove that he’s good enough for your kid too.

Even if you can’t find someone for long term at the moment, you were definitely in need for a good fuck. You couldn’t remember the last time you actually had someone in your bed. The built up sexual frustration added to your stress. You were so excited for this day too, even got Shoko to babysit for you after begging and begging. You frowned, heels clicking against the floor, getting a good look at yourself in the mirror, dress hugging you in all the right places and your makeup enhancing your features. It was a complete waste.

Whatever. You’ll just use the time to have some fun for yourself, reaching into your drawer to pull out your vibrator, hoping that it’ll help take some of the edge off. Any longer without cumming and you feel like you might explode. Unfortunately a horrible idea pops into your head the second you reach in your drawer. An idea that involved calling your baby daddy for a quick fuck.

You and suguru were great at co parenting, but getting too close would always make things messy and confusing, but would it really hurt to have him back in your bed again after a few months. The more and more you thought about it the nastier your thoughts became. He knew your body like the back of his hand, knew all your sweet spots, what made you tick and how to make you cum within minutes. Your pussy throbbed at the thought, and you broke.

You dialed his number, the phone only ringing twice before you heard his voice on the phone. “Hello?” He answered.

“Hey, Suguru.” You bit your lip.

“Hey, baby. Everything alright?” Despite not being together for a while, he never dropped the nickname despite your comments about it.

“Mmm, yeah. I just…my date canceled on me and I was wondering—”

“Need to me to come over?” He finished your sentence, letting out a breathy chuckle. “Anything for you, baby.”

“Yeah, but…I’m just feeling really fucking horny right now,” you take a deep breath, “and I need you so badly. I’ve been pent up for so fucking long, Sugu,” you whine.

“I know, baby, I know. Just be ready for me when I get there.”

Now twenty minutes later, Geto has you riding his cock, his hands squeezing at your hips. You’re bouncing on him with such intensity, greedily pleasing yourself, using his cock to get off. And he lets you without a care in the world. He watches your pussy cream around him, your pretty tits bouncing in his face, tempting to suck on. “That’s it, ride that dick,” he pants, reaching down and rubbing your clit with his thumb.

“Nnnghh, Sugu,” you cry, lewd moans bouncing off the walls and straight to his ears. “I love your cock…feels so fucking good,” you whimper. Your hips are slamming down harder, eyes rolling back at the pleasure coursing through your veins. Your chest heaves up and down with each breath, falling back on your hands and spreading your legs more, grinding your hips against his cock. “Mmmph,” your teeth catch your lower lip.

“Ohh yes, show off that pretty pussy to me,” he groans, still messily rubbing your clit. He feels your cunt clench down on him, a broken moan escaping his lips. “Fuckkk, I can’t get enough of you.” He bucks his hips up, fucking you back. The sound of your pussy squelching makes his cock throb even harder, your juices gathering at the base of his cock with each lethal thrust.

“Shit, shit, right there!” You moan. As you grow closer to your orgasm, your body grows tired from riding, making it hard to catch your breath. Geto notices how much of you slowed down, brows furrowed in concentration before he pulls you up and holds you against his sweaty chest. His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly as he takes over, plunging his cock into you. “Ohhhh shit. Oh my god you’re so fucking deep, Sugu!” Your nails claw at his shoulders, your moans pouring into his ear.

The sound of skin against skin echoes through the room, his cock thrusting in and out a rough and selfish pace. It’s like he needed your orgasm more than you with the way he was fucking you. He always knew how to do it just right, making your toes curl, leaving you speechless and a drooling mess. “Cum, baby, fucking cum,” he whimpers, gritting his teeth as his movements grow sloppier. “No one else can make you feel this good, huh? Fucking you so deep and raw, making you cum harder and harder round after round,” his sultry voice sends shivers down your spine. “This pussy is mine. Say it.” You can hear the cocky smirk in his voice.

“Ah, yes, it’s yours!” You cry out, biting down on his shoulder as he continuously pounds into you, satisfying your every craving and need to be fucked. He knows exactly how you need it, and puts it down just right. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard for you to stay away, and he plays right into each time because he can’t stay away either. He’s there at your every beck and call no matter what.

Your pornographic moans grow only louder, dripping cunt clenching around his thick cock before your body begins shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. “I’m cummingggg!” Your eyes roll back, incoherent mumbles leaving your lips while he fucks you through it.

“Fuck, yes, you feel so good!” His grip on you is bruising, your pussy creaming more than before as his thrusts grow stronger. “Ohh shit, you’re bouta make me fucking cum,” he breathes heavily, quickly making the decision to pull out before he ends up making a rash decision and getting you pregnant again. The warmth of his sticky cum coats your pussy lips, geto making sure to smear it between your folds. “Damn, baby,” he breathily chuckles.

“Oh my god,” you lay there on his chest, trying to catch your breath. “God, I haven’t cum that hard in so long. I feel like I blacked out for a second,” you giggle. His fingers hook under your jaw, pulling you in for a kiss, his tongue sliding against your lips and into your mouth. Your hands travel down his toned stomach, pulling away. “Fuck me again,” you whisper, your hand sliding lower, wrapping around his hard cock. Geto wastes no time, flipping you onto your back, your knees pushed up to your chest.

You were ready to be here all night.

feel free to support me <3

[skyrigel]

Simon just wanted to say something, he didn't want to fuck this up — not when you look so interested, not when you were so goddamn pretty.

“I have a massive gun with me.”

You smirked, glancing all the way down to his crotch, the way his thick thighs were spread over the small tool of this bar.

Ofcourse it was massive. “mmm,” you hummed, batting your lashes.

“D' ya wanna...wanna see it ?” Simon asked nervously, swaying his whiskey glass and swallowing dry at the sight of you leaning so obscenely with one elbow on the counter, eyes intoxicated and mouth stained.

So Simon led you through crowded heavy bodies which swayed along side teen spirit and pints, “What will you let me do with your massive gun ?” you whispered shouted in his ear, taking hold of his shoulder and relishing at Simon's blush reaching his eyes.

“Touch it...” he flustered, you tutted, then grinned some more. “Give me some slack big man, what else ?”

“Ya' can do whatever you like, anything.”

“Anything.” your mouth watered, and anticipated with giddiness walked out where the dusk chill pressed into your skin.

“Ya' know how to deal with it ?” although it was still a question, Simon sounded so very impressed at your knowing smile.

Usually you weren't so blunt but you couldn't look away from him, and alcohol was making any decency straight up unholy thoughts.

“I will touch it, hold it, swallow it whole in my mouth.”

Simon paused, opening the door as you hopped inside cheekily.

“Is it...a kink ?” Simon asked very accented, his face tilted in such innocence that you craved that dick, hell you wanna kiss him so hard. Never were you so kneen to suck a man's dick but Simon just ...you just couldn't wait now.

“It might become one here.”

Simon smiled, and leaned in a way you thought he might kiss you.

You sucked in breath, heart stopping just so in his close proximity, his scent lingering over you until he reached under the seat — is he gonna eat you out ??! Because fuck —but then he sat upright with a proud grin which transformed his face further over the spectrum of handsomeness in that weird, crooked, rugged up way.

You stared at his hand because from under the seat he had pulled out a massive rifle.

“My mcx spear...call em' ghost” his eyes glittered up, then holding out for you to hold it in your sweaty palms.

You lagged, flabbergasted, slack jaw — blushing.

“C'mon dun be shy.” Simon cooed very softly, and you nodded, taking it in your hands and the prev white smirk next pale open mouthed embarrassment melted into genuine fondness next jolting realisation.

You still wanted to suck his dick.

You still wanted to kiss him hard.

“Hi ghost.” you chirped, stroking along the barrel and sharing the fascination with his mirrored eyes.

Masterlist

[semiloml]

cw: rough sex, doggy style, manhandling, unprotected sex, lmk if I missed something!!:p

Sakusa wasn’t gentle.

At least, not when he had you like this.

Bent over the bed, ass up, knees digging into the mattress as he dragged you back onto his cock—over and over and over—his fingers gripping the soft flesh of your hips, squeezing, molding it to his hands like he couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his voice a low snarl behind you. “You feel too fucking good.”

Your fingers scrambled against the sheets, gasping as he drove himself deeper, the stretch making your whole body tremble.

“Kiyoomi—!”

“Shhh,” he hushed, one big hand coming down to cup the fat of your ass, giving it a sharp squeeze. “Just take it.”

And fuck, you did.

Because Sakusa fucked hard.

Every thrust jerked your body forward, your thighs shaking, your back arching as he used his grip on your hips to pull you back onto him, making sure you felt every thick inch of him pressing into your deepest spots.

“God, look at you,” he groaned, his hands squeezing—grabbing—the plush curve of your hips like he owned you. “Made to take my cock, huh?”

All you could do was whimper, back bowing as his grip turned rougher, his nails digging into your soft skin.

He loved that.

The contrast between his big hands and your softer body—the way he could grab, mold, control every part of you.

“Fuck, I love this,” he muttered, his voice thick with possession. “Love watching you take it. Love the way your thighs shake. Love the way your ass bounces every time I fuck into you.”

You whined, dropping your head against the mattress, completely wrecked by the way he was using your body, pulling you into every brutal thrust, claiming you like he was branding himself into your bones.

“Don’t run from it,” he growled, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you still as he slammed deeper. “Take what I give you.”

And fuck, you did, moaning as your thighs trembled, as the pleasure coiled deep, as his cock bullied that sweet spot over and over until you were seeing stars.

“Fuck, Kiyoomi—!”

He groaned at the way you clenched around him, his fingers bruising your hips as he fucked you through your orgasm, never slowing, never letting up.

“Mmm, that’s it,” he rasped, his voice shaky now, getting close. “Gonna cum for me again, yeah? Gonna let me fill you up?”

You could only moan in response, too fucked-out to speak.

Sakusa snarled, his thrusts turning desperate—and then, with a guttural curse, he slammed in deep and came with a shuddering groan, his fingers bruising your skin as he buried himself to the hilt.

Heavy breaths filled the room. His forehead dropped to your shoulder.

Then—

“Next time,” he murmured, voice still wrecked, “I want a mirror in front of us. Wanna see exactly how good you look getting ruined on my cock.”

And fuck, you knew there was no way you’d survive that.

A/N: Feedback, reblogs, comments and likes are really appreciated <33