#''Wait- I can't do that. Let me control this...''

[stargirlygirl]

you're quiet during it

lads li's (except for raf; separate) x fem!reader

contains: nsfw, smut, unprotected sex, p-in-v, oral sex (f!receiving), p-link for xavier

⭑.ᐟ caleb

at first, it would throw caleb off guard, being the louder one when y'all are devil's tangoing. but it's no issue.

he learns your audial cues: when your breath hitches as you're about to cum, the little mewls that tell him he's doing a good job, and your sweet "more, caleb!" whimpers.

he's also attentive to your physical cues: your back arching as he messily eats you out, so close to an orgasm it's almost painful; your hands tugging on his silky locks when his tongue is lapping your folds; and how your thighs tense up and shake when you're finally swept away by a riptide of pleasure.

and caleb takes pride in hearing how loud he can make you. of course, it's only after an hour or so of overstimulation that you're more talkative and noisy.

he's fucking obsessed with how you cry out, "please, caleb! i can't. n-no more." chuckling against your slick cunt, the lower half of his face drenched in your release, he'll gaze up at you with hazy sunset eyes.

"c'mon, honey. just one more?" he coos so sweetly, rubbing your thigh and all. and when you do give him that one more, you're absolutely silent, lower lip trapped between your teeth as you writhe beneath him. the ecstasy is far too overwhelming for a sound to be made.

when he sucks on your clit harshly, that's when you nearly scream; exactly what he's been waiting so patiently for.

⭑.ᐟ sylus

sylus finds your hushed moans endearing.

i think he definitely teases you when he's eating you out, something akin to, "you're so quiet, kitten. doesn't this feel good?" but he knows you're in actual heaven right now.

when he's on top, thrusting into you so tenderly, i know sylus is groaning and panting in your ear the sweetest things. "you're biting your lip so hard, sweetie. careful—" he pulls your lip out from your chompers with his thumb, "or you'll draw blood."

especially when you're cockwarming him and whimpering softly in his ear, it makes him all the more harder. he'll throb inside of your snug walls, pre-cum leaking everywhere as he rubs your back and murmurs, "don't runaway, kitten, when you're taking me so well."

like caleb, he's got your sounds memorised. but unlike caleb, i don't think sylus pushes you to the edge. i think he'll stop as soon as you yawn, god forbid you do so as he's still rutting into you.

your bf will pull you into a warm cuddle and let you rest for as long as you need. he praises you half-lovingly, half-mockingly, until it's time to get cleaned up.

⭑.ᐟ zayne

i'm imagining this princess and the pauper "you're just like me, i'm just like you" moment between you and zayne the first time you had sex (whether that be oral, penetrative, mutual touching, etc).

because he's... somewhat controlled in the sound domain, he understands that your lack of loud sounds isn't because his performance is lacking (though he needed reassurance initially), but because that's how you are. he's never commented on it or teased you for it. zayne simply relies on consistent communication to ensure you're enjoying what he's doing.

let's say you two have a rare day off and spend the morning in bed. waking up, you're exchanging gentle kisses, which quickly become heated. but since you're both sleepy, it's this lazy kind of lust.

he's in between your thighs, taking you to the far reaches of the universe when he pulls off your swollen clit and asks breathily, "does this feel good?" releasing a low whimper, you nod and push his face back into your pussy.

you can feel his micro-smirk as he eats you out till you're trembling and softly mewling, your thighs clamped around his head.

and when you're spooning, it's tender and slow, zayne sliding every inch in before drawing back. you're wrapped in his warm embrace, panting a little. your bf let's out this cracked whimper as you squeeze around him, close to his end already.

he rasps out, "it's been so long since we've done this." you hum in response, your grip on his scarred forearms tightening before you see the stars together.

⭑.ᐟ xavier

like sylus, xavier finds it cute. with how tough you try to act all the time, it inflates his ego when you're a quiet, shaking mess beneath him.

he likes how your body does the talking. no words are necessary when you're rolling your hips up to his, hands pawing at his trousers in an attempt to take them off.

he'll tease you, "you really did miss me, huh?" but he delivers it in his soft voice.

and you, too needy to register that he's having a go at you, will just nod and whimper a small, "please."

i can't help but think of this p-link.

xav definitely mocks you during sex, asking you in his low commanding voice to be louder and to tell him how good he's making you feel, how much you need him, to tell him anything because he wants to hear your voice. specifically, he wants to hear it break as you try to speak.

and he only grows more demanding as his climax approaches. his sweet pants and moans tangle with yours as you grip his shoulders. holding onto them for dear life, a stuttered cry escapes your lips as he buries himself so deep and cums inside.

masterlist

star girl's final words: sorry if this is rats ass. just something that's been on my mind, which i wanted to get out.

[kkuras-gamer-gf]

Through the phone | Megan Skiendiel

Smut. Short and horribly written but i wanted to post.

G!p megan, sub!megan jerks off over the phone

It had started with a simple picture you sent to Megan, your girlfriend who's currently across the world, maybe a little too much skin with only shorts and a bra.

After a lack of a reply, you called her, and the phone rang one too many times in your eyes. But when she finally answered, it was like she got caught, her voice a bit shaky.

"Hey, baby!" She exclaimed, in that voice she uses when she wants to get away with something, a barely heard whimper at the end.

"Hi, Mei Mei. What are you doing?"

"H-huh? Oh, just lying down." An obvious lie, but you let it slide. "Tell me about your day." Her usual tactic of deflecting

So you did, ranting about things. Sighs and little whines muffled on the other end, you weren't stupid; you knew what she was doing. You could even hear the way her hand was moving on her slick-covered cock.

"You okay, Meg?" You question with a teasing lilt.

"Just keep talking. Please." She pleaded. The girl's voice got more whiny and breathless, now clear what she was doing on the other end.

"Are you touching yourself, baby?"

"Mm—couldn't help it." She sounded near tears.

"I thought we had an agreement?" You recall telling the brunette specifically not to touch herself and to especially not cum without your permission.

"''m sorry. But that picture—fuck." You swear you can hear her hand speed up. "I just couldn't control it."

"Hmm." Pretending to think, "Sounds like you need to be punished."

"Wh- no. Please. Just miss you so much." The way she speaks is like she's drunk, slurring words from pleasure.

"Mm, I don't know. You haven't been good, have you?"

"Wh-what are you going to do about it?" The brattiness almost surprises Megan herself, though maybe it's what she wants. To rile you up so she gets punished.

"Oh, you're so fucked when you get home." Your tongue clicking on your cheek, "Go ahead and enjoy yourself now."

"Fuck." Megan whimpered under her breath, but this is exactly what she wanted.

"It's pathetic that you're getting off to my voice."

Megan tries her best to keep quiet, her bandmates rooms nearby, lip pulled between her teeth and biting down harshly.

"Keep talking," she insists.

"Tell me, how many times have you touched yourself before this?"

"N-none."

"Don't lie."

"Only once. But I didn't cum! I swear!"

"Yeah? You gonna cum now?"

"Mhm, I'm so close." Her breathing was labored, and the bed creaked in the background; you imagined the desperation of her fucking herself with her hand.

"What if I don't want you to come?"

"B-baby, please. I'll be good. I swear. Please."

"I don't know." Faux consideration in the way you hum; you'd let her cum, of course, but not before more begging.

"I'll do anything. Please let me come. Please. I want to come so bad." The words come tumbling out like she can't control it, tears audible through her voice.

"Go ahead." You try not to let your own arousal leak into your voice as you give her permission, knowing how much control you had in that second.

"O-oh, thank you, thank you." Megan babbles, repeated thank yous and swears mixed with small whimpers, muffled by her hand that was now covering her mouth.

It goes silent for a minute, a smirk on your face as you manage to ruin the girl even countries away.

"I'm sorry for not listening." Her small voice finally speaks up, clearly tired.

"Just wait until you get home."

Megan's cheeks flush at the promise, her heart racing at what's to come.

[vixenofthemist]

THINGS THAT MAKE ME EMO IN CURRENT TIMELINE AFTER TEARS OF ROMIRRO (loosely coherent, spoilers ahead)

Rafayel kisses MC with such fervor. Desperate, some could say, like he treats everyone like it's their last

He also has a tendency of pinning her wrists when they kiss (so he can control what her hands are doing, perhaps? So she can not yeet out a dagger?) Before he relaxes and gets lost in the moment)

Rafayel never lets MC keep him tied up, does he : ) He always has a way of freeing himself, now

The last loving thing (in his eyes) Bride!MC did was hold his face, and now his obsession with her hands makes soooo much sense

The statue in his house that looks like Bride!MC.... the one he caresses on the title screen... o w

Since current Raf is probably a fresh reincarnation after dying in Fragrant Dream, there had to be a point where he remembered his past life sometime after meeting MC as kids. I think about that a lot,,, how it must have affected him

Adding to that, his stalkerness before the story makes SO much sense bc how do you even process all the past memories?? The sense of devotion and betrayal in equal parts, fighting inside him if he should even get close to her again bc what if she does it all over again?? She already HAS hurt him in this life, making him wait and wait and never coming back to him. But he CAN'T ignore her existence, his very essence is bonded to her... obviously the solution to this is become a professor at her university and then never interact with her /sarcastic. so he can catch a whiff of her scent on the breeze, hear her laugh from outside a window, know she's alive and well while being 0 part of her life

AWAY FROM THAT ANGST THO I wonder if Raymond died via the curse that Bride!MC had??

Also need more Raf taking care of sick MC it was very cute

Can't believe we got confirmation that Your Fragrance happened bc there is just a smell that makes Lemurians horny, and MC happened to put THAT one by complete accident aksjs

Speaking of the Fragrant memories, I totally think Rafayel used the same kind of potion that Harkness (forget his name, the bad guy in Tears of Romirro) used to make MC relieve her most recent past life in Fragrant Dream (Follower!MC for Bride and Abyssal!Witch for current) ... Lemurians have all sorts of smell based spells don't they aksjsj

Okay im rambling now so I'll stop but I'll leave with hoping we get Raf giving MC a scale for protection in a main story branch

[dontbelasagnax]

Codywan.... fake out make out (we all yell in unison!)

But... but wait... fake out make that turns into... REAL. MAKE OUT? Oh, yes please! Codywan REAL MAKE OUT from the fake out make out (we all scream in unison!)

Ah yes. Imagine this. It's approximately eleven years after order 66. Obi-Wan and Cody are enjoying an outing at a market on Tatooine. The suns are out but there are clouds in the sky. The smell of roasting meats wafts through the air as they pursue stalls. They've been acclimating to life together in their retirement, living together as roommates in a hut by the dune sea. The empire has not yet established control over Hutt space. They are safe. And yet - they hear that tell-tale clunking of plastoid nearby, that familiar drumbeat of a march, and ice fills their veins.

Hushed and harried, Cody says, "Do you trust me?"

With sincerity and finality that Cody feels undeserving of, circumstances considering, Obi-Wan says, "Always."

So Cody pushes him against a nearby wall and kisses him.

And kisses him.

And kisses him.

For a moment they break apart, faces turned to collars and shoulders. Cody can't help but breathe him in and nuzzle as close as he can.

Obi-Wan finally says, "I believe the threat has passed."

And Cody remembers. Abashed. It wasn't real. It was- a tactic.

And then- "I must admit my nerves can't handle the rest of our outing." A warm hand curls around the small of Cody's back. "Shall we continue this at home?"

Cody sighs, a flood of relief pouring from him. "Yeah. Yeah. Let's go home."

Obi-Wan gingerly takes him by the hand. Worn and scarred palms pressed snugly together. They make their way through the much sparser crowd to their waiting eopies.

Home.

[prettyflyshyguy]

eucalyptus tissues have once again saved me from the torment nexus (the yearly cold/flu that you inevitably will contract every winter) and despite being in and out of bed all day - i have to complete my civic duty so lets do this.

You know the drill. Live slug reaction under the cut.

EP7 lets give it up for EP7

Firstly -- jesus did they not take anytime to give Gura a new uniform because he's barely patched up, and covered in someone elses brain matter and this thumbnail pic looks like they're on the hopper getting ready to EXIT STAGE LEFT

not the ONE MONTH EARLIER timeskip you cant DO THIS TO ME

Ok but like. Bharadwaj did you have to admit infront of the entire group AT A FANCY RESTURAUNT that you and Pin Lee had a bit of a fumble like "Sorry for the discomfort I caused you" GIRL THE WHOLE ROOM CAN HEAR YOU GNILERSNGILAEGNBLIHB

--- wait I'm an idiot they're doing a group sharing thing arent they. They were literally chanting her name a minute ago. Jesus christ the flu's left me one impatient little shit hasnt it LMAOO

Anyway before I move on -- can we talk about how pretty Bharadwaj is in this scene wtfffff

Tiktok voice: WE LISTEN AND WE DON'T JUDGE

STOP THAT STOPPPPPPP I'M IN THIS PICTURE AND I DON'T LIKE IT AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH thank you mr dastmalchian for the performance of my life

Ratthi saying "Who is the next victim!" I'm crying its gonna be gurathin isnt it

THIS BACKGROUND CHARACTER I'M SOBBING

I could write a fucking essay on this scene regarding the class difference, the cultural differences and the undertones. But I have the fucking flu. You're all smart people you can psychically connect with me on this right.

OH. HOMEBOY WAS A SPY. WORKING FOR THE CORPORATION RIM.

GNURIEHGULEAHNURTSGHUIERGHJUIEHGNUERISG

that was a fucking bombshell revelation

Re; him being forced to take substances as a means for coercion and control. Look I'm not sorry this is just making me go bonkers he's just like my best girl O'Byrne for real you guys don't understand the accidental parallels between him and her are sending me into a fucking frenzy. I made her like in 2016 for a story and I swear I've never even heard of murderbot till this show came out I can't believe this holy shit holy fuck

This also adds SO MUCH MORE WEIGHT to how angrily he shut down LLB's suggestion at cracking open a medkit for stimulants (for fun). Initially I got the vibe that it was just a general "thats a stupid fucking idea we need those they're important" but now its like

Ah.

this show's going to make me fucking cry his performance is going to make me fucking cry

This was a very. Very good conversation between these two. I am once again in this picture and I don't like it. Maybe its the sickness, maybe it's because I've been self reflecting, but this hit me in a soft spot.

"My risk assessment module was a piece of crap" yeah yeah alright blame it on the fucking module ya dickhead go on then hahahahahahahahahahahaa idiot

GOD AS really just has an incredibly imposing figure combined with excellent camera work to make this thing look deeply unsettling. Great body acting. Great framing. I love a good freak 10/10

THE WAY EVERYONE INSTINCTIVELY JERKS BACK HOLY SHIT OF;IJEIRGHALIERHJA;EOGHJEOSJGH

YESSSSSSS YEEEEEEEEESSSSSSS HAHAHAHAHAHAHA OH MY GOD THE WRITERS GET IT. THEY REALLY GET IT. THEY REALLY REASLLY GET IT HAHA YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"I'm asking you to please get in the hopper. Unless you feel like dying.

I-I mean from them. Not from me."

screaming crying throwing up this show is both so so so fucking funny and just hits such a particular itch I have in character dynamics and the monstrous I'm cackling. Every time it awkwardly stutters or fumbles its words when it realises it came across wrong for how it's trying to present itself I feel giddy ("you're not disturbing. Me." when it was trying to hide and now THIS)

"You should be afraid of me. Please don't be afraid of me." real shit I'm slurping this up like the chicken soup I made last night

this is just like when I watched Supernatural for the first time last year and it made me go insane and I doubled down on writing my own story after and now murderbot is fuelling me now you dont understanddddddddd I'm going to explode if I dont publish Virtual Ground in some capacity by the end of this year

I have to. This show makes me want to make my own damn story better and stronger and get this shit out there SO BAD

RATTHI I LOVE YOU BUT I'M STRUGGLING TO WATCH THIS SCENE THE 2ND HAND EMBARRASSMENT WILL KILL ME

"Cooool. Okay good talk."

SOBBING

"Aah thank you so much for the concern."

"I didn't indicate concern, I was stating a fact."

bitch I need them to get locked inside a room for 12 hours. I need them to have to undertake a duos mission forcibly. I need them to have to cooperate on a highly specialised task that they both are required to participate in and cannot do alone completely.

Do you understand it makes me physically ill

"Ungrateful." WELL WELL WELL IF IT ISNT THE ACTIONS OF MY OWN CONSEQUENCES IRHTGALUHGELGAEULRH

Love that this is just one humungous miscommunication error on full display on both human and construct sides. Both cannot quite understand how the other operates and at this fundamental base incompatibility it results in both struggling and tension constantly forming. Impeccable. Waiter can I have another serving please.

ALSO IT'S STUPID LITTLE GRUMPY WALK AWAY HAHAHA

Thank you Mensah voice of reason (and I'm crying at everyone consistently not pronouncing LBB's name right)

"I was one whole confused entity" UGH WHAT A GOOD LINE

once again I love how this show uses subtle chromatic aberration to show when MB's having a moment of mind palace imagination.

"Circle"

"Nope."

"Absolutely not."

NFGBUIERAUHGULIJEHGLIHBERSUTGHUISLRTHGLUSRHG

You guys didn't even *try* and explain to it what you're doing and why, you just assumed it'd understand!! You need to talk to it!! You need to tell it what this whole thing is! Just like Gurathin "I'm not very good at this game" you have to communicate it!!!!!!!!!!!!

oK i've just been absorbing the entire outside-the-hopper conversation and its good food your honor. No one is happy. Everyone's getting snappy. No one has a good plan. Everyones confused and upset. Uguialerhguhga

CRICKEY, WHAT A BEAUTY!!!

BLIMEY!!!!

Ok that took a shocking and unexpected turn

I'm not going to comment on this

YEP.

God.

PIN LEE I'M SOBBING I ALSO DON'T WANT TO LOOK AT THEM

THIS FUCKING FIGHT CHOREOGRAPHY IS SO FUNNY

BHARADWAJ COMING IN WITH THE ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And then they confiscated their clubs and my rock...

sorry that's a shockingly specific reference to a Dead Kennedy's track in which the frontman just tells a story. Anyway here's a relative timestamp to the quote.

ANYWAY. That's not the flu talking, I have a habit of just quoting that.

If I had a dollar for every time there was robot vore in this show I'd have two dollars. You know the rest.

once again I am looking respectfully at the robot gore on this show however

"We're going. You can come. If you want."

Loving the emphasis on the reality that MB has a choice. It's shitty and pissy about it and it sure does love to complain but it's chosen, thus far, to protect them. It's chosen multiple steps of the way to be helpful.

It's still not entirely clear to the prexaux crew that thats the case (bar Mensah. She gets it the most.) but I think they're starting to recognise it a little more. The focus, care and attention it gave when the worm showed up was the biggest indication.

But MB itself also deeply struggles to recognise the whys and the hows of how prexaux approach it and feel about it. Cause after all it's just one whole confused entity. Aren't we all.

Anyway. I'm still not satisfied in the Gurathin reveals. I need to know so much more. I'm so fucking hungry. This only furthers my theory that he was augmented against his will. It's thrown a jerry can onto the bonfire actually.

I swear to god it wont happen this season but if we get a season 2 (I know the books go different places hear me out) I NEED MB and Gurathin to go on a shitty little duo mission together where they're forced to hang out and cooperate on something IT'S LIKE LIFE SUPPORT TO ME.

IF THE SHOW WON'T WRITE IT, I WILL.

Anyway I love that, once again, everyone has problems, and half of them arise from communication breakdowns. And it feels like we're getting closer to a breakthrough of mutual understanding. Mensah does your back hurt from how much you're carrying right now.

Now this meme comes with inevitable 'parent' connotations -- put those aside for a sec because it's not about that it's about her being the one fucking thing thats keeping two very chaotic forces together (everyone else in presaux and MB) and stopping them from destroying themselves or each other

Anyway. My whole body aches. I feel so fucking ill. I'm worried I've said something really stupid or nonsensical or a bad take here -- flu brain's got me paranoid.

I love you Gurathin you make me want to write my own story so much more and I swear to god I'm gonna make this a thing. I hope I can make Virtual Ground a mere fraction of how enjoyable this show's been to experience.

[formulafanfics13]

The Secret Girlfriend - Chapter 2

Masterlist

Disclaimer:

This fanfic will contain mature themes and topics (smut, abuse, power imbalance, drug use, alcohol dependency, control, and eating disorders). There will not be warnings throughout, so if you proceed with this fic, please bear this in mind!

The air in the FIA motorhome always smelled like sweat and carbon fibre, like cheap protein bars and secrets, the ones whispered behind hands or tucked into racing gloves.

It was Sunday evening, the Canadian Grand Prix done and dusted, the sun melting behind Montreal's paddock skyline. Drivers trickled out of the debrief room in clusters: Max was already halfway through a Red Bull, Charles nursing a bottle of water like it was vodka, Pierre talking too loudly about tire strategy.

Lando lingered. He stood near the wall like he was waiting for the earth to shift. Fidgeting. Picking at the corner of his thumbnail. Eyes flicking to the hallway every few seconds. He hadn't even unzipped his race suit yet.

He didn't move until Lewis stood up, stretching his neck with a quiet groan and muttering something about finally getting to sleep for more than five hours.

Now.

Lando pushed off the wall and crossed the room quickly, like he might change his mind if he took too long. "Hey," he said.

Lewis turned, gave him a smile and a bro hug. "You alright? Fucking long one today."

Lando laughed lightly, shoulders tight. "Yeah. Glad we've got the break."

"Two weeks," Lewis sighed. "Can't come soon enough."

"Yeah," Lando said again, quieter. His hands were twisting together now. "Um, can I- can I talk to you for a sec? Like, properly? In private."

Lewis blinked. "Yeah, course. You good?"

Lando nodded, way too quickly. "Yeah. I just- I need a second. Driver's room okay?"

Lewis gave him a long look. Concerned. Curious. But he nodded, already heading toward his motorhome space. "Come on."

Lewis's driver room was calm. Low lights, a white couch with that same faint scent of eucalyptus wipes and clean clothes. Lando stood awkwardly in the doorway until Lewis raised a brow and gestured him in. "Sit, man."

Lando didn't. He paced. Fingers tapping against each other, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like a kid who needed to confess something and was about to throw up about it.

Lewis watched him for a minute.

Then stood, walked over, and gently nudged Lando by the shoulder. "Hey. Breathe. Sit down."

Lando let out a breath like it had been holding his ribs hostage, then dropped onto the sofa. Lewis sat too, facing him, their knees almost touching. "What's going on?"

"I-" Lando stopped. Tried again. "I... can't tell you."

Lewis blinked. "You dragged me in here to not tell me something?"

Lando winced. "I know. I just... I needed to say it. But I can't explain."

Lewis leaned back slightly, still watching. "If it's serious, you know I've got you."

Lando looked up, tension still stitched between his brows. "You promise?"

Lewis nodded without hesitation. "Of course."

Silence. Then, barely audible, "I need fashion advice."

Lewis blinked. "I- Wh- What?"

Lando ran a hand through his hair, then groaned into it. "Don't laugh."

"I'm not laughing, I'm- I'm just- fashion advice?"

"Yes."

"For you?"

"Yes."

Lewis stared. "Are you dying?"

"No."

"Did you lose a bet with Daniel again?"

"No."

Lewis tilted his head. "Then what the fuck's going on, man?"

Lando stared at his lap. "I'm going to Paris Fashion Week."

The silence was deafening. Somewhere outside, a champagne cork popped. A mechanic laughed. Someone wheeled a tire past.

Inside? Just Lewis blinking in slow confusion. "You're-Lando. You're going where?"

"Paris. Fashion Week. Next weekend."

Lewis stared. "Do you know what Fashion Week is?"

Lando groaned. "Yes, I know what it is."

"You've never been."

"I have, actually."

Lewis blinked harder. "Since when?"

Lando sighed, cheeks a little pink. "I usually stay backstage."

Lewis was floored. "Why would you be backstage?"

Lando gave him a look. Bit his lip. Looked away again. "Because my girlfriend walks in it."

Lewis physically jerked like he'd been slapped. "I'm sorry. Your what?"

"My girlfriend."

"You-" Lewis cut himself off. Stared. "You have a girlfriend."

Lando nodded slowly.

"Since when?"

"Two years."

"Two fucking years?!"

Lando flinched. "Look-"

"And you never told anyone?!" Lewis leaned forward, eyes wide. "Wait, wait- is she famous?"

Lando shrugged like it was obvious.

Lewis' jaw dropped. "So she's in Fashion Week-"

"Yes."

"And Vogue invited you to sit front row?"

"Yes."

"And you need what? A fit?"

"I need you," Lando muttered, "to help me not look like I've never owned an iron."

Lewis rubbed his face. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation."

"I know."

"Who is she?"

Lando opened his mouth, then paused. Looked genuinely torn for a second. "Come shopping with me tomorrow," he said instead. "In Monaco."

Lewis frowned. "And?"

"I'll introduce you."

Lewis squinted at him. "Wait she lives in Monaco?"

Lando grinned, teeth flashing. "She lives with me."

Lewis gaped.

Lando stood up and patted Lewis on the knee. "I'll see you at eleven."

Lando was already halfway to the door when Lewis found his voice. "Wait." His tone wasn't loud, but it cut clean through the stillness — crisp, sharp, almost wary.

Lando paused. Hand hovering near the door handle, his hoodie twisted in his fist. He turned back, a flick of curls bouncing as he raised a brow.

Lewis stayed on the couch, elbows on his knees, brow drawn in the same expression he wore when someone spun out in Q3 and nobody knew who was at fault yet.

"Can I-" Lewis started, then shook his head. "Can I just get a hint?"

Lando blinked. "A hint?"

Lewis nodded, completely serious. "A name initial. A profession. A hair colour. Something."

Lando's lips twitched. Slowly, that little lopsided smirk curled across his face, the one that only came out when he was being cocky, secretive, or had already won something nobody realized he was playing for.

"Mm... no."

Lewis blinked. "Seriously?"

Lando chuckled and leaned back against the door. "Where's the fun in that?"

"You're such a little shit," Lewis muttered.

"I've been called worse."

Lewis exhaled slowly through his nose, then raked a hand through his hair, letting his palm slap against his thigh. "Come on, man. You've had a girlfriend for two years, and nobody knew?"

Lando tilted his head, smug and unbothered. "Maybe someone knew."

Lewis narrowed his eyes. "Who?"

Lando gave him a non-answer smile and reached for the handle again.

Lewis groaned. "I hate this."

Lando laughed.

"You're not even gonna tell me if I've met her?"

Lando shook his head. "You haven't."

Lewis looked like he might combust on the spot. "She's famous. She's walking in Paris Fashion Week. Vogue loves her. She lives with you. And I've never seen her?"

"Apparently not."

"Jesus Christ." Lewis dropped his head into his hands. "I cannot wait for tomorrow."

Lando shrugged like it was all very boring. "You'll like her."

Lewis looked up sharply. "You're not worried about what people will say?"

Lando considered it. "Nope."

"You're not worried she's gonna get dragged into the circus?"

"She's tougher than you think."

Lewis stared. "You really love her."

Lando didn't answer that one. He didn't have to. He just opened the door, stepped out, and glanced over his shoulder one last time. "Eleven sharp. Don't be late."

And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him like a secret folding itself back into place.

Lewis stayed seated for a long moment. Alone in the driver's room, surrounded by race notes and the sound of distant footsteps echoing down the corridor, he sat perfectly still. Frowning. Processing. "Two fucking years," he murmured to himself.

He leaned back. Crossed his arms. Stared at the ceiling like it might give him answers.

Who the hell is she?

Whoever she was, she had Vogue wrapped around her finger, Jude covering her tracks, and Lando fucking Norris smiling like the entire paddock could jerk off to her pictures and still not touch what he had. Lewis shook his head, still in disbelief. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands steepled under his chin. Then he pulled out his phone. Instagram opened with muscle memory.

@landonorris - verified, obviously. 5.2 million followers. Zero hints.

Lewis scrolled through the grid like he was searching for hidden messages in the pixels. Race cars. Golf swings. Sim rig setups. One blurry yacht photo with Jude and Gavi. A dinner in Monaco. A random cap drop. A dumb reel of him nearly falling into a pool.

Not one picture of a girl. Not even a shadow.

No champagne glasses in twos. No matching hotel robes. No "accidental" hand on his thigh in the corner of a group shot. Nothing that screamed taken. Nothing that even whispered it.

Lewis frowned and switched tactics. Check the tags.

Maybe she'd posted him. Maybe she was soft-launching the fuck out of their relationship and nobody had noticed.

Nope.

Every tagged post was a sponsor, a fan edit, a Red Bull meme, or an F1 press shot from five different continents.

It was eerie. Like she didn't exist. He clicked into Lando's followers list next. Scrolled. Searched. Started typing: "Model." Nothing came up. Obviously. He'd have to dig manually.

So he scrolled. And scrolled. And scrolled. And that's when he noticed it. Every big-name model was following Lando Norris.

Every. Single. One.

Barbara Palvin. Lila Moss. Bella Hadid. Gigi. Kaia Gerber. Candice Swanepoel. Randi fucking Hartman. Adriana Lima. Even Naomi Campbell had liked one of his posts.

Lewis squinted, almost offended. Since when is Lando plugged into Fashion Week like this? Since when is he fucking part of the backstage group chat?

He clicked through a few of their profiles. No crossover content. No soft posts. Nothing even close to romantic. Just mutual follows, the occasional like, and the hollow sound of possibility.

This only made it worse.

He could be dating any of them. Hell, all of them. Or none. And if he was? How had Lewis missed it?

He switched apps. Google. Old faithful. The stalker's chapel.

He typed: "Paris Fashion Week confirmed models."

A rolling list of superstars. Lily Aldridge. Vittoria Ceretti. Lily James. Barbara again. Yasmin Wijnaldum. Doutzen Kroes. Grace Elizabeth. Gisele. Some fresh faces. Some legends.

Lewis opened twenty tabs. Scanned every name. Every face. Every feature.

Looking for what? He didn't know. Someone who looked like Lando's type?

But Lando didn't have a type. He flirted with models, gamers, hostesses, flight attendants, introverts, extroverts, probably even one of the grid engineers at some point. He was impossible to pin down.

Lewis groaned quietly. Rested the phone on his chest like it might answer for him.

Then, because he couldn't stop himself: "Lando Norris girlfriend." Search.

First result: an old paparazzi photo from Monaco. Lando standing next to a brunette, blurred, background, untagged. Someone said it was Magui Corceiro. Someone else insisted it was Pietra Pilao. Neither made sense. One was rumoured to be with João Félix. The other wasn't even confirmed to exist. A few fan theories about Randi Hartman, based on a two-minute conversation captured at a fashion afterparty and the fact she followed him back on Threads.

Small names. Pretty girls. None of them in Vogue's royal circle.

None of them the kind of woman who gets Lando Norris front row at Paris Fashion Week.

None of them the kind of woman who gets backstage placement from Anna Wintour herself.

Lewis closed the tab. Locked his phone. Sat in the quiet. He was at a dead end.

No clues. No digital trail. Not even a scrap of evidence that Lando had ever been in a relationship, let alone one this serious.

And that made it worse. That made it deliberate.

Whoever she was, she was protected. Wrapped in silence. Cocooned in privacy and low lighting. A secret worth more than a championship trophy. And Lando was sitting on it like a fucking dragon. 

Lewis leaned back into the sofa, sighing. Head tilted toward the ceiling like it might start leaking answers.

Tomorrow. He'd have to wait until tomorrow.

***

He landed in Monaco just before midnight.

The streets were quiet, the air thick with summer heat and salt. The city glittered like it always did: gold-tipped, full of secrets, still humming from whatever chaos the day left behind. But Lando barely noticed. His mind was already in the penthouse.

He didn't roll his suitcase up the marble hallway. Just kicked off his shoes and stepped out of the elevator barefoot, hoodie hanging loose over his shoulders. The door was unlocked. It always was when she knew he was coming home.

The lights were low. The scent of her clung to the space, strawberries, vape smoke, something floral and warm, maybe her body lotion. He didn't call her name. Didn't need to. He knew where she'd be.

The balcony door was open. And there she was.

Lily James. 

Wrapped in his hoodie, the soft grey one she always stole. Lace panties, legs bare, long and golden, stretched out against the floor cushions like she was posing for some intimate magazine editorial. Her knees were bent lazily, one hand holding her vape, the other tracing shapes into the throw blanket beneath her. The stars blinked above her, and the Monaco skyline burned in the distance.

He moved toward her wordlessly.

She didn't look at him. She didn't have to.

The moment he stepped onto the balcony, her foot shifted, toe nudging his shin, slow and sleepy. He smiled. Sat down without thinking, back against the glass, knee brushing hers. She looked at him then.

Her face lit up in that quiet, devastating way. "Hi," she whispered.

He leaned forward, arms sliding around her hips, pulling her into him like gravity wasn't enough. She fell against his chest, bare thighs straddling his lap, head tucked into his shoulder.

"I missed you," she murmured, soft and warm against his neck.

His arms tightened. "I missed you more."

They stayed like that for a long moment. Just... breathing. The kind of silence that doesn't feel empty, just full of everything they don't need to say.

Then Lando pulled back slightly and pressed a kiss to her jaw. "I need to tell you something."

She shifted, gaze curious, lips curling. "Uh oh."

"No, no," he laughed, brushing her hair back. "Not bad."

She sat upright, one leg still over his lap, hoodie riding up to reveal the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip bones. She held her vape between two fingers like royalty and nodded. "Okay. Hit me."

He hesitated. Then exhaled. "I told Lewis."

Her brow lifted. "Told him...?"

"About you."

Lily blinked once. Then smiled. "You what?"

He grinned, leaning into the cushions. "I told him I have a girlfriend."

"And?"

"He asked who."

"Of course."

"I didn't tell him."

Lily laughed, throwing her head back. The sound echoed over the balcony like music. "Oh, you little menace."

"I told him I'd introduce him tomorrow."

She stilled for a moment, smile lingering. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

Her fingers tapped the vape against her thigh. "Why?"

"I'm dragging him shopping. Paris Fashion Week. Need to look like I don't live in golf gear."

She gave him a mock serious nod. "You do, in fact, live in golf gear."

"That's why I'm asking for help."

She tilted her head, eyes glittering. "And bringing him here after?"

"If that's okay."

"Course it is."

He relaxed visibly, thumb rubbing idle circles into her thigh. "He's cool with it."

"I figured."

"He's just confused. Has no idea it's you."

She smirked. "You sure?"

He smiled, rubbing his face. "I think he's going insane trying to figure it out."

She leaned in, brushing her nose against his. "Then let's drive him mad for one more night."

He kissed her.

Soft. Lingering. Tasting like cherry and home. They didn't say anything for a while after that. Just laid back onto the cushions, her head on his chest, his hand tracing her hip under the hoodie, the city glowing below them and the stars silent above.

Eventually, she murmured, "Lewis'll be fine."

"I know."

"He's the only one of them who might actually get it."

"I know."

"He's got a foot in fashion already. He'll understand why we keep this to ourselves."

Lando nodded. She turned her face slightly, pressing a kiss to his ribs. "And if he doesn't?"

"He will."

She looked up at him. "You sure?"

He nodded again, slower this time. "I'd never introduce you to someone who wouldn't protect it."

Lily exhaled softly. Then pulled his hoodie tighter around herself. "Then I'll make him a smoothie."

Lando shifted beneath her, the cushions rustling softly under his weight, and then suddenly, his arms were curling around her thighs, lifting her like she weighed nothing.

Lily squealed through her laughter, her arms looping around his neck as he stood. Her vape dropped somewhere into the throw blanket, forgotten instantly. Her legs dangled bare against his hoodie, her head tilted back with the kind of smile that only ever lived in the dark, quiet corners of their penthouse.

He kissed her mid-laugh, muffling it against her mouth as he walked them back into the apartment. The glass door slid shut behind them with a soft clack, the hallway glowing dimly under the golden sconces.

"I could've walked," she murmured between kisses, forehead pressed to his.

Lando smirked. "You're not going to need your legs."

"Rude."

He kicked the bedroom door open and carried her straight to the bed. Dropped her. She bounced softly against the mattress, curls spilling over the pillow, his hoodie pushed up just enough to flash the strip of lace between her thighs. She propped herself up on her elbows, one brow raised, panting slightly through her grin.

Lando stood at the edge of the bed and looked at her like she was some kind of divine problem he was about to solve with his hands and mouth and full-body devotion.

"Are you gonna be good for me?" he asked, low and firm.

Lily blinked. Then nodded, soft and sure. 

Lando tilted his head. "Words, angel."

"Yes," she mumbled, lips parting. "I'll be good."

He exhaled like she'd just won a championship. "Good girl."

He climbed onto the bed slowly, like a hunter not wanting to spook something soft. She shifted beneath him, thighs pressing together, fingers curling into the sheets. He kissed her collarbone, trailing his mouth up her throat, sucking a mark just below her jaw that made her whimper and squirm.

"You always wear this hoodie when I'm gone," he murmured against her skin.

"It smells like you."

"You're such a slut for me."

She moaned. "Only for you."

He smiled, teeth against her pulse. "I know."

His hands found her thighs, slow and certain, pushing them apart until she spread wide for him. The lace between her legs was soaked, thin and practically useless now. He pressed his thumb gently over the fabric, watching her hips buck, her lip caught between her teeth.

"Already dripping," he muttered. "You missed me that bad?"

She nodded, eyes glassy. "Needed you."

"You have me." He peeled the panties down slowly, like unwrapping something delicate, kissing each hip as he bared her. She gasped when the air hit her, thighs twitching.

And then his mouth was on her.

He licked her like he had time. Like he had hours. Like there was nothing else in the world but her pussy and the sounds she made when he licked right there.

She whimpered, fists clutching the sheets above her head, hoodie pushed up to her ribs. Her legs shook on either side of his head, and he just groaned into her, like she was the best fucking thing he'd ever tasted.

"Doing so good for me," he whispered between licks. "Such a good girl."

"Lando-" she choked, hips rolling. "Please-"

He pressed two fingers into her, slow and deep, curling them just right. She arched off the bed with a cry, legs trembling around his shoulders.

"You gonna come for me?" he asked, voice low, hot breath against her clit. "Already, baby?"

"I- I don't know-"

"Yes, you do," he said, sucking gently. "Be good. Come now."

She shattered. Quietly. Beautifully. With a whimper of his name and a full-body tremble that made her thighs clamp around his head as he worked her through it. He didn't stop until she was whining from overstimulation, fingers tangled in his hair, hoodie sliding off one shoulder. When he finally looked up, his mouth was wet, jaw shiny, eyes dark.

She was wrecked. Glowing. Breathless. Smiling through her haze.

"You okay?" he murmured, pressing kisses up her stomach.

She nodded, dazed. "Perfect."

She was still catching her breath when he moved over her, slow and steady, like the heat in him had been simmering all day, all race weekend, all two weeks apart, all the moments he didn't touch himself just so he could come home and fuck her like this.

His body hovered above hers, warm and lean and already hard again. She opened her legs without a word. Didn't even need to think about it. Her thighs parted like instinct, like prayer, letting him settle between them. The hoodie rode up further, baring her stomach, her hips, the place between her legs still soaked from his mouth.

Lando's fingers brushed her cheek, thumb stroking the curve of her jaw.

"You're so good for me," he whispered.

She blinked up at him, dazed but clear. "I'm yours."

His breath caught. And then he was sliding in. No resistance. No hesitation. Just the slow, perfect stretch of her body taking him in, slick and ready and twitching under him as she whimpered, lips parted in that soft, sinful way she did only when he was inside her.

"Fuck," he groaned, burying his face into her neck. "You feel- Jesus, Lily-"

She clenched around him and smiled, nails dragging lightly up his back. "I'm good for you."

He pulled back, just enough to look her in the eye.

"Say it again."

She moaned as he pushed deeper. "I'm good for you."

"You're everything for me."

He rocked into her slowly at first, letting her feel all of it. The drag, the depth, the way he filled her so completely her legs wrapped around his waist on instinct. Her hoodie clung to her skin, the sleeves falling over her wrists as her fingers gripped the bedsheets, head tilted back.

He kissed her collarbone. Her shoulder. The space behind her ear.

"Always so fucking perfect."

"Lan-" she gasped, hips bucking.

"You gonna let me have you?"

She nodded, breathless. "Please."

"You already came once, didn't you?"

She nodded again.

"You think you can come again for me?"

She whimpered. "If you tell me to."

He smiled against her skin. "Good girl."

The pace quickened. Not frantic, just needy. Intentional. Every thrust was designed to ruin her in the slowest, most delicious way. The kind of sex that hummed with tension, with restraint, with the intimacy that only came from knowing each other so fucking well you didn't have to ask what they needed.

Her back arched. Her eyes fluttered shut. Her lips shaped around a moan that never made it out.

Lando groaned against her neck. "I missed you like this."

"Like what?"

"Under me. Letting go. Letting me do whatever I want."

"You can," she whispered.

That pushed him over the edge of control.

He sat up slightly, pulled her legs over his shoulders, changing the angle until she cried out, that high, choked sound he loved hearing. The hoodie slipped off her shoulder, her tits bouncing under the fabric, her hands clinging to the sheets like she couldn't remember how to breathe.

"I've got you," he whispered, stilling for a second. "Too much?"

She shook her head violently. "More."

He didn't need more than that.

His hips snapped forward again, his name tumbling from her lips like worship. Every thrust dragged over that perfect spot, every sound she made sending heat straight to his spine.

"Look at me," he murmured. "Come on, baby. Look at me."

Her eyes opened. Glassy, wide, glowing.

He kissed her hard, and then said it against her lips: "Come now."

And she did. Hard. Back arching, thighs trembling, body clenching so tight around him it ripped the air from his lungs.

"Fuck," he gasped, "you're so fucking perfect-"

He followed her seconds later.

Pressed as deep as he could go, spilling into her with a groan that shook his whole body. His hands dug into her hips. Her fingers buried in his curls. Their bodies tangled, sweaty and trembling and fucked-out, wrapped in the scent of sex and heat and cherry vape.

For a moment, they didn't speak.

Just breathed.

Eventually, he collapsed on top of her. She giggled, weak and glowing, wrapping her arms around his back.

"Hi," she whispered.

He kissed her shoulder. "Hi."

"I'm gonna feel that tomorrow."

He smirked. "Good."

She kissed his temple. "You needed that?"

"You have no idea."

"I think I do."

He rolled onto his side, pulling her with him, letting her curl into his chest. His hoodie was half off her shoulder, lace panties still dangling from one ankle. He didn't bother fixing it. She looked too good like that.

They lay in silence, wrapped around each other, skin on skin.

And then Lily whispered, "He's gonna die when he sees me tomorrow."

Lando laughed.

"Fucking let him."

***

The private jet purred quietly above the clouds, slicing through soft blue skies as if the entire post-race world didn't exist 30,000 feet below.

Lewis sat reclined in his seat, shoes off, glass of still water sweating gently in his palm. The air was calm, thick with that end-of-weekend silence that always came after a chaotic Grand Prix, especially Montreal. His muscles ached, his brain still felt wrung out, and he hadn't bothered checking his phone since takeoff.

Across from him, Toto had his blazer slung over the back of his chair, shirt sleeves rolled up, shoes polished even when there was no one to impress. He was scrolling through data on his tablet like it owed him money.

"Please tell me we're not doing a debrief at altitude," Lewis muttered.

Toto grunted. "Just skimming. Russell needs to brake later into turn six. He's killing our exit speeds."

"Tell him to use less hair gel and he might get more downforce."

Toto barked a short laugh and locked the screen. "Right. What about you? Any secrets from this weekend?"

Lewis stretched, muscles creaking. Then paused.

Actually paused, Then lewis smirked. "Yeah," he said. "Kinda."

Toto raised a brow.

Lewis turned his head slightly, watching the sky blur past the window for a second before glancing back. "Lando cornered me after the race."

Toto blinked. "Cornered you?"

"FIA motorhome. Said he needed to talk. Dragged me into my driver room like he was about to confess to murder."

Toto looked mildly amused. "What did he do?"

"That's the thing," Lewis said, shifting. "He didn't do anything. He... told me he has a girlfriend."

There was a pause. Toto frowned. "What?"

"Yeah."

"Since when?"

Lewis took a sip of water, then set it down. "Two years."

Toto's eyebrows lifted a little. "You're joking."

"Wish I was."

"Lando Norris. That Lando. McLaren's sugar-fueled, Twitch-streaming, never-shuts-up, black cat,Lando Norris."

Lewis nodded. "The very one."

"With a girlfriend."

Lewis smiled. "Apparently."

"For two years."

"Uh huh."

Toto sat back in his chair, brows furrowing. "Why the hell is this the first we're hearing of it?"

"Because he's a fucking ninja, apparently." Lewis shook his head. "No photos. No posts. No hints. I went full stalker mode last night, Instagram, tags, search results, ex-girlfriends, models, Google. Nothing."

Toto whistled lowly, then rubbed his jaw. "That's impressive."

"I know." Lewis leaned forward slightly. "You know what's worse?"

Toto made a noise of curiosity.

"He's going to Paris Fashion Week next weekend."

Toto blinked. "Lando?"

Lewis nodded.

"Did he... lose a bet?"

"Nope."

Toto waited.

Lewis let it hang. Then: "His girlfriend's walking in it. Vogue gave him a seat."

Toto's mouth fell open just slightly. "Vogue?"

"Front row."

"Jesus Christ."

Lewis rubbed his temples. "Right? I asked who she was, and he just smirked and said no. No name. No hint. Just that I'm going shopping with him in Monaco tomorrow and he'll introduce me then."

Toto sat quietly for a moment, clearly chewing on the information. Then, slowly he spoke, "This entire time I thought that boy had the social range of a traffic cone. And now you're telling me he's secretly dating a fashion supernova and hiding it from the entire world?"

"Yeah."

"For two years."

"Yeah."

"And none of us knew?"

Lewis nodded solemnly. "He played us."

Toto blew out a low whistle. "That's fucking wild."

"I'm still spiralling."

"You think it's someone we know?"

Lewis shook his head. "I went through his followers. Every model follows him. Every major name. It's impossible to tell. He's got Vogue girls, Victoria's Secret girls, Anna Wintour's favorites, even fucking Naomi."

Toto blinked again. "Naomi Campbell?"

"Liked one of his posts."

"Jesus."

"Exactly."

They both sat in silence for a minute. The hum of the jet surrounded them. Lewis stretched his legs out again.

"You gonna ask him tomorrow?" Toto asked, a little too entertained.

"I don't have to ask him. I'm meeting her. He invited me to his penthouse."

Toto laughed. "You better come back with names."

Lewis narrowed his eyes. "I'm gonna come back with answers."

"Don't tell George."

"Obviously not."

"You know he'll start live-tweeting the moment she opens the door."

Lewis muttered, "That's assuming he doesn't pass out first."

The jet bumped slightly through a patch of turbulence.

Lewis leaned back again, watching clouds skim past the windows, the gold of the sunset starting to paint the interior in syrupy light.

He thought about the way Lando had fidgeted in that driver room. The way his eyes had darted, nervous but full of something else, something serious. Something real.

"She must be something special," Toto said quietly, breaking the silence.

Lewis sighed, "Yeah. I think she is."

Toto turned back to his tablet but didn't unlock it. He knew that look.

"You're still thinking about it," he said, not even bothering to phrase it as a question.

Lewis exhaled. "Yeah."

The silence stretched a little longer. The engine purred. Ice clinked in a forgotten glass on the side table. Finally, Lewis shifted in his seat. "Y'know I've done a few shoots here and there. Been to some of the events. Seen what it's like backstage."

Toto glanced up.

"Fashion Week, Met Gala prep, brand dinners. I've met a few of them, Kendall. Barbara. Gigi once, in Monaco." He rubbed his jaw. "Most of those girls are barely holding it together."

Toto's brow furrowed.

"I mean it," Lewis said. "They look perfect. They post perfect. But the pressure? The hours? The way they talk about themselves backstage?" He shook his head. "It's brutal. I've overheard conversations I wish I hadn't. I've seen girls shaking while pulling on gowns because they haven't eaten in 48 hours."

Toto sighed. "And you think Lando's girl is in that world."

Lewis nodded slowly. "If she's big enough to be walking Paris, big enough for Vogue to throw him a fucking front rowseat... then yeah. She's not a random. She's probably one of the major names. And if that's true-" He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "Then it's not just fun for him. He's in it. Deep."

Toto leaned back, arms crossing lightly. "You think she's struggling?"

Lewis hesitated.

"I don't know. I just know the pattern. It's common." He looked down. "Eating disorders. Anxiety. Shitty agents. Body dysmorphia dressed up in diamonds. Most of them don't talk about it, they're too scared they'll get dropped. And the ones who do get real about it? They disappear for a while. Or permanently."

There was another long pause.

Then Toto said, quietly "Do you think he loves her?"

Lewis didn't even hesitate. "Yeah."

That one word landed heavy. Toto looked away, jaw working slightly.

"He kept her hidden for two years," Lewis added, softer now. "Not in a secretive way. Not like he was ashamed. Just like he was... protecting her. Like she's the only part of his life he didn't want the world to ruin."

Toto let out a breath and nodded once. "Then I want to meet her."

Lewis blinked. "What?"

Toto turned back to him, voice firm. "If she's important to Lando, she's important to every single person on that grid."

Lewis tilted his head. "Even you?"

Toto smirked slightly. "Especially me."

There was a pause. 

"I've spent five years watching Lando grow up. Thought I had a good read on him. Turns out the kid has more layers than telemetry data."

Lewis laughed, low and warm.

Toto continued "I've seen what happens when drivers fall apart because the people closest to them are struggling. If this girl is in his world, in his heart, and she's dealing with the same kind of shit I've seen chew people up in both our industries... then I want to know her. Not for gossip. Not for scandal. Just to make sure she's not alone."

Lewis was quiet. The air buzzed around them, soft and still. "You'll get your chance," he said finally. "She's in Monaco. I'm meeting her tomorrow."

They both sat in silence again.

And this time, it wasn't disbelief that filled it. It was respect.

[himejoshidoll]

a little note after finishing our reread of anemone is in heat:

this series could have had potential for beautiful angst and tragedy and toxic yuri.

it could have been something. nagisa hating mashiro for unfair, somewhat ableist reasons that were out of mashiro's control. nagisa forcing herself to learn to like mashiro, because she feels she's above hating someone. nagisa developing a bit of a saviour complex over mashiro's chronic illness. mashiro hating herself over her disability. mashiro growing so dependent and attached to nagisa that she can't stand not seeing her face-to-face for more than a few hours and she thinks she would die without her.

but rather than even letting the characters dwell on their problems much at all, everything is fixed by love. most of the characters' worries aren't allowed to develop or be processed, they're just solved with confessions and kissing and hugging and blushing like it's their first crush and then talking about how they want to spend forever together. (mashiro's codependency is, of course, brushed off by "well i won't ever be away from you anyway so don't worry" every time, even though one of the major instances was mashiro entering a doom spiral just because nagisa was sick for a week)

one of the weirdest examples is nearing the end. riri is still processing that she can't be with her senpai who she loved deeply. she's eating lunch with ami. ami wants to know how riri feels about her. riri says, "i'm still figuring out what my feelings are." ami is like "well that means you're in love with me, doesn't it?" and riri goes "yeah, i guess it does" and they share a mutual confession which somehow automatically makes them girlfriends and riri immediately forgets about her senpai just like this manga conveniently forgets about any of the conflict its characters have gone through.

nagisa started out hating her school. hating that she ended up at a "third-rate school" "because of mashiro". by the ending, she's eternally grateful she went to the same school as mashiro, but the thing is she'd never done any introspection or reflection on her feelings. all she did to have this change of heart was date mashiro.

even more confusingly, one of mashiro's establishing character moments is hating the colour white, because of her disability, because of the all-white infirmary she's forced to spend too much of her life in, because she thinks it feels empty like her. at one point, nagisa goes to buy them matching snowflake rings, but stops. "wait, mashiro, are you okay with this? don't you hate the colour white?" she asks. "no," mashiro replies. "i love it." why? she had had no development in regards to her disability or self-image. all she did was date nagisa, and her issue with the colour had nothing to do with nagisa.

possibly the most damning of all is in the ending when mashiro says she's recovered from much of her illness. why? because she's more confident now because of nagisa. confidence doesn't cure anemia. and immediately after saying how much more confident she is now, she follows it up with "i don't think i could live without you anymore." i don't think you're more confident...

there are a lot of other moments we could go over but ultimately the idea is the same. anemone likes to forget any of its own conflict because it never really wanted to tell a story. plot is just a vehicle for fluff. pain is just there to be healed with hugs and kissies, not to be felt. idk

no shame if you like this manga. we know not everyone is looking for deep writing and sometimes you really just do want to see cute gay kisses and cuddles lol

[gophergal]

the solution to the "are you normal about X people who turn out to be Y" debate is stop fucking assuming things about people

You wanna know what pronouns to use for an individual? Ask them.

As a general rule, don't make jokes about the identity you perceive of someone. Know your audience

How is that hard? Why do we all think ourselves such experts on the lives of other people??????

[justwinginglife]

The LADS Men React To You Saying You Can't Have S*X Because Of Mismatching Underwear

NSFW WARNING

Sylus

Sylus knows in an instant that you’re messing with him but he plays along, a sly smirk sitting pretty on his lips. “Oh NO- your underwear set doesn’t match? Whatever shall we do?” After clicking a few buttons on his phone, he stands to grab his car keys (one out of many).

“Wait! What are you doing, where are you going?” You ask, brows furrowing. The sudden change in the atmosphere has you feeling like, at any moment, you might get whiplash. One minute, he’s kissing up your neck, squeezing at your thighs, grinding his raging erection into your crotch, and the next, he’s throwing on his jacket, zipping his pants back up, and getting ready to leave. 

“You mean where are we going, kitten.” He speaks like it’s only obvious. 

Your eyes narrow in suspicion. “Why are we leaving? I thought you just wanted to have sex not two seconds ago.”

“Of course, dearest, but we can’t have sex if you’re feeling embarrassed, now can we? So I thought I’d just buy the nearest lingerie store and we could go pick out whatever you like.” 

You choke on your spit. “You did WHAT?”

“I said I bought the store. So let’s go.” His eyes are daring you to continue with your little charade.

“Well I…I kinda wanted to stay home tonight.” You say weakly. You know you’re making a pathetic case for yourself, but he’s really not allowing you the wiggle room to be more convincing.

“Then allow me to have all of their stock delivered to the house. Unless… you think that the mismatching underwear is no longer an issue?” 

Oh, this son of a bitch. “You… you really don’t have to do all of this just for me.” You say with an awkward laugh. He knows you’re all out of moves and you’re just pivoting at this point. He knows and he has the audacity to be amused. 

“Oh, but I did, kitten. I wouldn’t want to overlook this very important issue. What’s important to you is important to me.”

“It’s, uh, not actually that important…” You confess meekly. 

“Say that again, sweetie?” He cranes his head to hear you better but you know damn well he can hear you just fine.

You glare at him. “I said it’s fine.”

He chuckles, sweet satisfaction clear on his face. “So then. Does this mean we can pick up where we left off?”

Caleb

You’ve been teasing Caleb all day. 

Dancing into his field of view with that low neckline of yours, wearing a dress that’s so short, it’s a wonder it’s covering anything at all. Touching him here and there, your fingers grazing his skin with a feather-light touch, trailing up his biceps, or down his back, before flitting away like you’d never been there in the first place.

So, of course, after hours of edging him towards an excruciating erection, his self control still intact (though holding on by mere splintered pieces), you decide to reward his good behavior. You straddle him on the couch, and slowly begin to slide your hips back and forth, dragging your clothed cunt across the admittedly-impressive bulge in his pants.

He swears he’s seeing heaven, when you finally allow his aching cock some much needed friction. He’s not proud to say that a little dry humping is all it takes to get him coming into his pants, but he’s sure you’ll continue to show him such endless bliss as the night goes on that he won’t even remember how many times he’s come, let alone that the first time was in his underwear. His head dips forward, steadying itself on your shoulder as he allows the wave of euphoria to wash over him. 

But the second the wave has come and gone, his arousal is already flaring back up in his gut, ready for round two, round ten, round however much you want. All he can think about is how perfect it’ll be when he finally sinks himself inside you, your wet heat enveloping him until all he can feel is you. He doesn’t even think that maybe you’re more devious than he gave you credit for.

After he’s come, you retreat almost immediately, pulling yourself off of him.

He whines pathetically and he fumbles as he attempts to grab hold of you.

“Baby, we can’t tonight.” You say, innocent as ever.

He tries to keep the disappointment from his voice, tries to restrain his very evident need for you, but desperation is quickly rising within him. “Why not?” 

You try to keep the smirk from your lips. “It’s just…I’m not…”

“You’re not what, love? Not feeling well? Not in the mood?” He hopes you don’t notice how badly he just wants you to spit it out. 

“I’m not wearing matching undergarments tonight. So we can’t.” And there it is. The goal you’ve had all night. The little trick you couldn’t wait to play on him. You’re thrilled to see how he’ll react.

His eyes darken in an instant. “Oh, you little minx. You know what you’re doing to me, don’t you?” His tone has dropped to a low growl. 

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” You say, feigned ignorance dripping from your lips. 

He gives a short laugh. “Sure you don’t. Well, if your mismatching underwear is the only issue-” He begins to kiss down your neck harshly, not bothering to take care where he leaves his marks, “-I’ve got just the solution.” His fingers find your dress’s zipper with expert precision and before you can even process that he’s taken ahold of it, the dress is already laying in a pile on the ground. Along with your bra and panties. 

“There. All better. Now your underwear matches- they’re both on the damn floor.” 

Rafayel

You’re starting to think that you lie just a little too well.

You had only meant to tease Rafayel when you had told him that the reason you couldn’t have sex tonight was because you were embarrassed that your bra didn’t match your underwear, but you didn’t expect him to take you completely seriously. What was even more unexpected was that he would go on to give you an entire art lecture in the process.

“Take Picasso, for instance. Brilliant artist. One of a kind. You know him, of course you do, everybody knows him. His work is asymmetrical, and yet you don’t see anybody telling him that his work isn’t beautiful because it doesn’t match.”

“Raf-”

“And take my work. My work isn’t always symmetrical either, but would you tell me that I’m anything less than a true genius? No, because I am. See?”

“That’s besides the point-“

“The point, cutie, is that you’re gorgeous no matter what you’re wearing. It’s okay that you didn’t plan a matching outfit today. Some of nature’s most stunning scenes are spontaneous. You wouldn’t complain to the sunset that its pink doesn’t match its orange, would you?”

“No, but I-”

“Exactly. So it doesn’t matter to me if you’re wearing mismatching underwear; you could be wearing a trash bag and I’d still want you. Do you understand now, cutie?”

“Raf, baby, there’s nothing to understand, I was just jo-“

“Okay, if you don’t understand, let me put it in simpler terms for you. I’m hard for you regardless. That make sense now?”

When he puts it that bluntly, you really want to jump his bones. At this point, you figure you might as well. It’s useless to try and explain to him that you were only joking- not after he’s given you such a lengthy (though thoughtful) monologue. Though he’s a bit dense today, he’s still the same sweet Rafayel you fell in love with. So you think you’ll reward him for his kindness.

“You know what, baby? You made me feel so much better, thank you. I think, to show you just how much better I feel-” You strip yourself naked for him and his jaw drops, his eyes hungrily raking over your bare form, “-I’ll even let you come inside me tonight. What do you think?” You purr seductively.

You really didn’t have to try so hard to seduce him.

He’s already dropped his pants and begun stumbling towards you, rapidly hardening cock in hand.

Xavier

You’re in the middle of a very heated makeout session with Xavier when you decide to pick on him a little. You can tell where this is going, but you want to drag it out a little longer.

“Xav-” You whine breathlessly. “I think we should,” You return another one of his hungry kisses, “Probably stop for the night.” 

He pulls back to examine you. He can’t tell if you’re messing with him or if you’re genuinely not in the mood. Of course, if you want to stop, he’ll stop. He can just fuck his hand later; he’s not so selfish that he’d make you do something you don’t want to do. But just in case he did something wrong, he decides to ask. “Any particular reason you want to stop?”

“It’s just…” You bite your lip, hoping it makes you appear timid, when really you’re trying not to grin. “My bra and my underwear don’t match. I’m a little embarrassed to show you.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Oh, is that all? Feel free to change them then. I won’t look.” Before you can even respond that it’s a joke, he’s turned his back to you to give you your privacy.

You shake your head, smiling softly at his back. You didn’t expect him to be so sweet. You may as well strip naked while he’s allowing you the time; you had planned to have sex with him anyway. 

What the both of you don’t realize is that your bedroom’s full length mirror is angled just right so that he can still see you even when you’re behind him. He looks up only to get a perfect view of you undressing. When he realizes he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to, he starts to look away. But then he catches a glimpse of your mismatching underwear. Cherries decorate the soft material of your panties, while your bra is littered with little bows all the way around. Heat surges through his groin and he realizes that for some reason, this combination of mismatching underwear is doing something to him. 

You finish pulling your shirt off all the way and reach back to unhook your bra. “You know, I appreciate you being so understanding, my love, but I have to admit- I was completely kidding about not wanting to have sex just because my underwear didn’t match.” 

In an instant -you honestly don’t remember him even having the time to turn all the way around- he’s at your side, gripping your wrist tight and locking you in place. “That’s a relief. Now you don’t have to take off any more.”

You raise a curious brow at him. “What do you mean? Didn’t you want to have sex? I kinda have to take my underwear off for that.”

“No. You don’t.” His tone is low and thick with lust. “The undergarments stay on.” Before you know it, you’re pinned down to the bed.

You don’t know if it’s his teleportation ability or just his pure, unadulterated need, but he seems to be moving rather hastily today. You’ve barely even had time to blink before he’s slipping his cock under your bra, fucking your cleavage while it holds his cock in place. 

Something about you, the girl who always settles for function over fashion, wearing the cutsiest, girliest underwear he’s ever seen makes him harder than he’s ever been before and he’s not stopping until he’s staining this particular set in his cum. 

Zayne

“So we don’t strip naked then. That doesn’t mean I can’t still make you feel good.”

When you originally decided to play this joke on Zayne, telling him that you were feeling just a little too shy today to reveal to him your mismatching underwear, you thought he would see right through your little act. This is the man who has known you almost your entire life, after all.

But after you’d come so many times IN YOUR GODDAMN UNDERWEAR ALONE, all because he had insisted on tending to your needs even with your clothes on, after your clenching walls began to feel rather bruised, your clit increasingly more and more overstimulated with each passing second, as he fingered you through the (soaked) fabric of your clothes yet again, you were starting to regret this decision to mess with him. 

You tried to confess so many times, to tell him you’d been lying, to beg him for his cock instead, but it was almost like he knew what you were trying to say, because he’d kiss you so deeply until you were so dizzy from lack of breath that you forgot what you wanted to say, and then he’d dry hump you until you forgot how to even breathe in the first place. 

When you finally stutter out a pathetic, “P-please Z-Zayne…can’t t-take it anymore. Wanna f-fuck you,” Your hips thrusting desperately against the unsatisfying, thin air, he grins.

In that moment, you realize he’s known you’ve been lying all along. 

He leans over to you and you think he might kiss you. That, or scold you. But either result turns you on, so you hold your breath, waiting for him to respond.

He merely peers down your shirt before tugging your pants down slightly to confirm something. “So your underwear does, in fact, match. What an interesting development. Now then…how should I punish you for such dishonest behavior?”

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @tbaluver @minasfwoopyponytail @ouiouimochi

[garden0fyves]

thinking about...baby trapping d1 athlete!toji, but you can't tell who's trapping who.

(tiny bit of context here. unedited.)

to toji, it's bad enough that you're the best thing to happen to him. it's another that you’re every wet dream toji has had in his life, and if it means ‘accidentally’ filling you with his seed to keep you, then he’ll do it. no one can ever experience this again, you’re all his. he’ll make sure of it. but, what toji doesn’t know is that you’ve stopped taking your birth control. you’ve started taking multivitamins and timing your late night dates in time with your ovulation cycle. you’ve been celebrating his wins with his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, and your legs tight around his waist as he stuffs you full.

toji’s hands are strong on your hips as he buries his cock deeper inside of you. his jaw ticks when your tight cunt squeezes around him, and he twitches inside of you. your gaze is so soft, so pretty as you look up at him. you’re both sophomores in college and have so much to lose, but god his coach will just have to understand this “mistake”. he’s never seen how pretty you look underneath him, never seen the soft gasp you let out when toji presses a fat finger to your clit. and although he never will, he'll just have to accept that toji will be a father soon. toji's eyes narrow when you pull away from his lips to watch his face. your eyes drift from his eyes to his nose to the scar that rests on his lips. "i love you." you whisper softly, voice and eyes equally as watery.

if toji weren't already madly in love with you he’d have cum then and there, shooting you full of his love from the simple acknowledgement of your love for him. but, that’s already happened and toji’s slowly (very slowly) getting used to your sweet confessions when he’s fucking you particularly well. “i love you too, pretty girl.” he presses a wet kiss to your lips before he kisses your jaw and down to your shoulder. here, he bites down to leave the most obvious hickey he’s probably ever left a day in his life. toji doesn’t notice the way your legs tighten around him, only the clench of your cunt and the flutter of your eyelashes as your eyes fall shut.

“gonna be mine forever.” he whispers against your shoulder. it’d be a red flag if the same thoughts weren’t running through your mind. “gonna be yours forever, baby. gonna get married and have your babies.” you purr your words, eyes sliding open just to watch his reaction. toji’s dark green eyes slide up to yours. there’s something new in them, something primal as your words settle on his pussydrunk mind. “gonna be my pretty little wife, hm?” he pulls his hips back just to slam back into your pussy. you gush around him, back arching in pleasure. “tojiii!” you whine his name because he knows it’s true. he’s using your words to torture your poor cunt.

although his thrusts are sharp, they’re still filled with love. you can feel his love through the way his fat finger teases your clit. the way his kisses are gentle against your body despite the pounding your pussy’s experiencing. your stomach’s beginning to flip as your orgasm builds. your pretty pussy’s so loud, making noises toji’s never heard before. you’re so wet that the sheets are beginning to soak. every time toji’s fat cock slides into your cunt he feels like he’s reached heaven over and over again. “she’s taking me so well- fuck! one day,” he begins, cutting himself off with a throaty moan. “‘m gonna fill you up riiight here. make you a mommy, baby. fuck, you’d be so fucking pretty.”

toji presses a hand against your stomach, adding extra pressure so that he can feel the way his cock rubs against your soft insides. “why are you gonna wait? make me a mommy now. don’t wanna wait, wanna have your baby now.” your poor boyfriend can barely handle the words as they fall from your lips. toji’s head falls into your shoulder and stays there—tired and barely maintaining control. “don’t say that.” he whispers your name like a prayer, like he’s begging you to take your words back. by now, your legs have long tightened against his back. your thighs burn from the strength it’s taking you to keep him inside you. (as if you needed it)

“can’t- we can’t baby, not yet. gotta make it to the league first, mama. make sure you have everything you want.” you whine at his words because no matter how sweet they are, they aren’t what you want. you know toji means it. he always does. but right now, you want his child. fuck whatever millions he’ll make in the future from catching a ball. you want something permanent. something that screams that you love him more than anyone ever could. “doesn’t matter.” you whisper, sliding your nails up his back before they’re being dragged back up and into his hair. “cum in me, baby. give me a baby then you can take care of both of us.”

toji’s chest tightens with a newfound affection as the images flicker through his mind. you smiling and swollen with his baby, mini versions of the two of you running around. how fucking gorgeous you’d look being a mother—the mother of his children. he feels like a teenager again, like he’s never fucked before and it’s all overwhelming. he’s cumming, deep and plentiful into your fluttering pussy. you cry his name out, your own orgasm bullying it’s way to the surface. “god, you’re so good. my girl- fuck!” his hips jut into you at an attempt to get impossibly deeper in you. despite the overstimulation wracking your body, you soothe him by running your nails through his scalp. the sweat on your body’s ignored, the cum sliding out of you and onto his cock temporarily forgotten. “i love you.” you hum, pulling his head back just a little. “i love you too, mama.” you giggle, knowing that his little nickname may just be true soon.

to neither of your surprise, three months later you’re posting a baby reveal on your instagram’s. a tiny replica of toji’s jersey covers your belly as the two of you stand on the field with the biggest smiles anyone has ever seen from either of you. your phone’s never blown up so quickly, but you couldn’t care because your heart’s never felt so full.

back to the club!

[digitald0rk]

OVERSTIMULATING YOUR ALIEN BOYFRIEND !

pairing — mark grayson x gn!reader.

synopsis — what the title says 👅 stumbled upon this on twt and immediately thought of mark grayson. [ the link is porn btw so yeah fair warning ]

warnings — uhh porn with no plot :p

a/n — first post really nervous, i don't really write nsfw a lot so yeah mb if this is bad :( i just really had to get it out there LMFAO. i need him so bad it's actually insane. mark grayson get out my head challenge : impossible!

thinking about mark grayson being a good boy for you <3

jerking him off after a particularly stressful mission, his small moans turning into full blown whimpers and whines as he tries not to blow his load right then and there because he's a good boy, he knows better.

"baby please, please"

please just let him cum already! why are you being so mean to him, he's your sweet boy isn't he? :(

and when you give him the permission he'd been aching for, begging for, he blabbers small thank you's over and over in his whiny voice as he reaches that sweet relief, painting your hand in his sticky hot release.

he breathes heavily, eyes fluttering shut, practically panting as he tries to calm down from that intense orgasm- wait wait no, don't touch him there he's still all sensitive!

he groans, his eyes snapping open when he feels the familiar rhythm of your hand stroking his pretty cock :( he lets out embarrassingly loud noises, he can't do this again! but god it feels so good he can't help himself from bucking his hips up into your ruthless hand, wanting more.

"i can't, oh god i- i can't!" he whimpers, his body seemingly moving on it's own to chase that release again despite his words.

praise him, coo at him and he's all putty in your hands in an instant, willing to give you whatever you want, even if it renders him to an overstimulated pathetic mess, anything for his sweetheart.

his back arches off the bed, leaning into your touch, eyes all glossy as he loses himself in the pleasure you give him. another loud groan of your name rips from the back of his throat as he cums again.

he nearly cries when you don't stop jerking him off, are you trying to milk him dry? mindless babbles and sounds leave his pretty mouth as you use his previous load as lube, gently kissing his tears like you aren't the one overstimulating him.

he squirms and twitches under your touch, giving up on controlling his noises. the pleasure he feels bordering on painful but it only adds to the bliss, it feels so good he swears he sees stars, the only thing on his mind is you.

and when you pinch his nipples and tease them with your tongue, he knows he's done for.

his tears don't stop and neither do his moans of your name, just like your hand against his cock. he makes an effort to not scream your name when he cums for the third time in the span of such a short time by biting down on his bottom lip, he bites down so hard it draws blood. the muscles on his abdomen clenching and unclenching and you swear you've never seen a sight so beautiful.

your boyfriend looks so good like this, it's actually downright unfair how pretty he looks all blissed out like this.

the strongest man on the planet all pliant and needy under you is sure an ego boost.

and absolutely none of that helps with your own growing arousal.

his body writhes harder when you kiss him, everything feels so intense, even the kiss. with his brain turned almost all to mush he tries to sloppily kiss you back, all tongue and teeth accompanied by his soft whimpers which make you giggle.

and normally he'd laugh with you too if he wasn't all flushed and sweaty and acting like a dog in heat. his eyes still glossy as his chest heaves with the uneven breaths he takes.

and to no one's surprise he's still somewhat hard, viltrumite genes do wonders to your libido it seems.

"can you give me another one mark?" my god are you fucking crazy?! let him breathe!

but how can he deny his baby? especially when you look at him like that, but he's not even sure he can cum anymore and-

"please?" you bat your eyelashes at him.

and yeah, he's a goner.

it's gonna be a long night.

© digitald0rk 2025. please do not steal my work, thank u. interactions, like and reblogs are highly appreciated. tysm for reading and i hope you have a good day / night >:3 want more? click here ★

[blueivyy99]

Calm and Serenity (Part 4)

Sylus x Non!MC

summary: you didn't know what sylus saw in you. he said you were calm, quiet and serene and that's what he needs. you believed it. he showed it. not until little miss hunter came. she's everything you're not. news that she's in danger can make the ever so calm sylus to run and leave everything behind. it made you think, would he do that for you as well?

tags: angst, romance, hurt and comfort, confused sylus, non-mc reader, mentions of death/dying, cursing

taglist: @fcknblsht @aboobie @nin10doo @ixloom819 @damatically @sylusgirlie7 @stellisangelicus-world @kira-loves0905 @wanderlustingcastaway @browneyedgirl22 @lumieresdreams @babygirl-panda19 @picnicinthegarden @96jnie @xxfaithlynxx @wrimaira @reni502 @lazypostfandomer @augustdxjiminx @hey-airam @vevlvtcherie @marquitas-en-verano @ma-cherie-lovely @zeskyzed @imnikki @shiorihoshino @mentaltrouble2201 @sylustoru @imaginarytheatre

note: OMG hi here's the promised update. ALSOOO BIG THANK YOU to all your reaction/comment/reblogs huhuhu im so happy reading your comments and im glad that you liked this little piece of mine. i hope you enjoy this one as well (i actually want to hide in a corner lol)

Series Masterlist

Sylus can't shake the eerie feeling that's been bugging his chest since he left you in Elysium. He knows that you're upset. He can see it in your eyes, he can feel it in his bones.

But what can he do? Miss Hunter is in danger and his body just autopilots to go to her. Does he want to? No. Not really because if he were to choose, he'd rather be beside you all the time but the bond is not letting him. Whenever he's trying to resist, the energy linkage on his wrist would constrict and a painful sensation is shooting up on his chest making it harder for him to say no to her.

It's been a pain in his ass and he didn't know what to do especially when he first met her. Past memories, past emotions, past tragedies suddenly flooded him and for a moment he faltered.

For a moment, all those feelings came back. He missed her, honestly speaking after all, she has half of his soul and finding her again in N109 Zone felt like his soul is whole again.

It was like he was in a daze. All his goals were reduced to mere thoughts and he was obligated to make a connection with her that he got too busy helping her get the aether core and making her remember everything, too busy resonating with her and he made you wait for him every day only to be given a mere fraction of his attention.

But when he's alone and he's contemplating the decisions he has been making as of late, he will be reminded of you. Of how you slowly grew quieter and your gaze was always on him, waiting and anticipating for him to initiate something that would make up for the time he's been wasting with Miss Hunter.

It did cross his mind to let you go. He understands that what he's doing is completely unfair to you, but when the thought of you leaving and potentially finding someone else crosses his mind, he almost went crazy.

He can't. He just can't.

He won't allow it.

He won't let that happen.

You're the only thing in his life that he can call his “voluntary choice". Ever since he lived all his lives, everything seemed out of control, it seemed like everything was a cycle.

Sylus, I curse your soul to never fade away. You'll always be tied to me. This is my curse. Only I can grant you true death.

Soulbound. That's him and Miss Hunter. The first few lives he lived, he can accept dying in her arms as long as it's with her. That's how powerful his love is and he doesn't mind waiting even if it takes a couple of millenia he wouldn't mind because it's her. He even put traces of her in every corner of N109 Zone, even sent Mephisto to stalk her every move when she first became a hunter. So it's safe to say that in the earlier years in this life, he did wait for her.

But then, YOU came.

Someone unexpected. Someone so pure despite the filth in this underworld. You saw him like a normal person and made him feel human. You didn't treat him like the leader of Onychinus.

You treated him as Sylus. Just Sylus. A weak, vulnerable and could-be-hurt Sylus.

In you, he found his humanity.

In you he found love and peace. For the first time in eons, there is tranquility.

He wanted to deny it at first. He can't entertain the thought of you and him together. He knows he can't have you. He can't have that luxury because he will have to let you go eventually when Miss Hunter comes to the picture, the cycle will repeat again. He will die in her arms and he will live another life only to be met with the same ending.

He had given up on anything and everything at this point, so little by little he's letting you go.

But when you came to his rescue, fighting for him even with your limited fighting experience when he was caught off guard by one of his enemies he let himself indulge in you.

Maybe this time will be different.

He let himself be under the shade of your warmth. Happy that in this life he gets to experience this. To experience a love that felt like it could last forever. A love that makes him want to live for as long as he can.

So when he made sure that Miss Hunter is alive and breathing, he is quick on his feet to leave.

“Sylus, can you stay with me for a while?" her voice begging.

And there it was again. The tug on the energy linkage in his wrist. At the mere thought of him denying her request, he can feel it tighten in his wrist that it hurts almost like his hands were going to be cut off.

The sensation in his chest is there again.

But no. He can't stay.

He won't.

“I can't," he answered not even looking back at her. “Y/N is waiting for me.”

He steadied his breathing. He needs to calm himself despite the overbearing pain.

"I will find a way to sever our connection and put an end to this curse. I want to live a life for myself not tied down to any of this destiny bullshit.”

He left after saying that. He's sure that she will understand what he meant.

If she doesn't? Then that's on her.

But for now he wants to come home to you.

To make things right. To tell you everything to ask for more time to figure things out. To tell you that he's been trying to figure out how to sever the connection that he and Miss Hunter have.

To explain that what he did to you was beyond what he can control. That he is under a curse and his choices are influenced by the repeating cycle of his lives. Clouded by the thought that there's no way out of this mess and sooner or later he will find his lifeless body in Miss Hunter's hands.

To tell you that this time he wants to fight back.

He wants to own his life again. He wants to make a decision for himself again.

Sylus respects the idea of soulmates. He even loved the idea of it before. But now it's different. Because if being soulmates with Miss Hunter means losing you, then he doesn't want it.

He will die trying as long as he's with you.

In record time, he's back in Onychinus’s base and the air feels different. It feels heavy. Something is not right.

Sylus is quick on his feet to walk (run) to your shared bedroom and you're not there. He felt a lump on his throat.

No. No.

“Sweetie? Where are you?" He called out. The mighty Sylus’s voice quivers at the end of his sentence. He roamed around the base trying to find you.

“Darling?"

In the bathroom? None.

“Little fox?"

Kitchen? It's empty.

"Baby?”

The guest room? Deafening quiet.

“Y/N?"

He searched in every corner but you're not there. He tried to call you but it seemed like your phone was off.

He called Luke and Kieran, they quickly answered his call and their words made his world crumble. “Boss! The Madame is gone. We can't find her anywhere. Elysium's owner told us she left quickly after you were gone. We searched everywhere we could but we couldn't find her.”

“Keep patrolling the area. Find her."

He dropped the call and quickly sent Mephisto to wander all around the N109 zone.

His mind is reeling back to the events that happened before he left. It can't be.

What happened? Why did you run away? Did someone take you?

Did you leave him?

No, gods please no.

You can't be gone.

No. Not now. Not when he figured out what he wanted.

“Please, come back.”

Part 5 the next day if im not busyyyy (no promises) reaction and comments are welcome 🤗

[woantohae]

In my arms || (Bob Reynolds x reader)

Summary: The Thunderbolts are constantly on missions, busy trying to do good and save whoever they can. One of them was Bob Reynolds, the defenseless yet powerful man who is part of this team and family. However, he doesn't participate in these missions so he can continue practicing controlling his powers.

Despite telling them he's capable, the team prefers to give him more time to get used to them, until one mission, when a member of the team is injured. And all Bob can think about is the fury he feels when he hears Y/N being hurt. And how much he wants revenge on whoever did it.

content warnings: angst, he fell first and he fell harder, "avengers" tower, fluff, thunderbolts being a family, violence, curse words, SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS*, Yelena and Bob being like brother and sister, "touch her and you die" trope.

Author's note: I WATCHED THUNDERBOLTS*!!!! And let me tell you, it was better than i imagined. Honestly, it became one of my favorites and it can easily be in my top 3 of Marvel movies. I just can't describe the experience with enough words, but the waiting was totally worth it ✨️ AND THE POST CREDIT SCENE 👀 MARVEL ATE WITH THAT ONE.

With that being said, i'm excited to tell you that i'm gonna write more of Bob Reynolds 👉��👈🏻 So here you go, a one shot with him, wich contains a few spoilers of the movie. At this point our reader will be polaris lol.

Hope you like it and comment what do you think of this one 💌

Bob was getting used to the place.

What had once been Avengers Tower had now become his new "home." He had an incredible view of New York City, several rooms to hang out in, thousands of dishes and meals he'd never been able to prepare in his life, and the pleasant company he shared every day.

The team had made him feel comfortable and part of something worthwhile, despite what they'd gone through to get to this moment.

Bob still felt guilty about what happened when Void took control of him and darkened everything in its path, even when Yelena reminded him it wasn't his fault and that he wasn't alone. The blonde had become a trusted person for him and was always there when he needed her. He told her his secrets and how he felt, and the Russian always gave him advice or a word of encouragement. Even with the trust he had in her, he confided in her something he never thought would happen to him. Or rather, something he thought was impossible to happen in such a short time.

He was attracted to Y/N.

The girl whom his other self had caused to see horrible things from her past, the one who could move metal objects with a simple flick of her fingers, and the one who made his heart race and his cheeks blush. It was a feeling that consumed him every time he was near her or even thought about her.

And Yelena, being the good spy she was and good at reading people, knew how Bob felt about Y/N. She always encouraged him to get closer and talk to her more, but Bob simply couldn't do it. It was not that easy.

"It sounds easy," John says, after hearing the plan for carrying out the mission.

Bob shakes his head to return to reality and ignore such thoughts.

"Wait until we get there and they welcome us with open arms," ​​Bucky says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"We still made it last time, and look at us here," Y/N replies, shrugging her shoulders.

Ava laughs and shakes her head.

"We'd better get moving," she says.

Bob looks at the group with hope in his eyes, but feels unsure about what he's gonna say.

"Can I come with you, guys?" he asks.

All heads turn to look at him with a mixture of surprise and sympathy for his question. They know he wants to help however he can, but after Void was under control and hadn't appeared for quite some time, they weren't so sure it was a good idea to expose him like that again.

"Bob..." Yelena begins to say.

Bob hurries to explain himself.

"I know what you're gonna say. But I think I'm ready, I know I can control it" Bob says with determination in his voice "I've been practicing and trying to talk to him, so maybe I can do it, today"

"We know, Bobby," says John, "But we must complete the mission without any mistakes or problems along the way."

The brunette looks down and clears his throat, nodding. He raises his gaze to smile and meet Y/N's gaze, who smiles back.

"No, no, I understand," he says dejectedly. "When the time is right, I can come with you."

Bucky pats his shoulder and Alexei gives him a thumbs-up. Despite their attempt to lift his spirits, he can't help but feel useless and without any reason to be in the group, other than washing dishes, tidying the place, or reading books he finds lying around.

He hates the feeling.

But it is what it is, right now. And he has to face it.

After the meeting to organize the plan, the group dispersed to look for the weapons and prepare the car in which they would go to the location. Bob watched from afar as the rest of them prepared, while playing with his fingers. He shifted his gaze to the large window overlooking the city and didn't feel Y/N's presence approaching him.

"Hey," she said in a soft tone.

Bob turned his head to look at her and smiled delightedly.

"Hey," she asked.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He nods and laughs softly, pretending to be okay and swallowing the feeling that bothered him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine"

The girl mimics his smile and stares at him, while Bob feels the heat spread to his cheeks.

"Hey, how about we watch a movie when I get back?" she offers, patting his arm to get his attention.

Bob smiles.

"I was actually thinking it could be a movie night with just us. If you like that idea," Y/N says, crossing her arms and shrugging her shoulders with a smile on her face.

"A movie would be nice. I think it would be fun to have a movie night with the rest of the team," he says awkwardly "We haven't had one of those in a while, so..."

She lets out a soft laugh, thinking how cute he looks all flustered.

"Oh..." he remains silent to calm his nerves until he speaks again so as not to make a fool of himself. "Oh! Yeah, just the two of us. Of course. It could be fun. Count me in!"

Y/N smiles and laughs softly, wich sounds angelical to Bob's ears.

"Great. It's a date" she says.

Bucky calls her to let her know they're about to leave, so she starts walking away from Bob.

"See you, Bob."

"See you. Good luck," Bob says with a dazed smile on his face, remembering the girl's words.

It's a date.

Bob walks to his room with an excited smile, feeling happiness in his chest, but when he remembers the last thing Y/N said, his eyes widen.

"Oh shit! It is a date!"

He needs to prepare for it.

----------

Bob listened and watched from the communications room to see how the team was doing on the mission.

It wasn't going so easy as they planed back in the tower a few hours ago, as they had run into a group of mercenaries who weren't going to give up so easily. The brunette just hoped everyone was okay and managed to complete the mission—and he really hoped Y/N was okay and didn't get hurt.

A feeling of anguish and anxiety was causing Bob's chest to tighten. His leg kept moving as he played with the Rubik's Cube in his hands, unable to complete a color.

The sound of bullets filled his ears, and his jaw clenched as he heard and saw Yelena or Bucky being hit. Alexei grumbled as he tried to pull a man off John to help him, and Ava took care of a few. Y/N tried to stop the bullets as best she could, but there were some hidden snipers she couldn't sense with her powers so easily.

"There's to many of them!" John complains through the earpiece in Bob's ear.

"Fuck! If we don't stop the ones from the roof we cannot go back to the car!" Ava exclaims in an almost exhaustive voice.

"Shit. C'mon guys" Bob whispers while frowning his eyebrows at the scene.

"Bob, can you see how many are on the roof?" Yelena asks from the communicator in her ear.

"Uh, yeah, yeah" he says inmediatly "There's five on the roof. Three of them has guns and two of them are programming something on the computer. Seems like.... oh no"

"What Bob?" Bucky asks.

"It's a bomb! You need to get out of there" Bob says quickly.

"Shit," Yelena curses.

"I can try to stop them. But I need you to cover my back," Y/N says in a confident, hurried tone.

Bob watches as the girl begins to head toward the other side to attack the group of men with guns at the entrance. The others try to stop anyone from attacking her, and she moves stealthily between the bodies to reach the entrance. Bob focuses his attention on the cameras in the building that shows Y/N, his heart aching at what's happening in the footage. Or what could happen.

"Please, be careful," Bob whispers.

Y/N stops the guards' bullets at the entrance with precision in her movements and attacks some who plan to hit her. Bob's eyes glance at the rest of the team as they manage to escape thanks to the distraction caused by the girl with green sparkles flashing from her fingers. However, he doesn't stop for more than five seconds just to check on the girl again. He wants to make sure she's okay, even if it's from behind the computer. Far away from the place where she is right now —just the thought of it makes his inner self freak out.

Something it's beginning to awake inside of him. Something he thought he had buried for his own good.

Or rather someone.

"Y/N, all done. Let's head to the car. I'll try to get to you right away," Bucky orders.

"No. It's okay, I got this," she chimes in stubbornly.

Bob shakes his head.

But before she can do so, a stray bullet hits her shoulder, destabilizing the girl.

"Fuck!" she complains, touching her shoulder.

"Y/N?" Bucky asks worriedly.

"Y/N!" Bob yells, watching as one of the guards hits her with her gun on the back of her head, causing the girl to fall unconscious to the ground.

That's it.

Bob rushes out of the tower's communications room and runs to the balcony, where he takes to the air with determination. He doesn't stop for a second, because time is precious, especially after seeing Y/N getting attacked. The only thing that keeps repeating in his mind is the visual image of the girl being injured, so he moves quickly through the air until he reaches the others. He had seen the coordinates and the area where they were, so it was easy for him to arrive in time.

Bob tries to find the place that the camera allowed him to watched the area in wich the girl was back at the tower, and when he finds it, he is surprised to find that one of the men responsible of attacking Y/N is carrying her unconscious body in his arms. Fury courses through his veins at the sight, and he rushes to stop the bastard. It's as if he's being consumed by darkness, a sensation he knows all too well.

As soon as he's in front of the guy, he stops him and without a second thought, tries to attack him, careful not to hit Y/N. The man looks at him in horror and carefully places the girl's body on the ground, then raises his hands in surrender.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know..." he stumbles, but all Bob sees is red.

He growls and begins to mercilessly beat the man's body, making him bleed, and doesn't stop until he's unconscious. Blow after blow, unleashing all the anger he felt at seeing how the bastard hurt the girl. He can still see her grimace of pain and how her body fell unconscious to the ground, helpless, and who knows what they might have done to her if he hadn't arrived in time.

"Please...." the man begs almost unconscious.

Bob doesn't hear him. He doesn't want to.

And Void doesn't want to too.

The rest of the team arrives at Y/N's location, only to see her lying on the ground with a scarlet stain forming on the shoulder of her suit, while Bob kills the man. Ava approaches the girl's body and makes sure she has a steady pulse, while John makes sure that no one appears and attacks them by surprise.

"Bob," Yelena warns and tries to approach him to make him see reason.

"No! He hurt her. No one can touch her, or hurt her!" he exclaims in a mixture of anger and darkness. "No one! You heard me? Fucking no one!"

The others stare at the scene and notice how Y/N wakes up and observes the state Bob is in. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she rushes over to him and wraps her arms around him from behind, resting her face on his.

"Bob, hey. It's okay," she murmurs in his ear, feeling the man begin to slow down the blows, so she tightens her grip on his body. "I'm okay. Everything will be okay."

Bob calms down and brings his now covered in blood hands to Y/N's arms, then turns his body and hugs her with all his strength, trying to cover her body to protect her just in case, and also feel her in his arms and make sure nothing happens to her anymore.

"You are hurt" he whispers in her ear.

"It's just a scratch. I'll be fine" Y/N says with a small smile on her lips.

"He hurt you. I couln't allow him to do it" he says in a broken voice.

Y/N looks at the rest of the team and smiles at them, letting them know she's okay. Kinda. Bucky sighs and shakes his head at the girl in that state, knowing she must be screaming from the pain of the bullet, while Alexei smiles sideways and tries to encourage her from a distance. The blonde russian girl mouths to her that she will get the car ready to go, to wich Y/N nods and indicates her to do so.

"We still have our date," she tells him, still standing with the brunette, glancing at the man's lifeless body.

Bob lets out a sigh and nods his head against Y/N's chest, agreeing with her.

"Our date," he says in a soft tone, relaxing at the touch of her fingers in his hair. Although he can't help but feel anger again when he smells the metallic scent coming from the girl's wound.

"Yeah. Are we still up to that?"

"Definitely" Bob answers and lets out a small laugh.

She smiles and then pulls away from him to look him in the eye. Those blue orbits who watch her with a spark on his eyes.

"So let's go home and have our date, okay?" Bob nods and then lowers his gaze to the girl's wound.

"First, we need to treat your wound," he says, pointing to the red stain on her suit.

"Would you help me with that?"

"You don't have to ask me twice."

They both stare at each other with a small smile on their faces, understanding how much they care for each other and would do anything to keep them safe and viceversa.

Especially Bob.

And as long as Y/N is in his arms, he'll be okay.

[reveriebae]

Send Nude?

pairing(s) : Mingi x reader

word count : 2332

summary : you were only kidding, he wasn't.

genre : smut

warning(s) : Online flirtation → IRL hookup, Mirror fingering, Vein kink (explicit worship), Cock worship, Dirty talk that will get you pregnant, Ass slapping, Doggy style, Praise + degradation mix, Spit, lube, cum mention, Choking (light), Hair pulling, Marking (handprints, cum inside), Slight overstimulation, After-sex banter & bratty backtalk, Mingi being hot and knowing it. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N : SONG MOTHERFUCKING MINGI, I WANNA SIT ON YOUR FACE TILL YOU CAN'T FUCKING BREATH😤😤

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut🪐

It starts with an Instagram story.

Not even a sinful one—well, not explicitly. Just Mingi, shirtless, post-gym, flexing in the mirror like he’s auditioning for an anime reboot of Magic Mike. Traps bulging, abs glistening, hair messy like he just rolled out of bed and into your fantasies.

But it’s the veins. The veins.

His arms look like god personally sculpted them to ruin your life. Thick, pulsing rivers of blood lust crawling from his forearms up to those thick biceps. The kind of veins that scream, "I can hold your legs open and still roll your eyes back with just two fingers."

And the worst part?

You’re mutuals.

You don’t know him, not really. But you’ve exchanged likes. A few meme replies. He once retweeted your selfie with a “👀” and that alone had you contemplating the circumference of his dick.

So when he drops that mirror thirst trap with a casual caption—

“gym got me feelin like a Jojo character today lol”

—you don’t think.

You just type.

"send nude?"

It’s meant to be funny. You’re high on vein kink and zero impulse control. You expect no reply. Maybe a like at most.

Instead...

fixon_n_on has sent you a message.

You blink. Your heart skips. You open it.

@fixon_n_on : you want it from the front or the back?

You almost throw your phone across the room.

You stare at the screen, face hot, mouth dry, thighs not. You're about to reply with something dumb like “LMAO chill I was kidding,” when a photo comes through.

Not a dick pic—he’s smarter than that.

It’s him, again, in the mirror. This time in sweatpants, low enough to show that dangerous V-line. His phone’s in one hand, the other pushing his waistband down just enough to reveal no underwear. His dick’s not out, but you can see the print. And it’s…

Well. Jesus wept.

@fixon_n_on : front. want the other too?

"You’re insane"

"You can’t just do this"

"I’m literally feral now. I hope you’re happy"

@fixon_n_on : send something back then.

I wanna see what I’m working for.

You panic.

But also? You're already halfway to your bedroom, lighting adjusted, camera propped up against your dresser. You pick your best lingerie—black lace, of course—and position yourself kneeling on the bed, arching your back, head turned just enough to show the smirk on your lips.

You send it.

And wait.

It doesn’t take long.

@fixon_n_on : oh you’re a fucking problem, stay like that.

@fixon_n_on : 10 minutes.

"what?"

@fixon_n_on : I’m outside.

Your soul leaves your body. You run to the window like a girl in a teen drama and THERE HE IS. In a hoodie and gray sweats, baseball cap pulled low, looking up at your building.

You open the door in a robe and nothing else.

He doesn’t say anything when you let him in. Just walks straight past you, drops his phone on your counter, and turns to face you like you’re his final exam.

“Thought you were just horny on main,” he mutters, voice low, eyes burning.

You shrug. “You posted that photo. I was just—”

“You were asking for it.”

And then he’s kissing you. Hard, messy, hand gripping the back of your neck while the other pulls at your robe like he owns the rights to it. Tongue sliding past your lips, hips pushing into yours, and God, he’s big. You feel it, even through the layers, pressing into your stomach.

He breaks the kiss only to whisper, “Where’s the bed?”

You nod toward your room, breathless.

He tosses you over his shoulder like it’s nothing.

You barely register the way he throws you on the bed—your robe falls open, lace panties barely covering anything, tits perking up like they know what’s coming. But Mingi’s not in a rush. He kneels behind you, towering in the mirror, eyes roaming every inch of your reflection like you’re his personal slutty art piece.

"Don’t move," he mutters. His voice is deeper now—dangerously low, like sin poured over honey. "Look at yourself. Look how pretty you are when you’re about to get ruined."

You start to turn around, but his palm lands flat on your ass, making your thighs jolt. You gasp.

"Did I stutter?" he growls.

You meet your own eyes in the mirror—wide, flushed, trembling.

Then you see his hand.

Veins. Fucking ropes of them, bulging from his forearm, crawling over the back of his hand like he was engineered in a lab just to wreck lives. He slides his fingers down your back slowly, tracing the curve of your spine, dragging calloused fingertips over your lace waistband and tugging it down with a single curl.

And you swear to God, you moan at the way his forearm flexes doing it.

“S-shit…” you breathe.

He hears that.

“Oh?” Mingi leans down, chest against your back, lips brushing your ear. “You moaning for my veins, baby?”

“Maybe,” you whisper, already breathless.

He smirks. “That’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Then you feel it—his fingers, thick and skilled, sliding between your legs. He presses two against your slit, slow and teasing, rubbing over your folds like he’s just admiring the texture. You’re already soaked.

"All this," he says, voice hoarse, "from a fucking photo?"

"All this," you gasp, "from a fucking forearm."

He laughs. He actually laughs, low and cocky, before slowly sliding two fingers inside you.

And fuck—he knows what he’s doing.

Long, deep strokes. Curling just enough to make your legs shake. His other hand grips your thigh, and that’s when you see it—those veins again, tensing as he fucks you with his fingers, his eyes locked on your reflection.

"Touch your tits," he growls. "Wanna see how messy you look for me."

You obey.

Your back arches. His fingers go faster. The sound is obscene—wet and needy—and you're whining now, trying to hold it in, but failing.

“Look at you,” he pants, breath hot against your neck. “My needy little internet girl. You gonna cum just from my fucking hand?”

“I-I—”

“Say it.”

"Y-yes! I’m gonna cum—fuck, Mingi, your hands, your f-fucking veins—"

And then he pulls out.

You scream.

He grins like the menace he is, sucking his fingers clean, his fucking tongue dragging between them like he’s savoring the taste of your defeat.

Then?

Then comes the cock reveal.

Mingi pushes his sweats down and you actually gasp. Like, cartoonishly. Hand over your mouth, eyes wide, legs clenched.

It’s—

Baby.

It’s heavy. Thick. Veins trailing down the shaft like they belong in a goddamn museum. The head flushed deep pink, already leaking, curved just slightly upward like it was designed to hit your g-spot and wreck your life.

“No fucking way,” you whisper.

He wraps his hand around it lazily—more veins flexing in his forearm—and strokes once. Just once. And you feel your pussy throb.

"Yeah," he says, watching your jaw drop. "You're drooling."

You blink, dazed, mouth parted. Mingi’s standing behind you now, one hand gripping his cock lazily, the other on your ass, spreading you open so both of you can see how soaked you are in the mirror.

"Look at this shit," he grunts, dragging his tip over your folds. "Dripping like you were waiting for me. You been thinking about this cock all week, huh?"

"Y-yes," you whimper. “Ever since that fucking mirror selfie—”

He presses the head against your entrance but doesn’t push in. Just teases it. Rubbing circles around your clit with the head, using your wetness like lube, slick sounds making your face heat up.

“You got off to it?” he asks low, his lips brushing your ear. “Did you cum to my pic, baby?”

You nod.

"Uh-uh. Say it."

“I fucking came to it, Mingi. I rubbed my pussy to your arms and your stupid fucking veins—fuck—”

He laughs darkly. "Yeah, you’re sick."

Then—finally—he pushes in.

And Jesus fucking Christ.

Your hands slam against the mirror, breath catching, your whole body jerking forward from the stretch. He fills you like he’s trying to mold his shape into your cunt. Thick, hot, just the right curve—and he doesn’t move for a second.

Just breathes.

"Goddamn," he mutters. “You're tighter than I thought. You tryna milk me already?"

You moan, legs trembling.

Mingi grabs your hair, yanks your head up to force your gaze into the mirror again.

“Nah. You watch this. Watch how I wreck this pretty little pussy.”

He starts thrusting—deep, rough strokes. Slow at first, like he’s letting you feel every fucking inch. The mirror fogs up from your panting, from his filthy mouth in your ear.

"You like that? Huh?"

"Yes—yes, Mingi, fuck!"

"This pussy’s made for me. Look how it sucks me in."

He groans when you clench, dragging his hand from your waist to your front, pressing on your lower belly.

"Feel that?" he growls. "That’s me, baby. That’s my cock inside you. Splitting you open like you asked for it."

You’re babbling now—nonsense, cries, desperate yeses. But Mingi’s not done.

“You wanted it so bad, right? Posting your ass online, sending me slutty pics like a little tease—”

“I wanted you,” you whimper.

“Yeah, you do want me. Want me to fuck your brains out. Want me to make you drool on this mirror like the cock-drunk little whore you are.”

Your legs nearly give out. He catches you, one arm banded around your waist as he pistons into you now, rougher, faster—pure filth slapping against your soaked thighs, the sound disgusting in the best way.

"Say it's mine," he growls.

"It’s yours," you gasp.

"Say you're gonna cum all over my cock like a good girl."

"I—fuck, Mingi—I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum—"

And you do.

You cum hard, back arched, eyes rolling, your body twitching as he fucks you through it with a satisfied grunt.

“That’s it. Fuckin’ soak me.”

He pulls out just long enough to flip you around, throws you on the bed again, and gets on top. He kisses you hard, messy, fingers in your hair, his cock still throbbing.

“You think I’m done with you?” he breathes against your lips.

You’re still catching your breath, legs shaking, mascara smudged, when Mingi pulls you up by the hips and flips you back over like a ragdoll. He drags you to the edge of the bed, feet barely touching the floor, ass high in the air, pussy still dripping.

“You think I’m done with this ass?” he mutters, palm grazing your cheek, fingers flexing like he’s about to commit a crime. “Nah. Not even close.”

You glance back, dazed, lips parted.

And he just grins.

Then—SMACK.

His palm cracks against your ass, loud and sharp. You jolt forward, a choked moan spilling out.

"Fuck—Mingi!"

"Too much?" he asks, rubbing the sting gently with those big, veiny hands. The contrast between pain and softness makes your eyes roll back.

"Not enough," you gasp.

He laughs. Dark. Delighted.

"Filthy little thing. You like getting spanked, huh?"

"Love it."

Another slap. This time harder. And another. His handprint is going to be there for days.

Then he grips both cheeks, spreading them open. He groans at the sight of you.

“God, this pussy’s begging for me.”

He strokes himself once, then lines up—and thrusts all the way in.

No teasing. No build-up. Just ruthless, deep doggystyle.

You scream into the sheets.

“Oh my fucking God—”

“That’s right,” he growls. “Take it. Let me fuck this tight little hole till I break you.”

His rhythm is brutal. Each thrust slams into you with force, your tits bouncing with every movement. You’re whining, moaning, drooling into the pillows—and he fucking loves it.

"You feel that, baby?" he pants. "Feel my cock stretching you out?"

"Yes—yes, Mingi, fuck—so big—"

He leans over you, chest to your back, one hand choking the headboard, the other sliding under to grip your throat. His lips brush your ear.

"You gonna cum again? From getting fucked like a bitch in heat?"

“Yes—fuck, please, I want it—”

He pulls your hair, forcing your head back. His breath is hot and filthy on your neck.

"Want what?"

"I want your cock—I want you to ruin me, please, please—"

"You want me to fuck you dumb?"

"Yes!"

SMACK.

Another hit to your ass—this one meaner. You fucking sob.

“That’s what I thought,” he snarls. “This pussy belongs to me now.”

And then he grabs your hips again, starts fucking you harder—if that’s even possible. You feel every vein, every ridge, every goddamn inch dragging inside you like he was crafted by the devil for the sole purpose of ending you.

You're gone.

Crying out his name. Screaming.

“Cum for me,” he grits. “Fucking cum on this cock, let me feel you lose it.”

And when you finally do—when your body seizes, your orgasm ripping through you so hard your vision blanks—he doesn’t stop.

He fucks you through your orgasm. Keeps pounding, relentless, groaning like a beast.

“Fuck—baby, I’m close—where do you want it?”

"Inside," you gasp. "I want you to fill me, Mingi—please—"

That does it.

He growls, low and feral, and slams into you one final time.

You feel it—hot and deep, his cock twitching inside as he spills everything, his grip bruising your hips. He stays buried there, panting against your back, sweating, hand still on your ass like a trophy.

Silence.

Then—his voice. Hoarse, cocky.

"...My veins really did this to you, huh?"

You’re breathless.

"Fuck your veins, Mingi."

He grins, kisses your back.

"You did."

[rexhya]

note — i accidentally posted the hcs before i was done! >~<, more anul content :>

✦ ✦

yandere!prince who drives himself mad over every interaction you have with another male, it's an unspoken rule that no one is allowed to look you in the eyes because the clingy bastard has a careful and constant eye watching over you

anul hardly ever lets you out of his sight, he goes, you go, you go, he goes. it's law.

so on the rare cases where he does have to leave your side, safe to say he's more than just a little grumpy. ( he slit the throat of his personal advisor because he was talking to loud )

your just doing you job, the job you were meant to do, cleaning and preparing for a party held for nobles in his upcoming inauguration. anul is obviously dreading this party, his father is being picky about evey little thing and said he'd banish you if he tries to bring you along. (he doesn't actually care he just is waiting patiently for the day he becomes king and his fathers word will mean nothing)

whats worse is theres this insect on his arm, buzzing nosily to him about nothing, the only good thing that actually came from it's mouth was when she asked about you.

"Oh you mean [Name], she's perfect isn't she?" He doesn't wait for a response, Anetha is dying listening to him go on and on and on about you, and she hardly gets it anyway! Your a maid, born from slum and you're hardly that pretty anyway, what did the Prince of Salttion see in you.

She makes a horrible mistake and tries to find out herself.

"Hello m'lady how may I he—" you don't get to finish your sentence before Anethea's gaurds are stomping you into the ground. It's not like you havent been in a situation like this before, but it's the fear of not knowing if you'd be able to escape let alone survive that makes you sob tears into your blood.

You're shoved into a closet before your found, Anul had tore every room apart looking for you ( literally, the door came flying off it's hinges as you fell to the ground unconscious. ) and sees pure, blood raging red when he cradleds your head in his lap. not even his father tries to reprimand him for his attentiveness to you, who ever had done this would pay in blood.

He can't control his breathing as they cart you away, he's right there with you of course, Anetha watching pleasantly, he catches the look and saves it for later.

When you finally wake up you feel sore, definitely brtter then when you were bloody and hurting in the dank closet but sore nonetheless. Anul is right besides you, his long violet hair wafting on your bed, his face planted into the cushions of the mattress breathing softly. How long had you been out? How long had the prince been here? He certainly didn't look like himself, hair messy, clothes rumpled.

You hesitated for a moment, reaching out to stroke his soft wavy hair, then without warning his jumped up and statched at your wrist. His eyes were bloodshot, (had he been crying, did something else happen while you were out?) and the hold on your wrist was only getting tighter.

"A-Anul, you're hurting me." he lets go in an instant and immediately sits up to hold you in his arms.

"Oh god, I thought you—" he choked and let go to place a kiss on your lips. they were chapped, but warm.

you only blinked, he didn't care that you hadn't kissed him back. "I am going to gut that pig alive you hear me?" he said squeezing your cheeks.

"I am going to peel her insides till they look like confetti alright?" he said desperately, "I failed to protect you, and look what happened. Oh my baby, my poor baby." he cried, kissing your cheeks lettinf his tears fall freely on his face.

"And you [Name], are to never leave my side again, I've already made arrangements for you to sleep with me so it won't be a problem." you flinched at the finality in his words but Anul couldn't tell.

All he could see waa the bruising of your face and a lot of bodies he'd have to dispose of, because he wasn't just going after that noble who'd set you up.

For generations he declared then and there anyone involved (directly or indirectly) in the attempted murder of his wife, would die a shameful and slow death.

[flofaiiry]

slim pickins ; jack abbot x reader

❝ a boy who's nice that breathes, i swear he's nowhere to be seen ❞

synopsis: a tipsy reader confides her boy troubles to jack, then realizes maybe one of the good men she's been waiting for has been in front of her the whole time. (it's him, he's good men.)

warnings: fem!reader, swearing, alcohol, age gap (unspecified, but jack tells her she's young & calls her 'kid'), reader referred to as a lightweight, reader is on birth control, explicit smut, jack is a consent king, fingering, oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v (don't do that!!), jack is capital L large, praise, finishing inside

wc: ~3.6k

note: i wrote this in one sitting because the idea just hit me like a TRUCK. this is so self indulgent i cant believe i wrote this but i also love it so much so i hope you enjoy!! as always feedback is super appreciated!!!

"it's just... it's like they don't exist! and if they do they've got a girlfriend already, and who can blame them? i'd scoop up the first decent guy i could lay my hands on too!"

jack listens somewhat intently as you continue on your tirade, downing the last sip of the cocktail you've been nursing. you catch the bartender's attention to ask for one more. "don't worry about it. you're young, you've got time. you'll find someone."

"really?" you pick up the freshly made drink placed in front of you and take a larger then necessary sip, gulping almost half of it down in one go.

"yes, really."

you squint, "i'll believe it when i see it." you down the last of the drink like it's a shot, placing the glass down with an emphatic thunk. jack slides it away from you. "i think you've had enough," he says, matter-of-factly. you frown, "i've only had two." he shrugs, "sure, but you're kind of a lightweight." he's got a teasing glint in his eyes as he flags down the bartender, passing him a credit card.

you take the hint and start to rummage through your purse, searching for your wallet. "don't worry about it, i got it." he says, taking his card back from the bartender. "oh! um. thanks!" you smile. he returns it and you can feel your cheeks heat up.

just the alcohol, right? right.

he nods towards the door, "come on, i'll drive you home." you shake your head, "oh no, i can't ask you to do that, i'll just call an uber, it's really no big deal."

"5th and king right? it's on the way, don't worry about it."

you're not quite sure how he knows your address. you probably mentioned it in passing one day, or in a conversation he overhead, but either way, it definitely doesn't help to lessen the warmth in your face.

you nod, "yeah, 5th and king. thanks." jack notices the way your smile goes from polite to genuine. he nods towards the door again, pulling his car keys from his jacket pocket, "let's go."

you walk next to him to his car. hands in your pockets to hide the way you're fidgeting with a hair tie between your fingers.

the drive to your place is relatively quiet, but not silent, not awkward. he asks you when you work next this week, you ask what made him buy this car.

it's comfortable.

before you know it, he's pulling into the parking lot of your building. he reverses into a spot and does that hand-on-the-back-of-the-seat thing that makes every girl go crazy.

you smile at him, "thanks for the ride." your hand finds the door handle, lingering there for a second. "and for listening to me rant about the shitty men of pittsburgh."

he smiles. "happy to be of service."

you swear if you weren't on birth control that smile alone could knock you up.

"i guess i'll see you tuesday then," you click the door open, however reluctantly. he nods, "yeah, see you tuesday."

you step one foot outside the car before you hear his door swinging open too. you look at him across the top of the car, the tiniest hint of confusion on your face. he just shrugs.

"door to door service."

you laugh. has he always been this attractive? or is the alcohol in your system right now making you see things. it's gotta be the alcohol. right? has to be.

he walks up to the building with you, pulling the door open for you.

when did men stop doing this? opening doors for women. when did chivalry die?

it isn't until you hear a familiar laugh that you realize you said that out loud. damn. you really were a lightweight. two little drinks in and you've already lost your filter.

"sorry, i just mean-" you say quickly, trying to recover yourself. he just shakes his head, "i know what you mean."

that smile again. you swear you could melt into a puddle right now. a mix of embarrassment and confusing, sudden attraction doing you in.

you walk in and turn down the hall towards your apartment. jack follows close behind.

"how long have you lived here?" he asks, following you down the winding, dimly lit hallway. "about three years, i think? it's nice. a little dingy, but it's close to work, and grocery stores and stuff like that." you shrug.

"it's got character." he clarifies. "yeah," you exhale, "character."

you arrive at your door. unit 105. you shove your hands into your pockets to find your key, pulling it out along with the attached string of souvenir keychains.

you slide it into the lock and twist, the familiar clicking sound telling you it's open. you place your hand on the doorknob, tentative, before turning to face jack.

"thanks again, for tonight." he smiles. god he has got to stop doing that. "don't mention it."

"no, really, i probably sounded like a bitch going on and on about my... guy troubles. anyone else would have left halfway through so, thanks."

"don't worry about it," he locks his eyes onto yours. "you're a good kid, you'll find a... what was it you said? a real man?"

you laugh.

yeah, like you?

his eyebrows twitch.

shit.

out loud again.

your hand flies to cover your mouth, "oh my god, jack i am so sorry i cannot believe i said that out loud! oh my- i am so. sorry. i'm so embarrassed, i-" he can't help but laugh, "it's fine, i-"

"no! oh my god, it is so not fine, that is so unprofessional of me, i can not believe i just said that," you're gesturing awkwardly now, trying to somehow apologize for your lack of filter.

he takes your hand in his.

"hey," he says, giving it a small squeeze. "it's fine, really. i'm-" he laughs, eyes finding your gaze again.

"i'm flattered." you take a deep breath. a tiny tinge of embarrassment leaving you finally.

when you're standing here like this, so close to him, his eyes on you like this- christ- him holding your hand. you wonder if he's always been like this. if he's always had eyes this endearing and perfectly hazel, hands so warm and calloused, but not rough.

if he's always been this... pretty.

sure he's conventionally attractive anyone could see that. but in this moment it's different.

he's not just attractive. you're attracted to him.

"can i kiss you?"

he raises his eyebrows just the tiniest bit. "you mean to say that out loud?"

you nod. he just stares at you for a second longer. "i'm sorry- that was stupid, i'm probably-"

you're cut off with his lips on yours, and you swear your legs almost give out.

you take a stumbly step forward, and press one hand on his chest to balance yourself, while also leaning more into the kiss.

it's slow at first, tentative. but it's enough, god, it's more than enough. one of his hands slides up your body to rest on the side of your head, gently pulling you away and resting his forehead against yours.

both of your breaths are slow and heavy.

"we don't have to-" he whispers, giving you an out.

"please."

his next exhale is quick. the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he pulls your lips back into his, this time more sure. you swear you almost moan into his mouth.

he doesn't say anything. doesn't laugh, like other men might, doesn't make a joke about how desperate you are. he just absorbs the sound, and if anything lets it fuel him.

his tongue easily slips into the mix, hand travelling down to your waist and pulling you against him.

you snake your hands up his back and lace them into the little hairs at the top of his neck. not tugging, just there. the pads of his fingers press into your lower back, steadying you to walk half a step backward towards the door.

his free hand shoots out to feel for the doorknob, twisting it once he finds it then pushing open the door. he moves it back to your waist as he ushers you both into the apartment.

"bedroom?"

"first door down the hall." you say, barely pulling away long enough to do so.

god, you can't get enough of him.

you make your way towards it, jack's eyes cracked open just enough to make sure he doesn't send you back-first into a wall. when you finally reach the room, jack eases you back down onto your bed, brushing your hair from your face & crawling on top of you.

"you sure you want this? i don't want you to feel taken advantage of or anything- i know you had something to drink earlier."

you cut him off with a kiss, slow and sure. "i had two drinks jack, at most i'm a little tipsy. i'm sure as hell sober enough to know i want this though."

"you sure?"

"i want this, jack. please. i want you."

with that, he kisses you again with a heat that's new to this whole encounter. a hunger.

his lips part from yours, beginning to trail from the side of your mouth, to your jaw, and then starting their descent down your neck. he doesn't rush, but doesn't take his time either. he spends no more time than necessary sucking the tiniest of marks into your skin.

his hands roam down to the waistband of your pants, tugging your tucked shirt out from underneath it, then sliding beneath the material to your stomach.

he pulls away form your neck and takes his hands out from under your shirt and begins unbuttoning the shirt you're wearing

you're thanking whatever gods are out there for making you wear a button up to the bar tonight.

he makes quick work of the buttons, greedily pushing the material aside to reveal your bra. it's simple, nothing extravagant. it's not like you were expecting to go home with jack abbot tonight.

but nonetheless, jack thinks you look perfect. and he makes sure you know it.

"god, you are so beautiful." he says, voice ragged before he dips his head back down to kiss along the newly exposed skin of your chest. hand sliding up your body to palm over your breast.

though it's through the material, it feels so good.

he moves a hand under your body and toys with the clasp of the bra.

"can i?" he pauses to look up at you nodding eagerly, "yeah, please." you breathe.

with a single movement he's released the clasp and is pulling the material off of you in another. "did i tell you you're beautiful?" he says again, practically ogling at your bare chest.

you smile, "you may have mentioned it, yeah."

he returns it, before dipping back down to kiss along the swell of your breast, then the skin between them. your head tilts back into the pillow just the tiniest bit at the sensation.

his hands now finally travel down your body to the waistband of your pants, messing with the button and zipper there. he leaves one last mark on your chest before pulling away to give it his full attention. he undoes them quickly, and slides the pants down your legs, tossing them idly somewhere in the room and revealing your basic underwear.

again, not like you were expecting any action tonight.

he kisses your lips again, one hand remaining between your legs, pressing just shy of where you needed him the most over the thin material of your underwear.

you can't stop the way your back arches the slightest bit at the sudden feeling, the way you exhale into his mouth. he pulls away from the kiss to move himself down the bed to position himself between your legs. he hooks his fingers around the black material and pulls the panties off of you.

you're fully exposed to him now, your cunt glistening from the lead up. jack can't help but smirk, running a single finger from bottom to top, pressing down slightly when he reaches your clit.

your hips rock into him at the touch, one of his hands pushing you back down into the mattress while the other slides a finger inside you with absolutely no resistance.

"oh my god," you breathe upon his entrance.

you're so wet, so ready that jack almost immediately adds a second finger. he watches for your reaction, and takes the way your breath hitches and your eyes fall shut as a signal that you liked that.

he dips his head down between your legs, pressing a barely there kiss against your clit before jetting his tongue out over it, making you whine.

"god- fuck, jack," you say, breathy, "feels so good."

he just hums against you, the vibration adding a new layer of pleasure as if his fingers and mouth weren't enough. somewhere along the line, the soft licks and kisses to your clit turn into sucks, the pressure causing the knot at the pit of your stomach to grow.

his fingers curl up into you, against that one spot that makes you see stars. your head rolls backwards into the pillows, sharp exhale leaving your lips.

you clench around his fingers, desperate for even more. jack takes the hint, you feel him grin against your pussy before pressing the tip of his tongue, hard, against your clit.

one of your hands finds it's way into his hair, gently tugging at the curls, the other grasping at the sheets for dear life.

he pulls away from your core for a moment, but only a moment, and only to say what you think is probably the hottest thing a man has ever said to you.

"come for me baby, come on. wanna feel you cum on my fingers."

dear lord.

as quickly as he pulled away his lips are back around your clit, licking and sucking at it like it's his full time job, fingers pumping mercilessly in and out of your soaking cunt as he draws you towards your orgasm.

you breathing gets reckless, your hand tightens around the curls of his hair and your eyes cinch shut as you come. your jaw falls open but no sound leaves at first, until a choked moan makes it's way out. a sound jack wishes he'd just recorded.

jack's mouth and fingers don't stop. not immediately, not until you're well over the peak of your orgasm. he slows down just enough that the pleasure doesn't stop, but doesn't overwhelm you either.

after you've come down from the high he presses one last kiss to your clit before standing up between your legs at the foot of the bed.

your breathing is ragged. chest heaving up and down as you clench involuntarily around nothing. jack's hands travel to his belt, undoing the clasp and pulling it off before shoving his pants down to his ankles and stepping out of them.

he takes a step over to you, your eyes having a hard time staying on his face and not the hugely obvious bulge in his boxers. "condom?" he says simply.

you nod, "yeah, there should be one in the top drawer here." he walks over to your night table, crouching slightly to open the top drawer. he pushes the items around looking for the familiar square packet but doesn't see anything.

he tilts his head. "nope, not in here." you sit up in the bed, eyebrows furrowed. "no? i swear there should be some. maybe try the bottom drawer." you watch him close the drawer before opening the one beneath it. it's empty safe for a book or two. he shakes his head, "nope."

"seriously? i could've sworn i had."

"get that much action?" he teases, sliding the drawer shut and standing up.

you almost cackle. "no, i get so little action that i didn't even know i was out."

he smiles, walking over to where his pants lie taking out his wallet and flipping through it briefly.

"i mean... i'm on the pill if that's- i don't know, a peace of mind? i don't think i have anything, fuck, i cant even remember the last time i was with anybody."

he closes his wallet, seemingly unsuccessful in his search. he looks up at you, "you sure?"

"yeah," you nod. "i mean if you're not comfortable with it, obviously we don't have to, i just- i'm okay with it." you clarify.

he smiles, putting his wallet back into the pants pocket and dropping it back onto the floor. "yeah, okay." he takes a step towards you then hooking his fingers into his boxers and pulling them down.

it's embarrassing but you cant help the way your eyebrows raise at the sight of him.

"anybody ever teach you it's not polite to stare?" he teases.

you look up to his eyes, noticing the stupid smirk on his face. "yeah- sorry, just. wow."

he laughs, "wow." he repeats, the tiniest hint of mocking present in his tone as he crawls back over you.

"oh, shut up." you say, pulling him down to kiss him.

mouth still on yours, he positions his cock at your entrance. the feeling of his tip ever so gently brushing at your clit causing your breath to catch in your throat. lips never ceasing against yours he starts to push inside of you.

the stretch is unlike any you've ever felt before. it's almost painful, but it feels too damn good to call it that. your walls adapt around his length as he slowly buries his cock inside you.

after a few seconds he's fully inched his way inside you. he doesn't move- not yet, just keeps kissing you to ease the tension, lips slow and passionate against yours.

you're practically panting now, the pleasure all consuming.

jack traces his lips down to your neck again. "you okay? ready?" he asks against your skin.

you nod, eager as ever. he picks up his head to look at you, "words, pretty girl."

"yes, jack. please fuck me, need it so bad." you breathe out, still nodding as you lock eyes with him. he smirks and it's like a switch has flipped inside of him. he gently pulls out of you before snapping his hips back against you again. his every thrust is controlled, measured to bring you the most pleasure possible.

the grunts and breaths leaving him are nothing short of sinful, and the soft noise of his hips hitting yours flood into the room amongst your whimpers.

"you like that?" he asks, and there's no answer you could give other than, "god, yes." the way he fills you just right, the way he's looking down at you, the way he kisses your lips and neck every now and then... jack abbot has got the formula down pat.

"faster, please jack. need more," you whine, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him flush to your body.

"yeah?" he tilts his head. cocky bastard.

you nod quickly. "yes- god, please."

with a smirk perfectly matching his earlier tone of voice jack obliges you, increasing his pace and earning a moan from you.

"yeah, keep making those noises for me. good girl."

good girl. the word replayed your head, and you're pretty sure it would loop on and on for the rest of your life. (not that there was even a slight problem with that),

when the familiar knot builds back up in the pit of your tummy, you find yourself clenching around jack, earning a sharp inhale from him.

"you keep that up, i won't last much longer."

he moves his hips relentlessly, every thrust taking you closer to your second orgasm. " 'm so close, jack, please." you breathe, hands practically raking down his back. you're sure your nails will leave marks.

jack doesn't mind.

"yeah? gonna come for me?" you nod quickly. "yes. god, yes, so close." you whine, earning another smirk from jack. that smirk is going to be burned into your retinas for years to come.

"come for me, pretty girl. show me how good i make you feel, huh?"

his pace doesn't let up. not when you're moaning his name, or clenching around him and suddenly he's the one seeing stars.

one, two three more rocks of his hips into you and you're falling apart. orgasm tearing through you so hard you're practically tearing up from the pleasure.

"good girl, just like that." he coaxes, beginning to lose his own control now. your nails dig into his back as he continues to rut into you.

" 'm close," he says through grunts. "so close i- where do you want it." he says quickly

"inside, please, need to feel you." you breathe, still coming down from your own high as jack is roaring towards his at full speed.

he nods, hearing you tell him to come inside of you snaps the last thread of his control, and with a groan he's spilling inside you, filling you up.

you roll your head back into the pillows at the feeling, legs instinctively tightening around his waist to pull him deeper into you as he comes.

"god- fuck." he whispers, hips stuttering as he finishes. a few more lazy thrusts into you, then jack is pulling out. breath catching in both of your throats at the loss of contact. jack rolls off of you, flopping beside you on your bed. your symphony of labored breathes the only sound filling the room.

"wow." you exhale.

"yeah." he agrees. "wow."

"that was-"

"yeah. it was."

you laugh, rolling over onto your side to face him. he turns his head to look at you. his earlier cocky smirk replaced with a genuine smile.

"still think there are no good men out there?" he teases, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face.

"eh, maybe just one."

this is so horny and self indulgent i am so sorry (no im not)

as always my inbox is always open for feedback / requests / ideas / thoughts. i would love to hear what u have to say!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻