#mirrors over console tables

[idealfitnessdublin]

Charleston Great Room Dining Room Inspiration for a mid-sized contemporary light wood floor and beige floor great room remodel with beige walls and no fireplace

[nanamiskentos]

SPORTS CAR ✤ jujutsu kaisen

SYN. ➤ Zero decorum, max horsepower, full send. They don't just want the checkered flag, they want you wrecked and beggin'. This grid certainly doesn't play fair!

𝐉𝐉𝐊 ➤ Getō, Gojō, Tōji, Chōsō, Sukuna, Kashimo, Yuki, Shoko

cw ─ MDNI. afab!reader, FORMULA 1 AU, semi-publíc, praise, cockpit séx (highly inaccurate), possessive séx, chóking, spánking, reader is called 'bunny' in kashimo's, rough hándling, dírty talk, créampié, óral (f), mirror séx, backshóts, under the table, voice kínk, fíngeríng, overstím, squírting, medical pláy, tríbbing, strípping, cervíx kissing

wc. 8k

呪術廻戦 NOTE ( author says ) i've watched every sports car x f1 edit on tiktok i think. any likeness or resemblance to real f1 drivers is only a coincidence, nor is this reflective of the real profession 😭 didn't write this with particular racers or teams in mind.

☁︎ GOJŌ SATORU ➤ p1 & panting

". . he did it in tokyo, he did in kyoto, satoru gojo wins again, folks! that's his fifth prix win this season! absolutely unbelievable, my god."

the engine's still ticking down, the comms are crackling. you can barely register the deafening cheers before you're being yanked forward, senses overtaken by the scent of peppery armani.

"satoru –, wait," you're gasping, half-tripping into the cockpit as the pit crew's radio voice filters in.

"gojo, repeat, are you still in the car? you need to –"

but the headset cuts off with a click as he tears it from your ears, tossing it somewhere that you can't see. his crimson race gloves have been pulled off, but gojo's skin is still searing hot, slick with sweat and speed. pink lips parted, panting, not just from exhaustion, but from the look he's giving you.

"you're lucky i didn't pull you in mid-lap," gojo grins, and you fight the urge to tell him how impossible that would be, as his sharp white canines peek out from underneath his wolfish grin, flushed with victory, "baby, did you see that finish?"

you know the rational option here would be protesting, knowing that the team is probably workin' themselves up into a flurry in the garage, but it's hard not to feel light-headed and so damn hungry when gojo's gripping your waist, and dragging you just in front of the console, right up against the curve of the cramped cabin. thank god, the team opted for a mildly roomier cockpit this year, or else. . .

his helmet's off, snow-white hair a mess, and his jewel-blue eyes are electric, "i've got 'bout five minutes before they notice i'm not doing interviews." gojo's already pawing at your thighs, fingers desperate to tear down the waistband of your underwear, "i want them to wonder where i am."

gojo's teasing hands slips between your thighs, already playing with your slippery centre, and your boyfriend's leaning in, that rasp echoing against your cheek, "wanna show me how proud you are of your winner, baby?"

the car's still hot, the windows are fogging, and outside. . .the cameras are still flashing. but inside, it's just you and gojo, and the scent of burnt rubber and carbon fibre, and he's clearly not letting you go 'till you've screamed louder than the crowd.

gojo's already shoving his scarlet racing suit down to his shapely hips, movements sloppy with urgency as he settles you in his lap. long leaking cock already smearing a thin line of pre over his chiselled abdomen, "just a few minutes, sweets," he's murmuring against your throat, "we can make it work, yeah?"

you shouldn't, you really shouldn't. the entire paddock must be outside. the media, the team, the telemetry crew. . .everyone is either lookin' for him, or watching the live feed gojo's just abandoned. or they know not to look too closely, it's hard to challenge the king of the track when he's just pulled another podium win.

gojo's hands are rocking your hips back and forth, and he's determined to have as much of your slick coat his base before he truly snags his cock in. tongue laving at your jumping pulse, peppering sharp kisses against your soft flesh.

"t-toru –," you try, shaky breath catching as he continues to grind your folds against his cock, parting them to slot his thick shaft between them. teasing, and so sensitive.

"you looked soo hot standin' there," gojo murmurs, cerulean eyes lidded and starving to feel you drip arousal all over him, making a sticky mess, "lookin' so g-gorgeous, and – heh, this wet all f'me? is that it, baby? can't even think straight."

you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as his thick, bulbous tips snags against the hood of where you're most sensitive, giving your clit that most delicious friction you'd been craving.

"yeahhh," gojo purrs, nosing along your jaw, "i saw ya', crossed the finished line and thought how l-lucky i am that you're mine."

god, you just need to breathe through it, breathe through the incredible aphrodisiac that's called gojo satoru. he's already tweaking his fingers through your sopping cunt, dragging them against your folds to reach up and pinch at your clit.

"we don't have t-time –" but your thighs are shaking, heart already jumping at how close the stimulation has you to knocking on the door of a brilliant orgasm.

"i'll make time," gojo simply says, already lining himself up. the fucker's giggling to himself, heady and drunk from his win, slowly pattering his fingers up your abdomen as though he knows just how deep he's going to be. kneading at your groin, like x marks the spot.

the stretch simply steals the words from your mouth, rendering your language into a soft mush, shaken by how delicious his cock feels in your sticky, gummy walls. your head lolls against his broad, flushed shoulder — the creamy skin mottled strawberry-pink.

gojo's hissing, low and feral, absolutely gone as he holds you down, filling you straight to the hilt, each vein pressing and melding against your pussy.

"hahh, oh, baby," your boyfriend groans, bucking up once to test the clear water, fast and deep, like he wants to feel every tremble of your form above him, "always s-so perfect for me after a win."

the pace is brutal, desperate, made worse by how little space there is in the cockpit. your back slams into the dash, but it's softened by his large hand splayed across the skin. legs hooked haphazardly over his carved waist, bodies tangled in both victory and vice.

plap! plap! smack!

"ya' feel t-that," gojo pants, thrusts growing harsher, cock pressing up against that sweet spot that makes you sob, "that's what champions do, heh."

every low swirl of his shaking hips is hypnotic, and so dizzying, making a filthy mess that you know is going to puddle and seep into over his groin, soak into the curl of white hairs dusting the base of his girthy shaft.

"you gonna' cum for ya' w-winner?" gojo gasps, that priggish, love-struck grin still painted over his gorgeous features, even as his voice begins to shake, "say it, baby. tell me i'm your f-favourite."

"you, s-satoru," you half-sob, half-plead, "you're my favourite. god, it's so deep." wrecked, begging, and he groans like this is the podium he wanted all along.

your orgasm hits like white noise, blotting out the world beyond. you can barely register his stuttering hips, his sharp curses of your name, god, he loves you. his sharp breath hitches as gojo follows you over the edge.

satin-like ropes of cum shooting up to fill you up soo perfectly, and the world champion is sinking his teeth into your neck as he moans your name, low and ruined.

"i can't believe you were that horny n' hard after a race," you scold, body still trembling from the aftershocks. feeling warmth pool between your tacked groins, as your arousal mixes with him seed.

"you love it," gojo replies, not a hint of shame colouring his voice, "besides, this car's seen worse. like the time i got myself off, jus' thinking about you in spain. was only lookin' at you through the windows, that was enough."

"you did it on your own in this car, just from looking at me?"

gojo kisses your jaw, "don't shame me, i'm a sensitive man." he snickers as you smack his, holding you tighter.

outside, the pit crew must be losing their minds. but inside, gojo just won the real prize, and he's buried inside.

☁︎ GETŌ SUGURU ➤ in the devil's seat

the telemetry room is freezing, cold enough to keep everyone sharp and alert, absolutely on edge. but noting could make you more on edge than the hot seat that you're currently sitting in right now. just besides geto suguru, headseat askew, trying to not to moan when his fingers scissor through your folds again.

on the wall, the sector times update in real time, and god. . .the room is packed. screens flickering, engineers perched over the high chairs as they murmur, utterly focused on the little red dot zipping across the map.

see, you'd joined the team for simulations, not stimulations. but you're hardly one to complain, not when you know how much of an effect this has on geto. his sculpture-carved jaw is ticking, a faint flush blooming on the back of his neck that could be easily attributed to the excitement of the race.

"gojo, purple in sector two," geto's flatly leaning into the silver microphone, voice entirely level, "box this lap, copy?"

his other hand is under your waistband. two fingers, long and expert, utterly merciless, circle your slick folds deep and slow. knowing exactly how to make you tremble without a sound, thankfully, with the table in the way.

the rough pads of geto's fingertips are soaking up every beading drop of your arousal, his knuckles glossy with your release. he leans in, cool lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice low and determined, "c'mon, stay still. don't want my pretty girl embarrassing herself."

you can only nod, biting your lower lip so hard that you swear iron blooms on your tongue. but it had been hard to resist anything when geto suguru looked at you like that before quali, pulling you aside and asking you to shadow him during the race. violet eyes lidded, the faintest watercolour brush of rose plastered over his cheekbones.

and. . .your headset is still on. one wrong noise, one hasty move, and everyone will probably hear exactly how you shadow the famed geto suguru. you're sure your microphone levels are low enough so they don't pick up on the constant, sloppy squelch! of geto's middle and ring finger plunging into your dripping core.

"my clever girl," geto coos, but his eyes don't shift from watching the golden boy's onboards (gojo satoru, of course). well, aside from the temporary loss in his composure when you clench the sticky walls of your inner muscles against his fingers, his ink-dark lashes briefly fluttering wide in shock. lookin' close enough to spill a thick load in his slacks.

your body must be shaking now, your thighs trembling with the herculean exertion that geto's pulling from you. every new lap, every clean turn from gojo is matched by geto sinking his fingers deeper into you, drawing slack and curling up against that sweet, rough patch until you choke on a whimper.

a wan smile twitches his lips, almost amused. fond, even. he's caught it, he knows just how close you are to spilling over his hands. that release that he's just equally desperate to chase, geto needs you to fall apart on him.

"there it is," geto's purring, and you can barely hear the excitement his tone over the ringing in your ears, "good girl." someone's leaning over from behind, and thank god they can't see exactly what's been going on beneath the table, "suguru, sector 3 delta just spiked."

geto doesn't blink, temporarily halting the wet sloshes that he's composing between your thighs. rather, focusing some much needed attention on the swollen bundle of nerves beneath your mound, "that's expected. wind change near turn fourteen."

his thumb roughly tacks beneath the glistening hood, "you're doing so well," geto breathes against your temple, "think you've earned a reward after this. . .or a punishment, what'd you say?"

it only takes three more tender, pounding hits of his long fingers against the most sensitive spots. your eyes flutter shut, mouth pressed thinly as you're determined to not cry, nor gasp and moan. but each swipe of geto's digits against your clit undos your resolve further and further, your thighs shaking from the extra stimulation.

and when gojo wins the pole, cheers breaking through your headset, the room leaping to its feat, geto doesn't even flinch. he's slowly withdrawing his hand from your waistband. fingertips pruned, sticky and warn as he slips them into your mouth. discreet, hungry.

"clean up, gorgeous," geto gruffly whispers, his mauve eyes drawn to how your lips eagerly part around his index finger, "we should celebrate tonight."

your head must be spinning, legs numb from what geto has wrought from you, that dazzling orgasm that leaves the world awash in shades of silver and white. you can taste yourself, that bittersweet tang on his fingers, and it renders you dazed.

"thaaaat's it, beautiful," geto laughs, licking the last of your moans and release from his finger, "now you're learnin' real strategy."

☁︎ RYŌMEN SUKUNA ➤ crash into me

the door of the driver's trailer slams shut behind you, like a starting light hitting green. your back hits the wall you before you can even speak, before you can even wonder at what exactly has gotten into your fiancé now.

ryomen sukuna's warm hand is wrapped around your throat, a thumb gently soothing at the lower juncture of your jaw. his other hand is still smudged with track rubber and sticky grease, gripping your waist tight enough to deliciously bruise.

"they think i'm reckless," sukuna's voice is a hot, sharp growl in your ear, "then let's give 'em a reason to blacklist me, eh, sweetheart?"

perhaps it would be wiser to interrupt him, to warn sukuna that the media is still swarming outside, and this is the last thing the fia will tolerate from him. but russet eyes are almost. . .tender as they roam over you, his grasp on the base of your neck enough to make your brain melt and your knees forget how to hold you up.

"wanna' be my podium, girl? i should have you on your knees, don't ya' agree?" sukuna's still in his fireproofs, unzipped just enough to expose the broad, tan expanse of his chest. the inky-black tattoos crawling down his skin, some sin-streaked marks that you ache to press your lips to.

maroon eyes gleam, still utterly high off the chaos of the race, from the penalty that cost him his pole for the rest of the weekend. and you? well, you're gonna' have to be his victory lap instead.

you moan, wanton and improper, as sukuna's mouth teases down your neck, pressing to your collarbones before clawed nails tear open your blouse as though it's a paper flag, yanking you forward by a sturdy, yet thin chain. bringing you closer still, eye to eye with the racer that the world calls the king of curses.

and of course, what else would be dangling from the chain but his name? sukuna, the kanji letters encrusted with small precious stones, a gift that he had surprised you with for your most recent anniversary.

"hah, you wear this for me? cute lil' trophy like you're my number one fan, orrr my good luck charm?"

sukuna pushes you against the opposite wall, jostling the numerous trophies that already litter the shelves. you gasp, certain that pools of arousal must already be glistening between your thighs. his hand slides lower, rough and greedy, impatient as he tends to be. slipping past the lace edge of your panties to paw at your sopping folds.

he's groaning, hot and heavy, feeling just how wet you are. sukuna's almost ecstatic at the thought that his girl was walkin' around with such a. . .waterpark between her legs. primed to gush over him, to soak the base of his cock with every nasty thrust that he's daydreaming about.

"you're s-soaked, sweetheart. you're likin' this, aren'tcha?"

your head lolls as you nod, succumbing to the sweet hands of pleasure throbbing below your groan. sukuna smacks your thigh, and the force is hard enough for your eyes to flutter open, his warm hand gently running over the stung skin to soothe the flesh, "eyes on me, girl. remember what i said 'bout being my podium? ya' gotta' earn it."

there's little warning before sukuna scoops you up, lifting you bridal style, only to throw you down onto the little couch in the corner of the trailer, yanking the remainder of his race suit down with a snarl, "s-see, this is what they gotta' know. i can't do. . .slow or soft. i win, heh."

you know full well that sukuna is capable of both slow and soft, and thick, heavy strokes that dig through your cunt as he often holds you down in the most delicious mating press. but you're not eager to quite rain on his ego parade, unless, of course, it's a different sort of rain from between your legs that he can eagerly lap up.

sukuna must be leaving marks on your hips, teeth on your collarbone, handprints on your thighs. each thrust of his thick, wide cock must be some punishment for the stewards, for the world, for the fact that he didn't really get to break someone out there today.

but you, his gorgeous wife-to-be? you can take it, and sukuna has to hide the rapid flush blooming over his face, opting to nip at the back of your neck.

"we're gonna' do this 'till those fuckin' stewards retract that penalty," sukuna pants into your ear, thick cock rummaging sweet patterns right up into you as the tufts of soaked blush-pink hair are pressed right against you. imprinting the thick vein that runs along the underside of his cock in a way that has you seeing stars and gasping oh so prettily, "or 'till the walls fall in, whichever comes first."

☁︎ TŌJI FUSHIGURO ➤ wrenched wide open

it started with a wrench, and no, not a metaphorical tool. a literal wrench, dropped from your armful of gear, clanging far too loudly against the concrete in the empty garage. you're flinching, cursing under your breath. it's past dark, rain still slickin' the floor outside, and most of the team's already gone.

you shouldn't be here, you're just the rookie. you're supposed to be following orders, not fuckin' around with loose bolts and leftover adrenaline. which is exactly when you realise that you're not quite alone.

the metal shutter behind you slams down with a mechanical growl, loud and final. you whip around. . .toji fushiguro. beefy arms folded, sweat clinging to the curve of his neck. verdant eyes darker than engine oil, and just as dangerous.

he doesn't speak right away, just watches as you clench your thighs, almost sub-consciously (or so he thinks, little does he know that you know just how to rile him up).

"you always this sloppy, doll? or just when i'm watching?"

your skin is flushed, heat crawling up your spine as though it's chasing the storm outside. toji's eyes are deliciously dragging down your body, lingering on the curve of your hips, the way your soaked polo clings to your chest.

he knows exactly what you want.

toji's already moving, and he's on you in two steps, rough fingers curling around your wrist, grunting as he tugs you backwards. your spine hitting the warm sidepod of the car, the paint is still slick from rain and truck dust, and it makes you shiver.

"i rebuilt this v6 before breakfast," toji mutters, voice thick with gravel, and the promise of upcoming sin, "let's see if you can last longer than that."

one of toji's veined hands are braced beside your head, the other already on your thighs. teasing, slow as they drag up your soaked coveralls until —

"you ever been fucked like this, doll? no? good, first time for everything."

toji doesn't wait, he doesn't hesitate, for he lifts you as though you're just another part he's decided to torque into place. your legs wrap around his waist out of sheer instinct, and he's grinding deeply into you. a thick and heavy bulge pressed right up against you, his scarred lips grazing your ear, "look at ya', all squirmy for me in your pretty team gear. bet ya' touched yourself thinkin' about this, 'bout me."

hah, he's right. but you're not going to give him the express satisfaction of knowing just how many times you had straddled the edge of your bed back in the hotel, legs spread wide as you softly grazed your swollen clit with rough fingers, imagining it was toji picking you apart.

you stifle a lazy, drawn-out moan when toji finally shoves your coveralls down, when grease-stained fingers slide between your thighs with no patience, just raw want. you can see how toji's jaw slackens, maw wide at how soaked you already are.

"f-fuck," toji grins, pressing his forehead to yours, so his choppy raven bangs gently kiss your skin, "you're wetter than the goddamn track out there, doll."

his fingers are fast, expert and precision-tuned. two knuckles deep and curling just right, while toji's other hand fists in your shirt, dragging you against his muscled chest, "stay quiet f'me." and it's not a suggestion.

you try, but the noise still slip in tiny gasps and stuttering moans, caught against his shoulder as he works you open with practiced ease. your hands claw at his arms, at his rippling biceps as he preps you.

"that's it, gorgeous, let go. you gon' cum for me already?" toji grunts, thumbing at your clit with precise precision, "yeah? who knew you'd like being handled like a busted part? it's okay, girl, i got you."

you're shaking, barely biting back a whimper as he works you right through, feeling his lengthy cock already hard and pressing through his thick, rough pants.

it's an earth shattering orgasm that launches right at you, your back arched against the side of the car, his fingers still dipping through your glossy folds. toji's coaxing you right through the orgasm as if he's fine-tuning a prized engine.

and then, he's pulling right back. unzipping his pants with one hand, the other still planted firmly between your thighs, "hope ya' weren't planning on walking tomorrow, doll."

the wiry, fine hairs at the base of thick cock immediately brush up against your ass, such was the firm precision and speed of toji jackhammering himself into his new delightful home. heavy and deep, so you can feel the smack! of thick, weighted balls against your plush flesh.

the stretch burnin' in the best way possible honestly, and you're crying out, but his palm claps over your mouth immediately, emerald eyes narrowed and sleazy grin crooked, "ah, ah, gotta' be quiet. wouldn't want the interns hearin' what their favourite engineer gets up to after hours, eh?"

you just moan against his palm, and toji groans. hips slamming harder, rougher and relentless. his other hands grabs your jaw, thumb sliding down to press into your throat, not choking. jus' holding, reminding you who's in charge. for now, you blithely wonder, visions of milking toji dry already blooming in your mind.

but it's hard to not fall apart almost immediately, his thick tip swabbing at your most sensitive points. twitching, and pulsing, clenching around toji's cock in a way that makes him follow suit. thick, glossy ropes of heavy, strong cum spurting right out of him, the sheer volume so much that it leaks straight out of you, dribbling down your thighs.

toji's biting hard enough to leave marks, claiming and branding. and you would swear that you hear him whisper sweet nothings that he would sooo deny in the morning, praises about how you're the sweetest thing ever, and he's just gotta' have you.

and then, simply just because he's toji fushiguro, he grabs the nearest shop rag, wiping at the mess from your stomach and thighs without blinking. stuffing it into his pocket as though it's nothing, "gonna' head back and get myself off with this doll, see ya' at the briefing tomorrow." already zipping up, packing that monster-length cock (yeah, seriously) back into his pants.

and. . . did he just steal your panties? you stare dumbly after him, hearing his footsteps recede as your maw slackens, before you quickly pick up the pace, "hey! toji, wait up!"

☁︎ CHŌSŌ KAMO ➤ throttle control

you noticed choso kamo before he ever even spoke to you. everyone else at the pre-season shoot was all swagger and self-tanner, yelling over for each other and muggin' for the cameras like it was monaco already.

choso, though? off to the side in full black and mauve team gear, rain jacket zipped up despite the heat. headphones in, hazel eyes still as he seemed to be gunning for the most not like other girls title ever.

not shy, not awkward. just. . . still. like the calm before the thunder, the silence before the powerful storms that often rolled in with your fellow drivers. like gojo satoru or hajime kashimo, ugh.

he's often quiet, and never resistant. rookie drivers usually have some sorta' ego or walls. choso has neither. he just nods, your name falling from his pale lips in low and reverent symbols. moving aside so you can stand beside him for the sponsor shoot. no plastered, winning smile, just eyes that track you like the managers track the telemetry data.

you ignore the heat curlin' in your stomach, or you try to. and it's just soo much worse when you catch his eyes on you, watching again. and again, as though you're a famous painting with strokes that he wants to memorise and commit to preservation.

so, there's really no other move but to corner him after the barcelona press run, heart pounding like a misfiring clutch, "what?" you're teasing, "you only speak in throttle maps and finish times?"

choso says little and less, but his voice is as quiet as rainfall as he sniffs, cheeks flushed sakura-blossom pink, "i would touch you, if you would have me. and then, i wouldn't know how to stop."

yeah, you remembered that you stopped breathing after that, right when everyone was being rushed into their cars, the respective engineers snappin' in their ears.

but choso crashes out in a stormy qualifying. a rookie mistake, too fast on the apex, rear tires losing grip. he's not hurt, thank god, but the radio teams go dead, and when you tumble back to the garages, he's soaked, still in his fireproofs, fists clenched with eyes dark and hollow, as though he's miles away from here.

"choso –"

he grabs you, not harsh nor urgent. just sudden, desperate. right behind the stacked tire warmers like a man starving for you, and you only.

"don't leave, angel," choso pants, voice ragged against your neck, "not yet, need to feel something good, something. . . that isn't failure. i mean, c-can i –"

you nod once, a thick lump suddenly in your throat presenting an ironic whiplash to the low throb in your groin. it starts soft, it always does with him, and it doesn't surprise you.

choso's hands are wet, shaking, ghosting up underneath your compression top. one glove still one, the rough texture pinching your pert nipple, teasing over your chest. the other glove? he pulls off with his teeth, slow and silent as he tosses it away. touching you like every second of it is a prayer answered.

and then, finally, choso kisses you. not a peck, nor testing. devouring. slick mouth on yours as though it's the last lap, and you're the checkered flag. his tongue drags against your lips, fingers twisted into your waistband as though he's afraid you vanish from his grasp.

"y-you're the only thing that makes me lose control like this, angel," choso whispers, voice raspy and streaked with gravel, barely audible under the storm still hissing off the track. he's got you on the back of the wall now, kisses trailing lines down your throat, soft teeth scraping skin.

you can only arch for him, dizzy with the weight and want of him. knowing exactly what typa' width and length he must be packing in the pretty curve of his blue-veined cock.

his hips grind against yours, slow at first, as though he's restraining himself, but the second your mouth releases a soft whimper, "cho –, please," well. . . the switch flips, and he's gasping. mouth biting at your jaw, your collar, hands suddenly everywhere.

gripping, pinning, claiming. his glove slides under your panties like silk over fire, fingers moving in smooth n' practiced strokes that make your knees buckle.

"so w-wet already," choso murmurs, breath warm against your skin, "you like when i touch you like this, angel?"

you nod, or maybe, you cry out in pleasure. he swallows up the sound with his mouth on yours. fucking you with his fingers 'til you're shaking, overstimulated, clutching at his dark fireproofs with nails and moans, and fevered pleas of more, choso! more!

"been thinkin' about how you'd sound," choso groans, face buried in your neck, "when i make you cry." and you do, from the pressure, the stretch, the relentless way he owns every inch of you.

his other hand quickly pushes the band of his boxers down. revealing the prettiest cock that you'd ever laid eyes upon, glorious and standing tall, and already leaking. your mouth waters, salivating at the idea of laving over each purple vein.

so when he finally pushes into you, raw and thick, buried deep, your whole body arches into his. slotting like the most perfect puzzle pieces, as choso whispers your name as though it's holy.

"mine," choso breathes, fucking you slow and deep, and you feel almost heady on his scent (well, that and the wafting fuel). but he rummages his cock through you as though he's carving you right out, "mine, say it. p-please, say it, angel."

oh, and you do. over and over, 'til it's not even words anymore, just sounds, sobs, tremours between kisses and moans, and skin on skin. after, when your back is sticky with heat, and his mouth is still at your throat, choso doesn't let go, peppering his lips to your waiting mouth, "i'm sorry, didn't mean to be rough."

you have a faint vision of headlines tomorrow, tiktoks being posted blatantly circling the blooming love bites over your neck, and you just can't help but pull him in closer, looping your arms around his thick neck to meld your lips against his, "don't apologise, cho. just don't stop."

his smile is small, tired, but lovestruck. kissin' you again like he's already addicted.

☁︎ HAJIME KASHIMO ➤ disqualified for conduct

so. . . you had been warned. every other pr manager on the team had handed you his file like it was some cursed object. one crossed himself, another just whispered, "he's impossible to manage, good luck."

they were talking about hajime kashimo, the track's golden boy, of course. thunder on the track, a menace in the paddock. the gist of it was pretty simple: he wins, he grins, he fucks.

you figured it couldn't be that bad. you'd handled difficult drivers before, all of their inflated egos, tempers and tantrums, so why would you not be ready?

oh, how wrong you were.

he doesn't even try to pretend to be decent during interviews, flirting and batting his lashes through every question like the camera was his bedroom mirror. you did your best to pretend your breath didn't hitch, and your thighs didn't jump and clench with each 'good girl' bestowed upon you.

"tch', kashimo, zip up those fireproofs. you gotta' be on the big screen in ten."

teal eyes undoing you (truly, undressing you) with lightning-precise intensity, "you can zip 'em up now, bunny. and you can unzip them after podium too."

"go fuck yourself."

"oh, when you say it like that, maybe –"

yeah, that sums up the push and pull relationship between you and hajime kashimo. so it's not a vast surprise when it all pools over one hot afternoon in monza. practice is long over, and the team is distracted by data feedback and tire degradation, somethin' about slamming down the big hotshot, gojo satoru.

but of course, 'round the corner, it's just your luck. kashimo, half-naked, towel slung low, with cyan hair loose and damp over his toned, sculpted shoulders. you try not to trail your eyes past the beads of exertion that slick across his carved abdominals.

"keep looking at me like that, gorgeous," kashimo snickers, towel slipping just an inch in a way that answers the question of whether the carpet matches the drapes, "and i'll put you in my cockpit instead of the car."

you shove him, doing your best to fight the furious flush threatening to sink you to your aching knees, "seriously, that's the best you could come up with?"

"is that a yes, bunny?"

"only if you win tonight."

ah, but you should have known hajime kashimo is never all bark, no bite. he walks the talk, and there's nothin' that man craves more than a challenge, a fight to get his blood roaring.

it slips your mind entirely, that vow of yours, not even when the entire team is leaping up and down, pulling each other into tight embraces as kashimo scores pole position once more. his turquoise, jewel-tone eyes are bright, wild despite the late hour and the physical exertion of over an hour of supersonic speed.

a hand is already pulling you into the back of the motorhome, setting you right down over. . . the champagne crate.

"hah, knew i had to win out there, gorgeous. knew i had to win just for you."

it's hard to know who initiated it, but you're kissing kashimo, and he's kissing you, — pouring the taste of expensive liquor and mint into your mouth as you suck on his tongue, rake your nails through his scalp.

kashimo's whirling you around, sinking his sharp teeth into your neck, "let's do a lap, bunny. face down, ass up? i can show ya' my best handling."

yeah, what hajime kashimo lacks for in hefty girth, he makes up for in sheer length. kashimo's groaning into your ear, hissing as his cock finally sinks into the soft embrace of your glistening pussy, one hand on your hip and the other rattling hard enough against the plush of your ass to leave fingerprints.

smack!

"sound off for me, gorgeous."

smack!

"thaaaat's it, be loud. everyone should know that i'm the one who's got ya' so pretty, just folded over for me."

you're gnawing on your lower lip, tugging at the skin, desperate to not babble out mindless cries of his name, and kashimo notices. and he's no fan of that, elegant hands grabbing your hair and pulling you up so you can both face the truck's back mirror.

"look at yourself," kashimo pants, still thrusting so deep in you that you're certain each vein has been permanently memorised and printed in your guts, "look at how good ya' take me, like you were built for it."

" –jime, hajime, 'm close," you whine, eyes absolutely cross-eyed and hazy as you let yourself get lost in the sweet, sweet sensation. moaning his name broken and breathless, and it's enough to shatter the infallible kashimo.

kashimo's grunting, a thunderclap in your ear, as he tears the remainder of your underwear off with a sodden rrrrrip! whirling you around once more to hike your leg up onto the crate, swung around his waist to draw him closer inwards.

you know when he finishes inside you, as though he's chasing the fastest lap. hard, quick and deep enough to leave your legs boneless and quivering.

"gonna' make you c-cum again," kashimo groans against your ear, kissing your shoulder as he mouths at your tits, "one more. c'mon, bunny, give it to me, i earned that trophy. wanna' fuck you in my racing suit next."

☁︎ TSUKUMO YUKI ➤ manual override

you still remember your first interview with tsukumo yuki. she had flounced into the room with her black race suit peeled halfway down, sports bra damp with seat, sipping champagne from the bottle.

but you had barely finished your first question before the statuesque blonde had leaned forward, gaze hungry, "you wanna' talk about control systems, baby, or do you wanna' know how i make people lose theirs?"

you should have walked away, but instead, you watched her lick frothy champagne off her thumb like it was all you ever wanted. and you were. . . hooked. now yuki seeks you out in the paddock, every time, pressing too close, tugging you closer by your lanyard, murmuring in your ear, "lookin' a lil' stiff, doll. want me to loosen you up after quali?"

so, this time, she had just set p3 in the wet, slippery rain. helmet already peeled off, golden hair flipping over her face as she catches sight of you, recorder in hand.

"yuki, congrats on quali! do you think the wet weather gave you any –"

a quick hand snatches the mic, plucking it right off your collar and shoving it deep into her thick pockets, "baby, we got plenty of time later, hah, for an interview."

that adrenaline-high look in her big, brown eyes is all too recognisable, and you should have foreseen how she'd drag you right behind the trailer. pinning you to the hood of her personal car, no doubt worth millions, skin still searing from the race.

"come onnn, ya' like fast girls, don't you," yuki whispers, voice a low purr, her sun-streaked hair tickling and kissing your cheek. she's laying you flat across the hood, race suit still hanging half-on, grinding her hips down until you're gasping, biting your lip with whimpers of please, please. . . more!

"say it louderrr, sweetheart." her lips pressed to your navel as you whine for her to sweep her tongue even lower.

"c'mon, you interview champions, right? maybe in your interview, you can tell the press how good i fuck." a kiss now dotted over your hips, slowly following the juncture angle down to your throbbing mound.

"y-yuki," you mewl, unable to hold back the hungry, raw cry when she parts your thick, outermost folds to suckle at your clit, "ouuh, so sensitive. . ."

no mercy, no hesitation. she laps at your folds as though she's setting the fastest lap record, grinning as you're shaking, "that's my pretty girl. still breathing?"

if you wrench your head far back enough at an uncomfortable angle, you can see just how filthy the sight is. yuki's entirely on her knees now, golden hair splayed about her as she nips and licks at your dripping cunt, her chin all glossed up as she drags the lower half of her face through your wetness.

through the haze, you realise that yuki's murmuring something. groaning low into your pussy as though she's speaking to her. the biceps in her muscled arms rippling as she slathers a thick kiss to your cute, twitching clit, "three."

her short fingernails trailing through your cunt, teasing at your winking, glossy entrance, "two."

pink lips separating from your pussy with transparent, clear strands of tangy glossy, and yuki's smacking her mouth, clearly some form of pussydrunk that only you unlock within her, "one."

and bulls-eye, the scrape of her finger in a crooked, come-hither moition against that small, rough patch in your pussy makes you squeal, then groan. the sensation building up until it's just too much and you're gushing over her face. thin, liquid arcs splattering against yuki's beautiful, delighted features as she slaps at your sopping pussy.

"think they'll let me keep a strap in the trailer just so ya' can do that alll over again?"

☁︎ IEIRI SHOKO ➤ flatline me

who hadn't heard of shoko ieiri? the doctor for your team, the surgeon, gorgeous with cinnamon brown hair and dark eyes. you had gotten used to seeing her with a lighter in one hand, and your medical file in the other.

stitchin' bodies back together with blinking, and yet, she couldn't care less about your hotshot reputation. and frankly, you only wanted her even more. so when you ended up with your top off, sprawled on the infirmary table after some stupid spin-out, icing your thigh and nursing a bruised shoulder, you had tried to be charming.

"am i finally your favourite patient, doc?"

shoko only glances up from her scrawled notes, the barest twitch of amusement tugging at her glossy, peach lips. she was still striking a match, lighting a cigarette with practiced ease, her gaze settling on you like a blade to skin.

"hah, hardly," she huffs, "but you could scream the loudest, how 'bout that?" elegant fingers already coming to rest on the waistband of her blue slacks, and you can't help but gulp. resisting the urge to blow your cool or let out some obscene looney-tunes ass wolf whistle.

"strip," shoko murmurs, her tone cool, "i can't help you get better unless i can a proper look." she must be confident that no one would dare interrupt her, that none would walk in while you're urgently pulling your sports bra off your head — and she's discarding her pants elsewhere, revealing creamy, pale thighs that you're desperate to sink your teeth into.

you can feel her oak gaze on you, cataloguing every bruise, every scrape as though you were just another anatomy lesson. but you certainly don't miss how her pink tongue briefly laves over her lower lip, her eyes widening as they roam over your bare chest, focus on how you shimmy right out of your racing suit — till you're bare and naked, legs crossed one over the other .

chilled fingers finally touch your thigh, prodding the faint bruise you've acquired with sharp pressure. you're not ashamed to admit it, a moan escapes your trembling lips.

"you're sloppy, sweet thing," shoko mutters, voice as smooth as ill-fated poison that's honey to your ears, "crash dummy with a death wish."

you hiss as she slaps your thigh, just once. . .not gently. her eyes focused on how your flesh ripples under her touch.

"diagnostic," shoko adds, lips quirked faintly as your body tenses under her hungry gaze, "don't whine, 'cause i warned you." her hands are cold, and the soft pads of her fingertips pinch at your hips, pulling the tender flesh up as your thighs clench. you know that there must be some translucent slick seeping into the medical bedding beneath you.

"i don't think you've earned this," shoko concludes, finally pulling away from you, "but i'm tired of standing up." her fingers hook into the elastic band of her sleek, dark underwear, pulling the fine-woven fabric down until she can kick it off.

leaving your mouth slack in awe at the wondrous prospects you've landed with — the soft curl of dark hair between her thighs, and how shoko's pushing your hips down, climbing onto you so you can peek a flash of slippery pink as she settling over your groin. your pussy already pulsing and twitching at the mere brush of contact between the two of you.

shoko straddles you now, her lower half entirely bare as she pins you in place, cool hands running over your bare chest, your wrist, your jaw. she's still got her tight-knitted blue top clinging to your chest, the white coat thrown over her shoulders, and you're desperate to peel them off her.

"keep quiet, sweet thing," shoko orders, her voice a low hum against your throat, "or i'll have to find another way to shut you up." it's obscene, hearing the wet, sloppy slick of your folds kissing hers.

god, she moves like she's dissecting you, studying you. controlled, methodical and merciless. you're already shaking beneath her, every nerve burning, every sound you made swallowed by the pressure of her palm over your tongue. or the bitter taste of dark coffee on her tongue.

your body arches, hips twitching to desperately attach against hers, aching to feel the kiss of her clit against your own. flushed muscles quivering as whines of her name fall from your lips in a begging, pleading tone, but it doesn't seem to move shoko to helping you finish faster.

"don't be pathetic, pretty," shoko pants into your ear, her sleek dark hair falling over her face. and it's some satisfaction to know that she's just as affected, and that the low throb against your groin is her filthy release absolutely drenched over you, "i've barely even started."

everytime you felt as through your climax was in arm's reach, her touch would ice over, only to flood you with heat again, a cruel rhythm that left your head spinning.

"you look good like this, sweet thing," shoko murmurs, tilting her head as she straightens her spine, angling her hips so she can press herself to your sticky folders even more.

you whimper, and she laughs — even as your legs can't stop shaking and you feel too fucked-out in this bed of pleasure to even form a coherent thought. until all you can chase after is the fastening pace of her hips against yours, the sight of shoko dipping her fingers between your folds to sip at your arousal.

you're not even embarrassed at the utterly pornographic moans escaping your kiss-stung lips, sharp cries of shoko's name echoing through the infirmary as she soothes sharp circles over your clit, grinding her pussy against yours with your thighs intertwined.

"god, you taste so s-sweet," shoko bites off, dark eyes peering down at you, almost as though she's embarrassed that you've pulled these reactions from her.

wet cunts tacked to each other as she swipes a hand behind your back, pulling you up so she can hook her legs around your waist. jostling up n' down, over and over, and you catch the doctor's almost wolfish grin, she's guiding your hands beneath the fabric of her top, "c'mon, are you gonna' help me or not, baby?"

[mossangelll]

arcane characters as sugar mommies/daddies ˚₊‧꒰ა $ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

been thinking about mel as a sugar mommy and decided to spread the joy to other characters >:)

haven’t proofread but i was obsessed with the idea and needed to get my thoughts out, hope you enjoy ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

part 2.5

cw: don’t think gender is specified but i had a fem reader in mind so that might show, smut, degrading language used in a consensual manner, minors dni, 18+ only

Vi

the alluring one

you’re trying to buy a round of drinks when your card declines and just as you’re about to die from embarrassment, her warm hand settles on your shoulder as her scarred lip smirks down at you

she pays for multiple rounds of drinks and before you know it, you’re making out in the alleyway

the rest is history

you never thought you’d be in an arrangement like this but she had her ways of convincing you otherwise

has a bunch of different girls on her roster that she maybeeee doesn’t tell you about

don’t worry, you’re the only sugar baby she pays this much for

when you find out you can’t even be that mad about it - she’s so hot you’d let her get away with anything

you’re smart enough to be pouty around her and take advantage of the situation - get ready for the greatest apology of your life

she invites you to her place just for you to find thousands of roses in the foyer and a gift box with your name on the table

she has you follow a trail of clues until you end up in her bedroom, still juggling an armful of gifts, where vi is waiting for you with a hopeful look

she rushes over to take the boxes from you and smothers your face in feather light kisses before apologising for making you feel shitty

her apology doesn’t stop there though and carries on well into the night

you complain about your bus being late? she’s already sent an uber black to your location

you don’t know which gaming console you want? she’s got it covered - multiple packages with every console you mentioned are arriving by the next day

you’re at a party but you’re feeling needy? she’s already dragging you to a storage cupboard, crowd be damned, and eating you out with such fervour you think you might see heaven

pays for your gym membership at a place like equinox and makes sure you two take full advantage of the sauna - it might be warm in there, but you come out sweaty for a whole other reason

has a garage full of vintage motorbikes that cost a fortune and only she can touch

pays you your days salary (and then some) so you can take time off work just so you can visit her at her home gym

she uses you to show off her impressive strength by lifting you as if you weigh nothing in her arms

getting used as her personal gym equipment is a major turn on

lives to impress you with her physique, she gets so pleased with herself when she notices your eyes darken as they wander over her toned body

she definitely has mirror ceilings and she definitely makes you stare at yourself as she fucks you stupid underneath them

Jinx

the mischevious one

she’s the rich artsy kind and you’re her muse

this means she needs you around 24/7 in case creativity strikes her - naturally, this leads to her paying for your company

has you come over to the studio all the time

one time, she set down a canvas on the floor, told you to strip, covered you two in paint and fucked you right there and then

the rolling around, teeth bared, guttural moan, primal kind of fucking; she relished in the bruises that bloomed on your neck and chest as she sucked on your most sensitive spots

the resulting painting was quite impressive to look at, even if thinking about its creation made you more flustered than you’ve ever been

her hands aren’t only good for creating art pieces it seems

she’s one of the sugar mommy’s that pays you the most since she views your company as priceless when it comes to her work

you get anything you ask for, seriously

you’re decked head to toe and all of it is something jinx either gifted you or gave you the money to buy

if it’s something not available to buy, she buys luxurious materials that cost more than your salary just to craft it for you

takes you to the kind of stiff, fancy places she hates just to have you wear vibrating underwear which she has the controls for

sometimes it’s even the opening night of her art gallery

she makes it a challenge: how long can you go without drawing attention to yourself due to your moans - the longer, the more money you get

it’s downright obscene, the way she knowingly glances at you with subdued glee , your slight whimpers echoing as you try your best to muffle the sounds, tears welling up in your eyes

she goes back to chatting up art collectors and investors as she secretly turns up the power of the vibrations hitting you right to the core

she calls you her “sweet thing” when you get back to her penthouse and she makes it up to you by giving you her bank card

she likes to make you laugh during sex too, she doesn’t like if you try to make it too “dour”

Caitlyn

the inexperienced one

cait’s been single for a while and it’s obvious it’s taking its toll

her friends encourage her to go out and meet someone new but she’s too focused on work to waste time on someone she probably won’t like

one day she stumbles upon a sugar baby site and says fuck it

the first date is pretty awkward but after a couple drinks, you manage to loosen her up so she’s more free with you

she has no clue what her role in this kind of arrangement is so she goes all out from the get-go; she loves spending money on you to the point it’s a bit insane even if she tells you not to worry

has to ask her friends for advice on the group chat constantly (she has a history of fumbling attractive people and she’s not letting it happen again)

adds you to her country club membership so you two can play tennis on the weekends

this place is fancyyyyyy but she makes sure you feel comfortable

gets you a instructor if you don’t know how to play

this obviously means she buys you about ten different outfits with tennis bracelets to match each

buys you a penthouse in the best part of town, close to where she lives of course so she has easy access to you

you two christen every single room in your new place, no stone left unturned

scissoring in the large bedroom, head on the lavish kitchen countertops, taking turns fucking with the strap on the balcony with a breathtaking view, fingering in the living room - everything and anything you can think of

her job isn’t done until the two of you are exhausted and wailing loud enough that the neighbours 20 floors down are complaining

she is insatiable when it comes to you, it’s like you lit a fire within her that she can’t put out no matter how hard she tries

completely adores how cute you act when you try to deny her pricey gifts

even more so when she gifts you a first edition book and your demeanour turns more panicked by the second

really though, she’s freaking out more than you are although she doesn’t show it often

her biggest fear is gifting you something you hate which leads to you ending everything

you’ve never had a sugar mommy treat you like this

she gives her assistant special instructions to let you into her office at any time, a privilege only you’re blessed with

you manage to distract her and before she knows it, she’s forced to make herself look presentable in only five minutes despite having a smudge-proof lipstick mark on her cheek she can’t get off for the life of her

doesn’t want to admit that she wants more than a purely transactional relationship with you

Silco

the generous one

gives you an exorbitant amount of money every time you see him

like, a CRAZY amount

it barely registers for him though, he has more money than should be possible

he goes as far as to give you his black card even if you didn’t ask for it

goads you to max it out and somehow, despite spending so much, you’ve barely dented the thing which makes him laugh

he expects you to spend most of the money he gives you on luxuries you wouldn’t normal buy and asks you to do a haul and model it all for him in his office

behind the scenes, he’s busy paying off your any debts you might have, setting up a trust fund for you, looking for houses you would like

wants you to be set up for life

showers you in decadent lingerie that fits you perfectly from boutiques like la perla, agent provocateur and honey birdette - only the best for his girl

has to replace your lingerie quite often though, he goes feral when he sees you all dolled up just for him

even more so if you were good and listened to his demands, buying the exact lingerie he wanted to see you in

has you sign a detailed contract before the arrangement begins since he wants to make sure you’re comfortable with everything

also wants to make sure you follow his rules

wants you to only refer to him using “sir” when it’s just the two of you

i see him as the kind of sugar daddy that does expect some sugar in return

he’s very abrasive in bed, and calls you all types of degrading names which only serves to turn you both on further

has some…curious interests that he pays you more for indulging in - he is a gentleman after all

“my money hungry slut” and “little whore” are his favourites

takes you on shopping sprees for aftercare (and maybe he does cuddle too but you can’t let anyone else know that) - he doesn’t want you to think he views you a less than just because of the life path you’ve chosen

his idea of pillow talk is giving you tips on the stock market and trading

Sevika

the brusque one

she has commitment issues, is afraid of vulnerability and has a high sex drive

this has led her romantic relationships to fail in one way or another, which is where you come in

she sees it as a simple business transaction - nothing more, nothing less

she likes having you around but don’t get confused: she doesn’t want a real relationship with you

doesn’t sugar coat her words around you and while it might make anyone else run for the hills, you appreciate her honesty

having someone as gorgeous as you coo and hang onto her every word does inflate her ego

everyone wants you, eyes appraising you up and down, but they can’t have you - only she can

so punctual with her payments that it genuinely feels like any other regular job

she looks down on those so called sugar mommies that skimp out of paying a fair rate - you don’t need to worry with her, you’ll be getting more than you ever really needed

despite presenting a stoic image, she can’t help but give in to your every whim

all you have to do is glance at a display window with even a hint of longing and she’s immediately rolling her eyes, dragging you into the shop to buy it for you

if you get tired walking around and ask her to carry you she will huff and puff but that doesn’t stop her from scooping you up anyway

she has a strap on AND it’s the kind that ejaculates too

you two go to luxury toy makers and get straps custom made to tailor to both of your wants and desires

she perhaps gets attachments for her mechanical arm too…

she doesn’t skimp out on the good stuff when it comes to you

her hot grunts ring in your ears as she grinds into you, her body seemingly encompassing your entire body and mind

creampies you every time and fucks the cum back inside of your dripping hole just to watch it leak back out and repeat the cycle again until you’re begging out for her

you’re in a daze for a good ten minutes after and she can’t help but snort at the faces you make

maybe this isn’t just a simple transaction to her

Vander

the hesitant one

vander feels icky about the relationship he has with you at the start

he’s much older than you and you’re still in university, it makes him feel like such a bad person who’s preying on your vulnerability

you make sure to always remind him that he’s single-handedly paying for your tuition

you love what he does for you!

once he gets past that hurdle though, god have mercy on your soul, you will be ruined for other people

he basically acts as your mentor just with some extra benefits on the side

loves to hear you yap about any projects you’re working on and does his best to help with any issues at university

he’s the type to text you good morning and good night every single day without fail

even gives you a bigger allowance if you wake up early and reply to his good morning texts quickly

what? it’s an incentive to get you to attend your lectures

likes to be called daddy even if it does make him blush intensely

he gets off on the idea of being your protector and the only one to provide for you

cockwarms you when you’re working on assignments and it turns your brain to mush every time

spanks you when you stop paying attention

honestly it feels like he’s working against you whenever he does this

also gets jealous when you talk about dates you had with other people

he never made the relationship an official one, but that doesn’t stop him from fucking you hard, his hand prints left on your hips to mark his territory

definitely can’t walk the next day and he’s so smug

down BAD

Ambessa

the teasing one

ambessa has play things in every city; you name a place, odds are she’s got a hook up there

you’re no exception of course

in fact, you’re her favourite out of them all

whenever ambessa calls, you run to be at her service

L O A D E D

exposes you to experiences you never even knew existed, i’m talking about things only the upper 1% can do

she’s the kind of sugar mommy that likes to hear about your day over a glass of wine

the mundanity helps her calm down from her hectic life

she will hold the things she does for you over your head

it’s mean but she views it as her right considering all the luxuries she gives you access to

jokes she’s going to go to a perfumer and get the scent of your sex turned into a perfume

when you accept a surprise gift from her, it turns out it was not a joke - you should’ve known something was up the second her wicked smile made an appearance

actually doesn’t smell too bad

has you use it every single time you’re around her and only then

she’s a FREAK what can i say

whisks you off to couple spa days; you both deserve a little rest and relaxation every now and then

speaking of spa days, she often asks you to massage her which usually ends with your large hands pawing all over your body

she likes receiving more than giving but she still prioritises giving you plenty of orgasms through the night

what kind of sugar mommy would she be without ensuring you’re also satisfied with your arrangement?

you’re worn out from what she considers foreplay

still, you need to make sure you’re being as thoughtful as she is otherwise you’re getting kicked down the rungs of her sugar baby ladder

Mel

the cunning one

mel is the best sugar mommy around i know it

doesn’t do it often - she tries to limit herself to one sugar baby every once in a while

she sees them as worthwhile investments

if you want to be her sugar baby, you need to bring something useful to the table

she meets you at a science exhibition and is thoroughly impressed with your work

you need funding to complete your research and she needs relief from her stressful life as a counsellor

a win-win situation if you ask her

you don’t see her often, she’s too busy solving problems with the council, but when you do, she makes sure it’s worth your time

expensive dinner dates, surprise weekend get-aways, opera concerts - anything you ask for, it’s yours

not only is she funding all of your research, she takes you to galas where you can mingle with the elites you need to win over to achieve more exposure for your research

she usually sends boxes full of clothes and shoes to your house for you to wear to these outings, and picks you up fancy black car with a chauffeur and bottles of wine in coolers

she has her hand on your leg the entire journey there, a faint smirk on her lips when she notices how hot and bothered you are

in a relationship like this, she likes to be the dominant one in bed

she doesn’t expect anything sexual in return but if you’re willing she’s more than happy to fulfill those needs too

leans towards being sensual and romantic but that doesn’t mean she won’t make sure to fuck you thoroughly

heavy on foreplay to the point you think you’re going to pass out from the pent up energy in you

has lots of toys she likes to use on you, she’s very experimental and wants to test which one you respond to the most

also likes you to use the toys on her too and when she sees you suck her wetness off the toy you just used on her, she melts into a puddle

yeah, you’re getting an instant increase on your allowance and you’re getting a new custom wardrobe

Jayce

the proud one

jayce comes from a relatively well-off family, but his inventions launched him into stardom and left him with more money than he knew what to do with

he decides the best thing he can do is spread the love

he finds you on a site for this kind of stuff, something he would rather die than admit, and knew he had to get you on a date with him

makes you custom jewellery set with the most unique stones you’ve ever seen and loves when you wear them out on dates with him

you probably have the entire gdp of a small country just on your wrist alone

wants a play-by-play of all the things you bought that week, he’s lowkey into hearing how much of his money you spent on treating yourself

he wants you to buy even more things with his money than you already do which flusters you but you give in every time

he’s another one that wants a fashion show where you try on everything you bought

he just likes to sit and clap with a smile as you twirl for him

loves to show you off at all the balls and galas he’s invited to

takes you on late night drives in his alpine a110 r-turini and he always has one arm, big with straining muscles, around your headrest which never fails to make your heart flutter

oh i can see him being into role play

maybe he’s your boss and you’re the maid he just caught stealing from him lmao

he loves to get sloppy head from you and offers you all sorts of gifts in return

talking, or helplessly groaning in this situation, about all the ways you can drain his money is his form of dirty talk, “yeah, just like that babe. you want me to buy that new phone don’t you? well, take me like the good girl i know you are and work for it.”

he’s so whipped for you it borders on quite cute imo

Viktor

the cocky one

viktor came into new money after selling the patent for one of his inventions

he is well aware that he’s an attractive guy and could have pretty much anyone he wants, but his long work hours aren’t conducive to healthy relationships

so he takes it upon himself to get a sugar baby, no strings attached

has you stay with him in his lab to keep him company - he loves listening to your idle chatter about things he has no interest in

but when it’s you talking about them he’s captivated by every word

likes to call you his “cute lab assistant” and tries to hide how much he likes it when you call him your “handsome scientist”

he fails obviously

he explains extremely complicated topics in a very contrived way, even when he knows he can simplify it for the average person, because seeing the dumbfounded look on your face gets him going

closes down a whole shopping mall just so you can frolic about and shop to your hearts content; oh, don’t worry about all those bags, he has a guy to carry them all so you two can focus on having a nice date ^^

gonna be real, he’s the kind of guy to fuck you against the wall of the changing room, not caring that the bashful shop assistants can hear every single clap of skin slapping against each other and the strangled moans you both let out

buys all the clothes you tried on, you’re too fucked out to notice the looks you get from the workers, and the fact that the clothes might be a bit…dirty 😭

at least he tips them enough to make up for it

sprays his designer cologne on your gifts so you remember who you belong to

playfully suggests you give him a lap dance so he gets his money worth but you both know it was anything but a joke

good thing you love putting on a show for him!

this guy is such a troll, he literally throws money on you and slips bills in between the straps of your underwear as you sensually dance for him in the lingerie he paid for

has to control himself from pouncing on you then and there

he really enjoys the way you can both tease each other and not take things too seriously

masterlist

[swordsandholly]

Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

[noob-priest-rising]

Mudroom San Francisco Ideas for remodeling a medium-sized 1950s wood floor entryway with beige walls and a glass front door.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Could you do reader and rafes reaction to when they found out easer is first pregnant for the force’s marriage au? LOVED the first part!!

First pregnancy || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: this fic is a 100% how i think rafe and reader would react in this situation

Warnings: mention of pregnancy, angst if there's anything else lmk

Word count: 1,457

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

You flip over the pregnancy test, your heart sinking as you see two lines. Of course. It was inevitable, given the life you’ve been cornered into. You sigh, throwing the test into the bin with a mixture of resignation and dread.

Leaning against the cool marble sink, you catch your reflection in the mirror—your eyes heavy with a sense of inevitability that’s become all too familiar. The pristine bathroom feels suffocating, its sterile white tiles and polished fixtures reflecting the stark reality you’re trapped in.

Leaving the bathroom, you make your way downstairs to the living room, each step heavy with the weight of what this means. Rafe had left for work a few hours earlier, leaving you alone in the house. It’s been this way for a while—his absence during these crucial moments only magnifies the distance between you.

The quiet of the house, broken only by the soft footfalls of the servants, feels more isolating than comforting. In the corner of your eye, you notice Anita descending the stairs. She’s one of the few people who’ve been with you since you were young, a steady presence in the chaos of your life.

You assume she’s just finished cleaning your room, making everything perfect as always. “Anita?” you call out, your voice softer than intended. She stops, turning to you with a gentle smile that’s both comforting and bittersweet. “Yes, Miss?” she replies, her tone warm and familiar. You look up from your phone, hesitating for a moment.

“Not a word to Rafe, please,” you say, your voice firmer this time, carrying the weight of the secret you now bear. Anita’s eyes soften with understanding. She doesn’t need any more explanation. “Of course, congratulations to you both. Your parents will be overjoyed, they’ve been waiting for this,” she says before continuing on her way.

Her words hit you like a blow to the chest, knocking the breath from your lungs. Of course, your parents would be thrilled. This is all they ever wanted from you and Rafe—a continuation of the family bloodline, a legacy to carry forward. They didn’t care if the two of you were unhappy, if this marriage was more a prison than a partnership. As long as the family name persisted, nothing else mattered.

~

"Where is she?" Rafe's voice echoes through the quiet house, sharp and impatient. Anita’s calm response cuts through the tension. "She isn’t feeling well, Mr. Cameron," she says, her tone polite and soothing. Rafe grunts in acknowledgment and takes his seat at the dining table, his eyes scanning the empty chair opposite him—usually filled by you each morning.

Later that day, as you and Rafe drive to your parents' house for lunch, a wave of nausea washes over you. You place one hand protectively on your lower stomach, the other coming up to cover your mouth as you close your eyes and focus on steadying your breath. Morning sickness has been relentless lately, more intense and persistent than before. While you’ve managed to keep it hidden from Rafe up until now, the strain is starting to show.

Rafe’s gaze flickers to you briefly, his eyes narrowing with concern. Without a word, he reaches into the console and retrieves a bottle of water, handing it to you with an absent-minded flick of his wrist. He doesn’t even glance at you as he passes it over. "Thanks," you murmur, your voice barely audible as you unscrew the lid and take a slow sip, your eyes fixed out the window.

As the car rolls to a stop in front of your family estate, Rafe is already unbuckling his seatbelt, eager to get this over with. But before he can move, you reach out, your hand covering his, halting his actions. He glances at you, confusion etched across his features. You swallow hard, struggling to find the words, your eyes searching his before you turn away, staring blankly out the windshield.

You feel his gaze on your side profile, waiting, perhaps sensing the gravity of what you’re about to say. "I'm pregnant," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hang in the air between you, heavy and unyielding. You feel Rafe tense beside you, the atmosphere in the car growing thick with unspoken emotions. His reaction is immediate and sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife.

"Are you seriously telling me this right now? Just before we see your parents?" His voice is laced with anger, catching you completely off guard. You turn to face him, your expression one of disbelief. Is he seriously getting mad right now? Of all the reactions you had braced yourself for, this wasn’t one of them.

"I just told you we're having a child, and this is how you react?" you snap, incredulous. Your disbelief quickly morphs into anger as you watch him look away, his jaw clenched in frustration. His silence only fuels your rage. "Fucking unbelievable," you mutter under your breath as you unbuckle your seatbelt and shove the car door open.

The door slams shut behind you with a resounding thud as you storm toward the front entrance, your emotions boiling over. You’re only a few steps away when you hear Rafe’s car door fly open, followed by the sound of his voice, sharp and laced with frustration.

"What do you expect me to say when you just laid that out on me?" he calls out, his anger evident in every word. You whirl around, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your eyes narrowed as they lock onto his. His expression is a mix of confusion and fury, as if he’s grappling with the enormity of your news and how it collided with the timing.

For a moment, neither of you speak, the tension between you crackling in the crisp air. "I expected you to care!" you finally snap back, your voice trembling with the weight of everything unsaid. Rafe’s eyes widen, caught between defensiveness and something that almost resembles guilt. "I do care," he retorts, his voice softer now but still edged with frustration. He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you.

"But you couldn’t have picked a worse time to tell me. We’re about to walk into your parents’ house, and you drop this on me like it’s nothing?" You can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes your lips. "You think I planned this? That I wanted to tell you in the driveway? I’ve been dealing with this alone, trying to figure out how to break it to you. But every time, you’re either too busy or too angry for me to even get a word in."

His expression falters, and for a split second, you think you see a flicker of understanding in his eyes. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the familiar mask of indifference. "And you thought now was the best time?" he asks, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What do you want me to say, Rafe?" you ask, your voice raw with emotion. "That I should’ve kept it to myself? Pretended everything was fine until it wasn’t? We’re having a child, and I needed you to know before we walked in there and pretended to be the perfect couple again."

Rafe looks away, his jaw clenched tight as he struggles to process the situation. You watch the conflict play out in his eyes, the tug-of-war between the emotions he’s expected to feel and the reality of what he actually feels. His frustration is palpable, and after a tense moment, he sighs heavily, bringing his hands up to massage his temples.

"Can we just get through this lunch, please?" he finally says, his voice soft, almost pleading. His tone catches you off guard—there’s a vulnerability there that you’re not used to hearing from him. You stare at him, torn between wanting to push the conversation further and knowing that now isn’t the time.

His request isn’t unreasonable, but it stings nonetheless, a reminder of the emotional distance that still exists between you. "Fine," you reply after a moment, your voice tinged with resignation. "But this doesn’t change anything. We still need to talk about this—really talk about it."

Rafe nods, his eyes briefly meeting yours before he looks away again. "I know," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the unspoken hangs heavy between you as you both turn toward the imposing front door of your family estate, ready to face the charade of normalcy that awaits inside.

[peachsayshi]

// brutally soft // I.

baby daddy!sukuna x reader

tags: non curse au; fluff; tension; reader and sukuna are co-parents; girl dad sukuna; mentions troubled past with sukuna; alludes to significant size different | wc: 1,653 | read this for more context

note: I hope I got the honorifics right lol please correct me if I didn't

dni if your blog is blank / ageless / or are a minor

You didn’t think it was possible for a five year old to render you speechless, nor did you think she was capable of making your former lover blush the deepest shade of tomato red. You part your lips in surprise, stunned as you look down at her innocent expression. She’s sitting on your living room floor, her face perched on her palms with her elbows resting against the coffee table. Her wide eyes drift between you and Sukuna sitting on the sofa, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she tilts her head slightly out of intrigue.

“Mama?” She presses, begging for an answer.

Your mouth moves but no words come out. You’re trying to formulate a proper response that’s palatable for her, one that will be enough to subdue any further questions.

Except you’re not quite sure how to answer: “why don’t you and daddy ever kiss?” without making her pry even more into your history with her father.

Sukuna runs his large palms back and forth nervously over his thigh, the muscles on his inked forearms tensing up.

“We kiss,” you fib, because what else are you supposed to say, “of course we do!”

Your daughter’s face falters, and she quirks her brow as sassily as her father when they both mirror the same expression to look at you.

You glance back at Sukuna, giving him an awkward smile because at least you said something all the while he just sat there. 

“No, you don’t…” your daughter insists.

“Yeah, yeah that’s right…we do…of course, we do…” Sukuna pipes in with a mumble, finally catching on to your attempts as he reverts his attention on to his precious girl.

“I’ve never seen it,” she points out with a pout, scolding her father playfully in return.

“That’s because we don’t do it in front of you,” Sukuna remarks. “Besides, who wants to see their parents kiss?”

His daughter rolls her eyes, “all other mommies and daddies do it, except you guys. It makes no sense…”

She’s got the tiniest voice and the softest lisp, but her attitude is entirely her father. She’s bold and blunt, never afraid to say exactly what she’s thinking or to point the obvious.

“Oji-san kisses oba-san in front of Shiro…” she mumbles, dropping both her hands onto the coffee table and crumpling the paper that she is using to draw her little family portrait.

At the mention of his younger brother Sukuna can’t help but grimace. Yuji was incredibly affectionate towards his wife, wearing his heart on his sleeve entirely which just makes Sukuna grumble with annoyance. He’s always been a little envious of his younger brother, who never had to face the world as harshly as Sukuna. With an eleven year gap between them, Sukuna witnessed his parents becoming actual parents. They were young when they had him, and therefore had no clue what it took to raise or take care of a child. Sukuna was caught in the middle of their relationship for most of his childhood, all the while Yuji got to see the peaceful harmony once they finally made up.

“I’m just saying…” your daughter adds on, “…it’s weird.”

You breathe out a sigh in defeat, knowing full well that she won’t let go of the subject until she gets some consolation.

So incredibly stubborn just like her dad.

Without considering the repercussions, you reach your hand out and clutch Sukuna’s chin delicately between your fingers. You tilt his head towards you, noticing the slow register of your touch wash over his face as you lean up to kiss his cheek.

However, you misjudged your aim, because Sukuna tilted his head down in return, and you wound up leaving a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth instead.

Your lips lingered for only a few seconds, three to be exact, before you retracted and turned towards your daughter.

“See?” You insist, holding onto Sukuna’s chin like it’s evidence between your fingers. “We kiss!”

Your daughter’s mouth forms into a line, clearly unimpressed. The older she’s getting the more she’s picking up on the little things that you guys were hiding so well.

But it’s still way too complicated, and you and Sukuna haven't even discussed how to approach this yet.

“I guess,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders, before returning to her drawing.

You didn’t even know that Sukuna has his focus still locked onto your lips tuntil you turn to look back at him.His gaze is soft, the muscles of his handsome features melting between your touch. There’s a hint of sorrow that twinkles in his eyes, and when you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth apologetically, you notice that you left a lipstick stain in your wake.

“Sorry,” you mouth, and carefully use your thumb to swipe over the mark.

But your heart seizes quickly, your spine growing still when Sukuna mildly inches forward like he’s about to go in for another kiss.

You remember what it was like to kiss him. He was an exceptionally good kisser, even though he probably doesn’t know it himself. You’ve spent hours losing time locked against those lips, allowing his tongue to taste every last drop of you.

There’s a twitch in your chest, everything around you going quiet. Heat pricks the back of your neck when his lips draw just a breath away from yours, and you swear to yourself that he grazed over your mouth with a featherlight touch.

But Sukuna stops suddenly, catching himself.

“Be right back,” he whispers, his voice dipping so low you can’t help but clench your thighs together.

He shoots up from his seat, detangling quickly as he brushes you off, and leaving you to stare aimlessly at his broad back and overbearing muscles. Your sofa suddenly appears a lot larger with all that free space.

You press both hands to your cheeks, licking your lips as the apprehension runs through you as a cold chill. You can’t even remember when was the last time you kissed the father of your child, but you didn’t think that such a small act would have such a lingering effect.

You thought you were over this. Over him. That chapter was closed a long, long time ago.

You look up at the cause of this unexpected interaction, your daughter’s short attention span keeping her focused on her doodle while she hums to herself.

Sukuna returns with his head held high a few minutes after, and plops down on the sofa with his weight prompting you to bounce lightly in place.

That’s when you felt it, a hint of cold hitting your brow like a tiny droplet of rain.

Your furrow your brows then notice that your Sukuna’s hair is actually damp, with little tears trickling down the back of his neck.

The tips of his ears are still burning red.

You part your lips in awe.

Sukuna is a master at making you blush. At making any woman blush, frankly. But you don’t think you’ve ever actually seen that reaction on him.

It stuns you how much it suits him, and surprises you even more of just how cute he looks trying to hide it.

“Daddy, can you help me?” Your daughter asks, finally focusing back on the two of you while her finger draws out an outline of what appears to be two arms.

“Whatever you want, Princess…” Sukuna responds, and obediently gets up from his seat.

He perches himself on the floor, the size difference between him and your little girl doing nothing to help the sudden hammering in your chest.

He’s so, so gentle with her.

She crawls onto his lap, holding the sheet of paper in her hand, before setting herself back up while sitting on his thighs.She points to the drawing with her index finger, “I don’t know how to draw your tattoos…”

Sukuna chuckles, a glimpse of his smile making you to scratch the warmth off the back of your neck.

He picks up a black pencil, “you’re a better artist than me, kid,” he states honestly, “not quite sure what I can do to help…”

She wraps her arms around his neck, leaving her dad to carry on the effort.

“I’ll explain the shapes and you draw it!” She says with a kiss to his cheek.

It’ll never cease to amaze you how easily he bends to her will. Sukuna had no interest in any of this, and was obstinate in every sense of the word. Nothing could turn that man into a docile cat except when it comes to your little girl. He’s present with her, this part of him just so different, and even after five years it still feels a tad unfamiliar.

There’s a slight tightness in your throat because this is all you wanted when you were together. After the break up and surprise pregnancy, you didn’t realize how hard he took it when you told him that you have zero expectations of him being involved in your daughter’s life. You were just informing him out of moral obligation, but something switched on inside him after that.

It may not have been for you, but he made that change for her, and seeing them together now, you recognize just how much that man loves his little girl.

That fact alone makes you undeniably happy.

So happy you wish you could give him a real kiss for it.

Your daughter moves to pat his head in gesture of a good job as Sukuna follows her instructions to the T, but her faces scrunches with disgust when she threads her fingers between his locks.

“Daddy, why is your hair wet?”

Sukuna brings his free hand to massage the back of her scalp, “Pay attention to the drawing, missy…and stop asking so many damn, I mean uh-darn questions…” he responds, leaving a kiss on her brow and doing everything in his power to make sure that he avoids looking back at you.

tag: @selarina @yuujispinkhair @blush-bambi @tojislittleprincesss

[emilys-bangs]

etch | e.p

Tags: established relationship, fluff, too much tension for *checks notes* 1k words, reader gets a (hip) tattoo, emily short-circuits, no design or color mentioned

Summary: You get a tattoo. Emily somewhat loses her train of thought. Requested here.

Word count: 1.1k

Emily sheds her clothes as she walks further into the apartment, toeing her shoes off at the door, shrugging out of her blazer and draping it over the back of the couch as she goes, not really caring about the mess she’s leaving in her wake. She’ll pick them up, she always does, but for now she needs all confining materials off her body. 

It’s quiet. Sergio trots up to her as she’s dumping her bag in the laundry room, curling around her ankles with a trill. Emily smiles and bends to scratch between his ears. “Hey, handsome. Why’s it so quiet here, huh? Y/N didn’t pack up and leave us, did they?” 

Sergio pushes his head into her hand. Emily laughs, dragging her nails through his fur. “Let’s go see, then.”

He chases her ankles as she walks out, her eyes scanning the apartment for a glimpse of you. It’s quiet, yes, but not lifeless; the lights are on, the faint scent of coffee lingers along with a discarded mug on the table. “Babe?” She calls out, pushing open your bedroom door. Sergio follows as she locks her gun in the safe.

“Here.”

A sliver of light pours out from the crack between the bathroom door and the frame, your voice muffled behind it.

Emily gently nudges Sergio’s paw off of her thigh, placing a consoling kiss on his head when he meows. “We haven’t been abandoned yet, Serg. Must be doing something right, huh?” She straightens and nudges the bathroom door open, eyes widening when she sees you standing in front of the mirror.

You’re topless. And peeling a transparent piece of film from your hip, stretching it away to expose a thick, shapeless blob caked just under your navel. Emily stares as you greet her with a smile and toss the film in the trash.

“Hi.”

“Is that a tattoo?” She blurts, stepping closer.

“It is, yeah,” you hum, turning on the tap and wetting a bar of soap. It froths, bubbles growing between your palms as Emily bends a little to get a closer look, trying to discern the design beneath the mess of smeared ink and plasma. She can’t see much before you gently start washing it, rubbing small circles to take the excess gunk off of your skin. You let out a disgusted noise when ink transfers to your fingers.

Emily is still staring. You’ve mentioned wanting to get a tattoo a few times before, but it was always some sort of vague, throwaway comment you murmured with your lips on her hip bone, tracing the ink on her own skin. Everything was blurry—her attention, your voice, the notion of a design beyond simply wanting to get one. Something pretty, you’d say, and the vibrations of the words through her body were enough to clear her mind of anything else.

The tattoo finally comes into view. Your skin is raw around it, puffed and swelling, but there’s no denying it’s gorgeous. The ink glistens on your wet skin, curving intimately around your hip and cupping it like a gentle hand. Emily could mirror the same movement with her palm, only she could never get as close as fusing with your skin.

“Earth to Em.” You murmur teasingly. She looks up when you flick a few drops of water on her, belatedly closing her mouth as your eyes meet. “I’m guessing that means you like it?” You toy with your lip, teeth digging down on a grin.

Fucker.

“It’s pretty,” she says, embarrassed to find a rasp in her voice. Emily clears her throat, “It suits you, love. I’m, uh…just surprised, that’s all.”

“I finally knew what I wanted to get,” you shrug, washing your hands again before reaching for a roll of paper towels. “Didn’t want to wait any longer. I’d have told you, but you were busy. Besides,” you look at her through your lashes, “it evidently makes for a nice surprise.”

She desperately wants to wipe that smirk off your face. Preferably with her lips, but you’re busy, and she knows the demands of tattoo aftercare. Her eyes drop down to it again as you pat it dry, soaking up the water dripping down to the waistband of your pants.

“Evidently.” 

She’s already plagued with the urge to press her lips to it, drag her teeth over your skin and nibble bruises in the space between the ink. Suddenly she understands why you spend hours at her hip and lower back, wandering fingers hot on her skin as you traced along her tattoos. 

You tilt your hip and she imagines it in her hands, her nails digging in crescents, temporary permanence blooming above the stark ink that gets to stay with you longer than she will.

She’s only half answering when you ask her how the case went, how’d she eat, how’d she sleep, even though you’d called almost every night. Emily always tries to keep it vague, but this time it doesn’t even take any effort; her mind can’t focus, her thoughts as fleeting as smoke curling through the gaps between her hands, elusive. You place another sheet of film on your hip, slide your waistband up so that the tattoo is partially covered, and that’s when she somewhat regains her focus.

You’re smug as the cat that got the cream. Emily doesn’t particularly care, her back pressing against the sink as you slot into her arms, your mouth finally meeting hers for a kiss. Her hands splay over your back and gently squeeze, saying hello. She traces your spine, her fingers trailing down to the curve of your waist without permission. You smile into her mouth, the taste of your pride thick on her tongue as she gently thumbs the film on your hip, her eyes still full of the way the ink sneaks up above your waistband. Emily nips hard at your bottom lip, your laugh echoing in her ears as you pull back.

Her breathing is embarrassingly labored, catching in her chest and warming your chin in ragged chops. 

No place like fucking home.

“If you like that one,” you smile, idly tucking her hair behind her ear, “you’ll really love the one I have planned next.”

Oh, Jesus.

“What?” Emily’s throat dries. “Where?” Her nails bite into your flesh.

You run your hand down the side of your chest, fingers drumming just over your ribs. “Thereabouts,” you drawl, airy carelessness in your voice. 

Emily groans into her mouth. “I swear to god,” she murmurs, her grip tight as she pulls you in by the other hip. “You’re going to kill me one day.”

You stumble into her, laughing. “Good way to go, I think.”

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu @ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi @temilyrights @professorsapphic @decadentcatcrusade @piiinco@jareavsheavn @mourningthewicked@heartoreadallthequeerthingz

[frenchkisstheabyss]

|☾| 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕠 |☽|

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!seungcheol x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/smut/angst

♡ Summary: When your creepy coworker finally crosses the line your boyfriend swoops in to save the day, offering you safety and comfort in more ways than one.

♡ Word Count: 2.6kish

♡ Warnings: creepy coworker, someone pinches reader's ass, subsequently gets their ass kicked, angry cheol, lots of kissing, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, car sex, creampie, pet names (baby).

♡ A/N: This is a lil comfort fit requested to me by an anon. I hope that I did your request justice my darling 💜

“Cheol!” you scream, high heels scraping the concrete as you shuffle across the parking lot in pursuit of your boyfriend. “Choi Seungcheol, I know you hear me!” 

When you called your boyfriend it’d been for comfort. You needed a shoulder to cry on, someone to console you, but you didn’t know he’d react like this. Part of you didn’t know that he could. Seungcheol’s your sweetheart, your teddy bear. He’s the loving gaze that you wake up to each morning and the gentle arms you fall asleep in at night. Your man would never hurt a fly. At least you thought so. The way he is now—jaw clenched, irises burning with rage—you aren’t as sure about that anymore. 

“Vernon, get her in the car!” he shouts back to his best friend and an arm clasps around your wrist, dragging you back towards the car. 

You turn to Vernon, pleading with him to do something. Anything. But it goes in one ear and out the other. You look back to Seungcheol in time to catch the moment he disappears through the doors of your job, out of your sight and completely out of your control. Defeated, you slip into the passenger’s seat without a fight, pouting as the door slams closed. You glance up at the rearview mirror and into the backseat where another of Seungcheol’s best friends sits with guilt all over his face. 

“Sorry” Wonwoo mouths, apologizing for his lack of effort to stop Seungcheol in the first place. Not that he can blame him for the way he’s acting. Wonwoo would react the same way if his girlfriend called him crying because some asshole at work decided it was a good idea to touch her. He’d break his fingers. Every single one. 

Your night had started out so well. The bar wasn’t as packed as it usually is. Mostly regulars and a few harmless college kids whose fake IDs were enough to get them in. Tips were steady, your favorite bartender was working, and your boss even agreed to cut you early to make it to your friend Hoshi’s birthday party. But if working at the bar has taught you anything it’s that things can change at the drop of a hat and it did the second your worst enemy clocked in. 

To him you’re far from enemies, somewhere in his delusional brain you share a mutual crush, but in the real world a sense of nauseating dread overcomes you in his presence. You’ve told Seungcheol about him before. How he makes it a point to be in close quarters with you. Always making excuses to squeeze in beside you when you’re getting ice or putting in orders. How he insists on calling you pet names like “cutie” or “sexy” even though you’ve told him a million times how uncomfortable it makes you. Each time Seungcheol has offered to come handle the situation and each time you’ve insisted that you had it under control but tonight was a different story. 

You’d been taking drink orders for a table, your full attention dedicated to making sure your indecisive patrons were double sure they knew what they wanted. All night he’d been making comments about how pretty you look dressed up for the party. “I bet your boyfriend can’t keep his hands off you” he quipped.

Apparently neither could he because as soon as you weren’t paying attention he thought it was the perfect time to pinch your ass. It happened so quickly. If not for the smile on his face when you turned around you might’ve thought it was a mistake but no. It was very intentional. 

All you wanted to do was turn around and stab him with that pen in your hand but instead you ran to the bathroom, calling the first person you could think of. Your boyfriend. Seungcheol took his time listening to you, promising you everything would be okay and that this would never happen again. Fifteen minutes later he was texting you from the parking lot telling you to come out. If your shift wasn’t already over it was now. 

“It’ll be fine” Vernon reassures you, now seated beside Wonwoo, “He’s got this.” 

Staring out the window at the eerie stillness of the night, you wonder what exactly it is that he’s got. Your anxiety grows with the passing minutes. What’s he doing in there? Why isn’t he back yet? You get your answer when the door to the bar swings open and a body comes flying out, colliding with the ground like a slab of meat. Seungcheol steps out behind him, advancing on the man quicker than he can get up. It isn’t until he grips the back of the man’s head, dragging him towards the car, that you recognize it as your coworker. Seungcheol looks fine, same as when he walked in, but your coworker looks wrecked, his shirt torn and his nose bloodied. 

You watch in horror as Seungcheol brings him right up to the window, dangling him before you like a broken doll. Vernon and Wonwoo avert their eyes elsewhere, pretending not to see a thing. 

“Tell her you’re sorry” Seungcheol commands, tightening his hold and searing the man’s scalp in the process. 

Your coworker sniffs back involuntary tears, blood trickling down his lips. “I’m…I’m sorry, okay?” 

“And you’ll never touch her again?”

“And…and I’ll n-never….”

“Touch her…”

“Touch her again. Okay? Alright?” 

Seungcheol looks at you, his anger softening, “Okay?” 

You nod frantically, your heart racing, “Yes, okay.” 

Seungcheol leans into the man's ear, dealing a final blow to his stomach. “If I hear you even looked at her wrong I’m gonna come back and break your fucking legs.” Turning him loose, Seungcheol watches as the man scurries back into the bar before climbing into the driver’s seat. 

“Everyone good?” he asks, starting the car and flipping on some music. 

Vernon throws him some wicked side eye. Everyone’s good except that guy. “Yeah, man. We’re good.”

Wonwoo nods in agreement, pulling out his phone to be involved in anything but this. “A thousand percent.” 

Seungcheol takes your hand, petting the back of it with his thumb. He brings it to his lips, pressing soft kisses to your knuckles. You want to say something but you can’t. You can only stare in awe at the man before you. Whatever monster anger had turned him into has fallen back asleep, leaving only the boyfriend you know behind, but you can’t shake what just happened. Accepting your silence, Seungcheol starts the car, keeping your hand in his as you head towards your destination. 

Your phone buzzes in your lap. A string of text messages from the bartender coming through. 

✨💖 Dawn ✨💖 What the fuck was that? ✨💖 Dawn ✨💖 Did your boyfriend just kick his ass? ✨💖 Dawn ✨💖 Kinda hot. Ngl. 

Seungcheol sneaks a look at your phone but you catch him, flipping it over to conceal the conversation. What the fuck was that? You don’t even know. Did your boyfriend just kick his ass? Without a doubt. Kinda hot. Not gonna lie. You’re ashamed at how much that strikes a chord. You’re not one of those girls who encourages violence. In fact, you never want to see Seungcheol like that again.

But was it hot? Was that level of protectiveness attractive? Did his angry face make you swoon? Did his arm muscles look especially delicious dragging a man across a parking lot? You squeeze your thighs together to quiet the feeling awakening between them. You’ve gone insane. Haven’t you?

You try to focus on something else. Humming along to songs on the radio. Watching the neon signs of local shops fly by in a blur of color as you speed down the road. Marveling at the glow of the moon and the stars dancing around it. But none of it seems to work and by the time you’re pulling up to Hoshi’s apartment the sprinkle of moisture in your panties is reaching borderline flood status. 

“You guys head inside. We’ll be up in a minute” Seungcheol whispers back to his friends and they climb out of the car without a word, heading up to the party. 

Seungcheol switches the car off, leaving the two of you alone in silence. He watches you for a moment but you only stare straight ahead. Too awkward to look him in the eye. He thinks you must be mad at him, that maybe he went too far, and the idea that he hurt you even a little bit makes him sick. 

“Come here” he says, shifting his seat back to make room for you. 

The way he taps his lap to call you over makes you fold in an instant and you find yourself climbing onto him, your knees tucked at his sides as he reaches up to cradle your face. He rubs your cheeks, looking up at you through a curtain of chocolate brown hair, and warmth radiates through your body. 

“You mad at me?” he asks, as close to pouting as you’ve ever seen him. 

“Why would I be mad at you? He deserved it” you say, your own anger at the man’s actions boiling to the surface, “I was just surprised to see you like that.”

“I don’t like being that way but when it comes to you…” he sighs, taking you in like he would some rare treasure, “I don’t know. I just lost it but I’d never be that way with you. I swear I—”

Pushing his hands away, you press your lips to his, refusing to hear anything more. “Baby, I know you’d never.” You lay your hands on his shoulders, lightly massaging them, and you can almost feel the tension melt away. 

His arms come around your waist, his fingertips invading the space between your top and the softness of your figure. “Good. I just want you to feel safe with me.” He returns your kiss with another. Something short and sweet. “I’ll always protect you. Always take care of you.”

He pulls you closer, deepening the kiss and stirring up those feelings brewing deep inside of you. His tongue performs a beautiful dance with yours, tangling in a mixture of love and lust, building the heat between you. Seungcheol’s hands slide down your body, slipping beneath your skirt to knead the succulent flesh of your ass. 

“Cheol” you giggle, his lips still on yours even as you speak, “Behave.”

“Mmm, I don’t think I know what that means” he teases, squeezing harder. When he does it grinds you down onto him, something stiff pressing back up against you. 

You release the softest moan, rocking your hips, desperate for more friction. “We should go inside” you say more for yourself than for him. 

Burying his face in your neck, he plants intoxicatingly slow kisses along your skin, your pulse racing beneath his tongue. You arch your back in response, giving him the perfect angle to sneak a hand between your thighs, stroking your increasingly needy pussy through your panties. His cock steels at the realization of how wet you are, the fabric so drenched that he can feel you clenching. 

“You’re right, we should” he mumbles, looping a finger around your panties, his knuckle dragging along your slit, “But you have to get up first, don’t you?”

Your eyes fall closed as you bask in the tingly sensation his actions send rippling up your walls. You hold on tighter to his shoulders, your pillowy tits swelling against his chest. The absence of a bra makes it easy to tell how hard your nipples have gotten and he wishes to god that had enough room to take one onto his mouth, swirling his tongue around it until your eyes roll back. 

“Get up? I can…mmph” you whine as his finger curls into you. One after the other until three of his dexterous fingers are stretching you wide, lazily pumping in and out of your tight hole.

Seungcheol slaps your ass making you jiggle around his fingers. Kissing his way up your chin, he finds your lips again, lapping up every moan you pour out. “Go ahead, baby, get up” he taunts, fingers moving faster, delving so deep into your warmth that he swears he can feel every part of you. 

You bite down on your lip, your moans growing louder the harder you try to keep quiet. At the back of your mind you know you aren’t truly alone. There’s a party going on inside. What if someone else decides to show up and sees you like this? What if one of the guys left something in the car and comes back for it?

A million possibilities flow through your brain but more than that, more than anything else in the world, it's how good this feels. How well Seungcheol knows how to fuck you with his fingers. How hot he looks doing it. He gets off on pleasing you—the arousal soaking his boxers is more than enough evidence of that—and he can never hide how much he loves watching you. His beautiful girl. Dripping and moaning all because of him. All for him. 

“Cheol…” you whisper, your fingers finding his hair, “Want you…inside…”

You can barely speak, already too drunk off his fingers to perfectly articulate what it is that you want, but for Seungcheol it’s enough. You never have to ask him twice. He gives you a few more pumps, harder and rougher than the others, before his drenched fingers pop free, juices dripping down your thighs.

In no mood to be patient, you sit back, hurrying to remove any barriers between you and what you want the most. His cock springs free, the head already wet enough to shine in the glow of the streetlights. It’s pretty enough to make your mouth water. So thick and well defined that you can’t resist running your fingers down it to admire the perfection of it. 

Seungcheol coaxes you into a kiss, his hand around the base of his cock as he guides you up and onto it. He eases you down onto it a little at a time, not wanting to rush the glorious feeling of that first big stretch. When he finally bottoms out you’re left shivering, chills skating up your spine at the fullness. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing, baby” he says, throwing his head back against the head rest.

His fingertips dig into your thighs as you lean into him, rotating your hips to ride his cock at every angle the limited space will allow you to. The car windows begin to fog up from the heat of your bodies, tucking you away in your own little world, and you let yourself get lost in it, forgetting about anything else other than the feeling of Seungcheol throbbing against your walls. 

Resting his palm against your cheek, Seungcheol smooths the pad of his thumb across your lips, delicately petting them. “I love you” he whispers, the emotions welling up inside him threatening to overflow. 

You truly are precious to him. When he heard you crying on the phone earlier he lost it. The thought of anyone hurting you made him see red. All he could think was to protect you no matter what that meant. Looking at you now he can’t bring himself to regret it. It’s not just the way you’re riding him, your pussy hugging him with all of its warmth. It’s the way your beauty shines even in the shadows, his love for you growing with every breath you take. 

Placing your hand on his, you bring his palm to your lips and kiss it. “Love you too, Cheol. Love you so much.”

Your profession lights a fire in him that has his lips crashing into yours, his hips raising to thrust into you, an arm locked around your waist to keep you in position. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, consuming you until there’s nothing else. 

“Cheol, aah, don’t stop” you plead, “So close.” 

Seungcheol hammers into your sweet spot, sending you racing towards your high. Just as your walls begin to tremble he grabs your ass, lifting you up to leave only the tip of his cock pulsing in your core. “Cum for me, baby” he coos, slamming you back down and sending crashing over the edge.

Your juices cascade down his cock, nails digging into his shoulder as your walls cling to him. He cradles you in his arms, slowing his movements, letting you milk him of his own release. He coats your walls so deeply that you know you’ll be spending all night thinking of having him inside of you even when he isn’t and just imagining it is enough to get you hot all over again. 

Keeping you close, he litters your face with kisses, whispering the sweetest praises as your body relaxes into his. You’ve never felt this loved by anyone. Never so safe and cared for. You have every intention to stay in this car as long as you can, finding heaven in the comfort of his arms, and nothing in this world could make him push you away.

[ningtheftauto]

teaship

⤼ winter x f. reader

⤼ as the fifth member of aespa, you see winter looking a little more unlike herself throughout the weeks. with a little research, you figure out what's wrong with her and help her deal with it.

⤼ dub-con, omorashi/holding kink, slight exhibitionism, squirting

⤼ 1.6k words (proofread by friends, blame them for errors)

you noticed something about winter these past few weeks. something that was very subtle, but you couldn’t help to notice.

the first time, you and the rest of the members were sitting in one of the meeting rooms to preview your new comeback. you were all seated at the window end of the table. karina at the tailend, ningning and giselle on the left side, you and winter with her on the far end on the right side. the managers were running a little later than expected. different topics arose as you all talked amongst each other; shopping trips, favorite tour stops, things of such. 

winter chimed in occasionally, but it was mostly just the four of you talking. it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, you understood sometimes people just don’t feel like talking. no big deal, of course, but this was a little different. 

her words were…needy. breathy. she kept dropping her head as if she was hiding her face. you couldn’t help but notice the grip she had on the seat of the chair. it was tight, tight enough that her hands were visibly red. her legs almost tied together from the way she crossed them. you thought something was wrong with the girl, why was she doing such things?

“unnie?” you dipped your head lower to be leveled with hers. 

“huh?” winters’ head rose, her eyes teary, face entirely red, a little sweat beaded on her forehead. 

“are you ok?” you reached for her thigh, just to console her in case. as soon as your hand made contact, she flinched, letting out a short breath. 

“umhum…” 

after that you decided not to bother her anymore and just continue conversing with the other members.  this wasn’t the last time though, seeing her like this. it happened again in other meetings, while you all were out eating, in the studio recording sessions. but one day, you had seen enough. you had to confront her. 

by then, it was time to practice the new choreography. everyone showed up on time and went through the practice. over and over and over and over and over again until finally it was flawless. you and the members still wanted to practice it a bit more alone, so everyone else left. you all sprawled out on the floor after everyone left to finally catch your breath and let out a laugh. a simple utter of the word “coffee” made everyone perk up, but the thought of having to actually go get it made you guys all groan. 

best of three, for two members to go…rock, paper, scissors, shoot!

sore losers ningning and karina had to go on the unfortunate journey of getting coffee, but luckily for you, giselle wanted to tag along anyway. now, it was just you and winter. perfect. you  distracted yourself for a minute, pulling your phone out of your pocket to doomscroll. you had to wait for the perfect time, for her move. 

some few minutes later, you looked in the mirror to see winter moving to the couch. just as you suspected, she crossed her legs. you got up from the floor and move to the opposite end of the couch, not too far from her. now your plan? it was stupid, very stupid…your plan was to get winter into your lap at any expense with any strategy. 

“unnie?” you said with a big smile. 

winter couldn’t help but to smile back at your pretty face, “yes y/n-ie?”

“how do you think i would look with bangs?” your fingers fringed through the front of your hair, folding and manipulating a silhouette of bangs. you turned to face winter with a questionable look. 

she started to crawl over very carefully, getting close to your face to admire the alteration. 

“i think you’d look good!” 

“i thought so too!” your hands still ruffled through your hair as you continued. “i think i might need a scalp treatment first, i can’t really tell…” 

“hmmmm,” winter tried to get a closer look but the angle was too restricting. “i can’t really tell either.” you slapped your hands on your thighs, signaling for her to sit. she was clearly hesitant at first, but with the help of a little pout, she was straddling your lap within a few seconds. 

“head down, please!” you clasped your hands around her back and held your head down just as she instructed. her fingers layered through your hair, scanning your scalp. 

“well, i don’t think you necessarily need a treatment, but if you still want one, get it!” she fixed your hair back to its original style before poking your cheek. “so cute, y/n-ie.”

“unnie?”

“hmm?”

“are you feeling ok these days?”

the sudden change in topic made winter's head tilted in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“well, you seem a little weird some days,” you gave her a half-frown, “is there something wrong?”

“i don’t know exactly what you’re talking about, but i’m fine, cutie!” she placed her hands on your cheeks and squeezed.

you could see right through the lie, it say right there between you two almost. quite, but obviously building up. 

“are you sure?” you took the opportunity to shift her down onto one of your thighs. her breath hitched, face halfway to red already. your hands fell to her thighs. “unnie?”

winter wouldn’t dare to move. the tiniest shift and she knew she would spill all over your lap. 

“i know what you like doing, unnie,” a finger lifted winter’s chin so she was looking directly at you. you’re face inching closer to hers, almost touching. “holding your piss?”

winter was too ashamed to even admit, but she didn’t need to. the look on her face said it all. you didn’t have time to play games, nor did winter. 

“the others will be back soon,” you pulled the girl closer to you, stimulating her more than she would have liked. “you want them to see us like this?” 

“please, don’t tell them.” 

“i won’t,” hand gracing her face and tucking the loose hairs behind her ear. “but, you have to do something for me.” not something winter wanted to hear, but she thought it was better than the other members knowing.

“what?”

“use me.” the only way winter could get out of this was to just do what she was told. it was just a little piss right?

you didn’t wait for her reply. your finger traced the waistband of winter’s sweatpants, dropping inside her panties. so wet from just teasing, a surprise she hadn’t made a mess on you already. 

her hips grinding against your hand. “we can’t do this..”

“we can stop if you want to,” hips still going at a steady pace, not stopping for a split second. “just as i thought. besides, unnie, i think you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” 

assuring groans emitted from the older’s mouth, raspy and needy. she needed this, needed you. her head fell on your shoulder, mouth just near your ear. your fingers grazed her pussy so softly, she couldn’t but to moan louder. it was like music to your ears. you pulled at winter’s shirt with your free hand. 

“take it off, unnie.” not a second to spare, the shirt was on the floor. “this, too.” you pulled down the strap of her bra, letting her handle the rest. 

your tongue made its way to her chest, licking around her stiff nipples. your fingers sped up between her legs, winter getting more sensitive with each stroke. you were going too easy on her. your middle and ring finger plunged into her hole, pounding away. poor thing was about to collapse from the pleasure. 

“i can’t take it…” looking at her face revealed the tears dripping from her eyes. 

“you can,” fingers now pounding at an impossible rate, “you will, unnie.” as soon as those words left your mouth, winter grasped your wrist to stop you. 

“i really can’t, y/n-ie…” 

you flashed a fake pout towards the girl, only to shift her position towards the vast mirror in front of you both. her legs clasped together, trying to avert any accidents. without a word, you once again hurried your hand down her pants, forcing her legs open and plunging your fingers into her ruined hole. 

“take it or i’ll tell the others,” your hand gripped her hair, ear more leveled with your mouth, “how much you love holding your piss,” your teeth nipped at her earlobe, “and how much you loved letting me take care of it.” 

winter really couldn’t take it anymore. your words, your fingers, all too much together. her moans were loud enough for anyone on the same floor as you to hear. there was no use in shutting her up, she looked too good. looking in the mirror, her mouth gaped open, chest heaving as fast as it could, such a pretty girl. too overwhelmed, the girl finally let go. you felt it squirting all over your palm, not stopping your motions even for a second. you watch as the middle of her pants grew darker, feeling the warmth flood through your own pants.  winter tried to close her legs, but you forced her to keep them open. 

“such a good puppy.” the name made her clench around you. 

“y/n-ie…” without giving you a chance to answer, she embraced your lips with hers. mouths moving in sync as your tongues locked. fingers still vigorously pounding the mess between her legs, making winter whimper ever so often. you broke the kiss first just to admire the scene.

winter was too caught up to realize how much time had passed. as did you almost, until you heard the faintest of familiar giggles. 

“i guess i don’t have to tell them after all,” you placed a kiss on her neck, stopping the motion it your fingers, “they’re already here.” the door swung open and all eyes drew to winter, now half naked and certainly embarrassed.

[mayahawkesfirstwife]

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

Drunk

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

Pairings: Kang Sae-Byeok x Fem! Reader

Summary: Your sober girlfriend takes you (her drunk girlfriend) home.

Warnings: Drinking, etc.

Author Note: Sorry if theres any spelling mistakes or anything like that, just a quick little cute story.

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

You were at a house party with all your close friends and some other mutual friends, you and Sae-byeok had been there for about 3 hours now and you were wasted.

“Come on, babe. That’s enough, let’s go.” Your girlfriend, Sae-byeok was trying to grab your cup filled with your drink.

“But, baby, one more?” You pout, grabbing her jacket.

You give her the eyes and she chuckles, “No. Those eyes aren’t going to work this time. You had enough, mhm?”

You continue to pout up at her, pulling her closer by her jacket. “Sae…”

“Come on, let’s go tell everyone bye. I’m taking you home.” She grabs your hand and sets the drink down, she pulls you to walk in front of her.

She holds your hip as you walk over to Ji-Yeong and Gi-hun.

“We’re about to head out.” Sae-byeok says.

“Aww, alright, see you guys.” Ji-Yeong says, “Bye guys.” Gi-hun said.

“Bye guys!” You exclaim, pulling them both into a hug at the same time.

They look up at Sae-byeok and she shook her head with a laugh.

“I love you guys!” You slur and then you pull back and kiss Ji-Yeong on the cheek.

“I’ll miss you!” You frown, she giggles. “You’re not driving are you?” She asks.

“Oh, i’m drivin’!” You giggle, holding the keys up in your fingers and their eyes widen.

“No, you’re not.” Sae bye-ok says as she grabs the keys from your hand.

You scoff, “Have you been drinking?” Gi-hun asks and Sae-byeok puts her hands up in defense.

“I’m sober, I had no drinks.”

“Okay, good. Drive safe, bye.” Gi-hun says and you lean back into your girlfriend with a hum.

“Alright, let’s go babe.” She grabs your hip and guides you out of the house.

You get outside and she unlocks the car with the keys and opens the passenger door and helps you inside.

You look up at her with a smile, “Pretty.” You rub her face as she puts your seat belt on for you.

“Thank you.” She said, you giggled.

She kisses your cheek and shuts the door, going around and getting in the front seat.

She starts up the car and adjusts the mirror before pulling out.

She was driving with one hand, the other was messing with the radio for a bit before it rested on the console.

You grab it with both your hands and kiss it. “I love you, baby.” You hum.

“I love you too.” She smiles as she glances at you.

You slump over slowly as you fell asleep on the console, still holding her hand.

You got to your shared apartment and she got out and went around to help you out.

You groan when she got you out of the car, you walk toward the door and when you got closer she was fiddling with the keys and you stumble forward.

“Woah!” She grips your hips, holding you still. “Careful, baby.” She guides you to the door and lets you lean on the wall beside it as she unlocks the door.

She opens it and helps you inside, she tosses the keys on the table beside the door and locks it as you hold the wall to stay still.

She helps you to your room and sits you on the bed, you whine and lay back.

She lets out a sigh before taking off her own jacket and shoes.

She looks over at you, drifting to sleep. She kneels down and takes off your high heels, setting them down on the floor carefully.

She got up and went to her dresser and pulled out a T-shirt of hers.

You hum as she lightly pulls your skirt off and then your skimpy top.

She puts the T-shirt on you and pulls the covers over you, she kissed your forehead.

She smiles and takes off her pants before laying down with you and pulling you closer to her.

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

[tmwcs]

Little Red Riding Hood - Finale.

Pairings: Jake and fem!y/n

Warnings: Werewolf Jake (should already tell you). Knotting, noncon/subcon smut, cnc (both rough and light), oral (fem receiving), smut, breeding kink, detailed smut, hints of murder, kidnapping yandere love.

Authors note: here we go part two (finale) of RRH. Again this is not proofread but I don’t think that matters. Enjoy!

Taglist: @strxwbloody @nshmrarki @aquariushiiiii @addictedtohobi @nuriicata @lilyuwon

You dropped the picture and quickly made your way back to the car. The driver was still nowhere in sight, which may have been in your favor considering the evidence discovered. You quickly turn the car around, figuring the best and quickest way to notify the authorities was to head back. Pulling up, you park the car in the driveway and rush inside. You picked up the phone and dialed the police, but the line was silent. You frantically dialed a series of numbers before slamming the phone back down. You rushed to the nearest neighbor and knocked on the door and carried over to the windows once you realized that no one was home. House to house, you knocked on every door in sight and still, no one was around–the entire neighborhood was empty. The moment seized you as you realized you were all alone. Discomfort rid you of all your calmness and you run back inside your grandmother's house, praying that she would return any second. You went up the stairs and tried the telephone in the master bedroom, but the line remained dead. “Shit!”

Your tenacity takes over as you continue to try dialing a series of phone numbers hoping that one of them would go through. Just as you were re-dialing your parents home phone, a creak from behind bolts a shiver down your spine. The door behind was opening. Your breaths begin to shutter as the realization hit that you were not alone inside the house. You froze—unable to turn as the rhythm of fear and anxiety stills you. You couldn’t even say a word or scream at this point.

You remained still. Too frightened to even be curious as to who was behind staring at you. “G-grandma?” You trembled, hoping to high hopes that you would get a response in her voice.

Slowly, you pivot on the heel of your foot and simultaneously lower the phone as you come face to face with the man across the room. Somehow, you were in disbelief even with him staring directly at you. Tears begin to form as you feel all sense of hopelessness. You frown hysterically as you watched a smirk appear on that handsome face. “J-Jake?—Wha-what are you doing here?”

A thousand questions riddle in your brain. A few teardrops turned into a river flow of sobs as you bestowed a pleading countenance. The blood curdling scream didn’t escape past your pursed lips until you dropped the phone, which is when he decided to strike at you. His movements were fast—too fast. He moved like a flash of light. Despite his rough handling, you got the hint that he didn’t have any intentions in hurting you—at least not that you could see for now. He shoved you over the old console table that was stationed in front of the large floor mirror propped in the corner of the room. “My poor girl. He gave you such a hard time, didn’t he?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion as he pinned your toned against the flat surface of the table. You turn your head to look back, expressing your bewildered state. You couldn’t even speak. The smile that permanently etched his face caught you off guard as he grinds his pelvis against your rear end. “Don’t worry. Daddy took care of him.”

You panic as you hear his words echo against the bedroom walls. Immediately, you realize his unlawful intentions as he shoves himself against you, reaching around touching you. “S-stop!”

He chuckles at your demand and sucks in your neck. “Tasty. You smell good too.” His leathered gloved hands trail upward and tugs on your dress, ripping it with ease. “Stop! Don’t!”

Reaching around your face, he cups your jaw and turns your face towards his. “You don’t really want me to stop, do you?”

Whether it was that smooth voice or his handsome gaze, somehow you lost your composure to express your displeasure. You froze, and so did your voice. He chuckles once more before sealing your lips in a deep and tender kiss. Breaking contact, his skin brushes against you as he whispers, “nah, didn’t think so.”

The tearing of whatever remained from your dress had you crying, yet his touch and kisses made you moan. You were conflicted between fear, despair, and pleasure. The more he kept doing, the more it had put you in turmoil. Especially when he kept huffing under his breath, telling you things that made your mind travel in circles.

Fuck, you smell so good. Your skin is so smooth. You’re mine. All fucking mine.

By the time he had you completely stripped, with only the small bit of tatters loosely draping your body, you caved in. The way his fingers moved and delicately tapped against your clit made you see stars. He was so good at it, no one could possibly blame you for how you reacted. “Yeah, baby? You fucking like that, hmm? Want me to eat you?” He whispers vigorously against your ear, further causing you to spiral downhill. “My pretty Red Riding Hood…let me take care of you. Fuck. Let me own you.”

Keeping his palm flat against your lower back, he presses down and stabilizes you. You remained still, knowing by his grip and aura that any movement would only result in chaos. Also, you found yourself not wanting to admit it, but you didn’t want to. With the way the tip of his nose trails down your spine and along the curve of your derrière, you found yourself craving more. The moment his nose grazed over your plush lips and exposed clit, your fingernails dig into the table. Your moans grow louder as he presses your cheeks together, keeping your thighs closed before he starts flickering his tongue at your womanhood. “Mmph! Stop! Fuck! Please stop!” You help out. Pleasure hits you like a bolt of lightning as you remain in denial. He doesn’t entertain in responding, instead he continues to emit long strokes of his tongue. The flat surface completely wipes you clean of your juices as he slowly licks from top to bottom, finishing off each swipe with the tip of it playfully digging into your nub. He did it so tenderly and smoothly, it was painful. “P-please!” You help as you slam your hands against the wood surface, yearning for more as he edges you on. The moment that caused your eyes to roll back was when he shoved his nose and mouth against the warm center and snarls. Chuckling deeply against your vulnerable spot made you feel things you never knew existed. “Oh! Oh my God! What are you doing to me—“

He chuckles once more, this time it nearly made you lose balance as your legs trembled. You found it hard to stand even with the support of the table under you. “Please—“

He snarls against your clit once more. “Yeah pretty girl?” His tongue pelts against your clit numerous times. In between he whispers in that accent of his. “Tell me you’ll be mine. Tell me you’ll be loyal.” He finishes off each demand with a squeezing kiss on your wet clit. Your breath hitches as you choke out each moan. “Hmm?” He mumbles while sucking on to your womanhood. Giving in, you nod hysterically as the tear drops fall before you, decorating the mahogany finish.

The sound of his belt unbuckling, his zipper coming undone, and his shirt being discarded had your heartbeat come to a pause. Half naked, his trousers loosely remain on as he brings out the gift of his build. You didn’t see it, even looking at the mirror in front. But the way he dragged it against the lining of your vaginal opening made you well aware that he was large. The tip alone was wider than your wrist. You shivered under his palm as you felt him breaching your entry. “Shh-sh-sh-shh.”

His shushing does nothing to clam you. The second he pokes in, you squirmed with regret. You shout out of how you changed your mind and that you wanted him to stop, but he pays no mind and keeps entering. The friction alone was enough to cause you to faint, but when he found himself half way in he scoffs. “Almost there.”

Your eyes enlarge. How could he still have more length to push in? There was no way you would be able to survive, he was already so deep. You try to push back and do everything you could to escape, but it was no use. With him hunched over your backside, pinning your wrists to the table, he coos you by whispering into your ear as you were forced to take in inch after inch. Finally, with the tip felt in the deepest part of you, he calmly stroked your hair as he guides you to breathe. You pant under the pressure of being stretched and torn open, yet he continues to be calm despite how tight your walls hugged him. “Breathe baby, breathe. That’s it. Aww…that’s my girl.”

You do exactly as he instructed, feeling some sort of relief as he begins to pull out. Yet when he has all but the tip nestled inside you, he jams it back in mercilessly. You scream out as your head jolts up. He keeps you steady as he pinches his grip against your waist and holds you in place as he makes you take in every single thrust. His hips move back and forth, stalling into you. Skin on skin, the slapping movements echo in the room, doing something to your mind as the thought of him doing the most unspeakable matches with the rhythm. It sends a tingle to your core and before you know it, your body responds by aiding him in his resolve. “Yeah that’s it. Get wet for me baby. Makes it easier for me to fuck you.”

He goes in deeper with each thrust, punching a soft spot that causes you to gush. It coats his lengthy muscle, making it more slick as he finds it easier to fuck into you. You pant and moan in satisfaction, yearning for more as he shoved the combined efforts of sweat and squalene back inside you, mixed with his precum. His pace picks up faster and faster, when suddenly he pauses as he buries his cock deep inside. You look up in the mirror, shaking and pitifully murmuring out with a pleading tone. “P-please…not inside…”

His eyes shift from admiring your derrière to staring back at you through the mirror. He laughs handsomely as he notes how beautiful you look in your disheveled state, all within his grasp. “That’s not how this works, pretty girl. I told you…”

He stretches his neck from left to right, squinting his eyes shut as he expresses relief. “You’re mine.” His voice became deeper. His grip becomes tighter. There was shallow wind breezing through yet the windows remained closed. The curtain was open, revealing a full moon that shined against your skin. Dripping from his mouth, large amount of drool stains your backside as you watched through the mirror. Something unruly was happening. Something abominable.

You tried to move away and release yourself from his grasp but the pain of his claws digging into you restrains you. They grew longer and his hair grew shaggy. His face morphs into something unreal as you watched in horror of the final product. He was jet black all around with ears that resembled the devil's horns. They were propped and sitting atop his large head, which resembled a wolf. His stature maintained a humanoid structure, defined by lean muscles and a combination of soft fur and smooth skin. You wiggle in pain as you feel his throbbing member swelling inside you. “Ah! Stop! Let go! What’s happening!?”

A clawed hand shoots up and around, covering your mouth. He suppresses your screams as he begins thrusting. This time, he truly was tearing into you as the shaft became terribly swollen and thick. His tip was even thicker. He picks up the pace and hits your spot multiple times, and your body betrays you once more as you felt yourself gaining pleasure mixed with pain each time he pushes into you. Your screams become prolonged moans as you watched the creature pelt into you from behind through the grand mirror. His eyes never breaking eye contact with you.

He keeps going, compelled to destroy your walls as he squelches his massive length inside. You reach up and pitifully latch onto the monstrous hand that covers your moans. He keeps his hold, gaining leverage as he forces you to raise your head, arch your back, and prop your perky rear in the air—allowing him more access to breed you. You find yourself conflicted once more as the feeling of getting fucked into oblivion takes over and eradicates your better judgement. This monster—this creature…it’s not human. Nothing about him is. Yet you found yourself wanting him to keep going and to do more. You wanted him to do it over and over again.

Watching the creature thrusting into you with the thought of him giving it to you forever sent a burning sense of desire in your core. Your nerves heat up and your muscles tightened. Your womanhood becomes more lubricated each time he thrusts inside and suddenly you yelp out a high pitched moan into his palm as you feel yourself coming undone. With your walls pulsating against his cock, he picks up the pace and goes even faster. The sound of his inhuman form slapping against you only made things more intense as you felt yourself creaming around his circumference. At the very bitter end of your orgasm, you hazily watched under half closed lids as the monster buries himself deep inside you one final time and howls at the full moon. He was cumming inside you.

Panting ferociously with animalistic tendencies, he loosens his stance and leans over you, resting his weight against your backside. He was heavy and dense, but he made sure to not completely release his massive size on you, avoiding breaking your spine. He growls and pants against your ear. Despite being so primitive, his clawed hands cradle over yours as he sniffs and licks your ear. You shutter at the act as it felt no different than a dog. Still, his humanness shows through as he rubs his thumbs over the back of each hand, comforting you. You attempted to move but found yourself stuck. You’re not sure if you were entirely confused, pleased, or mortified, or maybe all of the above. He was swollen and stuck inside you. You couldn’t pull him away.

You realized that the act of breeding-tie was being conducted as his cock continued to deep out his cum deep inside you, swelling itself to remain in to ensure successful breeding. Perhaps it was giving up the fight, but realizing what he was doing didn’t cause you to cry or become mortified. Instead, you laid calmly and continued to take on the beast's pants against your skin. Is this what giving up felt like?

The breeding tie lasted for hours. Finally, after he had returned to his human form, the beast—or rather, Jake, took his clothes and quickly dressed himself. He took your grandmother's sheet and adorned you as if you were a goddess. With inhuman strength, he carried your limp body and stowed you in the backseat of his car. You heard the doors secure as he starts the ignition. You were so tired and lifeless—so work out from the unspeakable act carried out earlier, you didn’t have the energy to even speak. All you could do was look up and watch through the window, the glorious full moon peering form the night sky as he drives off. Occasionally, he reached behind his seat, gently caressing your face. With a soft chuckle, he would whisper “all mine.”

……..

“Where are you going sweetheart?”

You snap your head back, flashing a subtle smile. “Hm? Oh–i’m just going to this interview about the job at the local library. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

Your dad raises a brow and takes a side glance over at the clock. “This late?”

“Mmhmm.” you respond as you slip on your shoe. “The interviewers gave out time slots, mine is at 4 pm.”

Your dad sighs. Reaching into his pocket, you hear the jingling of the key ring as he tosses them your way. “Take my car.”

You chuckle aloud. “Dad, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to worry about parking.” You attempt to return the keys back, but his insisting tone becomes more assertive as he explains about the recent happenings circulating the media reports. “Take my car–the library is ten miles out. I don't want you taking an uber either.” he looks at you sternly as he pushes your hand away, prohibiting you from giving back the key ring. “You know they still haven’t found that girl, right? The one who disappeared on her way to her grandmother’s house.”

You nod in response. “Yeah I know.”

He gingerly cups your cheek and softens his tone. “Take my car, it will put my mind at ease.”

You smile and nod. “Okay. thank you daddy.”

He wishes you luck as you exit the door. You set the address in the gps and maneuvered out of the long driveway and headed towards the main road, when suddenly your gps pops a notification, alerting you of traffic congesting the main road. Seeing that it would cause a delay, you decided to not risk missing out on the interview. You accept the recommended shortcut and follow the path which takes you on the backroad. Taking it easy, you maintain moderate speed. The overcrowding bush of trees surrounding the road accentuated the narrowness of the road, causing a slight sensation of uneasiness in your chest. At first you figured that you’d soon pierce through to the other side of town, when a heavy fog sets, thick enough to blot out the sunlight. You kept up with the route, figuring it would be best to turn around. Yet the absence of alternative pathways prevented you from doing so. The road became too small for you to do a u-turn without the risk of backing into the ditch that railed both sides of the route. Sticking to the route, you hoped that you would see light, or some other form of manmade feature. However, the deeper you went in, the more you felt yourself going away from modern civilization. There was no farmland, no street lights, buildings or houses–not even a single street sign.

The beeping from the dashboard notifies you of low gas. “Shit!” you whisper under your breath. You could have sworn that the tank was half full when you pulled out of the driveway. Checking your phone, you also noticed that your battery was at low percentage–too low. “What the hell?”

Strange, considering you were sure that the bar read at least forty percent when you left the house. You start to panic as you push through, when finally you see some lighting at a distance. “Oh my God! Finally.”

You pull up at the grand estate. The iron fence was tall and elegantly decorated by the blushing rose vine that was in full bloom. Fortunately the fence remained partially opened– looked to be by accident. Normally you knew better than to trespass so rudely, however, given the circumstance, this constituted an emergency. With no gas and a phone on the verge of dying, you needed help. Perhaps the owners would be understanding.

Your breath pauses as you pull further in and notice the enormous structure of the estate. It could hardly be called a mansion, considering that it resembled the palace of Versailles–both in size and aesthetic appeal. The gardens surrounding were well kept and the statues were pristine. “Wow…” you breathed out as you drove the car up to the front.

You walk up to the large entrance. Could someone possibly live here? You hoped that someone was inside, considering that this looked to be more of an establishment versus a home. The dim lighting gleaming through one of the windows up on what appeared to be the third floor gave you some hope. There wasn’t a doorbell, so you hoped that it was too intruding for using the heavy iron door knocker. It was large, and quite heavy, but you managed to admit three knocks as quietly and gently as possible. A few minutes went by and you wondered if it would be rude to admit three more, when suddenly the latch on the door begins to turn and the clicking sparks your relief.

You watch as the door opens and reveals an older gentleman, dressed elegantly in a suit with no jacket. Just a silk vest with a white button up paired with well pressed trousers. His shoes were of fine leather and shined without any blemish, and his hair neatly combed. “May I help you?”

You gulped at the tranquil tempo of his words as he spoke in a calm voice. “Um yes–I’m sorry to bother but I was wondering if you had a telephone I may use? My car ran out of gas and my phone is out of battery. I also seem to be lost.”

The gentleman, who appeared to be a butler of the estate, raised a brow as he darted his eyes between you and the car. “How did you manage to get here? You must be so far from home.” he questions, developing a concerned look as he waits for you to answer. You were confused, seeing as how you were only on the road for about twenty minutes, not at all too far from your parents house. “No, I live in town. I took a shortcut due to traffic.”

The elder man nodded. “I see.” He lets you in, and paves the way with his steady hand as he displays such courteous manners of respect and elegance. “Come in, please. I’m afraid we do not have a telephone, but you may stay a while to charge your cell-u-lar phone.”

It was no guess as to why this house wouldn’t have a telephone. At first it confused you, yet by the way he nearly spelled out the word “cellular”. If the owners were anything like this man, they were farther away from modernization than you could imagine. At least you were smart enough to have a charger and charging block with you. “Thank you.” you respond.

“Come with me, I’ll take you to a room where you can unwind and charge your phone. I’ll have madam bring you some tea.”

You thank the man. You felt overwhelmed by the sensational service he was providing, considering you weren’t an official guest. Following close by, you admired the grand features of the home. It was incredible. The architecture design was heavy on the traditional European taste, expressing the delicacy of mirrors, gold trimmings, crystal chandeliers, and arched hallways. The floor was made of glossy tile that was adorned by a fresh velvet rug that trailed the entire length of each area. You wanted to inquire more about the place but figured it would be too impeding since you were already intruding unannounced.

He halts abruptly, causing you to nearly bump into him. You were about to ask if everything was alright considering you both stood in the middle of the hallway. “Before we venture further, I must ask you to be as quiet as you can. My master is taking his nap, he must not be woken up. He gets…cranky.”

You chuckle softly, assuming the butler was referring to a child. “I understand. I know how children can be.” you spoke out presumptuously. The butler merely nodded and continued to lead you to a study. It was beautifully lavished with dark mahogany and velvet green accents with leather furnishings. A balcony presented black french doors that remained open to let the warm breeze in. “Wow…” you breathed out.

“There are outlets on each wall, you may use any one you like. Please have a seat and make yourself comfortable, madam will be in with some tea for you. Is there anything else you may need?”

You shake your head. “Oh no–thank you! You’re very nice. I will be fine, as soon as I am able to get a hold of my father I’ll be leaving. I am so sorry to bother you.” He remarks your gratitude with a small smirk. “It is not bothersome at all. It’s been many years since this household has received any guests, your presence is most welcome. Please let me know if there is anything else I can assist you with, and please remember…” he gently opens the door and looks back “about my master.”

You nod and assure that you will refrain from making any noise, and watch as the butler takes his leave.

Your phone starts to charge and you take a moment to look around the study. It was huge. Larger than most living rooms that you would find in common households, or even luxury ones. No doubt about it, this building puts the lifestyle of the rich and famous to shame. As you admired the beautiful wall trimming, you noticed a portrait on the next wall, mounted near the corner and across the magnificent desk. The large photo caught your eye as you closely admire the handsome man featured. Dressed well with beautiful auburn hair, his asiatic features stare deep into your soul as you breathe out. You’re not sure if you ever saw someone more attractive in your life. Since it was only a portrait, you wondered the effect this man would have had you met him in person, considering the photo alone was enough to make you weak in the knees.

You become lost in translation as you continue to stare at the framed piece when suddenly your phone rings loudly. “Shit!” you panicked as you raced across the room to shut off the ringing feature, completely forgetting that it was not on vibrate. It was your father calling. Afraid that the noise of your ringtone had awakened the baby, you answered and spoke quietly into the phone, cautiously looking at the door in hopes that the butler wouldn’t return upset over you waking his “master”.

“Hello? Daddy?” you answer and speak as quietly as you could, partially whispering as you cup around your mouth. Nothing but static on the other end. You peel your face away and look at the screen, only to find that there was no service. There was also no wifi. Great.

The visit to this luxury estate was a waste of time, and you tried to figure out the next step. Perhaps the butler has gas in one of the vehicles? Or maybe he can give you a ride to town?

You played around with your phone, waiting for the butler to return and seeking out a resolve to this predicament, when suddenly the corner of your eye catches on to something bright. It was warm and lightened the entire room. “What….what's that?” your tone expressed an enchanted curiosity as you leaned head in first, taking in the sight of a pedestal table with a large glass bell jar stationed at the center. It looked like a rose. The petals were made of fine crystal, appearing almost like large diamonds as they reflect a blush pink color, while the stem was made of pure gold and piqued its appeal. It dazzled, despite having no outside light to aid its glow.

Distracted by the lonesome ornament, you stood in awe. The bedazzling item had you in a hypnotic state that you remained unaware of the horned beast that lurked from the dark corner, admiring your gaze and posture. Another pretty treasure for him to keep inside a bell jar, or so it would appear. But this story will have to wait, for it is a tale as old as time…

Next Series Click Here

[landosjpg]

silk and wine | ln

the one where your boyfriend can’t wait to get to the bedroom.

lando norris x fem!reader

word count: ~1.2k

warnings: smut so MINORS DNI, pwp, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do this), mirror sex, soft-dom!lando, a little bit of humiliation and a little bit of praise, a spank or two, slight chocking, (tell me if i’m forgetting anything)

note: based on this request. this had me screaming and crying because what does he need all those mirrors for!!!! also reminder that my requests are open if you’d like to send something!

his hands were on you the second the elevator’s doors closed, your back against the wall as he kissed you like he was starving.

you and your boyfriend had gone out for dinner with some friends; his hand already glued to your thigh during the few hours that you two were our.

damn, the dress you wore made him want to strip you out of it. he even suggested cancelling your plans and staying at home. it would be so much fun, he said.

you could already tell that his breath was heavier on your way back to your apartment, his hand squeezing your thigh; so it didn’t come as a surprise when he grabbed your ass and moaned into the kiss, pressing his body against yours.

“lando,” you whispered against his lips, scared that someone would walk in as soon as the doors opened again.

he didn’t seem to care, though, dragging you down the hallway with his lips still on yours, hands grabbing at anything he could.

he clumsily opened the door, hands slightly shaky and in need of more of you. he didn’t even give you time to get your jacket off before he was pushing you against the hall’s console table; blindly, he pushed the candles and all the other decorations aside to make room to lift you up so he could get in between your legs while his tongue kept fighting yours.

“need you so bad,” he panted, his lips going down to your jaw and pressing wet kisses to your skin, making your breath get heavier. “been thinking about ripping this little dress off you all night.”

a pathetic whine left your lips when he sucked on your skin, surely leaving a mark for the very next morning.

“please,” you begged, nothing turning you on more than knowing how bad he wanted you.

“so needy already, baby?” he chuckled against your neck, his hands going up your thighs and pulling your dress up until they found home in your ass again.

“‘m not,” you mumbled, your voice revealing the effect his hard-on pressed against your thigh had, despite of your words.

at your bravery, lando looked back at you with a devilish smirk and his eyebrows up.

“is that so?” he asked, mockingly. then, he tapped your thigh twice and added: “turn around for me.”

you did as he asked, slowly, and as soon as you met your reflection in the mirror on top of the table, you knew what was going through his mind. and fuck, was it hot.

“not needy, hm?” his voice was now low as he traced up your thigh, pulling your dress up to pool at your hips.

you nodded.

“let’s see how long it takes you to ask for my cock,” he murmured as his fingers traced the edges of your underwear teasingly. “want you to see how pathetic you look when you beg me to fuck you.”

you yelped when he pulled your underwear down to your knees and his thumb quickly found your clit, circling it slowly. with his free hand, he held your chin in place so yo were looking directly into the mirror.

you watched as he kept touching you slowly, his fingers sliding down to your folds and spreading your wetness before poking at your entrance.

“lando,” you whimpered, your eyes closing at the feeling of two of his digits sliding inside your pussy.

“eyes open,” he ordered, voice low and demanding. you complied, the hand that was in your face coming down to wrap around your throat.

he squeezed gently as he scissored his fingers at a torturous slow pace, making you try to grind down on his hand, silently asking for more.

with a devilish smirk, he looked at you over the mirror and instead, started to thrust his fingers in and out of you even at a slower pace, stealing a whine from your lips.

“please,” you panted, your eyes getting watery at the denial of more stimulation.

“please what, baby?” he asked, a mocking pout on his lips. “are you going to cry, hm?”

you could only answer by grinding your hand down on his palm with a whine, looking for that extra friction that he kept denying you.

“nuh huh,” he withdrew his fingers from you, a cry leaving your lips as you watched your reflection in the mirror.

you were a mess, the tears forming in your eyes and the desperation on your face for him to finally fill you with his cock making you look definitely pathetic.

“come on, love,” he cooed, his hands slowly unbuckling his belt to pull his suit pants down. you pushed your hips back, once again, looking for some friction. “use your words.”

his command came with a sharp slap to the meat of your thigh as he kept undressing himself, the impact making you moan again.

“need you to fuck me,” you finally pleaded, your voice shaky and unsteady, unable to hide your desperation.

“good girl,” he mumbled, pushing you slightly forward and positioning your legs and arms to his liking. “look at you, so pretty all for me,” he added, forcing you to look into the mirror once again as he slid his cock between your folds.

one of his hands found your throat again, the other one gripping your hip as he pushed inside you, filling you completely in one swift movement.

he barely even gave you time to adjust to his size before he was thrusting into you at a relentless pace.

he felt so good you couldn’t control the volume of your sounds, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts; and every time he caught you trying to close your eyes, his fingers squeezed around your throat, reminding you to keep looking.

“‘m close,” you managed to pant in between loud cries, your legs already starting to shake.

“i know, baby,” lando answered, feeling your pussy clenching around him so tightly that he would cum at any given second too. “let go for me.”

his words triggered your orgasm, your walls drawing his cock further inside you and causing him to fill you up with his cum only a few seconds later.

he leaned closer to you and rested his forehead on your shoulder as the both of you tried to catch your breath back.

“you did so good, baby,” he whispered, kissing your skin softly before wrapping his arms around your waist.

you pressed your back against his chest, one of your hands reaching for his cheek and softly caressing him as you looked at the both of you in the mirror, a tired smile on your lips.

“so you like the dress?” you chuckled.

“mhm,” lando hummed, his nose brushing against the crook of your neck softly. “still want to rip it off you,” he added.

at his words, you slowly turned around to face him, arms wrapping around his neck. your lips found his again in a heated kiss and soon his hands were already looking for the zipper, guiding you to the bedroom to have you all for himself one more time that night.

[moodymisty]

Author's note: Sorry. Summary: VEGA often inserts itself where it doesn't belong, and unfortunately chooses to do so during a particularly private moment in a less than private location. Relationships: Doom Slayer/Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW, Choking, Rough sex, Bruises, Creampie, Voyeurism (does an ai count??) Ao3 mirror

VEGA, despite being an omnipotent sort of presence aboard the ship, would keep quiet and to itself when observing things benign. You had rightfully assumed it could see everywhere given its integration with the entirety of the ship, but in most private matters, it trended to keep its digital nose out of business.

A fact greatly appreciated by you, as there were some things you would greatly prefer not commented on. Adjustment had made it easier to forget that there was something always watching, but every now and again, VEGA would remind you that indeed- it was always there.

Despite best efforts however, VEGA did still every so often interject itself where it didn’t belong. Usually it was just inconvenient or annoying; Commenting on an odd mannerism or interrupting silence with random tidbits of information that it deemed useful in some way. At most mildly irritating.

This time, you wanted to find where ever VEGA’s core now was and rip it out yourself before chucking it into nothingness. Even as you were half coherent, the metal of the console’s edge digging into your stomach as your trousers cinched around your knees, you could still visualize the palpable feeling of joy you'd get from throwing it's little robotic heart out into the cold harsh vacuum of space and shutting it the fuck up.

You didn’t need pointless observations and warnings and God forbid concerns about your own welfare when you were busy getting sent on a one way express trip to fucking Mars, courtesy of the Slayer.

You hadn’t expected it, but once the Slayer starts something oftentimes he’s more freight train than man; There isn’t any hope of stopping him. If he wanted to have you over the console just meters away from the teleporter he only just emerged from, high off of enough adrenaline to take down a large animal, that was how it was going to be. You weren't going to complain.

It wasn't as if there was anyone here but you to see or hear the rhythmic slapping sound of skin on metal and leather.

At least not anyone alive.

“She has a significantly smaller stature than you. You should refrain from using so much of your strength, especially while in the Praetor Suit, you might injure her.”

Injure yes, you just know your body is going to be covered in bruises. It usually was, but you know this batch will be worse. They'll probably ache for days as you attempt to function as normal, and each time you'll remember this moment.

Despite the slightly embarrassing but overall just annoying AI voice you elect to ignore it, palms pressing against the table and attempting to hold yourself up against what can only be described as an veritable onslaught.

Every thrust of his hips you want to fall forward, body limp and pliable. He had a way of taking the wind right out of you- of making you malleable to him. He manages to fuck you so quick it has your eyes watering, and being so rough the sounds of your skin against his armor is loud enough to echo. You don’t know if it’s his nearly inhuman nature that makes him able to pull himself almost entirely out, where you can feel the head of his cock just about to slip out, before driving back to the hilt in moments; Or if perhaps you’re simply losing the higher brain functioning that helps you feel time passing.

The Slayer rams himself into you particularly deep, battering his hips against your ass as you cry out. He's unfathomably deep and the awkward way your hips are posed and spine is curved let's him shove his cock in enough to fear bruising parts of you untouched before this. You feel a pressure in your hips, tight from being filled to your limit.

“Injury is inevitable if you do not stop.”

That isn't going to happen anytime soon. You don't think the Slayer is even listening at this point, and you don't mind being his personal toy for a bit.

Hayden would've called you his personal whore, but the last time he said that it got his mechanical ghost walled off to a distant part of the ship. The Slayer had been less than pleased by his insult, even if you didn't mind per say. It was only really insulting because of Hayden's pissant attitude.

One of his thick, armored hand wraps around the front of your neck, pulling your body against his chest as the armor of his forearm presses against your collarbone. It feels amazing, your blood thumps in your ears over the sound of slapping skin and muffled feral grunting, as his fingers tighten. His other hand stays on your waist, holding you upright. He can't go as fast with you pinned against his chest, but it's far from a concern. One of your hands reaches up to grab at his forearm, fingers clamoring for purchase and support on the seams and scratches of his armor. Your cunt clenches around him as the air in your lungs stagnates; The feeling of him having your life in his hand is intoxicating.

“She is going to lose oxygen to her brain. If you don’t stop she could lose consciousness.”

He doesn’t listen to VEGA's warning, and only when you really start to writhe do you finally feel his grip relax and let you take a full breath. His arm still stays around you however, keeping you pressed against him while his massive gauntlet lays around your neck just tight enough to be delightfully uncomfortable. You can feel how wet your upper thighs are, sliding against each other as your cunt is rendered a sloppy mess.

“Shut it up, please just shut it up,”

The Slayer however doesn’t seem to care, as you hear the soft reverb of panting from his helmet- like a dog in a kennel.

Different feelings tend to come to mind for you whenever demons or otherwise refer to him as the Beast.

“I only seek the safety of all life forms with permission to be aboard this vessel. You are at risk of injuring yourself if you continue this recklessly.”

You can barely manage to get out the words, sentence chopped apart as the Slayer slams his hips against your ass. Sitting down is probably going to be difficult in your near future. All worth it for the feeling of his cock stretching you to the max and dragging against every little bundle of nerves inside of you that makes you jolt and shiver.

“Vega, shut, up and go, the hell away.”

The AI gives an immediate response to your demand; Disorienting, the way it's voice is so neutral while responding to you as the Slayer continues to cram his cock all the way to the base inside your ill-prepared hole.

“I am programmed to only take those sorts of orders from The Slayer and Dr.Hayden unless authorized otherwise.”

You groan in defeat, only for it to get cut off and changed into a squeal as you feel his cock rub against a particular bundle of nerves that makes your toes curl in your shoes and knees almost buckle. Your stomach is like a vice grip, you're so close your clit is throbbing and your hands desperately grasp for something to hold onto and ground yourself with.

He hits it again, and again, and before long you're clenching around his cock and attempting to milk it for all it's worth as you finish. Your teeth grind as your body tightens, though the Slayer continues to fuck you through it all like a ruthless machine as he chases his own. The feeling of your tight cunt spasming around him as you cum is eventually does him in, and you feel the stutter of his hips losing pace in that final stretch before he stills with himself buried as deep as he can in you. The groan he lets out as he spills inside of you makes your gut feel like it's made of lead, the bruising grip of his hand on your hip aching as cum leaks down your thighs. You swear you can feel him throb.

A shiver rolls down your spine, and the only thing stopping you from sliding down the console and onto the floor like a wet towel is his hips pinning you against the edge, and his hand gripping your waist and shoulder. Your throat still aches a bit; your voice will probably be sore for awhile but you consider the price you paid fair.

It seems however that he's begun to lose that feral edge as his adrenaline begins to wear off, and seems content to keep himself warm in your heat for a bit. His armor is heavy and uncomfortable against your body, but it's coldness isn’t unwelcome. You certainly aren't going to complain when that discomfort is something you enjoy. Your heart still races in your chest as you try to catch your breath.

The Slayer leans over to do something on one of the screens you can’t quite see, only whimpering a bit when his shifting around brushes a few sensitive areas and stretches your entrance a bit. You also haven't not noticed hes getting hard again, and you figure you're on for another wild ride. VEGA however talks again before your brain has a chance to drift off again.

“...I am now authorized to heed your commands, within reason.”

Did… Did he specifically give you the ability to tell VEGA to shut up?

You can tell The Slayer is holding back, his hips keep shifting forward in an unconscious desire to drive himself deeper and fuck you again. You speak up.

“Stop talking for awhile unless its an absolute fucking emergency.”

VEGA processes for a moment, and for once you’re not upset to hear his voice.

“...Very well. I will be silent unless the flag station encounters any distress.”

The only thing currently in distress right now is your reproductive organs, but you gave up the right to care about their safety when you let the Slayer fuck you into next week with the entirety of his armor still on.

Funny how he can be so incredibly gentle with you, hold your wrist like it's glass and carry you around, and then fuck you like he's going to crack you in half.

Without the annoying omnipotent voice he once more began to grind himself deeper into you, earning a pleasing amount of whimpers and gasps from you in the process. He's a bit less rough this time, removing his hand from your shoulder and back onto your hip, but he still easily has you pinned against the console. Your sweaty palms both press into the console and you can only hope you aren't touching anything important.

“Fuck…”

The Slayer suddenly however pulls out of you to flip you around, picking you up at the waist to deposit you sitting on the console and coming between your thighs after your trousers are unceremoniously torn off. You didn't even really have time to assist by kicking them, he just yanked them off in one fell swoop. Back between your thighs he pushes into you, easily sliding into your well prepared cunt with little resistance and pushing out some of his own cum he left behind and making an even bigger mess of your puffy cunt.

With the Praetor armor he is even wider, and nearly impossible for you to get your legs around; Instead they just part wide enough to feel a stretch and bend at the knee as you sit dangerously close to the edge.

You both don't last nearly as long this time, your arms nearly buckle when you cum around him and as he does, he ruthlessly keeps going and going until eventually, he fills you up for the second time. Finally pulling from you results in that odd empty feeling of his cum leaking from your stretched cunt, dribbling down and onto the console below you. The combination of it all makes your tremor, muscles spasming as you ride out the aftershocks. Your legs dangle limply.

Your skin still feels flushed, but your heart is no longer hammering against your chest like it just had been. It's been a bit, since the Slayer had last had his way with you; You were well on your way of christening various surfaces of the station. Finding the time can be difficult and given you're the only two living beings aboard, there isn't much reason why you would have to confine it to any particular location. At least you don't think so.

VEGA issues one last concerned notice, making your messy thighs clamp up embarrassed and the still helmeted Slayer look at you like he did something wrong.

“Perhaps next time you should avoid this area. Excessive liquid could damage the equipment.”

[enwoso]

hey i absolutely love the lovie fics and i had a request for a fic about lovie getting into alessias make up or one about her as a newborn and meeting alessias family at her parents house

dab to far | alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

the faint hum of the hairdryer had been the background noise for most of the afternoon for alessia's as she was preparing for the fifa awards in london.

the award show being a significant event, her and a few of her other teammate's nominated for the fifa best XI and alessia wanted everything to be perfect.

she tasked her brothers, luca and gio the job of baby sitting you for the night. admittedly they were not the blondes first choice — that would have definitely gone to her mum and dad. but they were out of town choosing to extend their winter holiday in the sun.

so her brothers would have to do. but while alessia was getting her hair and makeup done. it had been surprisingly quiet in her home, too quiet.

her hair stylist, louise finishing up her curled bun as she quickly excused herself telling the girl she should probably check up on you in which she just laughed waving the blonde off to do whatever she needed to do.

alessia's gut twinged as she walked up the stairs, her hair styled perfectly with each hair having a place. but something wasn’t right.

you weren't exactly known for being silent, especially when you were at home. alessia had a hard time getting you to be quiet in the comfort of your own home. you were more of a constant giggler, singer or babbler.

alessia slipped the salon cape on the banister at the top of the stairs, "guys?" she called out.

walking into the room where she could hear gio screaming at what she discovered to be the tv, as he was glued to the gaming console, headset on, controlled in hand as he sat on the edge of the bottom of the bed.

luca was sprawled out on the spare bedroom bed, sound asleep over the noise of gio, his mouth slightly open. typical.

gio was too immersed to even notice her approach. "gio," alessia said, hands on her hips.

he jumped, scrambling to pull one side of the headset off as he noticed his sister with a not too impressed look on her face.

"oh, hey less. your hair looks nice, louise's has done a grand job!" gio smiled as he tried to waver the unimpressed look of his sisters face.

"where's lovie?"

gio face went blank, then turned to mild panic before he stuttered out a response, "uh- i..i thought she was with you?"

alessia's sharp inhale could have rivaled a gale-force wind, "you thought she was with me?"

"well, yeah, she was here a second ago-"

"giorgio!" she groaned, cutting him off as she spun on her heel to try and find you, she didn't have time to lecture him right now. her mind raced as she checked the kitchen and the backyard calling out for you.

"lovie, baby where are you?"

but i wasn't until she was doing the second check of the the upstairs when she passed her room that she noticed something odd. the door was slightly open, and alessia could distinctly remember shutting it earlier.

she gently pushed it open and froze as she poked her head into the room.

you perched on the vanity chair, one leg swinging back and forth as you were surrounded by an explosion of makeup.

eyeshadow palettes were wide open, power dusted across the table and floor like a multicoloured snowstorm. lipstick tubes uncapped and their contents smeared across your tiny face in bold streaks of red and pink.

alessia's blush brush clutched in your tiny hand, its bristles now dipped in an alarming mix of colours.

noticing your mummy in the mirror stood behind you a small wince on her face as you turned and look to her with wide innocent eyes.

your lips - mostly your chin - coated in a sticky uneven layer of alessia's favourite lip gloss.

"mummy! i pretty like you" you declared proudly holding up the brush as if it was a magic wand.

alessia bit back a laugh, she wanted to cry over her ruined makeup but the sight of you so proud of your work melted away any frustration that was building.

"lovie," alessia said crouching down to your level as you sat on the vanity chair, "what have you done?"

you big smile faltered slightly, "i getting ready for the awards.. like you!"

alessia let out a small sigh, softening her tone, "lovie, you know you can't play with mummy's makeup like this. it's special to me and not for little girls"

your bottom lip trembled and alessia quickly reached out to wipe a bit of lipstick off your cheek. "it's okay but we're gonna have to clean this up together alright?"

you nodded solemnly your hands still clutching the brush and a half melted lipstick tube.

after cleaning up majority of the mess - and giving your face a thorough wipe, alessia was matching back into the guest room as you sat downstairs in the living room watching a programme in a fresh pair of pyjamas.

walking into the room, alessia flicked off the tv in the middle of the game gio was playing as she stood blocking the view of the tv.

"hey! alessia!" gio protested, glaring up at her as the gaming controller fell from his hands to his lap.

"don't you 'hey' me. you and him are supposed to be watching her" alessia gestures to downstairs. "you know where i found her? covered in my makeup! luca's asleep and your here playing a game i know you spent more than 12 hours a day playing!"

gio winced, sensing the slight frustration in his younger sisters tone, "she was quiet so i thought.."

"exactly! she was quiet that should have been your first clue!"

alessia didn't spare him any more words as she moved over to were luca lay sprawled out asleep on the bed. jabbing him slightly hard in the shoulder causing the boy to jolt up.

luca rubbed a hand over his face as he blinked groggily, "what's going on?"

"you're supposed to be helping watch lovie, not napping!"

"she's fine" luca mumbled defensively as his eyes fluttered closed again.

"erm she's wasn't actually, she was busy picasso-ing herself with my makeup in my room!"

luca groaned but alessia was already on her way back downstairs knowing her the makeup artist here to do her makeup would be waiting as she muttered under her breath about her useless brothers

as the makeup artist did the finishing touches as you sat comfortably in your mummy's arms getting your hugs in before alessia left as alessia couldn't help but chuckle at the memory of your colourful face.

you may have made a mess and ruined a bit of her makeup that she would no doubly have to replace but there wasn't anything she would trade it for then to have those memories with you.

she would however think twice about trusting her brothers with babysitting duties again...

[faebled-stories]

Hidden Strength

Kinkvember Day 7: Femdom/Immobilized

Kiss Of Life Han Julie x Male reader

7.3k words

The sun began its slow descent, casting a golden hue through the tall, narrow windows of Julie's dormitory, and you could feel the enchantment in the air. The light filled the small room with warmth, turning it into a sanctuary as beams of sun danced like whispers across the furnishings. Each detail glowed in this soft, waning light—the small, well-worn books stacked haphazardly on the desk, the laundry basket in the corner that had long since needed attention, and the plush throw blanket draped lazily over the back of a chair. Dust motes floated serenely through the light, resembling tiny stars suspended in a gentle, magical glow.

Julie stood near the entrance, carefully adjusting a small vase of fresh flowers she had picked from a nearby store earlier that morning. The vibrant yellows of daisies and deep purples of tulips stood out against the rustic wood of the console table. Each petal seemed to tell its own story of the sunlit day that had just passed, stories that matched the bubbling thrill that flickered in her eyes. Tonight was the night she had been looking forward to—an evening she had imagined over and over in her mind, a night where you, the one who stirred her soul in ways words couldn’t capture, would finally meet her friends. She’d run countless scenarios in her head about how this meeting would go, spinning fantasies and rehearsing introductions. But now, here in the warmth of her room, those fantasies felt tangible, almost alive, breathing alongside her anticipation.

The dorm itself mirrored Julie’s emotions: cozy, inviting, and filled with a subtle lavender fragrance that floated through the room, calming her nerves. Soft light spilled from the delicate table lamps, blending with the gentle twinkle of string lights draped across her ceiling, casting an intimate glow over everything. It was the sort of ambiance that drew you in, evoking memories of childhood sleepovers, whispered secrets, and moments when bonds seemed to deepen in the flicker of a candle’s flame.

Then, the familiar creak of the door broke through her thoughts, and she turned, her breath catching as you stepped inside. For a moment, her eyes softened, her gaze locking with yours as a warm smile blossomed on her lips. It was as if the entire room shifted to acknowledge your presence, grounding her swirling thoughts and calming the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat. You, with your quiet confidence and easy presence, seemed to blend into the warmth of her carefully crafted haven as if you belonged there.

Julie moved towards you, her smile widening as she leaned in to press a gentle kiss on your cheek—a gesture both tender and electric, filled with the quiet intimacy of everything unspoken between you. Her fingers lingered against your shoulder for a moment, and you could sense the pride in her eyes as she stepped back, letting you take in the room. A hint of curiosity danced in your gaze as you absorbed the cozy details, the careful touches that revealed so much of who Julie was.

“Come on,” she said softly, her voice steady, colored with the warmth of belonging and a spark of excitement she could barely contain. "They are all dying to meet you." The pride in her tone was unmistakable, as if she was welcoming you into a part of herself she rarely shared, inviting you deeper into her world.

As you walked with Julie toward the living room, laughter and lively voices spilled over from the trio who formed the heart of her group—Haneul, Belle, and Natty—lounging comfortably on an oversized sectional. The warmth of their camaraderie seemed to fill the entire space, and you could feel how much they meant to Julie; they weren’t just friends—they were chosen family, each one a vital thread woven into the fabric of her life. When they spotted you and Julie approaching, their faces lit up with joy, eyes twinkling with friendliness and a touch of curiosity. Julie’s hand rested lightly on your arm, guiding you forward, as if anchoring you to this moment she had longed to share.

As you got closer, you could hear snippets of their playful banter; Haneul animatedly recounted a missed class, waving her hands in exaggerated gestures, while Belle teased her with a mock scolding. Natty, sprawled out on the couch, chimed in with an enthusiastic nod, her laughter bubbling up and pulling everyone else along with it. You felt yourself relax, letting your natural charm surface as you joined in the conversation, tossing in a few witty comments that sparked more laughter. The group responded easily, welcoming you as if you’d always been a part of their tight-knit circle.

Julie stepped back a bit, watching the scene unfold with a quiet sense of pride blossoming in her chest. For her, this was more than just an evening with friends—it was a bridge between her worlds, a blending of the people she cherished most. And as laughter and light-hearted teasing filled the room, she couldn’t help but feel that this gathering marked the beginning of something beautiful.

“I can’t believe it took you this long to bring your boyfriend over—he’s so fun to be around!” Haneul teased, a mischievous grin lighting up her face as she nudged Julie playfully with her elbow. Her words carried a lighthearted energy that filled the dimly lit room, sparking another round of laughter. Julie chuckled, brushing off the teasing with a casual wave of her hand, her cheeks faintly flushed. “Yeah, it was about time,” she replied, her voice warm with both pride and affection.

The evening continued to unfold like the pages of a captivating novel, each conversation flowing effortlessly, every laugh weaving the group closer together. You found yourself laughing deeply, the kind of genuine laughter that only emerges in moments of pure connection. It was clear you belonged here, that your presence added something vibrant to their bond.

Natty, relaxed in the comfort of the shared dorm, had chosen a loose shirt, unconcerned about needing a bra. The soft fabric draped casually over her, shifting with her movements, adding an effortless allure. Her confidence and natural grace were palpable, a quiet charisma that drew people in without her even trying.

But as the night wore on, Julie’s smile wavered just slightly as she watched you talking animatedly with Natty. Natty, with her easy charm and relaxed demeanor, was practically family to Julie—a friend who had stood by her through secrets, laughter, and tears. Julie rarely felt anything other than complete trust in her. Yet tonight, a flicker of jealousy stirred within her as she noticed your gaze linger just a fraction too long on Natty’s chest, where the loose shirt dipped slightly, hinting at more than she could ignore.

It was barely a moment—a fleeting look, subtle enough that anyone else might have missed it. But for Julie, it was enough to send an unsettling ripple through her composure. Her stomach tightened as the thought took root, her mind spinning despite her efforts to shake it off. It wasn’t as though you’d crossed any lines; you were simply being your warm, charismatic self, engaging and open as always. Yet, that fleeting glance tapped into insecurities she thought she had buried, doubts lingering like shadows even amid her trust in both you and Natty.

Julie took a steadying breath, trying to refocus as she observed the scene, almost as if from a distance. Within her, a delicate balance of pride and vulnerability settled—a quiet mix of loyalty and uncertainty that she held onto as the evening continued around her.

Forcing a neutral expression, she tried to suppress the unease that draped over her like a heavy cloak. The room buzzed with laughter and teasing, yet it was becoming harder for her to fully engage. Each time you threw your head back in laughter, your charm seemed to grow under the admiring gaze of her friends. A pang of doubt fluttered in her chest, a quiet ambivalence tugging at the edges of her mind.

Soon, the conversation shifted to relationships—a topic Belle was particularly excited to explore. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she leaned forward, her smile playful and a bit too eager. “So, what’s it like dating Julie unnie?” she asked, eyes twinkling. “Is she totally whipped for you?” The room erupted in laughter, and Julie felt warmth creeping up her cheeks—a comment that would normally roll off her back but now struck a tender nerve. Should she let it go? She clenched her jaw, forcing a tight smile.

Natty joined in, her usual boldness paired with an audacious smirk. “She's the leader of our group,” she said, glancing at you with a teasing glint, “but I bet you call all the shots at home. I can’t imagine her being in charge over you.”

You didn’t respond right away, and the group took your silence as confirmation, murmuring their agreement with amused grins. Haneul, ever the instigator, jumped in with laughter, egging on the playful ribbing. “Oh, for sure! Julie unnie, the one in control everywhere except with you,” she teased, nudging you with a wink.

The jests and laughter swirled around Julie like rising waves, each remark chipping away at her composure. She glanced anxiously at you, waiting—hoping—for you to step in and defend her, to assert the truth of your relationship and challenge their playful assumptions. But instead, you chuckled along with them, a casual shrug signaling that, to you, it was all just lighthearted banter. Seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, and her stomach knotted tightly.

Your silence felt like a quiet betrayal. Why would you let them see her in such a simplistic, inaccurate way? How could you stand by, leaving the depth and nuances of your relationship blurred by their teasing?

A slow heat builds within Julie, anger bubbling beneath the surface, though she covers it with an artificial laugh, going along with the banter for the sake of appearances. Inwardly, her thoughts race, composing pointed retorts and fierce arguments she plans to unleash later. The laughter continues to fill the room, but joy feels painfully out of reach. She clutched the edge of your drink a bit tighter, hoping it’ll keep her grounded, but the jealousy from earlier and frustration continue to churn within, casting shadows that refuse to dissipate.

When the night finally winds down, and her friends’ laughter fades to soft goodbyes, Julie and you step out into the cool night air. The chill hits her like a sharp wave, bracing against her skin and momentarily clearing her head. But the fresh air does little to ease the simmering frustration that has been building inside her all evening.

The moment the door thuds shut behind her and you, cutting off the final echoes of laughter, the tension inside her snaps, unraveling the careful restraint she held all night. She turns to you, words tumbling out like a dam finally broken. “What the hell was that back there?” Her voice is low, sharp, and cold as it slices through the quiet of the night.

You blink, taken aback by the intensity in her tone. “What are you talking about?” you ask, confusion and concern mixing in your voice.

She crosses her arms, instinctively tightening them across her chest as if holding herself together against the flood of emotions threatening to spill. “You just sat there and let them say all that crap,” she spits, her voice trembling despite its force. “They were making me out to be a pushover, like I’m some kind of doormat at home. And you didn’t defend me—not once! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

Your eyes widen as realization sinks in, and guilt begins to weave through your thoughts. You open your mouth to respond, but she cuts you off before you can form the words. Taking a step closer, she looks up at you, her eyes glistening with restrained anger and hurt. “I expected you to set the record straight. To tell them that’s not who I am. But instead, you just… laughed along. Like it was all true.”

The accusation hangs heavy in the chilly air, each word settling deep. You feel the pang of guilt flicker across your face as you reach out, hesitating, searching for the right thing to say. But her gaze stops you, piercing and unwavering, a mix of anger and wounded pride. Beneath her anger, you see a raw sense of betrayal that gnaws at her, aching and exposed. This was supposed to be the night she introduced you to the people closest to her, the ones who saw her as strong and capable. Instead, she feels as though she’s been reduced to a shallow caricature, her relationship glossed over for the sake of a joke you let slide.

She draws a shaky breath, lowering her arms as she tries to steady herself, grounding the storm that churns inside her. “We’ll talk about this when we get home,” she says, her voice resolute and final, leaving no room for debate. She needs space to process the whirlwind of emotions before anything else can be said.

Your shoulders slump, and you nod silently, regret etching lines across your face. The two of you begin the walk back to your shared apartment in tense silence, each step echoing the growing chasm between you. The usual warmth and ease that bind you feel absent, replaced by a heavy, strained quiet that makes every footfall feel burdensome. The silence amplifies the divide, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions, each step stretching the space further.

As you walk, she’s lost in thought, memories of the evening replaying in relentless loops. Every laugh, every teasing remark, and every moment you’d laughed along instead of defending her plays like an unending scene in a theater she can’t escape. Frustration simmers, coiling tightly in her stomach as she tries to understand how you could have missed how deeply it affected her, how your silence felt like a silent endorsement of their jokes.

-----

The familiar sight of your apartment, once a place that buzzed with shared laughter and the comfort of mutual understanding, now looms ahead, transformed into an arena of silent reckoning. Julie’s eyes, which once sparkled with shared secrets and inside jokes, now bore into you with a steely resolve that leaves no room for misinterpretation.

When she speaks, the word hangs in the air like a final verdict. “Strip.”

You find yourself obeying, not out of fear, but out of a deep-seated need to atone for your transgression.

As you undress, the gravity of the situation becomes increasingly palpable. Each article of clothing that hits the floor feels heavier than the last, a testament to your surrender and an acknowledgment of the power dynamics that have shifted so abruptly. The room, usually filled with warmth and comfort, seems to shrink around you, intensifying the awareness of your exposed state. The chair in the center, once ordinary, now holds an ominous presence, its unyielding surface a prelude to the control Julie is about to wield.

Sitting there, naked and vulnerable, your exposure transcends the physical; it becomes a baring of your very soul, a silent plea for forgiveness and understanding. The cool air of the apartment skates over your skin, raising goosebumps and sending shivers racing down your spine. Every sense feels heightened, tuned to the faintest sounds—the rustle of fabric, the soft creak of the floorboards, and the steady rhythm of her movement as she prepares. The anticipation stretches each second into an eternity, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

When Julie finally reemerges, the transformation is striking. Gone is the warm, light-hearted partner who shared laughter with you earlier in the night. In her place stands a figure of dominance, her presence commanding and confident. She is dressed in black, the fabric accentuating her form with precision, glinting subtly as she moves. In her hands are the tools of her trade: silken ropes that promise both comfort and captivity, a spreader bar that signals the extent of your impending restraint, and a gag that will soon silence your words.

Julie’s movements are deliberate, each step resonating through the quiet room. The click of her heels on the hardwood floor becomes a countdown to when your world will narrow to just her and the sensations she chooses to inflict. She pauses in front of you, her gaze sweeping over your form with a look that is both critical and approving. It’s not cruelty in her eyes but satisfaction—a shared acknowledgment of the trust underlying this exchange.

“Hands,” she commands, her voice low and unwavering. You comply immediately, bringing your wrists behind you as she steps closer. The scent of her perfume reaches you, teasing your senses. Her fingers are skilled, weaving the ropes with a practiced ease, the loops snug but not cutting. Each knot holds you firmly in place, ensuring your surrender is complete. The bindings serve as a tangible reminder of your submission, tightening with every subtle shift of your body.

Julie's eyes glinting with mischief as she picks up the gag. She holds it up for a moment, searching your gaze for that final glimmer of acceptance. She moves closer, fitting the gag around your head. The material presses into your lips, silencing any potential words. As the gag muffles your voice, turning your apologies and pleas into soft, incoherent murmurs that fill the room, Julie smiles in satisfaction.

The sensation is disorienting yet electrifying, deepening your vulnerability. With a playful smirk, she reaches for the spreader bar, attaching it firmly, stretching your legs and enhancing the sense of helplessness. You feel the weight of your submission settle in, the world around you narrowing to just her and the anticipation of what comes next.

She steps back to assess her work, the room momentarily filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing, now shallow and uneven. The silence stretches, amplifying the thrum of anticipation coursing through you. Her gaze lingers as she runs a finger down your arm, trailing goosebumps in its wake. The spreader bar still lies within reach, a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

“Do you know why you’re in this position?” she asks, her voice slicing through the quiet with a commanding edge. The question hangs in the air, charged with expectation.

You nod, the movement subtle but insistent. Your eyes meet hers, carrying an apology and submission that don’t need words. But the nod alone isn’t enough for her.

“Good,” she whispers, leaning down until her breath warms your skin. “Then you’re going to be a good boy and take everything I give you tonight. Understand?”

You nod again, more fervently this time, the gag pressing against your mouth as you do. Your heart thunders as her words echo in your mind, sending a pulse of anticipation through you that makes every nerve in your body come alive. Her lips curl into a smirk as she straightens, her eyes never leaving yours.

And with that, the teasing began.

Julie moves with a predator's grace, each step calculated and precise. She brushes against you, her body a whisper against your skin, as she circles the chair like a huntress toying with her prey. Every nerve heightens in suspense, registering each point of contact—her breasts grazing your arm, her hips swaying against your legs. The gag renders your mouth useless, but your eyes betray a silent, unspoken desire.

Her fingers skim lightly over your thighs and stomach, deliberately avoiding your most sensitive areas, savoring the way your body tenses under her touch. Fingernails scrape gently over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"Already squirming," she teases, voice soft yet commanding. "I haven’t even started, and you’re falling apart."

A muffled groan escapes as your body instinctively yearns for more. She revels in your helpless state, bound and utterly under her control. Her fingers dance over your chest, tracing the contours of your muscles before finally grazing the tip of your hardened length. The touch is fleeting, barely enough to satisfy the ache building within, but just enough to keep you teetering on the edge.

"So needy already," she murmurs, dark amusement flickering in her eyes as she continues her tantalizing torment. "And I’ve barely touched you."

Julie’s mastery in the art of dominance is clear in the way she commands every inch of your submission, drawing out your reactions like a skilled musician coaxing a melody from each note. She knows the true power lies in denial, in the sweet agony of anticipation. Her hands explore further, tracing the lines of your torso, shifting between feather-light touches and firmer caresses.

The dynamic between you pulses with an electrifying tension, a charged dance of dominance and submission. Without warning, she climbs onto your lap, her thighs bracketing your hips as she straddles you. Her warmth presses against you, her slickness gliding over your length, coating you with her arousal and leaving a heated trail that only deepens the fire within you, threatening to consume you both in its intensity.

Her hips start a slow, deliberate grind, pressing her heat against you in a rhythm that’s both seductive and torturous, a constant teasing friction that only intensifies your need. Each controlled roll of her body against yours sends waves of pleasure rippling through you, spreading outward until every inch of your skin feels alive, hypersensitive to her slightest movement. She holds herself just out of reach, the wetness from her core brushing and slicking along your length, leaving you taut with need, your body practically vibrating with anticipation. Each soft gasp that escapes her lips as she moves only fuels the growing ache within you, driving you to instinctively buck your hips, craving to close the maddening distance, to press deeper into her warmth.

But the restraints binding you to the chair hold fast, forcing you to submit, a stark reminder of your willing captivity. Every strained movement, every pull against the bindings, only sharpens the ache, the urgency growing with each second she remains perched atop you, tantalizingly close but just out of reach.

She catches sight of the glistening evidence of your arousal at your tip, coated in her own slickness, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Leaking already," she murmurs, the tone a mixture of amusement and smug satisfaction. Her eyes gleam with wicked delight, drinking in every bit of evidence of your desire. "So desperate for me… and I haven’t even let you inside. Pathetic."

Her words cut through the fog of arousal, a sharp contrast to the gentleness of her fingers as they begin to wander, tracing languid lines across your chest. Her fingertips drift over your skin with a possessive tenderness, mapping each contour and ridge with expert care. Her nails skim along your muscles, trailing down over the firm lines of your torso and sending jolts of heat to every nerve, her touch both thrilling and maddeningly slow.

She leans in, her breath warm against your neck as she murmurs softly, her voice carrying a tone of command that feels both soft and absolute. Every inch of you responds to her, every nerve straining toward her touch as she masterfully pushes and pulls you between desire and restraint, leading you through a symphony of sensation, teasing you closer and closer to the edge without allowing release.

Your breaths come shallow and ragged, each exhale a silent plea for mercy as your gaze meets hers, desperation clear in your eyes. But there’s a glint of mischief in her expression as she holds you there, a silent acknowledgment that she’s in complete control. She has you—body and mind, bound and utterly at her mercy, while she conducts each sensation with calculated precision.

In one swift, unexpected move, she rises from your lap, leaving you throbbing, trembling with unfulfilled longing. The sudden absence of her warmth is jarring, a shock that leaves you gasping as your body craves her all the more. Helpless, you watch as she steps back, just out of reach, her gaze sweeping over you with a look of calm satisfaction, savoring the power she holds. She’s a goddess in her own right, basking in the way you devour her with your eyes, the silent worship etched across every fiber of your being.

With a fluid gesture, Julie blindfolds you, plunging you into darkness where every other sense sharpens. "You don’t get to beg with your eyes anymore," she murmurs, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "You’ll just have to feel." Deprived of sight, every whisper of her movement against your skin intensifies, turning each caress into a new form of exquisite torture.

She kneels down and her hand wraps firmly around your shaft, motionless yet charged with intent. You can feel the beat of your own pulse against her palm, each rhythmic throb amplifying the ache within you. She holds you just like that, unhurried, letting the tension build until every second feels like an eternity.

Then, almost imperceptibly, her arm began to move. Each stroke is a maddening tease—soft, deliberate, and just enough to make your muscles clench with anticipation, but never enough to bring you the release you crave. She slides her hand upward, a slow and torturous ascent that ignites every nerve along the way, until she stops just below the tip. Her grip tightens just a little, holding you there, keeping you on edge, her control turning your desire into a relentless pulse.

After a breathless pause, she reverses course, moving just as slowly down to the base and stopping again. The deliberate rhythm—up, pause, down, pause—leaves you trembling, body taut and shivering under the command of her touch. Each hold, each slight squeeze, feels like both a promise and a denial, the tension building with every passing second. It’s a masterful, torturous dance, and you’re ensnared in her control, helpless yet entranced by her command over your senses.

Her lips part in a sly smile "Look at you," she murmurs, her voice low and honeyed. "So hard, so ready and I decide when you’re satisfied." Her words are a silken reminder of her power, and the restraint she demands makes the desire inside you swell even further, twisting with both longing and surrender.

Just when the suspense is unbearable, she leans closer, her breath grazing your length, warm and tantalizing. The soft, steady rhythm of her exhale sends ripples of heat through you, and the contrast between her closeness and the aching need intensifies the tension coiling within. Her breath lingers, teasing, as if savoring every second of the anticipation.

Then, her lips brush lightly against the tip, a feather-soft kiss that makes your entire body jolt in response. In that instant, a drop of anticipation escapes, and she notices, her gaze fixated on each pulse of your member. She dips her head, the tip of her tongue darting out just enough to scoop the small drop, her touch maddeningly gentle.

Her tongue traces the tiniest, deliberate flick across the sensitive skin, collecting the bead with exquisite care. Each soft, restrained stroke of her tongue stokes the fire within, leaving you teetering on the edge of release yet held back, her control absolute. Each touch is measured, perfectly calculated to keep you suspended between need and surrender, an unrelenting tease that keeps you helplessly ensnared.

Your muscles strain against the bonds that hold you, your body surrendering to the exquisite torment she inflicts. The pride that once stiffened your spine melts under her touch, leaving you utterly exposed and vulnerable. In this game of pleasure and restraint, Julie is the undisputed master.

"What a pathetic mess," she taunts, amusement lacing her voice as she revels in her dominion over your body. "You tower me and yet I can make you crumble with just a touch." Her words cut both as a rebuke and a compliment, a testament to her irresistible allure.

With each slow stroke along your shaft and each flick of her tongue over the sensitive tip, she brings you to the very edge of release, only to pull back, leaving you teetering on the brink of bliss. Your body arches, straining against the restraints, desperate for the ultimate surrender that only she can offer.

Then, without warning, she stops.

Julie stands back, posture exuding a blend of amusement and authority, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she watches your frustrated contortions. Her eyes glint with mischief, sparkling like sunlight on an unruly sea, as she takes in the sight of you squirming under the weight of your desire. The tension thickens, a palpable pulse wrapping around you both, amplifying every flicker of energy flowing between you.

“You want to cum so badly, don’t you?” she taunts, her voice dropping to a low, sultry purr that resonates in the core of your being, each syllable dripping with seduction. The words hang in the air, tantalizing and laced with playful command, pulling you even deeper into her orbit. She leans closer, her warm breath brushing against your skin, strengthening the connection that crackles between you.

“Beg for it,” she continues, her tone turning sharper, though still steeped in teasing allure. “Apologize for what you did to me earlier.” Her eyes narrow, challenging you to surrender, to embrace the vulnerability simmering just beneath the surface. The power dynamic dances between you, electric and heady, anticipation swirling like a cyclone that leaves you breathless, utterly captivated by her control.

Your response is a garbled attempt at speech, the gag reducing your words to incomprehensible murmurs. Yet the desperation is unmistakable, a raw testament to the intensity of your need.

Julie chuckles softly, her breath hot and laced with playful mischief as she leans in, her lips hovering near your ear. The warmth radiating from her skin sends a shiver down your spine, heightening the tension simmering between you.

“I can’t understand you,” she teases, voice low and sultry, each word leaving a trail of excitement in the still air. Her playful tone cuts through the intensity, a lightness that only sharpens the edge of the moment. A mischievous grin dances across her lips, a blend of challenge and allure that sets your heart racing.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” she purrs, her eyes bright with mischief. The space between you crackles with unspoken desire as you struggle to respond, caught in the spell she weaves. Julie’s confidence and sass infuse the moment with an infectious thrill, holding you captive in a deliciously precarious game of cat and mouse.

With renewed urgency, you try again to plead, your muffled cries growing more frantic. But Julie’s smirk remains, her head shaking in silent refusal as she drinks in your pleas, delight flickering in her gaze.

The seconds stretch, each one a small eternity that settles heavily on your consciousness. The yearning inside intensifies, a silent plea for release that feels like a prayer. Each minute seems to stretch further, blending into a timeless void filled only with the sound of your ragged breaths and the pounding of your heart.

Julie watches with an intensity that’s both unsettling and thrilling, her gaze tracking every twitch, every involuntary shudder that runs through you. She seems to derive a certain pleasure from this power, this control she holds over you.

Then, as if guided by an impulsive whim or sensing a subtle shift within you, her demeanor changes. Her fingers, which have been teasing around your length, suddenly tighten around your shaft. The warmth of her palm contrasts sharply with the cool air, the pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

In an instant her hand begins to move in deliberate, fast strokes. Each motion is a symphony of sensation, a calculated descent into the depths of pleasure. Your muscles coil like a spring, tension mounting with every pass of her hand.

The room fills with the sound of your muffled moans, the gag doing little to stifle the raw, animalistic noises escaping your throat. Parched from panting, forming words becomes impossible, but your body speaks for you, each tremor a language of pure need. Your back arches, every fiber straining against the crescendo of sensation threatening to overwhelm.

Then, with a suddenness that’s both startling and inevitable, the wave of release crashes over you. After the relentless teasing and countless moments held just on the brink, the sensation is nothing short of explosive. It’s as though every nerve in your body has been ignited, the intense buildup finally finding its release in a torrent that consumes you completely. The climax is powerful and shuddering, each pulse deeper and more overwhelming than the last, streaking across your stomach and chest as Julie angles you just so, letting every drop land exactly where she intended.

The sensation is almost blinding, leaving you trembling in its wake. The sheer force of release leaves your muscles shuddering, as if they’re catching up to the relief they’ve been denied for so long. Your breaths come in sharp gasps, each one echoing the intensity of everything you’ve been holding back. Every ounce of tension unwinds, cascading through your limbs until you feel weightless, utterly spent.

As the aftershocks ripple through you, your head was buzzing, the world narrowed to the warmth and satisfaction coursing through your body. Julie’s hand slows, her touch soft and almost reverent as she loosens her grip, fingers tracing gentle circles along your skin. Her gaze lingers over the evidence of her careful work, a quiet triumph in her eyes as she takes in the effect she’s had on you, savoring each tremor and shallow breath.

You thought you were done, that the punishment had finally matched the crime, but you couldn't have been more wrong. The game is far from over.

The air hangs heavy with the scent of leather and the unmistakable musk of arousal, filling the space between you. Julie’s fingers work with expert precision as she reaches for the buckle behind your head, the slick click of metal releasing the ball gag from your mouth breaking the tense silence. As the gag falls away, you gasp for air, your chest heaving with a sharp, grateful intake, savoring the rush of cool air against your parched throat—a fleeting relief from the intensity she’s kept you under.

But she allows you no time to settle. Her fingers glide up to the blindfold, and with a quick tug, she pulls it away, letting light spill into your vision. Your eyes squint and blink, adjusting to the sudden brightness after so long in darkness, the details of the room coming back into focus in a dazed, almost surreal clarity. Julie’s face comes into view, her gaze heavy with satisfaction, her expression carrying the weight of everything she’s just put you through.

In one fluid motion, she gathers the overwhelming evidence of your surrender—your release, slick, warm and copious in her hand, holding it up between you, letting the light catch it as if it were some prized possession. Her eyes, dark and filled with a knowing glint, meet yours, and the look she gives you is laced with pride, satisfaction, and a sense of complete ownership that sends another shiver down your spine.

Her expression speaks volumes, a blend of triumph and control, as if marking this moment as her own creation. The silence stretches, laden with all the unspoken promises she’s fulfilled, and the intensity of her gaze makes it clear that she isn’t done with you yet.

“Open,” she commands, her voice a silky rasp that brooks no disobedience. Your lips part instinctively, the submissive reflex inside you responding to her dominance. Slowly, deliberately, she tips her hand, letting the viscous fluid slide over your tongue. The taste is salty, bitter—a potent reminder of your surrender.

"Keep it there until I say otherwise," she instructs, her tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. You nod slightly, eyes wide, a blend of fear, excitement, and adoration clouding your gaze. A soft whine escapes you, a sound that speaks volumes about your submission.

Her hand resumes its relentless rhythm on your sensitive member, merciless in its pace, drawing you back to the peak of pleasure despite the sharp, overstimulated ache that borders on pain. Each jolt that courses through your body makes you feel your vulnerability tenfold. The strength you once prided yourself on is gone, leaving you trembling, utterly at her mercy.

“Keep squirming” she purrs, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she revels in the sight of you reduced to this state. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Your body twitches under her touch, control completely relinquished to her hands. The overstimulation is overwhelming, but stopping is a luxury she’s denied you, and you’re left trapped in an intoxicating blend of ecstasy and agony that only she can navigate.

Julie’s eyes, darkened with unrestrained desire, stay locked onto yours as her slick hand works you closer and closer. But there’s no comfort in her gaze, only dominance and satisfaction as she sees you fall apart under her touch. She leans in, a mocking smile on her lips. “Look at you—just a mess. Can’t even handle a little girl like me.”

The pressure builds unbearably, each second a dizzying rush that overwhelms you. Your face twists in desperation, begging silently for her mercy as her pace continues. Just when you think you can’t bear it anymore, your control shatters, a raw moan escapes you as a couple drops of liquid spills from your lips onto your chest as your release is forced from you again.

But Julie only smirks, her hand still working with an unrelenting rhythm, refusing to give you even a moment’s reprieve. She watches, amused, as you whimper and struggle beneath her, her mocking voice low and taunting. “I didn’t say you could stop.”

Your eyes widen, pleading, but she doesn’t relent. The sensitivity has your body spasming under her touch, every nerve frayed as she pushes you toward a second release, knowing it will push you past all limits. You can only submit, powerless as she drives you quickly over the edge again.

With a broken moan that quickly crescendos into a loud, uncontrollable cry, your body surrenders, releasing one last time in a shuddering wave. The climax is so overwhelming that your muscles, usually clenching tight in moments like this, go limp under her dominance. The sensation crashes over you, leaving your mind blank and your body helplessly convulsing.

As the intensity peaks, your previous release spills from your mouth, dripping down to your chest and mingling with the sweat beading your skin. The warm, slick mess spreads across your torso, the sensation amplifying the vulnerability coursing through you. Every fiber of your being is overtaken, leaving you quivering and trembling as she finally eases her grip. You collapse, utterly spent and broken before her, breaths coming in ragged gasps as the overstimulation echoes through your limbs.

Julie’s eyes never leave yours as she leans in, claiming your mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss that leaves you gasping. She pulls back with a sharp smirk, then spits harshly onto your chest, the suddenness of it making you shudder as the warmth mixes with the already smeared fluids. The act stings with raw dominance, each drop marking her claim. Slowly, she drags her fingers through the blend, smearing it purposefully across your skin. Each stroke is deliberate, a cool reminder of her power as her touch lingers over your heaving chest, spreading the warmth until it clings to every inch of you.

“There,” she murmurs with a smirk, voice a perfect blend of pride and satisfaction. “Now you’ll remember exactly who owns you.”

Julie rises slowly, her fingers gliding down your chest, pausing to press lightly where your heartbeat betrays your surrender. She steps back, her eyes sweeping over you—bound to the chair, hands secured tightly behind your back, legs spread wide by the bar at your ankles. Every inch of you is exposed, vulnerable, and yet there’s no desire to resist. The calmness settles deeper, the certainty of yielding to her undeniable.

A small, satisfied smile plays at the corner of her lips as she studies you, taking in the way the ropes hold you exactly where she wants. Her gaze fixes on you with a confidence that’s unbreakable. “This,” she says, her tone soft yet edged with command, “is exactly where you belong. Tied up, under my control, waiting for my command. You don’t get to call the shots here—that’s my role.” Her words settle over you, embedding themselves like an invisible mark, a seal on the surrender you feel.

She steps behind you, her hands resting firmly on your shoulders, anchoring you in her presence. She begins to knead away the last traces of tension, her fingers firm yet gentle, drawing you deeper into her influence. A shiver races down your spine as she leans close, her breath warm against your ear.

“Think about tonight,” she murmurs, her voice both soft and unshakable, as though each word is settling into you. “Think about how easily you yield, how completely you become mine, just as you are right now. Because this”—her nails trail lightly down your back, drawing a sharp breath from you—“is how things will be. In this house, and anywhere else we go.”

Her hands slide back to your wrists, her fingers deftly working to untie the ropes that have held you so tightly. She moves with care, releasing each bond one by one, each motion a reminder of her control. Even as the ropes fall away, the feeling of being held by her command remains. She moves to your front, kneeling to remove the spreader bar from your ankles, her fingers brushing your skin lightly, each touch a reminder that it’s her choice to free you, her decision.

Once free, you feel the urge to stretch, but her gaze roots you to the spot, grounding you in her authority. Her eyes stay fixed on you, unwavering, and without a word, the weight of her expectation presses down. It’s instinctive—you feel yourself slowly sinking down, lowering to your knees before her, your hands coming to rest at your sides.

Julie steps closer, her fingers reaching for your chin. She tilts your head up, bringing your eyes to meet hers, and the weight of her command settles even deeper within you.

“This,” she says, her thumb brushing softly over your jawline, “is exactly where you belong—at my feet, waiting for my word. I want you to see who’s in control, who makes the choices. And every time you look at me like this, you’ll remember that every action, every decision, is mine.” Her fingers tighten just slightly, her gaze holding yours with a depth that leaves no room for doubt.

You nod subtly, the acceptance in your gaze mirroring her certainty. Her hold on your chin remains, her fingers pressing a little firmer, reinforcing the truth she’s just spoken. “I don’t want you to just obey. I want you to feel it, to know that every inch of you is mine to command. You stay when I say stay. You move when I allow it. Understand?”

The air is thick with her authority, her words pressing into you, reinforcing her control in every possible way. You nod then finally, she releases your chin.

She smiles, her satisfaction evident. “Good,” she murmurs, watching you closely. “Get up and go clean yourself. Then meet me in bed. We're going to discuss your behavior at the dorm.”

You rise slowly, each movement a reminder of the boundaries she’s drawn. As you turn toward the bathroom, you feel her gaze lingering, following you like a weight that holds you in place even as you walk away. And when the door clicks shut behind you, the image of her small, knowing smile remains etched in your mind—a reminder of the perfect place she’s found for you, right where she intended.