#tips for fair skin

[collophora]

Found a cool color palette. Might finish it later. (Probably not.)

[moonamite]

Minor updates to my Dealer design (The scutes n scales texture update if you will)

I swear I don’t know why I’m giving him reptile traits

[aria0fgold]

I'm so sleepy and my brain deciding to give me ideas but am so sleepy to process it all.

[kurooh]

MATCH MY FREAK ★ JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. featuring gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso tryin’ to keep up with their freak of a girlfriend.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, hair pulling, overstimulation, rough sex, oral, passing out, spitting, some degradation, squirting, public sex, light slapping, choking. | 3.4k words of FILTH

xoxo, juno. needed characterization practice loll. comment & rb if you enjoyed <33

GOJO SATORU # matches you

“aw, you’re so cute when you’re slutting yourself out for my fucking cock, baby,” satoru coos, lips trailing over your pebbled nipples while his tip teases your messy cunt. it was a mistake, deciding to play a stupid game of chicken with him—the gist of the game was to tease one another, and see who’d give up first.

you’d overestimated yourself just a little; you both ended up fully naked, with satoru on top of you and unwilling to let you go so you could make a fair move. but of course, you didn’t want to give up, and neither did he—it doesn’t even matter, not when he’s winning the game like this.

you bite down on your lower lip, weakly closing your thighs in an attempt to push him back to even out the playing field. “oh, is this the first sign of defeat, baby?”

“absolutely not,” you hiss, brows knitting when he tosses your thighs apart and nudges his tip inside you. “you cheated, i can’t even make a fair move.”

“all’s fair in a game of chicken and sex. don’t complain, ‘s not my fault you overestimated yourself.” satoru’s snicker has your heels digging into his lower back as you force him to push his cock inside you; his expression melts into one of pure euphoria as he sinks in, inch by inch.

“how’s that, satoru?” you purr, satisfied. he glares at you, azure eyes hooded and heavy with lust; without even slipping out of you, he flips you over onto your stomach and presses your head into the sheets. beneath the two of you, the bed groans, creaking growing loud as he moves his hips, slamming into you so hard the headboard bangs against the wall.

“got some nerve . . thinking you could show me how to fuck, tsk,” he shakes his head, punctuating his words with harsh thrusts.

“fuck!” you sob, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his waist to pause him for a moment. you’re still thinking about the game, but satoru’s aching for more after having been teased for so long.

“give up and just focus on cumming for me, babygirl,” he grunts into your ear, savoring the gasps you can’t seem to stop letting out. his balls slap into your clit, and the room fills with the filthy sound of fucking—skin against skin, groaning, and begging.

you can’t even form one thought about being competitive when satoru’s fucking every single thing out of your head. “r-right there, toru,” you wail, arching upwards and pressing your ass against him.

satoru gifts it with a smack that rings through the room, then lifts your lips up and doesn’t even give you a second to adjust to the new angle that has you taking his cock both deeper and faster. just when you think you can’t take any more, satoru slips a hand beneath your body and plants his palm firmly against your lower stomach.

“eh, what’re you doing?” wordlessly, satoru draws his hips back until only his tip is left inside you, then presses down with his hand before canting his hips forward. it’s too much—you all but scream as he mercilessly plunges into you again and again.

your body is slick with sweat and only growing hotter by the moment; the sound of his rough panting coupled with the occasional whine he lets out only has you burying your face deeper into the sheets.

satoru clicks his tongue, voice shaking ever so slightly. “arch it for me, baby—fuckkk, that’s perfect.”

he’s delirious with pleasure, eyes rolling back into his head while his face only flushes a darker pink from the heat of it all. that was the thing about him — he could always dish it out, and take it, but not for long.

“i-i’m gonna cum,” and his voice splinters into a whine at the end of his sentence, spurring you on to fuck him back. you’re tossing your hips back onto him, bouncing your ass so deliciously he wants to take a bite. “shit, i’m gonna cum.”

“give it to me, satoru,” you manage, turning back at the right moment. icy blue eyes connect with yours and he uselessly blinks away the tears that are gathered on his waterline, only for a few to spill over and run down his cheeks. “cum inside me, make it yours, toru.”

with a groan of your name, satoru’s abs clench as he spills inside you, cock twitching against your cervix. he presses down harder on your lower stomach, drawing out your own orgasm.

“just like that, toru—” you interrupt yourself with a moan as your pussy gushes all over, spraying onto his pelvis and cock.

“that’s my girl,” satoru groans, lightly smacking your clit and chuckling at the way your entire body trembles in response. “by the way, the game was a tie.”

GETO SUGURU # matches you

“open. good girl,” suguru spits onto your awaiting tongue, violet eyes observing expectantly as you swallow. his spit tastes like the grape lollipop he’d been sliding between his lips on your walk around the city together. now, in the backseat of his car, he’s got you caged beneath him, gripping your jaw with one large hand.

“you’re so cute, really,” suguru says with a snort, lightly smacking at your cheek. “your idea of a date is going around and flirting as much as possible. hm, ‘s like you were trying to piss me off, end up like this in the car. you know how busy this place is, don’t you?”

“i don’t care,” you pout, tugging the hem of your shirt upwards to reveal your stomach; he doesn’t stop you as you slide your shorts halfway down, revealing the lace of the panties you’re wearing, all for him. “just touch me, sugu. please?”

“you’re so needy,” he scoffs, although his voice lilts into a willing tone as he unbuttons your shorts and inches backwards to allow you to toss your legs over his shoulders.

suguru’s dark hair is soft from the premium shampoos and conditioners he uses meticulously; half of it was tied up in a tight bun while the rest flowed freely past his shoulders. until you pulled his hair free from its ties and gathered the silky tresses between your fingers, impatiently tugging him towards the place you needed him most.

“would it kill you to be patient?” suguru’s question is genuine as he leaves open mouthed kisses on the tender skin of your inner thighs, nipping lightly to tease you a little more.

“yes,” you huff, fingers relaxing in his hair as he moves closer to your already messy pussy, reveling in the sight of his favorite snack (dessert?).

“shit,” suguru’s voice is strained as he feels arousal resonate through his entire body, causing his temperature and heart rate to spike. “you’re fucking soaked, princess.”

“what’re you waiting for?” you moan, frustrated by the sight of his tongue as he speaks, eager to feel him use it on you.

he ignores you then, opting to land a light slap to your pussy. the force of his palm coming down on your already sensitive clit sends sparks of pleasure through the entire lower half of your body, eliciting a drawn out whine from your lips.

“s-spit on it,” you manage, squirming beneath his heavy gaze. he’s practically burning holes into your skin with those pretty purple eyes of his.

“you want it realll bad, don’t you?” suguru’s tone is nothing short of mocking as he continues to stay a frustrating distance away from your cunt.

frantic for his touch, for him—your hips jolt upwards, and you cry out when he shoves them back down easily. “come on, sugu—i can handle it.”

“yeah? you won’t tap out this time?”

“god, i-i want you to ruin me.”

the admission pulls a laugh from between his lips, and yet he doesn’t waste any time diving forward to devour you. suguru’s tongue strokes up your folds, collecting your wetness at the tip before darting forward to push inside you. the action is meant to tease, to piss you off, and it does.

“d-don’t do this right now, sugu,” your fingers tighten in his hair as you pull him forward insistently.

“alright, alright,” his lips move against your lower pair and he slides his hands beneath your ass to scoop you closer. in a matter of seconds; suguru’s got his whole mouth on you now, sucking and licking and slurping obscenely. the wet noises fill the car, coupled with your shared moans.

tasting you and hearing you is all he really needs to be satisfied; the way you’re tugging on his hair is painful at first, but it quickly becomes something that has him moaning louder than you. that was his achilles heel—his hair, of all things. when pulled just right, or brushed gently, he couldn’t ever stop himself from making those low, yet pretty sounds of his. sometimes his scalp would grow sensitive after a while, and his grunts would turn into pitched moans he couldn’t control.

without a care for the many people passing by the parked car, your back arches off the backseat, tits bouncing deliciously beneath your shirt. “‘m close, sugu—just like that, d-don’t stop!”

he inserts a single finger inside you, filling you up and stretching you out nicely. then, he curls it deeply, prodding against that sweet spot of yours. he’d committed all the places that’d make you tick to memory, and this happened to be one of the top three. suguru’s cheeks darken from the heat of it all as he sucks your clit between his lips and lavishes it with attention from his tongue.

it’s as soft as silk and yet so rough as it drags up and down the swollen bud. your hips jolt upwards again and again, body thrashing as the white hot pleasure circulates throughout your insides, pooling deep in your stomach. the knot frays with each passing second, your toes curling as you hurtle closer to euphoria.

“s-suguru,” you moan. he looks up at the right time to see your eyes rolling back as you dissolve into pleasure. “‘m gonna cum, i—”

your brain short circuits as the knot inside you snaps, cunt squeezing hard around his finger and fluttering as he draws it backwards. your clit hardens beneath his tongue, and he moans from the sensation, the vibrations making you jerk.

suguru’s kind enough to let you ride it out, fingers gripping his hair to the point of potential baldness. he doesn’t mind, especially not when you squeak out a blissed out, dazed “t-thank you, sugu.”

NANAMI KENTO # doesn’t match you yet

“fucking—shit, angel, slow down,” kento swallows a whine, trying not to beg. his head tips back, strands of his blonde hair escaping their neat gel hold and falling over his forehead. “come on, you’re going too fast.”

his pleas fall on deaf ears as you smirk and lean in towards that sweet, sensitive spot on his neck that always has him seeing stars once it’s touched the right way. you giggle against his skin, leaving a few wet kisses along his neck before sinking your teeth. the bite is entirely playful, but his abs clench tightly against you and he sucks in a breath.

the couch is creaking loudly from the ferocious and aggressive way you’re riding him, hips slamming into his without a single concern for how sensitive he is from prior orgasms. uncharacteristic whines pour from his lips along with heaving pants of your name as kento frantically searches for purchase on your hips.

“what’s wrong, kento?” you purr, kissing away the drool from the corners of his lips. he’s got hearts in his eyes from the chaste action; the dichotomy between the sweetness and nastiness is so overwhelming . . kento’s fingers dig into the plush skin at your hips as he tries to stop you.

“n-no need to go so fast. let me guide you instead, princess,” but he’s really just trying to save himself the embarrassment of cumming again and sobbing from the overstimulation.

kento’s neck absorbs the soft moans you let out as he moves your hips at a much slower, languid pace. “fuck, ken, ‘s good . . little faster, please?”

he tugs his lower lip between his teeth. “be patient. just keep your eyes on me, angel.”

“but it - it’s not enough,” and your hips increase, returning to the beginning of your wild pace. the loud squelching sound of your pussy and the smacks of skin against skin drown out whatever he says next, but he seems to accept it. his cheeks are flushed and his face is covered in a sheen of sweat, and although he’d been desperate for reprieve earlier he’s accepting being ridden like a horse now.

each drag of your sticky cunt on his cock pulls plenty of sound from the both of you. this is the first time you’ve ever ridden his cock—first time anyone has ever—and all of his concerns are melting away as he fully submits to you. to your cunt—he’s completely pussydrunk.

“shit, angel,” he swallows, body bowing forward as he presses his face into your chest, allowing your tits to smack against his cheeks. “i-i’m gonna cum again—i don’t think i can anymore after this, you’ll have to—”

you tilt his chin upwards and connect your lips to his, swallowing the sounds he makes as he comes undone. you can only tremble as his cock throbs inside you, and his head falls against you weakly after he lets out a choked groan.

“ken, feels so fucking good,” you sob, fingernails raking over the taut muscles of his back. those marks will sting tomorrow under his suit, a sultry reminder of you. his breaths come in harsh pants against your skin, and he makes no move to pull away as you ride him to completion.

you’re sore, and the room is hot and smelling of nothing but sex, but you’re too close to stop. there’s no need to give a warning as your cunt spasms on him, squeezing his cock so hard he’s pushed out of you. the loss of fulfillment makes you hiss, and you nudge him lightly, helping him sit back.

kento has passed out — he’s quite literally fucked out, eyes closed and all as his chest rapidly rises and falls. of course, his swollen cock still stands at attention between his legs, tip prodding against you.

FUSHIGURO TOJI # is freakier

“run that by me again, doll. i dare ya.”

toji’s voice is low and deep as it rumbles from his chest, his raspy demand sending a hot rush of excitement right between your legs. “t-toji,” is all you can squeak out, legs spreading weakly as he tosses them to the side to make more room. “i-i said, i can’t keep going—”

fushiguro toji was not a patient man, nor was he someone who tolerated quitting or giving up in any kind of way, regardless of the situation. the idea of you attempting to tap out this early after teasing him all fucking day truly flipped a switch in his brain. it honestly set him off, like a spark of fire to a stick of dynamite.

“aw, just shut up, baby,” toji twists a hand into your hair and yanks your head backwards, leaning close to savor the sight of your arched back as well as to speak directly into your ear. his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear, making the skin hotter. “ya really thought that’d work? after all that shit you pulled today?”

“i didn’t mean to get you so worked up—” a nip to your earlobe silences you immediately, and a moan slips from between your lips, betraying the genuineness of your request.

“listen to you . . ya want to get fucked like a whore, isn’t that right?” toji hisses, rocking his hips forward and nudging his cock deeper in your tight cunt. the sensitivity is killer, but toji doesn’t care about that—it’s simply an excuse.

“you deserve this, dollface. can take one more, can’t you?”

with your hair wrapped around his fist, back forced into an arch, legs spread wide, there’s no other way you can answer him besides saying yes. always testing the waters with him, but toji would amp it up and have you crying by the time it was all over.

you let your head hang, lifting your hips to help him out; the sound of slick bodies smacking against one another coupled with his heavy panting is enough to have you whining his name, tears streaking down your cheeks. your hand slips between your legs to rub at your swollen clit since you know he’s too annoyed to do it for you.

behind you, toji arches a brow but says nothing, opting to fuck you harder. his heavy balls slam into your fingers, messing up your movements—but are they really? the impact adds a new, chaotic element to your pleasure, making you moan louder.

“fuckkk,” toji tosses his head back, beads of sweat rolling down his temples and forehead as a familiar ache in his side grows from all the exertion. “i can’t hear ya, doll . . make some noise for me.”

ever the mind reader—the words were on the tip of your tongue before his comment. “k-keep going—wanna cum for you, toji, please!”

he lets out a snicker, using his free hand to gift your ass with an especially harsh smack. “not just yet, got that? you’ll cum when i say so, doll face.”

KAMO CHOSO # matches you

“h-harder, oh my—fuck.” choso’s voice cracks at the end of his sentence, eyebrows knitting together as tears gather at the corners of his eyes. he cradles you close to his body, hands splayed on your shoulder blades as he savors the feeling of your own wrapped around his neck.

“i didn’t know you’d like this,” you say, kissing away the tears from his eyes and brushing the stray hairs from his face.

“you’re always asking me to c-choke you,” choso grunts, eyes rolling back deliciously as his cock twitches inside you.

it was true. he’d finally gotten curious enough to ask you why you enjoyed having his hands wrapped around your neck during your sexual experiences together. he’d always been interested to learn more about your kinks and interests, regardless of whatever it was. sometimes it’s a hit or miss, but oftentimes . . he enjoys letting you take the lead and show him how you like it.

you’re seated on his lap, cock buried deep and somehow not soft despite his prior orgasms, many of which are leaking from your cunt onto his thighs. choso’s never been afraid to get messy, as evidenced by the dried spit covering the bite marks and hickeys all over your neck.

“you look perfect like this, cho,” you coo, words sounding extra honeyed to his oxygen deprived brain. “you’re sure this isn’t too tight?”

ever the masochist, he nods, tilting his head to the side and offering the tender skin of his jaw and neck for you to mark up. you accept choso’s invitation, hands loosening as you pepper kisses along his sweaty skin.

he smells like his nice, soft shampoo mixed with your perfume. you can feel his racing pulse beneath your lips, and he savors the way you smile against his skin before nipping at it.

“ah, baby,” choso moans, hair slipping into his face again, “need you to—need you to ride me.”

“anything for you,” is your loving reply, spoken into the softness of his cheek, which is flushed a dark red. you rock your hips against his, hands loosening again as you indulge in the delicious sensation of being full. because of your movements, more cum pools on his thighs, hot and sticky from being inside you for so long.

“i’m..” choso gulps, an uncontrollable whimper slipping from his throat to interrupt him. “‘m gonna cum—t-take all of it for me, please baby.”

“mhm,” you moan into his neck, the fresh bite marks sticky with spit as they press against your lips. “give it to me, cho. a-all of it . . everything.”

choso cums to your words. his cock spurts ribbons of white inside you, so deep you wonder how long it’ll take to pour out, and his head falls back, entirely spent. his breaths come in heaving puffs, face flushed and sticky with sweat, but he still manages to look at you.

exhausted, he pants, “you didn’t cum, did you?”

you shake your head with a small smile, fingers grazing over where you’d been gripping his neck. “‘s okay, you’re pretty tired. maybe later?”

deep inside, you hope choso will offer to get you off anyway. a lovesick, dazed grin spreads across his lips and he lightly nudges you backwards.

“come on, lay on your back for me.”

“why, cho? you’re exh—”

choso shushes you, pushing you back more insistently. “i want to make my pretty girl cum on my tongue. lay down, please?”

[screampied]

ʚ FINISH INSIDE HER ?! ɞ

ᡴꪫ sum. what the hell is a full nelson? no worries, luckily underground boxer toji shows you a hands-on demonstration. although, you want choso to try it with you too. not only are you a slut visual learner, but you also think you can take them both - not in a fight though.

wc. 5.8k

warnings. fem! reader, boxer! au, boxers toji & choso, 3sum, choso walks in on you and toji, unprotected, full nelson, manhandling, brief ōral (f + m), quickie, size diff, finger sucking, praise, dirty talk, choking, they fight over you, whiny choso, squırting, impact play, slight nıpple play, premature ejac, spıt.

an. kind of based on this ask!

“upsie daisey, uh huh. biiiiig fuckin’ stretch,” your mouth drops open once your thighs gets sprawled apart. your back slumps back against the fighter — toji, you’ve been training with him for a while. not only were you training with him but you’ve also been a bit of a fan. you mentioned to him on how you wanted to strengthen your ‘flexibility’ a bit more and of course, he had just the right thing to help you. out of curiosity, you asked him about a certain position you watched him perform on his rival, choso kamo. full nelson, it was considered illegal in some rings if not all. toji would always perform a specific choking move where he’d pin choso down with ease, burly buff arms putting him in a head lock - preventing him from moving a single inch. the entire crowd always goes wild at it every single time—so you wanted to try it out for yourself. “easy, easy. don’t tap out on me jus’ yet, okay? y’er a big girl.”

bobbling your head to give him a nod, an airy breeze shoves you back into his chest. the stretchy fabric of his boxing shorts tickle against your skin upon impact. “o- okay,” you breathe, gasping once he hooks two big arms underneath the undersides of your thighs. he’s got such a good taut grip that seconds later, you felt yourself throb a bit at the feverish, hot friction. “you’re not really gonna, heh, choke me out right?”

“not unless y’er into that, princess,” he jibes, a throaty husk of a chuckle leaving out of him. and as you’re spread all out, limbs extended—yeah,

you were probably fucked.

after what seems like hours of meaningless stretches and exercises to prepare your limbs, toji’s finally got you in the position — you were sprawled right in his lap, being in a safe firm chokehold.

his voice was roughly gruff, and as he spreads your legs just a bit further, you feel the cottony bandage that wraps around his arm ghost up against your thigh. his touch was gentle and you intake a sharp breath, further continuing to lean into his touch - his grasp. “mhm, seems like y’er a bit more flexible than i thought. this comfy?”

“no,” you let off a sheepish snort, starting to feel a brief pang on your thighs from the position. to be fair — not only was full nelson uncomfortable but it was dangerous. just one wrong move and snap. but toji was a professional, he’d make sure you’d keep all your pretty little limbs in tact. probably. clearing your throat, your eyes scan around a plethora of trophies and plaques he’s won throughout his career. “but um, have you ever tried this position with no clothes on?”

toji grows quiet, allowing you to lie back on his chest. black curly strands of chest hair fondle against your skin before he murmurs gruffly into your ear. “maybe.”

the growing bulge that hid underneath his boxers had you almost feral. you felt its presence—how it was just there, poking right against your shorts.

you prepare for yet another sharp drawn out breath, taking in his loud axe cologne that wafts through the entire studio. “can we try nude?”

and that was probably dumb to ask.

it was very dumb to ask.

your lewd filthy thoughts loved to make themselves known out of your lips at the worst times. your heart raced the moment you blurted that out, feeling the tips of your ears burn a scorching temperature. he’d say no, you were almost sure of it. you were just a dumb fan who managed to be a favorite, surely he wouldn’t—

“why the hell not,” he snickers, sliding his hands toward the smooth curvature of your hips. “i’ll go easy on ya for today. let’s get rid of these,” he pulls on the string of your panties, already discarding your shorts with such quickness. “i’ll try not ‘ta break you too bad.”

but that was a lie—

not only did he break you but he stretched you out in all the ways possible.

you had the most dumbest expression, tongue lolled out, legs spread, gushing all over the velvet red boxing mat - time and time again.

pink luminescent lighting shine back against the centers of your irises as you stare up at the ceiling’s lights. you’ve never felt so weak. spit slick lips of yours were all swollen and numb from being chewed on constantly like candy. within minutes, your knees were already surrendering, bucking at his very mercy.

“fuck, tooooji.” you’d drag out his name in cute elongated syllables.

the infamous elastic stretch of his cock has you writhe and spasm all over his lap. ludicrously, your voice bounces across the cheap walls of the building. nevertheless, you can’t lie to yourself, you’ve rubbed a few out at the thought of having this moment with your favorite boxer.

unprofessional, maybe. but he didn’t care and neither did you. besides, he was helping you with your flexibility after all. even if it was a bit more intimate than most regular methods.

your heart races, thumping out quick hurried beats as he’s shoving his cock in and out of you. you’re in such a submissive position that you were just a bobble head, a doll. he treated you like one — using your body, bouncing you up and down and manhandling you all over the mat.

he gruffly cackles behind the plushy shell of your ear, watching right before his eyes as you’re jouncing on his dick. your skin was so warm, so hot, the recoil stings for a few seconds before your ass ricochets off his sharp pelvis.

the smacks and paps only grew louder, and so did your sweet melodic moans and whimpers.

a creamy pearl of a ring coats around his base and he grunts, still having a beefy arm around your neck. his muscles flex and you fight the urge to bite his bicep. “easy, good girl. lean right into me. y’er a natural.”

his words went straight to your cunt. toji was a dirty talker, never a sweet talker.

he knew how to get you wet, whether it was with his slick mouth, his tongue, or even his cock. his voice was always so low, timbre and all. the husk that it carried never failed to make you soaked. embarrassing,

oh, it definitely was embarrassing.

he’s got a free hand gripping onto your thigh, kissing your ass with his palm - rough rude spanks.

the cute flinches of your rear bouncing back against his lap makes him slide a tongue over his lips, including sliding over that notorious scar that slides down the right side of his mouth. “fuck, so fuckin’ sloppy. got the mat all soaked. should make ya lick it up, huh.”

you couldn’t even reply . . you tried, but babbles of inaudible squeaks came out instead.

it just felt too good, he felt too good.

you’re panting heavily, the repetitive pop song that blared through the boxing ring’s broken speakers gets stuck in your head. you hear the moist wails of your pussy squelching time and time again, entirely soaking yourself with your own beloved filth. a free hand of toji’s creeps its way in front of you. hand so big that he could easily cover it over your entire face if he could.

with glossy half-lidded eyes, you stare at his palm, feeling your mouth water.

thick long fingers, he knew what he was doing.

toji’s just casually waving his hand around in your face in a slow mesmerizing motion as you bounced on his cock. they were so lengthy and thick, his arms had prodding veins for days. from his wrist to the edge of his arm, you saw the veins poking out. he was so built that you couldn’t help but stare, couldn’t help but drool. “what a sloppy little girl. i could really snap you in half, heh,” he huffs, clenched abs pressing against your back. it’s hard, rock hard . . they feel like bricks.

you knew underground boxers like toji had to keep up a strict workout routine but damn.

“but you’d like that, huh,” he murmurs, bringing another smack to your slick wet folds. you moan at the stretch of your limbs, craving for more of his rude spanks against your swollen cunt. you throbbed from not only his words but his touch too, and the thought of him literally breaking you had you a bit more soaked than you thought it would.

this was a workout of its own - rutting your weight up and down against him. he’s got a secure hold on your body, holding your thighs up in place.

you were stupid, not even acknowledging that you’d already grab ahold of his wrist, stuffing his fingers into your mouth. you moan the second the dry bandaged digits delve past your lips and makings way down your throat. as your ass steadily rocks against him in sloppy rhythm, you feel the very tips of his fingers prod against your puny uvula. you almost gag at the unexpected feeling—a cobwebby trail of saliva that was translucent pours down the side of your parted lips.

“no manners, tch,” he scoffs and his ripped abs continue to brush up against your back. “sloppy baby. got some nerve showin’ up to train being this fuckin’ nasty ‘n soaked.”

the hot skin against skin contact rubbing off against each other had your panties in a bunch, despite them already being technically pulled to the side and abandoned.

you were already still sensitive, swollen achy cunt sobbing out its own pleas of pleasure.

haphazardly, your knees buckle and he snatches his fingers out of your mouth. he does this solely to get a taste himself, swirling his pink pointed tongue against his slippery digits all thanks to you. “startin’ ‘ta think you came here for more than to just get an autograph ‘n work out with me, pretty girl.”

and as the plump crown of his cock molds you a tiny brief bulge from just his size alone — it repeatedly thrashes up against your sweetest spot. you shudder, about to collapse backward before you hear the jingling bells of the front door sound off.

“h- hey, toji man. did i leave my . . gloves . . ?”

choso, toji’s rival and regular training partner stares at the erotic scene and his face twists.

“oh,” and he’s flustered right away.

you stop bouncing and your eyes widen as big as saucers—yet, you weren’t even embarrassed. you were in awe, you knew all about choso kamo.

the choso kamo, anyone would be crazy not too. he was the most recent up and coming boxer, and after beating toji with a brutal close score of 58-57.

as you’re reclined back against toji—you finally get a good look at the other dark haired boxer.

he was slim yet also well built, choso was known for fighting opponents with his iconic ponytails but as of currently - he started to wear his hair down. sometimes he’d pin it up, a bit of a wolf cut that flew down his broad shoulders.

as his bashful gaze met yours, he grew nervous. very nervous.

black sable hued shorts cling onto his hips whilst he was shirtless, a few past battle scars painting the entire canvas of his perfectly chiseled body. “am i . . interrupting something?”

“nah. c’mere, ‘cho,” a husky voice calls out and he pauses in his tracks. the air suddenly clouded its way with imaginary thick smoke of lust and tension. it’s so thick you could cut it with a knife.

he swallows—dragging his bare feet across the crimson red mat toward you both, ducking underneath the stretchy multicolored bars before gawking at you. he was far pretty up close once he entered the practice ring, he runs a hand behind his neck before averting his eyes away from your nude body out of respect.

“he’s always been kinda shy,” toji purrs to you, still buried deep into your cunt. you shiver, every movement he makes makes—even just sitting up makes you let off a soft noise. you chew the inside of your cheek, feeling a stickiness stick between your thighs. dark green eyes flicker at choso and he hums, tilting his head. “choso, you know how to do full nelson too, yeah?”

“y- yeah, of course i do why?”

“you’re avoiding eye contact again.”

choso gulps - burying his hands into the burrows of his shorts pockets. a sheet of sweat marinates across his forehead before he glances at toji, rephrasing. “eh, yeah i know how to do full nelson. why?”

“because,” toji smacks his lips, a hand prying its way between the valley of your legs. you moan, still feeling full from tepid hot dumps of his cum practically oozing out of your puffy slit. “we’ve got a new opponent ‘n she wants to experience what it’s really like on the ring.”

“toji, we do full nelson all the time,” choso timidly runs a bundle of fingers through his buzzed undercut, a timid smile curling against his lips. “we never usually do it um . . naked though.”

the boxer underneath you deadpans. he could be so dense, choso stands still before a small gasp wrenches out of his pink glossed lips.

“oh.. oh,” and his face turns into a flustered tint.

you’ve watched a bit of his interviews and it seemed not only was he shy with the press but he was also very shy in person. it was cute, regardless.

as you’re busy being trapped up in your own thoughts, choso can’t help but peek down toward your legs. you were all exposed and being stretched out by his rival. he sucks his teeth in longing, briefly staring away before feeling himself grow a bit . . aroused. “i feel disrespectful for looking, ‘m sorry.”

“no, it’s okay,” you murmur in coy reassurance, and a hand tugs onto his wrist. choso’s breath hitches at your touch, and you felt his dark eyes flicker back toward you. there’s this look in choso’s eyes, it’s mainly lust-driven. his pupils were blown and his heart raced, you looked so pretty. it’s not like he didn’t exactly not know you. he’d see you every so often when you were ‘training’ with toji. not only that but he’d spot you attending almost every boxing match. always in the front row with a vip lanyard. secretly, you were more of a choso fan but toji didn’t have to know that. “do you wanna touch me too?”

“yes,” he blurts out almost right away and his face flushes a deeper shade. a rumble from toji shakes his shoulders - he’s chuckling, and you feel a big arm wrap around your torso. you bite down on your lip, still feeling yourself sit in a creamy puddle of filth, warm cum still plugged into you. choso starts to pant, watching you slither a hand between your thighs, spreading your soppy pussy lips. “i mean.. oh, that’s..” and he’s barely able to think straight, watching as you toy with yourself whilst still being full of toji’s thickset cock. his head starts to spin before he inches closer, kneeling down after your cute hand gestures to come here. “a- are you sure you want me to—”

“it’s okay, go ahead.” you hum, guiding his wrist.

“choso, she’s not gonna bite ya,” toji snickers, bringing your legs back down. as of now — you were currently straddling him with your back facing his chest. choso rubs his neck once more, growing sheepish yet again. it’s adorable, but again, he’s seen you at his matches and face offs. choso being choso though was far too shy to say anything or thank you for your support. but now, maybe he could thank you in another way. toji crosses his arms, cocking his head as he glances at the scene. “atta boy.”

a scowl forms on the timid boxer as his fingers resume to brush up against your drooling cunt. “s- shut up, toji,” and you let off a moan at his gentle strokes. you continue to lie back against toji - staring at choso, ogles as two plump fingers of his partner’s play up and down against your soddened entrance. choso’s mouth starts to water the more he stares, admiring how full you were—you had a few remnants of toji’s cum oozing from your slit and he swipes it up, bedaubing it against your pussy to make it sheeny again. “f- fuck, you’re so pretty.”

“you can t- touch me more, choso,” you lightly pause his hand by grabbing his wrist. his eyes meet yours and he felt the tent in his boxers tighten. oh, he was already whipped from the sound of your voice. with half lidded smoky eyes, he huffs out a single breath before glancing at your lips. you climb off of toji and a brief pop exits your cunt - dragging choso closer. “are you hard, choso?”

“he’s definitely hard,” toji tchs, averting his jade green eyes toward his partner’s shorts. it was hard to not notice the presentable bulge that’s sticking right in front of his leather everlast brand shorts. “cute.”

“shut up man,” he repeats with a glowering scowl.

with a cute dramatic sigh, choso grumbles something under his breath - trying to pay more attention back toward you. he leans into your touch, closing the gap between your legs until he’s right between you. choso presses a chaste kiss against your collarbone before moaning into your tender skin. he couldn’t help but suck against your shoulder for a few seconds, relishing in your candied flavor.

you were so sweet - bandaged hands roam everywhere on your displayed body before he exhales deeply, staring at you with almost heart shaped pupils. “you . . wanna try full nelson with me too, princess?”

throwing your arms over him, you hum with a subtle nod. “yeah, ‘s okay. i can handle it.”

famous last words,

with choso . . he stretched you all the way out, probably even more than toji.

his cock was just as thick, maybe even more. his fat reddened tip swelters the inside of your sopping pussy so good until you’re whimpering his name on constant loop. it’s like a mantra, you’re so dumb that it’s like his five lettered name was the only thing your brain could comprehend to say.

he’s got you upright in the same exact position before, slinging two beefy arms underneath your thighs as your weight bounces and defies gravity.

“fuck, fuck,” he whines, the addictive squeeze your cunt had never failed to make itself known. he reached any and every area so deep. choso had a delicious curve to his cock that sent you straight butterflies. it expands through your walls, french kissing your insides until you whine. his base was repeatedly getting smacked from your ass, each ‘n every time you jerked up from his lap. “y- you’re so good. so warm, ‘m gonna pass out.”

“aren’t you the boxer though?” you try to tease, but your cheeky voice falters the second his slitted tip kisses against that spot.

your vision was merely blurry, seeing nothing but a kaleidoscope of stars. in almost defeat, your head falls back against his chest and toji watches the entire time, buff arms crossed and an amused cunning expression. seeing you milk his rival was something he didn’t know would turn him on so much.

choso doesn’t reply to your little jest, still pumping such fat inches inside of your gripping walls. he’s already dumb, knocked out cold with a solid punch - not necessarily from an opponent, but your pussy. “hang onto me, ‘kay? this position requires lots of um . . s- stamina.”

as you nod, your entire body dangles and bobs from the movement — parching hot friction gluing against each jolting limb before you spasm.

“chosoooo,” and your thighs collapse, coming to its pleasurable demise. his thrusts were sloppy, the squelches of your own body was so lewd. you heard it through and through, glancing down to see yourself flutter and clench around his cock. “fuck, fuck ‘m gonna get close again.”

“wait,” a gruff voice murmurs and you glance up to see toji standing over you. he cups your chin, a thumb caressing your quivering bottom lip. “such a empty mouth. hm, open for me, pretty. think you could use some throat training too.”

as choso’s still plummeting his cock into your swollen cunt - stretching you out dexterously, you part your lips open.

by your surprise, toji’s lips meets yours and he pulls you into a deep kiss. it’s a bit of a rushing kiss, sloppy and strings of saliva tangling between each mouths. you moan, feeling the weight of your breasts bounce as you’re making haste on the other boxer’s lap. fuck, you were quite literally living the dream. you whimper, feeling his broad hands grab against your tits, using thumbs to push squeeze pressure against your perky nipples. he was always so handsy, allowing his hands to wander everywhere and yanking against the remaining pathetic pieces of fabric that covered your body.

you were still layered . . partially,

his rough scarred hands slide underneath your blouse as he’s continuing to make out with you, curling his parted tongue beside your own before it turns into obscene sucking. your own tongue occasionally scrapes against his scar that located directly near the right side of his mouth - it tickles a bit—however, you whimper once choso’s dick created its own little kisses against your g-spot.

abruptly, toji who was just claiming your mouth a few seconds ago pulls away from the continued kiss to grip underneath your chin again. “ah, say ah,” and he hums at your obedience, staring at your pretty pink tongue rolling out of your mouth flat. “good, ‘m gonna train this throat a little bit for ya, sweets. that alright?”

“o- okay,” and you’re briefly cut off once he springs out his cock again, thwacking his pink pearly tip against your tongue. he lets off a gruff satisfied grunt, feeling himself harden up once you flick your tongue against his slit. you’re slow, making sure to savor his taste. he watches, smacking his lips and his left brow curls.

toji bites his lip, his abs curlings as he watches you try to suck him of fully — he smacks his cock all against your face softly, watching your needy pout before humming. “such a needy cock hungry slut,” and a thumb swipes against your lip, preparing to insert his hardened shaft down your throat. “aw, you want more, do ya?”

you nod before moaning, feeling choso kiss down your neck, yearning for your attention.

“y- you’re doing so good,” choso whines against your ear, clinging onto your jerking body. “ngh, don’t listen to toji. he’s just mean.”

toji rolls his eyes. he’d reply with a sassy remark but he was still feeling the after effects of sensitivity. his muscles were all tense and spasming from you just bouncing on him just a few minutes ago. you’re just grinding onto choso, feeling your hips ridiculously buckle and snap before he smears his cockhead against your lips like it was lipstick. his plump tip goes against your wet lips, only for him to smack it against your clean pink tongue. “mmph.” you lashes flutter, ogling as he buries a few fingers into your scalp for a good grip. toji grunts, briefly tossing his head back in rapture. his scent grows stronger as he gradually starts to sink his way into your mouth.

“t- toji, ‘m gonna cum. i can’t last,” choso babbles, facial expressions scrunching up the more you quicken your tempo on his lap. toji glances at choso who’s melting right underneath you — he’s got you in a secure hold, but it’s lazy.

one of his arms sling around your torso, another holding onto your thigh. “fuck,” he sucks against your neck, feeling the stretch increase. your walls were his own worst enemy, preparing to milk him for all of his worth. everything felt hot, his throat felt dry and he’s starting to shake right underneath you. “gonna cum, gonna c- cum.”

“not yet, ‘cho,” he grunts, watching as you lean in, adjusting your throat to his heavy size. your tongue swirls around the peeling slit and he huffs, a single hand tightening its hold against the roots that stick onto your scalp. “mhm, look at me. don’t worry about him, he’s just a crybaby,” and you can hear choso let off a scoff from behind you. toji’s sensitive cock was still dribbling a bit with a concoction of your previous juices and he groans at the image of you lapping it right up. “c’mon, little deeper. i wanna feel that slutty roof.”

whilst you’re having your mouth and cunt filled entirely—choso’s whining pitches louder and louder. so loud that it reverbs all throughout the thin walls of the empty boxing arena. thankfully, there wasn’t anyone here and it was usually closed on saturdays. he didn’t like be edged, he hated it.

but it felt good,

so fucking good.

especially due to the fact that he was so close to you, hearing your sweet whimpers follow in sync with his.

your voice made his cock twitch and from the inside, you felt it all.

every frantic spasm - you felt it, not to mention the few lightning type veins that run down the upward curve of his cock, you felt that too.

you rocked against him until your knees were at its last. he’s still holding you up but even he was about to tap out. choso had stamina - but he was no match for his rival, toji.

with murky low eyes—toji’s staring dead at you, bobbling your head and merely shoving you down just a little deeper.

you get sloppy, a puddle of drool trickling down the corners of your chin and down the valley of your chest before his tip hits against the roof of your mouth again.

it’s a rough rude hit and his cock gives the very back of your throat its own few jabs. a combo if you will — yet it’s more raunchy instead of sportsmanlike.

“eyes on me baby. yeah, yeah,” toji turns your head a bit, locking onto your sweet gaze. “get it wet, clean it up for me. make me just as much of a mess as you, girl.”

his words were so low - an almost growl. you were too focused on toji that you concisely forgot about the other boxer that’s sat underneath you.

choso came and it was so sudden—he couldn’t hold it anymore.

his grip weakens and he slouched back against the ring, spurts of hot cum pouring into you deep. he’s trembling, feeling a wave crash down on him as he’s succumbing to his high. choso can’t help but try to mimic toji, swatting the palm of his hand softly against your ass. even his spanks were respectful.

the worn out boxer pants, letting off an adorable finish. his vocals were quite loud despite having a deep bellow. “baby oh, fuuuck,” he mewls out, dark brows coming together. choso was about to lose it even more at the feeling your swiveling hips throwing itself around in a circle just because. toji watches the entire thing, how you were teasing his partner whilst having your mouth all stuffed full. as he’s stood tall before you both, his abs clench and you get a face view of it all. perfectly incised along the edges, you saw a few marks and scars coat against his skin and it’s never been more attractive. choso on the other hand found his hands grabbing onto your tits, gently brushing a thumb against your sensitive nipples before nuzzling into your neck. he was definitely pussy drunk — you could hear it. “babyyy,” a soft voice whines pussy drunkly against the lobe of your ear, and you depart your lips away from toji’s cock. he groans, viewing you lie back before you start to twitch out a bit yourself.

not only was choso close but so were you. as your legs were all stuck up in the air in its ideal position, you dramatically gasp once you feel it.

there’s a tugging pile of pressure that presses down on your tummy. your jaw drops—dangles and everything as you’re being pushed further toward the edge. your arousal steadily builds up until it finally comes.

just seconds apart from choso, you pant - a brief pang of electric shock ascending down right through you. you were speechless for a moment.

there’s nothing but a white noise blaring through each of your ears. it feels like an unpredictable wave, a powerful wave that ripples right through your entire body. it took you a long time to realize you were finishing - not only finishing but you were squirting.

“ohmygodddd,” you whimper out, feeling your legs vigorously shake. you gush out right onto the mat. feeling yourself grow hot — you’re even hotter because of choso’s body underneath you.

effortlessly, bodies stick against each other, snuggling in filthy warmth. as you’re leisurely coming to a halting stop of your rhythmic hips, choso’s cock remained tuck inside of you and you catch your breath, head cutely flopping back against his bare chest.

“did . . did you just squirt on me?” choso whimpers, a tremor in his voice.

his voice, it grew a bit raspier. although, you could still hear the softness lingering underneath it.

toji leans in toward you both, spreading your legs open just a bit more - he strums a calloused thumb down your opening, peering as you’re still fluttering out of arousal and was still sopping wet all the way from your needy clit.

“she fuckin’ did,” he coos, and he leans down, getting right on his knees.

you watch with low hooded eyes, still feeling surges of nirvana and euphoria overtake your body. toji purrs in contentment, wide open palms slapping against the foamy ring mat before sticking out his lengthy rosy tongue. you’re catching irregular heavy breaths right along with choso, full lungs preparing to collapse and give out before you pulse.

the moment toji drags his long tongue over the dampened spot of where you just made a mess—you felt yourself throb yet again.

so nasty, he had no shame at all. choso watched too, and he felt the exact same way as you did.

“what a mess,” and with another throaty chuckle leaving his lips, he cleans the mat off entirely before going between your legs. you moan, his palm gifting your cunt with a single abrupt spank. you’re so drenched that a few spurts of your slick coat onto his hand. toji stares at it, scoffing. “pussy tryin’ to talk back i see,” and he rubs his hand in a circular rotation against your cunt, maneuvering all kinds of shapes with his palm. you whimper, grabbing onto choso’s wrist. in awe, toji watches as dumps of cum ooze out of your opening and he even licks that up too, sticky black hair all unkempt and gluing against his forehead. the thin black bangs that run down his brows gives him a more alluring look and he hums, darkened eyes meeting his partner’s. “choso. don’t be a zombie. c’meree.”

you were definitely fucked—

being laid out, defeated and just stupidly stupid.

your legs sprawl outward as they’re both right between them. taking turns, flicking tongues of each against your swollen cunt. they took fighting over you to an entire new level. as they were drinking you dry — you couldn’t help but imagine the lewd thought of taking them both at the same time. you’d probably get crushed, you could barely even handle one as is, but two? that’d be an actual knockout for real.

as you’re still in a trancing daze, you watch both of the boxers with wide rounded eyes, grabbing both of them by the hair. there’s choso who’s really sweet and gentle, giving your pussy soft kitten kisses, softly brushing a thumb down your slit.

and then there’s toji . .

the clit biter - opposite of choso being the clit kisser, he doesn’t care.

with ravened brows furrowing up, he’s so rude to your pussy. every few seconds, he’d tenderly nibble against your pulsating nub, knowing that you’re sensitive there. with a smug grin, he shifts his eyes at you to stare at you dead in the face whilst he’s right between your legs. he’s messy too, moving his head from side to side, his scar swipes against your cunt every now and then.

not only was he messy but he was a hogger. he slurps you clean, luxuriating the tasteless flavor on his tongue before he hears choso cutely huff out in frustration.

“toji, you’re hogging her. ‘s no fair,” he grunts, dark eyes catching a glimpse at him from his hazy peripherals.

“cry ‘bout it,” and he spits on your cunt, hooked bump of his nose rubbing all against your slit.

already - toji’s chin was drenched, and so was choso’s. they both match with a slick of your sheeny arousal dripping down their perfectly chiseled chins. about a good hour had probably passed — then again, you were too dumb to acknowledge the time. all you knew was that you were soaked. you whimper, being nothing but a stiff shivering mess as they devoured you whole.

the numbness in your legs had your back rising up in ecstasy. you wanted more. sloshing slick tongues thrash and glissade against each other before they eventually . . tangle.

toji groans, accidentally meeting with choso’s lips and its brief. his eyelashes open and he has a sly smile at his rival. you watch the entire thing, the timid boxer versus the smug one. toji’s hand still remains on your folds and he’s multitasking, seductively licking choso’s bottom lip - still locking his gaze on him. he’s starting to taking his attention off of you. “hm, don’t tell me you wanted attention from me ‘n not her this entire time, ‘cho.”

a lump gets caught in his throat. choso grows flustered, hearing his own pulse shoot out through his ears as his lips made contact against his rival. “i—”

he’s hard, flaccid still, but definitely hard. there was a loud silence once a smack noise leaves there lips the second they each depart. choso’s got a pout, a longing pout before he tries to act tough.

“shut up, toji.” he grouses, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“how ‘bout ya make me,” and you’re just sat there dumbfounded with your legs still sprawled as if you weren’t just being fought over - invisible questions marks pop up everywhere over your head. what about you? what about you. with quick reflexes, he pins choso flat down on his back before snickering, having the most lewd back arch imaginable.

“our re-match is tonight after all, pretty boy.”

[silverskyeline]

'look at me' 18+

oneshot - logan can't fuck like he used to, but you don't care. you get on top, gladly taking care of him in return. (2k words) pairing - logan howlett (logan 2017) x gn!reader tags: pre-established relationship, doggy style, penetration, dom!logan, reader rides logan, filthy talking logan, he talks you through it, rough, praise kink, cursing, mutual orgasm, choking, 'use your words', unprotected sex, creampie, sweet ending

logan can't keep up like he used to, but he still fucks you like a man possessed when he's able, like a rabid animal - hips bucking, muscles flexing, baring his teeth as he takes you.

his rough, calloused and scarred hands grip your waist, contrasting against your soft skin. that veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, just like you wanted.

moments before, you'd teased him for the tent in his blue jeans. logan had cocked a smirk, that same signature smirk that always renders you weak at the knees as he began unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. you would wait, he knew you'd wait, you were good for him like that. the distinct sound of the clinking metal and the unsheathing of leather caused a shiver to run down your spine, a throbbing in your core. you needed him just as much as he needed you.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it wasn't fair, how he could tell as soon as he entered a room just how much you wanted him. he could smell it, smell your arousal clear as day, he'd teased you about it so many times. the scent fills his mind every time, makes his cock twitch in his boxers, the need to have you almost overwhelming.

your soft wanting moans drift to his ears, one of his palms sliding up to the base of your spine as he keeps you firmly bent over on the bed, fucking into you with purpose. rough grunting spills from his lips, your head turning to catch his eye, watching as beads of sweat form on his forehead. chest rising and falling, logan grits his teeth.

"this what you wanted, huh?" he grunts, his sentence punctuated with a particularly harsh thrust that knocks the wind from both of you, "you wanted my cock? hm? just couldn't fuckin' help but tease and tease. . ."

you whine, gripping the sheets in front of you as the room fills with the lewd sound of skin on skin. he always liked it rough, plus - you'd known logan long enough to know how he liked to channel his anger into sex. and he was fucking good at it. you'd take it, again and again, as harsh as he wanted to give. because you knew that as soon as you were done, he'd be scrambling to pepper soft kisses along your neck, praising you for how good you'd been for him.

his thrusts falter, and you reach back to take his wrist in your hand in a comforting gesture. the harsh panting tells you all you need to know, his grip on you fading. but it's alright, you know how to take care of him, too. you tug at his wrist and after a brief moment of hesitation, he pulls out and lays beside you, looking almost defeated.

your hips find their home atop his and you nestle against him, slowly grinding back and forth on his length. his hands immediately search for your thighs, pawing at the flesh as he looks up at you. you drink in his expression, the way he's looking at you through his heavy eyelids, his scarred, sweaty bare chest rising and falling harshly.

"let me take care of you. . ." you whisper, your hands sliding up across the feverish skin on his chest, threading through the hair that grows there.

he licks his lips, attempting to protest "but i-"

"shhhh. . ." you shake your head, inching upwards to brush his leaking tip against your entrance and he hisses at the contact, "i said let me take care of you. . ."

you sink down on his cock, gasping as he fills you once more - at this point, you've memorised every vein on that thing. you love how he fills you so completely, how you almost, almost struggle to take him in all the way.

"fuck. . ." he huffs, his eyes fluttering shut as he grasps your thighs, sinking into the bed. he hates it, hates how fucking tired he gets nowadays. but damn if you don't look like the prettiest little thing bouncing on his cock like that.

and you want to comfort him, to let him know that it's okay. you'd ride him every night if he'd let you, but he always insists that he can do it, that he can still go as hard and as fast as he used to all those years ago. fast or slow, it didn't bother you, as long as you had logan, you'd be happy, content with even a passing glance from him in your direction.

"look so pretty up there. . ." he coos breathlessly, watching you bounce, his hand snaking up to rest on your stomach as he admires you.

you moan, tilting your head back - and he groans in response, dick twitching desperately, aching to fill you as his hips buck against your movements. he loves watching you ride him like this, watching as you take control, set the pace you want.

the rough hand on your stomach drifts upwards, finding its home around your neck, gently still. but even the soft grip has you reeling, gripping his wrist. you know he still wants to feel some control, that it wasn't because he was losing energy that he was on his back, no. . . it was a choice.

and you indulge him, working down over his cock with your tight hole, clamping around him as your hips meet his over and over. he's groaning, grumbling, eyes fluttering shut as he's lost in the way you take him.

"logan, look at me. . ." you whisper pleadingly, nails digging into his chest, fingertips tracing across the scars there.

immediately his eyes open to lock onto yours, and when he sees you? fuck, he needs more. he uses his grip on your throat to pull you down into a deep kiss, breathing heavily through his nose as his tongue delves into your mouth. you love how much more experienced he is than you, how he makes quick work of you every fucking time, has you a mess for him, opening up to him in every way you can.

"yeah. . . that's it. . ." he grumbles against your lips, kissing you with a fierce passion that borders on animalistic between words, "keep workin' that cock, keep bouncin', you're doin' so well."

you clench around him at those very words, unable to even think straight with his tongue shoved into your mouth and his cock stuffed deep inside you. he's taking you in every way you'll give yourself to him. even with him on his back and with half his energy he's still able to have you squirming.

and the praise, the fucking praise. logan knows just how to talk to you to make you melt. he'll fuck you roughly, desperately pumping his dick into you whilst whispering that you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen into your ear. he'll have you split in half with his thick arms hooked around your legs whilst telling you that you're so good for him, calling you sweet pet names that contrast his rough movements.

that voice of his, gravely, deep, rumbling. you can't think straight when he talks to you this way.

"such a sweet little thing," he groans, his hand on your thigh snaking around to give your ass a quick slap before grabbing a handful. light work for him considering the size of his hands - don't even get him started on what he likes to do with those. . .

you call his name, whimpering against his lips as you try to keep up with his kisses all while riding him. your mind is blank, slamming your hips down against him as he bucks up, meeting your thrusts - sending him deeper and deeper.

his hand on your neck traces along your skin to grip the back of your head, feeling as his digits spread across your scalp. "fuuuuuck," he groans, "can feel how tight you are, you're gonna cum, huh?" logan asks, though it's less of a question and more of a statement. he knows your body better than you do.

you nod, whimpering pathetically, inches from his lips.

eyes darting from your mouth, up into your gaze, he grins, "use your words, c'mon. i asked you a question."

"yes logan, yes, fuck- i'm gonna cum!" you cry out, tilting your hips as you chase that high he wants to give you.

with his mouth open, he pants, watching you above him with a keen fascination as your face contorts in pleasure. slowly, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. his favourite thing in the world is to watch you come undone around him, the way your eyes roll back, your pulse quickening under his fingertips.

"c'mon, c'mon, c'mon. . ." he growls, rutting into you from below, feeling as you spasm around his hard, girthy length, "if you cum, i'll cum nice and deep inside you, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"logan. . ." you whine, a clear yes. your head dips down to press against his shoulder, unable to keep yourself upright with the intensity of it all.

he chuckles and it's like music to your ears, loving those rare little noises of his - treasuring the sounds he makes while enjoying you.

both hands are back on your hips now, guiding you, slamming you down onto him as you gasp with each thrust, "c'mon. . . give me what i want, what we both want - make a mess for me."

his words hit you like a command, a call to arms - you will cum for him, make a mess of him and his sheets. you're calling his name into the skin of his neck as you cry out, feeling the orgasm beginning to tear through you.

and he can feel it, feel how you convulse and clamp down on his dick, causing him to gasp. he's moaning, groaning, words catching at the back of his throat as he tries to continue to talk you through it - but he can't. you're fucking him too good, he's gonna cum too.

ropes and ropes of white hot cum fill you, pushed deeper and deeper by his faltering thrusts as his dick twitches with each spray. you gasp, writhing against him as he holds you firmly in place, pulling you down one last time and holding you there as he empties into you completely.

you're whimpering, whining, body jerking as the intensity increases as you roll your hips, riding out the last of your orgasm until you're both left a panting, sweaty mess.

"holy fuck. . ." he whispers into the air, closing his eyes to centre himself, world spinning.

meanwhile, you can't even talk, can't even think about forming words, mind instead occupied with feeling his hot cum dripping out of you.

logan pets the back of your head, stroking your hair gently in an attempt to help you come back into the moment. he wants to thank you, but that's never been his strong suit. instead, he kisses the crown of your head, peppering kisses down along your forehead as he hooks his thumb and forefinger under your chin to bring your face closer to his.

he looks into your hazy, exhausted eyes, his own gaze full of love and appreciation. this is what he lives for - watching you bathe in the afterglow, being lucky enough to look into your eyes every day, being blessed enough to have you here like this.

you greet him with a sleepy, almost bashful smile.

he smiles too, and god, butterflies blossom deep within your stomach. you love him, you love him tired, you love him angry, you love him grumpy, you love him on his back, on top - whatever, you just love him.

"you're too good for me," he whispers as his lips find your forehead once more.

you know those words are his way of saying thanks, but you shake your head in protest, "stop that, not another word."

logan looks into your eyes, really looks at you, those soft hazel hues meeting your gaze. he simply smiles in silence as his hand drifts to your cheek.

the room falls into a comfortable silence, and you wonder how logan ever let you this close. but you don't care, all you care about is taking care of him.

and you will, for as long as he lets you.

[tehshelaroxx]

Last night I got the bright idea to try to exfoliate the little bumps on my inner arms without *actually* knowing how to exfoliate properly and today I woke up with two big, tender rashes in place of the flesh colored patch of bumps. 👍

[yeyinde]

size kink!King Simon Riley x virgin!reader.

Simon's never fucked a virgin before. never had an appetite for them, really. the type he prefers are easy prey. the ones who'll let him rut his fat cock into them until he cums, who always marvel at how big he is. everywhere. who wimper through the stretch, brows pinched tight and fists balled up, but can't fight the victory in their eyes when they reach the bottom, taking him to the root. proud, then, that they conquered this particular beast. he's fine with what he has. really—

but then he finds you. and it's over when your little fawn eyes fall on him, bringing this massive beast to his knees.

the only problem is. he's too big. much too big for you.

he can't fuck you properly so he pushes his cock against your slit, squeezes your thighs tight together, and ruts you like this. a pale imitation of the real thing, of course. but he gets off on how small you look under him, how he pushes out from between your thighs with each stroke, leaking precum all over your belly. marking you.

sex with you is him breaking your pussy in on his thick, rough fingers. one has you wincing, teeth clenched tight. like you've never been touched before. fuck. sweet as pie, aren't you? then two. a tight fit, but he makes it work. suckles on your clit until you gush around him, pussy knotting up around his knuckles like a vice. three is evidently more than you can handle. you howl into the sheets as he forces another finger inside, tongue laving over the stretched skin of your cunt. makes it up to you by wringing out several orgasms with his fingers pressed inside of your cunt, his tongue glued to your clit. his jaw, chin, and neck are drenched, and he basks in tang of you while you wimper against his chest, little sniffles dying out as he cuts his big palm over your pussy, holding you like that. owned. claimed. (almost) all his.

when he isn't fingering you, or spreading you over the sheets, thighs stretched wide over his shoulders as he buries his face into your sweet, sweet pussy, he likes to tap the head of his cock against your slit, admiring the sheer vastitude of your differing sizes. his cock slides between your thighs in a way that it almost garish to look at. awful. strokes his cock the sight of it as he makes you suck on his fingers, and play with your nipples. cums all over your chest, your face. makes you cum all over his, too. it's only fair, after all.

or it's just the tip—literally—because that's the most he can push inside of you before you're whining his name, little fists pounding his chest, pushing him back, trying to get this battering ram out of your sore, stuffed pussy. so he settles for working you open on three fingers, his tongue. loosening you up as much as he can before pushing the head of his fat cock inside of you until you start whimpering out his name. too much, too much, too much—

and then he leans back on his haunches to watch as your hands stroke along his shaft, letting just the head of his cock shallowly fuck into you, stretching your cunt out around him. it's obscene. lewd. he thinks he can smell brimstone clogging his nose, flaming licking his skin, with each inch he forces you to take. gets off on the sight alone, of him greedily giving you another inch. and then another. another. can already see the bulge in your belly. the heavy outline of his thick cock splitting you apart.

he cums inside of you like this. just the tip, fuckin' hell. cumming in your pussy as you masterbate his cock and whine at the too full, overstuffed feeling of him filling you up.

he can't help but to imagine what it would be like when you finally give in, when he pushes the full length of himself into you, splitting you apart around his considerable girth—

feels his cock pulse in response, spitting more spend out into your drenched cunt, plugged up nice and tight around him.

Simon knows you were made for him (and him alone). it's just that some toys need to be broken in before you can play with them. he'll see to it that you're broken in just right.

[ghostsprincess]

I can't stop thinking about Ghost being such a gentleman when your boyfriend is an ass....

warning: domestic abuse, adult language

💀

You were mortified that it happened at work this time...

Your boyfriend was a brute of a man, made worse over the months by drinking alone at night while you bartended to help pay down your student debts from several years ago. He got a little rough with you, but only when he was plastered. And you forgave him, because he was decent the rest of the time.

But suddenly you had to start coming to the pub to pull pints with a little extra makeup on your face. The random patrons out for a casual drink wouldn't have noticed, but your regular boys did. You only knew them by Ghost and Soap. They were military and mean looking, but they laughed together like teenage schoolmates. It was always a good night when they sat at the bar, but you could often feel their eyes on you.

"Y' alright, love?" Ghost asked the first night you wore extra eye makeup and a bright red lipstick.

"Yes," you told him, not meeting his eyes. Your face hurt. Your boyfriend had slapped you two days ago. Your skin was puffy and bruised, and you were embarrassed and afraid to move out, so you stayed. "You boys need another round?"

They left you a sizable tip. They always did.

The next time you saw them, your lip was split open, and you were desperate for a way out of the mess your life had turned into. Trying to hide your face while you mixed drinks was a chore, and as soon as Ghost and Soap arrived, you knew it was useless.

When Soap disappeared toward the washrooms, Ghost leaned across the bar, his hulking shoulders taking up more than their fair of space, making you smile slightly. His voice was deep and soft, but his words made you shiver and freeze with your hand on a pint glass. "Y' know, a pretty little thing like you belongs on a pedestal. A man should touch you with reverence."

You stared at him silently as his eyes tracked the mark on your lip. When Soap returned, you didn't charge them a cent for their drink, but they tipped you well anyway.

When a confrontation happened at the bar, tears stung your eyes, and you wanted to hide. Your boyfriend was drunk and angry, and tonight he beckoned you from behind the bar to a dark corner near the hallway where he could have some privacy while he berated you and roughed you up.

"Please," you begged, running your hands nervously on your shirt. "Just go home. I'll be off work in an hour."

"How many of them have you fucked?"

"What?" you gasped, thinking he'd finally lost it. "What are you talking about? I need to get back to work."

He pushed you up against the wall with his other hand on your jaw. "How many of the men here tonight have you fucked?" His thumb brushed the spot on your lip that was nearly healed, and you flinched. "You have the guiltiest expression. So, tell me how much of a slut you've been. As your boyfriend, I need to keep you in line."

Then he was being hauled away from you as your legs shook. With wide eyes, you watched Ghost's massive bicep wrap around his neck like it was nothing. "Y' alright, love?" he asked you softly, and you nodded without saying a word. Then his face darkened, and his voice was an angry snarl as he told your boyfriend, "Ya' been relieved of your duties."

"The fuck?" he responded from his headlock, gasping for air.

Ghost sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' prick don't even know military protocol." Then he raised his voice a little louder. "I said, ya' been relieved of your duties. I'll take over from here."

Somehow, you found your voice. "Take over?"

Ghost's face softened again when he looked at you there against the narrow hallway wall. "With the boyfriend duties," he told you while Soap dragged your ex-boyfriend toward the exit. "Sound good, love?"

He was holding out his big paw of a hand, palm facing up, and you knew he'd be incapable of using it to hurt you. The softness in his gaze right now and every time he looked at you was proof enough of that. You didn't respond, but you smiled as you slid your hand into his grasp.

"That'll do for now," he grunted.

That was the night you came to know him as Simon.

💀

Part two

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

Ghost who lets you paint his nails. Throwing his gloves somewhere along the floor as he gives you a hand. The other on his thigh as he watches you work.

"What's that one for darling?", leaning over as he looks at the tools you use with some curiosity.

"Your fucking hands are nasty.", recoiling away almost immediately with a playful glare at your words before sighing.

"Fair."

Grease and grime stuck underneath his nails that you've had to remove. Only watching along with absentminded interest even as you lather hand cream over his hands. Making them smoother than they were before, as smooth as you could make sandpaper.

Enjoying the light touches against the tips of his hand as you paint his nails. Trusting your work even after you practically cut some skin off his cuticles. Making him bleed but ah. It wasn't too bad.

"And how much will that cost me hm?", he jokes as he arches his fingers. Inspecting the cleanliness and precision of your work before he chuckles. Grabbing your head with his free hand and kissing your forehead before he gives you the other.

"On the house for my favorite customer."

"Ya saying theres other people's hands you hold for this long?", jealous bastard.

A simple "No.", and he turns smug. >:(

××××××××××××××××××××××x x××××××××××××××××××××××

Masterlist

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 ♡. | genshin!various x gn!reader

「 "𝐚𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐩…"」

— in which you kiss him ... accidentally, and indirectly.

𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 — kazuha, gaming, FREMINET, THOMA, KAVEH, chongyun, gorou

— "Ah, wrong cup."

It's a warm morning, yet the shade of the light canopy of trees provides ample comfort. At your words, however, the amicable conversation halts. Gingerly, you place his cup back on its saucer, uttering a quiet apology. "Sorry, sorry..."

Ugh, a quiet moment with someone you'd been pining after for ages, and you likely just sabotaged any chance you had. Making someone uncomfortable is surely not a way to have someone fall head over heels for you. You cautiously glanced upwards, catching the sight of... something you didn't expect...!?

He hid in his hand, raised and flush against his face. It was rather insufficient in the whole "hiding" department, however, for you could still clearly see the fluster on his features and the red cast across the tips of his ears. Just above the cover of his fingers were his eyes, hurriedly averted from yours. His mouth was slightly ajar, but in the moments that passed, his lips moved to form whispers you couldn't quite catch.

You stood, frantic. Really, every one of your plans was going awry. "I'm sorry! I, I'll go get you a new cup-"

"He caught his hand in his before you could fully depart, clutching it tightly. His usually cool skin was warm. "N, No, I- It's fine..."

He watched your face brighten with relief as you sat back down, completely cheery again, and released a breath quietly.

Ah, how was he supposed to tell you that the mere sight of your lips touching where he had put his made his heart skip a beat?

— It simply wasn't fair.

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 — HEIZOU, KAEYA, CHILDE, venti, ayato, LYNEY

— "Wait, let me try..."

Word had gotten around of a new drink, supposedly "the best in all of teyvat"... naturally, that called for a timely visit. It didn't exactly matter who you went with, though who were you fooling, it did, and he'd been the first one that came to mind when you were drafting a letter. Now, he stood by your side, leisurely swinging his arms while he walked and smiling smugly.

The reason? The moment you reached into your pocket to fish out your wallet to pay the fee for two drinks, you'd found your pockets empty, and that's where he had swooped in, graciously handing over his mora instead. The moment the two of you exited the vicinity of the drink stall, however, he somehow materialized your wallet once more and placed it in your hands with a cat-like grin. That little... you'd be sure to treat him to a meal sometime soon, a favor like that couldn't just be gone unpaid.

...That, and it was a convenient excuse to spend another outing with him.

"Hey, you got the limited edition flavor? C'mon, give me just a sip..." You beamed when he handed said drink down towards you, taking a sip from his straw — until you realized just what you'd done, of course.

It wasn't like it was something dire, not by any means. You were rather the romantic, and the fact that... well, hadn't the two of you just kissed indirectly?

You didn't voice your thoughts, only meekly retreated after handing the bottle back to him, growing even more flustered when your fingers brushed against his in the process. He seemed to hear them, however, and a smirk made its way onto his lips.

"Oh, don't tell me you were aiming for an indirect kiss all along?"

"W- No!" Ugh, that twinkle in his eyes was dangerous. It's easy to see that he doesn't believe you in the slightest. Yet, before you can dispense another rebuttal, he reaches a hand up to your hair and makes a mess of it.

— "Aha, who knew you were so sly~"

𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 — alhaitham, XIAO, albedo, diluc, neuvillette

— "Is something wrong?"

Well, not exactly "wrong", per se. Instead, there was definitely something wrong with you in particular.

The situation started off like any other would. You found the man in his usual place, and greeted him with a smile, to which he nodded in response. He was a busy person, so you'd decided to take the initiative and make him a boxed lunch, only planning to give it to him and then let him carry on with whatever tasks he needed to complete — only... hey, wasn't it too out of character of him to ask you to feed him??

He glanced up at you, his head subconsciously tilting to the side. Just with that simple movement, a figurative arrow struck your heart. "If it's too much trouble, nevermind-"

You awkwardly coughed into your fist, trying to disperse any awfully hopeful thoughts of "hey, isn't this so romantic!?" in your head — yearning for him was one thing, but projecting your imagination of him would be another entirely. "No, it's fine- I was just caught off guard, is all..." At this point, you were more so convincing yourself than him. You dipped your head in a nod to yourself. Of course, he was so swamped with duties that he couldn't spare the time to feed himself, that was the case, wasn't it?

"Here, open wide..." You took a portion of the food and lifted it up to his lips, and he ate it agreeably. Hamster. He's like a hamster, a thought you really shouldn't be having considering how his disposition was, but seeing him swiftly chewing the portion in his cheeks... you cleared your throat, only to flinch with a start upon realizing he'd taken the utensils from you. Now, he held some of the lunch up to you, gesturing it to your mouth.

"Eh, but this is for you-" You declined, yet the insistence in his gaze only grew.

"You brought it for me, so you should have some as well."

"Well... alright," not willing to bother with an argument you were not likely to win, you ate what he hovered before you gratefully, trying to ignore the way he was staring at you as you ate.

W, Wait, hold on, isn't that the same cutlery he used-

"Your face is red. Did you choke? Here, let me-"

"No, it's just that- we, just now- ah, it's nothing."

— "Mhm."

( a/n ) new post format and its silly ( i hate everything about this ) :stareyes: ahahah anyways. trying to revive myself so. you guys get ( poorly cooked ) food :>

𝐭 𝐚 𝐠 𝐥 𝐢 𝐬 𝐭 : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @ceneid, @avensuersa, @solxima, @sangoqueenkoko, @haliyamori ...

[dmitriene]

bouncing on simon's fat cock that nestled deep into your slimy, squelching cunt, you're wearing his pajama shirt with a cracked, frayed skull print on the dark fabric that lifts up with every slap of your supple ass against his muscular, lightly hairy thighs.

shirt flutters up every time you plunk down on his meaty shaft with a loud squelch of your gooey pussy, throbbing tip oozing pearly precum against your sleek walls as simon rolls back his head with noisy sighs and growling moans, beefy hands pawing at your pretty body through the black fabric.

you don't let him get under the shirt to squeeze and stroke your naked skin, slide up to tease your perky nipples, you only lean closer to cover his neck with sharp bites and hot kisses, watching the fair skin turn burning red under your soft lips.

your delicate fingers crawl between your own legs, touching the slick of juices that smear the inside of your willowy thighs, finding the throbbing nub of your engorged clit, flicking the puffy flesh and making the walls of your cunt pulse and clench, which pulls chocked, whiny moan out of simon's thin lips

— “bloody hell, g-god — i'm close, s-sweetheart, slow the heck down!„ yet you don't hear his plea, all the sounds in your ears are incoherent buzz as you arch your back like a cat, white flash of pleasure rolls through your body, making your gooey cunt clamp on simon's fat cock, spurting with your sweet, creamy cum.

it triggers his own orgasm, causing simon to twitch as his dark eyes roll back back into his skull, calloused hands roughly grip the curve of your waist, pinning you in place, letting his cock press into your spongy spot and jerk with spurting ropes of his thick load.

simon's ragged gasps lost against the background of your sweet, slurred mewls of — “s-si! fuckfuckfuck, feels good!„ as he fills you with jerking hips and shallow pumps till your combined cum leaks from your creamed pussy back towards his hairy pelvis.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

[oreo-creampie]

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮; 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝟕𝐤 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: stoner!tattooed!pierced!geto, shotgunning, pussy/cock-drunk, squirting, heavy praise/encouragement, struggle to ride suguru’s fat cock, friends with benefits, squirting, kissing, groping, begging, some cock sucking, daddy/mama/princess, suguru is lovesick, size kink

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮��𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @unknownspecies; stoner geto !!!

fey: I needs this! I needs it!

Admiring you Suguru’s kissable lips stretch into a lazy, cocky smirk. Tracing the inky dark lines of his large chest piece. “Wanna suck your handsome, thick, veiny cock, I’m soakin’ lookin’ at you handsome.” Lovingly gazing into his warm, hungry dark chocolate eyes. The white of his eyes is pink.

Feeling up his hard abs, tracing each line, biting your lip when they deepen. “I’ve been watching your heavy cock sway when you walk. And your ass,” groaning, Suguru quickly kisses you, blowing thick smoke into your mouth.

Slipping his tongue into your mouth, you're following his lead without a thought. Whining into the kiss, enticing a deep groan. Leaning back, staring down at you, “Beautiful mama ya want me that badly?” Blowing out the bitter smoke.

Wondering how the simple act of pushing his long hair out out of his beautiful face with his fingers could be so sexy? Suguru’s thick arm subtly flexes. The muscles of his biceps ripples beneath his pale inked-up skin. You're figuring out an answer.

Everything about him is too damn beautiful. And you’re down too badly.

Your slick trickles down your thighs. “Need ya Daddy, fuck it’s not fair how handsome you are, how big your cock is even when soft. Or how bubbly your thick ass is. You’re too much Daddy, so beautiful n’ sweet with me.” Kneeling in front of him, grabbing half hard thick cock. Sucking his fat head, swirling your tongue around him, feeling the thick, soft ridge of him.

"What isn't fair is how hot your lips 'round my cock looks." Bobbing your head, taking him in smooth deep, quick strokes. Smearing the spit along the rest of him with a swirl of your fist. "Fuck that’s it." When he curses like that your cunt clenches.

Smoke escapes as his jaw drops. His eyes roll back, thighs tremble, abs clenching. "Nnnn expecting me not to cum quickly with you suckin' on me like that isn't fair." You fondle his large balls, warm in your pam.

He confesses, "Been thinkin' 'bout ya too, woke up from a wet dream I had 'bout ya." Sliding him out with a pop, kissing along a puffy vein, feeling it pulsing beneath your lips. "I had your sexy ass riding my fat cock." Licking his cock, taking him deep into your mouth with a smooth stroke. Gagging on him, your cunt clenching around nothing.

He groans, "Please mama lemme feel your sloppy pretty cunt, been dreamin' of your soft lips wrappin' 'round me. N' how hot and wet you get for me." Standing up, he moves further back onto his bed, snuffing out his blunt. You slip off his baggy shirt you've stolen from his closet, throwing it close to his laundry bin.

Climbing onto the bed, straddling his hips, "Please? You wanna beg a little more for me?" Straddling his hips, slipping your fingers into your dripping, hot cunt. Soaking your fingers, holding them close to his lips.

"If I beg then you're doing all the work, I'm not helpin'." Licking them clean, his tongue's bar dragging along your fingers. Grabbing his heavy cock, holding it upright swiping him between your lips. Lining him up, then waiting.

Suguru groans, "Always tastin' so fuckin' good." Grabbing your hip, licking his thumb, stroking your clit. "I'll have to cum on your beautiful tits so I can eat your sloppy overstimulated cunt after you're done using my cock like a dildo." Rubbing your puffy clit faster, clenching his tip. Your slick dripping down him and your hand.

Whining, "That's not begging! I wanna hear you beggin' for me daddy, I always am for you!" He glides his large hand up your side, cupping your breast, and rubbing your soft nipple. His cocky smirk makes you hornier.

Thoughts of sitting on his face and ignoring his beautiful cock crosses your mind.

Suguru sounds so needy pleading, "Use my fat cock to take care of your beautiful dripping wet, hot tight cunt. Wanna see her take me, feel her stretch n' clench, hear you moan while my beautiful cunt squelches from how wet you are." Pushing your hips down, sinking just the tip in, clenching him tightly. He's too big for you to take anymore.

Gliding his thick cockhead, stretching your tight cunt, whining. Suguru's eyes widen, and he whines, "Princess nnnn please fuck let me feel ya more, you're so tight, hot! Need ya to ride me, wanna feel ya cum, see your sexy face when you do." Keeping him upright wishing he would slam you down on his cock. Whining in desperation, rocking your hips struggling to take more of his fat cock into your tight cunt.

"Please mama ya can take more than just the tip," moaning, partly smirking at you, "or am I too big to fit?" Digging your nails in close to his sensitive v-line, he groans his hips jerking up reflexively. Crying, pausing, the pleasure from him stroking your clit easing the aching of your cunt taking him so suddenly.

"You're ok princess. Daddy got ya, gonna make sure ya feel good while you're struggling to take me" Steadily playing with your clit, keeping his hips still. "Take ya time princess we got all day." Rocking your hips slowly, barely taking half of Suguru.

Letting Suguru go, placing your hand on his hard abs. "I love how full you make me." He slides his hand up from your breasts, wrapping his hand lightly around your neck. Pulling you down as he rises up, stopping shy of your lips.

"I fuckin' love hearing you whine, feelin' you clench," softly kissing you, "seein' ya tremblin'. You're so beautiful mama, nnng wanna be your's." Another veiny inch, clenching his waist. Getting off on the softness of his skin contrasting how hard rock hard cock.

Suguru passionately kisses you, slipping his tongue past your lips. Playing with his tongue bar before following his tongue. Rocking your hips faster, getting used to how wide he stretches you. Swirling your hips, he whines, rubbing your clit faster.

Breaking away groaning, "Love dreamin' about you, and wakin' up to you, making ya breakfast hearing your praise on how good it tastes." Gliding his hand down your chest, along your waist and over your hip.

Cupping your ass, you lay on top of him, bouncing on as much of his cock as you can fit into your sloppy wet cunt. He can't stop. "Fuck I miss ya when you sleep in your own room. You should stay with me more, wanna fall asleep and wake up holdin' ya close." Covering Suguru's face in gentle, loving kissing, steadily rocking your hips.

"I'll stay whenever you like, how long you like eatin' up your food, letting you be small or big spoon, smokin' up your bud." Feeling up his chest, your hands wandering from the sculpted curve of his sides to his thick pecs, and hard pecs.

Kissing his lips gentle, he deepens the kiss, groaning. Slipping his tongue past your lips, it’s needy, rough and passionate. You don’t pull away till your lungs are aching for air.

Steadying his breathing, suggesting, "We can have our first date tonight, I’ll cook us dinner, roll us a fat blunt, cover you in kisses and cuddling close. You can pick the movies." Leaning back for him to watch his veiny, thick cock vanishing into your tight, dripping cunt. “I’ll make whatever you want, gonna take care of you make ya feel loved and safe.”

Gliding more of him in, he grabs the headboard, his knuckles turning white. Your cunt fluttering from his deep groan. Your pride swelling from getting Suguru drunk off your cunt. "Need to cum ‘n ya so badly! Wanna fuck ya senseless but seeing ya struggle with my cock is so fuckin' hot.” His abs momentarily flexing.

Getting off on how big and muscular he is, trembling and whining underneath you from your cunt. Spasming around him, you’re so close to cumming. Stroking your clit faster, your pace staggering before steadying out.

He moans, “Nng you've almost gotten all of me, keep going, you can take me princess.” You’re gushing in his cock, thick cum trickling down his cock. Rocking your hips back, taking him fully, he croons, “That’s it, ‘m so proud of ya sweetheart.” Sitting on his cock, your slick trickling down his balls, some splashing onto his abs.

“My cock feels good!" You can’t think straight, lost in the intense peak. Unable to move your legs, he’s throbbing inside you, thick veins pulsing. His head kissing your cervix, he’s so deep. And despite cumming you want more.

Feebly lifting your hips, Suguru helps you, firmly grabbing your waist. Lifting you till his fat cockhead is the only part of him split your sloppy, sensitive cunt open. "Is this your cock? Am I your’s?”

Oreo’s m.list

[mblogsworld]

Brightening Skincare Routine!💝

Morning

Face wash

Cream

Only at night just add oil on top of the cream. This one i use.

[skzdarlings]

the ride ; skz ; chan x reader

original ask: requested by @rosequartsz : chan with the prompt ❛ i want to fuck you so badly. ❜ like the reader is the same age as jeongin so chan kinda feels bad but at the same time he wants to corrupt the reader so bad cushsisjsis

+

original ask: requested by anonymous : Chan and ❛ please. make me feel good. no one else can like you. ❜ ❛ have a little trust in yourself, i know you can take it. ❜

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: friends to lovers, chan is a little older than reader, reader is not actually that innocent but pretends to be and they both get off on it lol. some not very safe driving lol keep ur eyes on the road. car sex, dirty talk, teasing, corruption play, puuuuure smut. word count: 2400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

-

“That’s not fair,” Jeongin says.  “I called dibs.”

“Too bad.”  You stick your tongue out at him.  “Learn to run faster, loser.”

Jeongin scowls, once more relegated to the backseat of Chan’s car.   You are sitting pretty in the passenger seat for the fourth day in a row and Jeongin is playfully annoyed about it. 

You and your twin brother have been racing into Chan’s car since high school.  You are both at university now, but Chan still offers the occasional lift.  With storm season making public transit a bigger hassle than it’s worth, Chan has been offering more rides. 

Just because of the weather.  Not any other reason.  Of course.      

You smirk, casting a side-glance into the driver’s seat.  Chan is smiling at Jeongin through the rearview mirror, looking less like Channie, the boy of your teenage fantasies, and more like Bang Chan, the man of your adult dreams.  He is wearing a baseball cap and leather jacket, his whole demeanour oozing an effortless masculinity, the bearing of a competent man who knows he can do anything. 

And still, despite his well-earned cockiness, he has an undoubtedly shy side.  When he looks at you, the tips of his ears flame an embarrassed, fiery red, and his dimpled smile is almost boyish in its sweetness. 

“Right then,” he says.  Then, like the endearingly cheesy goofball he is, he adds, “All aboard, ready for takeoff!” 

“Jeongin,” you say, blinking innocently at your twin through the mirror.  “You have your presentation notes, right?  You don’t want to forget them.”

Jeongin double-checks his bag but you already know he won’t find them.  You deliberately took them out and placed them on the kitchen counter.

“Damn,” he says, quickly unbuckling his seatbelt.  “I thought I put them in here.  Sorry, I’ll be right back.” 

Jeongin practically flies out of the car and up the driveway, leaving you and Chan.  It happens quickly, before Chan can even compute it.  You can see the gears turning in his head, but you are faster, sighing melodramatically while gathering the hem of your skirt. 

“Silly boy,” you say.  “What should we do while he’s gone?”  You draw your skirt up your thighs just enough to tease the skin of your upper thighs. 

Chan is staring there with his mouth open, his words evaporating on his tongue.  He clears his throat after a second, ripping his gaze away.  He looks across the dashboard and laughs, a shy, awkward laugh. 

“Your brother will be back in a second,” Chan says.  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, yeah?”

He is white-knuckling the steering wheel, like all his restraint is being poured into that physical grip.  Even so, it is not hard to pry his hand off the wheel.  You know a stronger, more belligerent shove could not bend a determined Bang Chan, but the softest touch from your gentle hands will have him breaking in seconds.   

You are slow, casual despite your racing heart, guiding his hand onto your knee.  He makes a little noise that turns your whole body to pure, liquid heat.  You make a similar sound, a faint whimper in the back of your throat, as you slide his hand up your thigh. 

“Channie,” you say, your too-sweet, too-innocent voice part of your acting, but your breathlessness undoubtedly real. 

“Don’t—”  His voice breaks and he clears his throat.  “Don’t say my name like that.  You know—”  

“What do I know, Channie?” you ask, blinking at him with wide eyes while you curl his fingers around your thigh.  You bring your legs together, holding his hand between them.

He visibly swallows, throat bobbing.  The redness has spread from his ears down his neck. 

“We’ve talked about this, baby girl,” he says, his tone stricter, taking on that darker edge that makes your heart – and everything else – gush.   “We’ve been good so far, okay?”   If stolen kisses, open zippers, and groping touches count as good.  “You’re my – you’re my friend.  You should be like a little sister or something to me… yeah?  Yeah… Yeah!”  He shakes his head, pulling himself out of the distraction caused by you unzipping your jacket.  He squeezes your thigh, a firm, warning grip.  “Don’t make this so hard,” he says. 

“What’s hard for you, Channie?” you ask, reaching into his lap and touching his thigh, then higher, finding the evidence of his words.  A shiver moves across his shoulders, his breath catching as you cup your palm around the bulge in his jeans.  “Is it something I can help you with?”  You lick your bottom lip then smile. 

“Oh,” he says.  His eyes crinkle with amusement but there is a score of different emotions on his face, all of them smoldering.  “You really wanna play that game, huh?” 

There is no chance for an answer because Jeongin returns, hopping into the car with his notes.  You and Chan separate, looking out the dashboard window.  You pat your hot skin and try to slow your racing heart. 

Sensing the oddly silent tension, Jeongin narrows his eyes and looks between you.  Eventually, his expression sours like he smells something bad. 

“Oh my god,” he says, then punches Chan in the shoulder.  “Are you fucking my sister!”

“What!” Chan says, getting redder by the second.  “Jeongin, how could— I wouldn’t— I don’t—”

“What, you don’t fuck?” Jeongin asks, then laughs until he is wheezing.  “You can do better, man.”

“Jeongin, shut up!”  You reach back to smack at him, rubbing your hand all over his stupid face and messing up his hair while he wails in protest.   

“All right, all right!”  Chan says, breaking you up.  “Let’s just… let’s just go, okay?  Okay.” 

“Yes, daddy,” you say, mostly out of spite. 

Chan squeaks. 

Jeongin pretends to gag then slumps against his window.  

“I’m gonna need to start taking the bus,” he says, morose.

-

Fortunately, thanks to the impromptu revelation of your shenanigans, it does not take much convincing for Jeongin to find another ride home.  When Chan pulls into the campus parking lot to pick you up, you approach his vehicle with a grin and a wink.    

You slide into the passenger seat, smoothing down your skirt while he sighs.  It sounds more amused than frustrated.    

“Where’s your brother?” he asks. 

You shrug with theatrical exaggeration. 

“Right,” Chan says, starting the car.  “Got it.”

He puts a hand on your headrest to leverage himself, looking out the rear window as he reverses the car.  That proximity alone gets you hot, the temptation to grab him already strong.  You play a patient game, as always, stealing glances and suggestive smiles while he drives. 

Halfway home, you put a hand on his knee.  At first your touch is innocent, tracing slow circles on the denim, then you get a little more brazen, fingertips brushing up his thigh. 

“Baby,” he says in that warning voice, eyes on the road.  Holding the wheel with one hand, he uses the other to stop your wandering ascent. 

“Yes?” you ask with all that faux-innocence.  Rather than fight his touch, you guide his hand to your lap, placing it on your knee. 

Unlike this morning, he does not play nice.  You make a startled, high-pitched sound when he immediately dives under your skirt, his rough palm pressing down where you are already aching.   Your thighs slam shut out of instinct but his hand is where it wants to be, his fingers curled around your pussy in a proprietary touch. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice playfully mean.  He grinds the heel of his palm against your throbbing clit.  He never takes his eyes off the road.  “Isn’t this what you wanted?”  

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, though you cannot help but rock yourself against his hand. 

“Mmm,” he says, patting your pussy then stroking your thigh, guiding your legs open again.  “We’ll see about that.” 

You keep your eyes ahead too, pretending not to notice when he glances at you.  Then you gasp because he reaches out and tugs the zipper on your hoodie.  You instinctively clutch it, wearing nothing but a bra underneath, having taken off your other layers to surprise him.  He is the one surprising you, a secret sexy menace under all that shy sweetness.  He unzips the hoodie halfway then reaches past the material to squeeze a handful.  Your body practically sings under his touch. 

“Channie,” you say, breathless again. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says.  “Channie’s gonna take care of you, yeah?  Always.” 

“Take care of me how?”  Your question toys with that false innocence, the little game that gets you both hot, but there is genuine curiosity there too.   This game has been escalating slowly over time.  You want more and you are starting to get desperate. 

Chan looks at you.  His gaze moves over your mouth then your body, your skirt rucked up and breasts practically spilling out of your hoodie.  He swears, looking back at the road with that red blush on his ears again. 

“Fuck,” he says.  “I want to fuck you so badly.  You have no idea.” 

His words have a raw, honest edge.  He swallows, hard.  You feel like one tightly coiled ball of tension, ready to snap apart. 

“Please,” you say in that breathy voice.  “Make me feel good.  No one else can like you.” 

You do not make it all the way home.  There is a nearby lookout point at the park, a shrouded parking area that has undoubtedly seen its fair share of hook-ups.  Chan parks there and you dive at each other like randy teenagers.  You climb into his lap, bumping everything on the console on your way, the honking the horn with your backside for good measure.  It makes you both giggle.

Then your laughter is swallowed by hot, desperate, open-mouthed kisses.

“Mmm,” you hum against his lips.  You push his hat off his head and sink your fingers in his curly hair.  “Channie, please,” you say. 

He cups the back of your neck, holding your head where he wants it so he can kiss you thoroughly.  His ravishing touch leaves you shaking with need, rocking against him to no relief. 

“Poor baby,” he says with a little laugh, squeezing your neck then drawing his hand down the curve of your chest.  He unzips the rest of your hoodie.  His mouth follows the same path as his hands, down your chest and back up again. 

He is working you up, deftly and swiftly, using just a few well-placed throat kisses, a few flicks of his fingertips across the sensitive peaks of your breasts.  He seems so composed under you, other than the flush to his complexion, the heat to his skin that has him shedding his leather jacket.   You feel completely undone, half-naked and writhing in his lap.  Your hands tangle together, fumbling around his belt. 

“Let me,” he says.  He gets his belt open and his fly undone, then his hands are on you.  He doesn’t just tug your panties to the side but rips them apart, snapping the seams like they’re nothing.  Then those strong fingers are inside you, finding just how wet and ready you are for him.  He makes a low, guttural sound, thumping his head against the headrest.  “Fuck, baby girl,” he says.  “You know what you do to me?” he asks. 

“I dunno, Channie.”  You pout and bat your eyelashes.  “You better show me.” 

He laughs.  He holds your hips and moves you, positions you where he wants you.  You are pressed so close together, chest-to-chest, so you cannot see when he finally enters you.  But you feel it, hot and hard and filling you, stretching you, almost painful but burning so good.  You slap a hand to the roof of the car, eyes closing as you moan. 

“S-so much,” you say, because it feels like you have been sinking forever and he is still not all the way inside. 

“Yeah, I know, baby,” he says.  His thumb is expertly circling your clit while your whole body seems to soften, changing to fit him, like you were made for this moment.  “That’s it,” he says.  “Have a little trust in yourself.  I know you can take it.”

His thrusts are small, his hands guiding your hips over him, grinding him deep inside you.   Then you are clutching his shoulders, moaning into his neck as he fucks you slowly and steadily.  It is everything you needed and not enough, only spurring more desire.  You know you will need him again, the way he needs you.  Just the way he says your name as he holds you, as he fucks you, as he takes you apart and puts you together again.   It feels like that when you come, when he fucks you through it, saying your name and praising you. 

“Good girl,” he says, barely above a breath.  “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

When he gets close, he pushes the seat back.   You get on your knees between his legs and take him in your mouth.  He comes with a low groan and another breathless slur of your name.  Then you are back in his lap and his hands are everywhere, clutching you possessively to his chest.  You are both breathing hard, riding the slow come-down of your frantic desperation. 

“Fuck,” he eventually says.  He seems shy again, giggling as he looks at you with a blush on his face.  “We, uh, we just did that, in the car, uh wow, yeah, I, uh—”

“Channie,” you say with a laugh of your own, grabbing his face and kissing him.  He smiles into the kiss, returning it with the same tender softness. 

You kiss for a long time, ignoring the world around you.  Eventually you have to crawl back into your seat and mostly redress yourselves, still smiling and giggling at each other the whole time.  Your phone was buzzing in your bag so you finally check it, rolling your eyes at the message there.   

You show it to Chan who laughs, blushing again, but nods. 

“Right,” he says, “We should probably go get him.”

You laugh too, sending an emoji with its tongue sticking out in response to Jeongin’s message that reads:  My ride fell through.  When you are done not-fucking each other, can you come back and get me?  Thanks.  Sluts.   

[pucksandpower]

Taste of Temptation

Day 17 → Lactation Kink 💋 Lando Norris

Warnings: 18+ content and dubious consent

Kinktober Masterlist

Lando leans against the edge of the pit wall, his arms crossed over his chest as Jon’s voice drones on in the background. He’s supposed to be listening. Focused. But all he can see is you standing a few feet away, talking to one of the engineers. The sun catches on the fabric of your dress, the deep V of the neckline, the way it clings to you in all the right places.

He shifts, swallowing hard, eyes dropping for what must be the hundredth time today to the way your chest looks in that dress. The low cut, the soft curve of your skin peeking out — it’s like you’re daring him to lose focus entirely. Which, clearly, is happening.

“Lando?”

Jon’s voice pulls him back, but only for a second. His head jerks in the performance coach’s direction. Jon’s got that look on his face, like he’s caught him out.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando mumbles, dragging a hand through his hair. He tries to nod along, as if he’s been paying attention. “Sorry, what?”

Jon sighs, rolling his eyes. “Mate, we’ve been through this. Hydration’s key. You’ve got to keep on top of it, especially in this heat.”

Lando gives a vague nod, but his eyes flicker back over to you. The way your dress hugs your waist. The way you laugh at something the engineer says, tipping your head back just a little. And the way his mind goes utterly blank every time you smile. He’s barely aware of Jon still talking beside him.

“Water. You need water,” Jon says, more insistent this time, probably noticing Lando’s glazed-over expression.

“Water. Right,” Lando parrots, reaching for the bottle beside him on the bench. But his mind is still on you. Specifically, the way the soft fabric of your dress skims just below your collarbone. How it flutters a little when you move, revealing just enough to drive him mad.

He uncaps the bottle, eyes flicking between you and the opening, trying to focus. But it’s no use. You bend down slightly to tie your shoe, and Lando’s grip loosens. The water splashes out, missing his mouth entirely and drenching the front of his shirt instead.

“Shit-” he mutters, pulling back in surprise as cold water drips down his chin and soaks into the fabric. He blinks down at himself, as if confused by how it happened.

Jon bursts out laughing. “Hopeless,” he says, shaking his head. “Absolutely hopeless.”

Lando wipes at his chest with the back of his hand, but it’s useless. His shirt’s already sticking to his skin, and Jon’s laughter is still ringing in his ears.

“Shut up,” Lando grumbles, tossing the half-empty bottle aside.

“If you spent half as much time listening to me as you do staring at her-” Jon doesn’t even finish the sentence, his grin wide as he jerks his head in your direction.

“I wasn’t staring,” Lando mutters, though he knows it’s a lie. He wipes his mouth with the edge of his sleeve, glancing over at you to make sure you didn’t notice the whole debacle. You’re still talking to the engineer, seemingly oblivious to the scene that just unfolded.

“Right,” Jon says, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Because you totally didn’t miss your mouth just now. Completely by accident.”

Lando scowls, but there’s no bite to it. He knows Jon’s got him. “It’s the heat,” he says, lamely, hoping that’ll shut him up.

Jon just laughs again. “It’s her, mate.”

Lando doesn’t respond, but his eyes flicker back to you, just for a second. Just long enough to catch another glimpse of the way your dress dips low, hugging your curves. It’s not fair, really. How is he supposed to focus when you look like that?

Jon claps him on the shoulder. “I don’t blame you,” he says, grin still in place. “But you’ve got a race in a couple hours. Maybe try and keep your head in the game, yeah?”

Lando shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, wiping at his chest again, though the water has already seeped into the fabric.

Jon moves on, probably satisfied he’s gotten enough teasing out of Lando for now, and launches back into his lecture about hydration and recovery, but Lando’s barely listening again. His mind is still on you. Always on you. He watches as you push a strand of hair behind your ear, the sunlight catching in your eyes.

You turn then, like you can feel his eyes on you, and your gaze meets his. For a second, Lando’s breath catches. You smile, and it’s like everything else fades away. The noise of the paddock, Jon’s voice, even the upcoming race — it all falls to the background.

You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow in that way you always do when you know you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. And you do. You absolutely do.

Lando clears his throat, feeling his face flush, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. He thinks about walking over, about wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, pressing a kiss to that spot just below your ear that always makes you laugh.

But before he can even take a step, Jon’s voice cuts in again. “Seriously, mate. Focus.”

Lando tears his gaze away from you, shooting Jon an annoyed look. “I am focused.”

Jon just snorts. “Yeah, sure. On her.”

Lando rolls his eyes, but there’s no point denying it. He’s not focused, not on anything Jon’s saying, not on the race coming up, not on anything other than you.

You make your way over, that same knowing smile still on your lips, and Lando feels his heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” you say, voice soft as you come to stand beside him.

Lando’s throat goes dry. “Hey.”

You glance down at his still-damp shirt, your smile widening. “You miss your mouth again?”

He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t start.”

Jon chuckles from the side. “Told you. Hopeless.”

You bite your lip, trying — and failing — not to laugh. “You okay, babe?”

Lando gives a half-hearted shrug, but he’s smiling. “It’s your fault,” he says, motioning vaguely toward your dress. “How am I supposed to focus when you wear stuff like that?”

You glance down at yourself, then back up at him, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

Lando groans again, louder this time. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You laugh, a soft sound that makes his chest tighten. “I don’t know, I think you’re just easily distracted.”

Jon claps him on the shoulder again, a knowing grin on his face. “That’s what I’ve been telling him.”

Lando swats Jon’s hand away, shaking his head. “You’re both the worst,” he mutters, but he’s smiling, warmth spreading through his chest as you step closer, your fingers brushing lightly against his.

“Good luck today,” you say, voice dropping to a low murmur, just for him.

He exhales slowly, his pulse quickening as he meets your eyes. “Thanks.”

Your hand lingers against his for a second longer, your touch soft and warm. Then, with one last smile, you turn and walk back toward the paddock, leaving him standing there, heart racing and mind thoroughly distracted.

Jon shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping him. “You’re a goner.”

Lando doesn’t even bother arguing this time. He watches as you disappear into the crowd, his mind still filled with thoughts of you, the race the furthest thing from his mind.

“Yeah,” he mutters under his breath, smiling to himself. “I know.”

***

Lando lies on his back, his head propped up by a couple of pillows, the dim glow of his phone the only light in the room. It’s late, and the soft hum of the bathroom fan is the only sound breaking the quiet, accompanied by the faint rustle of you finishing your nightly routine.

He can hear the running water and the occasional clink of bottles as you move through the familiar steps — cleanser, toner, serum, moisturizer. It’s a comforting routine, and Lando knows it well by now, having watched you do it a hundred times.

He scrolls through TikTok absentmindedly, his thumb flicking up the screen as random videos play in quick succession. His eyes glaze over as he watches one of those “get ready with me” videos, someone talking about their outfit for the day. He’s not really paying attention, though. Mostly, he’s just waiting for you to join him in bed. He glances at the door, hoping you’ll finish soon.

Another swipe, another video. This time, it’s a new mom talking to the camera, her face glowing with a mix of exhaustion and pride. Lando’s thumb hovers over the screen, ready to flick to the next one, but something about the video holds his attention.

“I was really struggling to breastfeed,” the woman says, her voice soft but earnest. “Nothing was working, and I was starting to feel like a failure, honestly. But then I found this cream, and I swear, it was a game changer.”

Lando’s brow furrows slightly, not really sure why he’s still watching, but he doesn’t scroll away. He listens as the woman continues talking about how she had trouble producing milk, how nothing seemed to help until she tried this one product.

“I’m not even kidding,” she says, holding up a small jar to the camera. “Within days, I started lactating. It was a godsend.”

Lando blinks, his mind catching on that word — lactating. He suddenly feels hyperaware of his own body, of the stillness in the room, of the faint sound of you moving around in the bathroom. His eyes drift back to the video, watching the woman gesture to the cream like it’s a miracle. His mind starts to wander, unbidden, to thoughts of you.

He hesitates for a moment, his thumb frozen on the screen, but his brain is already running wild with the idea. The thought of you with milk. His mouth goes dry, and he quickly glances toward the bathroom door again, half-expecting you to walk out and catch him watching this bizarrely specific video. But you’re still busy inside.

He swallows hard, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and something deeper stirring in his chest. He taps the screen, pulling up the link the woman left in the video description. The product is right there, easy to order, just a few clicks away.

Lando’s thumb hovers over the “buy now” button. It’s stupid. Ridiculous, even. Why is he even considering this? But the thought won’t leave his head. The idea of you using this cream, of your body responding to it — it sends a shiver down his spine. His heart starts beating faster, a strange kind of excitement bubbling up inside him.

He bites his lip, staring at the screen, his mind spinning with the possibilities. His fingers twitch, almost moving on their own as he clicks the button, the order processing before he can even fully think it through.

The confirmation pops up, and he quickly deletes the email notification, his fingers moving quickly to erase any trace of the purchase. His heart races, a weird thrill running through him at the secrecy of it all. He tosses his phone onto the nightstand, feeling slightly breathless, like he’s just done something he shouldn’t have.

The bathroom door creaks open, and Lando’s head snaps up. You step out, the soft light from the bathroom spilling into the bedroom for a moment before you turn it off. You’re wearing one of his oversized t-shirts, your hair pulled back into a messy bun, skin glowing from your skincare routine. You look comfortable, relaxed, and Lando feels a sudden wave of warmth in his chest.

“Finally,” he says, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “I thought you got lost in there.”

You roll your eyes, climbing into bed beside him. “I wasn’t that long.”

“You were,” he insists, shifting to make room for you. “I’ve aged years waiting for you.”

You laugh, sliding under the covers and snuggling up next to him. “You’re dramatic.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. “But you do take forever.”

You nudge him playfully, but you settle into his side, your head resting on his chest. “Good things take time,” you say with a smirk.

Lando chuckles, but his mind is still spinning, the image of that video replaying in his head. He glances down at you, his arm tightening around you just a little, and his mind drifts to the thought of you filled with milk. The idea is strange, foreign, but it’s lodged in his brain now, and he can’t shake it.

You let out a contented sigh, your hand resting on his stomach, fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin. “What were you watching?” You ask, your voice soft, almost sleepy.

Lando stiffens for a second, his heart skipping a beat. “Uh, nothing much,” he says quickly, trying to sound casual. “Just the usual nonsense.”

You hum in response, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and Lando relaxes slightly. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, trying to push the thought of the cream out of his mind. But it lingers, that strange curiosity gnawing at the edges of his consciousness.

“What’s got you so quiet tonight?” You ask after a moment, your voice laced with amusement. “You’re usually more talkative.”

Lando hesitates. He knows he should just let it go, that this whole thing is ridiculous, but part of him wants to say something. He bites his lip, unsure of how to even bring it up.

“I was just thinking,” he says slowly, his voice a little tentative.

“About?” You prompt, lifting your head slightly to look at him.

Lando meets your gaze, his heart pounding. “Have you ever thought about … I don’t know, trying something new?” He asks, his voice carefully measured.

Your brow furrows, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “New? Like what?”

He hesitates again, feeling a bit stupid for even considering bringing it up. But the image is so vivid in his mind, and he’s suddenly desperate to know what you’d think. “Like … I don’t know. Different things. Stuff you wouldn’t normally try.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly intrigued now. “Lando, you’re being weirdly vague. What are you talking about?”

He lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Forget it. It’s dumb.”

But you don’t let it go. You shift, turning to face him more fully, your eyes narrowing slightly. “No, no. Now I want to know. What ‘different things’ are you thinking about?”

Lando feels his face heat up, the words stuck in his throat. He can’t just come out and say it — hey, what if you tried this cream that makes you lactate? He’s sure you’d look at him like he’s lost his mind.

“Uh … just stuff,” he mutters, looking away. “Like, in general.”

You study him for a moment, a smirk tugging at your lips. “You’re acting really weird,” you say, your voice teasing.

Lando forces a laugh, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, well. It’s been a long day.”

You don’t push any further, but there’s a playful glint in your eyes as you settle back against him, your head resting on his chest again. “You’re such a mystery sometimes, Norris,” you say with a grin.

He lets out a relieved breath, thankful you’re not pressing the issue. He wraps his arm around you again, trying to focus on the comfort of having you next to him, on the way your body fits so perfectly against his. But the thought still lingers, a quiet hum in the back of his mind. The idea of you, your body changing in that way, is intoxicating in a way he hadn’t expected.

As the minutes tick by, the room growing quieter and more peaceful, Lando can’t help but wonder what you’d think if you found out. Would you laugh it off, or would you be curious too?

You shift beside him, letting out a soft sigh, and Lando presses another kiss to the top of your head, trying to push the thoughts away. For now, he’ll keep it to himself. But the secret sits there, buzzing quietly in the background, waiting for the right moment to resurface.

“Goodnight, babe,” you murmur sleepily, your voice soft and content.

“Goodnight,” Lando whispers back, though his mind is far from quiet.

As you drift off, he lies there, wide awake, his mind replaying that video over and over, wondering just what he’s gotten himself into.

***

Lando can barely contain his nerves when the package arrives, neatly wrapped in brown paper with no label to give away its contents. He picks it up from the doorstep and quickly tucks it under his arm, heart racing as he slips back into the house.

You’re in the kitchen, humming softly to yourself as you prep dinner, completely unaware of the small box that holds so much significance for him. He glances at you, trying to act casual, but the adrenaline surging through his veins makes his hands feel shaky.

He slips into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure you’re still out of earshot, Lando opens the package. The cream is small, unassuming, and he feels a strange thrill pulse through him as he holds it in his hands. The video flashes through his mind again — lactation — and it sends a familiar shiver down his spine.

For a moment, he hesitates. Should he really go through with this? He’s already in too deep, though. The thought of you, your body responding to this, is far too intoxicating to back out now. He tucks the cream into his nightstand drawer, hiding it carefully beneath some old receipts and random clutter. Just as he’s closing the drawer, he hears your footsteps coming down the hallway.

Quickly, Lando stands up, smoothing out his shirt and stepping back into the main area of the house, meeting you with a wide grin as you finish setting the table. You look relaxed, but he can see the faint tension in your shoulders — like maybe work’s been getting to you again. He watches you closely as you move around the kitchen, biting his lip in thought. This could be the perfect moment.

“You look tense,” he says, leaning against the counter as you place two plates of food on the table.

You glance up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, it’s been a long day,” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck.

Lando steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I was thinking …” he murmurs, his voice low, “maybe I could give you a massage later? Help you relax a bit.”

You lean into his touch, your smile widening. “That sounds amazing.”

“Good,” he says softly, the hint of a plan forming in his mind. “I even got some new lotion that’s supposed to be great for massages. Thought we could try it out.”

Your eyes flicker with interest as you glance up at him. “Fancy,” you tease, but there’s an unmistakable warmth in your voice. “When did you become such an expert?”

He chuckles, pressing another kiss to your cheek. “I’ve always been an expert when it comes to you,” he says, his voice playful, but there’s a sincerity underneath that makes your smile soften.

Dinner passes in a comfortable haze, your conversation light and easy, but Lando’s mind is already fast-forwarding to what’s coming next. He watches you across the table, taking in every detail of your movements, your expressions, the soft rise and fall of your chest as you talk about your day. His heart pounds harder with every passing moment, anticipation building.

Later, after you’ve both cleaned up and changed into more comfortable clothes, Lando pats the space in front of him on the bed, motioning for you to lie down. You oblige with a soft laugh, stretching out on your stomach, your hair cascading down over one shoulder.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur, resting your cheek on the pillow.

Lando grins, feeling the familiar rush of affection surge through him. “You deserve it,” he says, settling onto the bed beside you. He grabs the regular lotion first, squeezing a bit into his hands and warming it up between his palms. He starts slow, his hands gliding over your back, working into the tension in your shoulders with practiced ease.

You let out a contented sigh, your body relaxing under his touch, and Lando takes his time, savoring every second. He loves seeing you like this — completely at ease, trusting him completely. He kneads into the muscles of your back, his thumbs working in small circles, and you hum softly, your breathing deepening.

“Mmm, that feels amazing,” you mumble, your voice sleepy.

Lando smiles to himself, continuing the massage. His hands move lower, massaging the small of your back, then your sides, and down to your legs. He’s methodical, deliberate, taking his time so you can fully relax.

After a while, he pulls back, his heart thudding in his chest. Now comes the part he’s been waiting for.

“I think you’re due for a flip,” he says with a soft chuckle, giving your side a gentle nudge.

You laugh softly, rolling onto your back and stretching your arms above your head, completely relaxed. Your t-shirt rides up just slightly, revealing a sliver of skin, and Lando’s pulse quickens. He keeps his expression neutral, though, not wanting to give away what’s about to happen.

“Ready for more?” He teases, keeping his tone light.

You nod, your eyes half-closed in contentment. “Bring it on.”

Lando reaches for the nightstand, his fingers brushing the drawer handle with a quick flick. His heart skips a beat as he retrieves the small jar of cream, careful to hide the label from your view. He sets it down beside him, moving slowly so you won’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

He starts with your arms, using the regular lotion again, his touch gentle and soothing. He rubs the lotion into your skin, working it over your shoulders and down your forearms. You sigh again, completely lost in the sensation, and Lando’s chest tightens with anticipation. He knows it’s almost time.

Finally, his hands trail down to your chest. He hesitates for the briefest second, his eyes flicking to your face to make sure you’re still relaxed. You are — your eyes closed, a faint smile on your lips, your body completely at ease beneath his hands.

Perfect.

Lando quietly switches the jars, scooping a small amount of the special cream onto his fingers. He rubs it between his palms, warming it up, and then he lowers his hands to your chest, his breath catching slightly as his fingers make contact with your skin.

His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as he smooths the cream over the soft skin of your chest, taking extra care to massage it in thoroughly. His hands move in slow, deliberate circles, making sure to cover every inch of you, but he’s careful — so careful — not to make you suspicious. He doesn’t want you to know what he’s doing. Not yet.

You let out a soft, contented hum, your body sinking even deeper into relaxation, and Lando’s heart races in his chest. He can feel the cream sinking into your skin, the thought of what it might do sending a shiver down his spine.

“How does that feel?” He asks, his voice low and steady, though his pulse is anything but.

“Amazing,” you murmur, your voice heavy with sleep. “You’re really good at this.”

Lando chuckles softly, continuing his slow, deliberate movements, his hands brushing over your chest, his fingers lingering just slightly on your nipples. He massages the cream into them carefully, making sure they’re completely covered, his touch as light as a whisper.

You sigh, your chest rising and falling under his hands, and Lando feels a wave of heat rush through him. The thought of you, your body responding to this cream, the idea of you producing milk, it’s all so overwhelming, and he has to take a deep breath to steady himself.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice soft and warm. “Just relax.”

He continues the massage for a little while longer, his hands lingering on your chest, making sure every bit of the cream is absorbed. You’re so relaxed now, your body completely loose and pliant beneath his touch, and Lando feels a strange sense of satisfaction as he watches you.

Eventually, he pulls back, wiping his hands on a nearby towel and setting the jar of cream back into the drawer, hiding it away once again. He glances at you, lying there with a peaceful smile on your face, completely unaware of what he’s just done.

Lando lies down beside you, pulling the covers over both of you as you shift closer, snuggling up against him. Your head rests on his chest, your arm draped over his waist, and Lando wraps an arm around you, holding you close.

“You really are too good to me,” you murmur, your voice soft and drowsy.

Lando presses a kiss to the top of your head, his heart still racing with a mix of excitement and anticipation. “I just want you to feel good,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hum in response, already drifting off into sleep, your body completely relaxed against his. Lando lies there in the quiet darkness, his mind buzzing with thoughts of what’s to come, of the changes that might happen now that you’ve used the cream.

He tightens his arm around you, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction settle over him. It’s all in motion now. There’s no going back.

“Goodnight,” you murmur sleepily.

Lando smiles to himself, his chest tightening with anticipation. “Goodnight,” he whispers, but his mind is far from rest.

***

It’s been weeks since Lando first started using the cream. Every night, he waits for the perfect opportunity: after you’ve fallen asleep, your breathing soft and even, or when you come home exhausted and practically beg him to give you a massage. He’s gotten careful, precise. Every time his hands glide over your skin, rubbing the cream into your chest, a thrill courses through him.

He hasn’t said a word, hasn’t let on that anything is out of the ordinary. Every time you lean into him with a content sigh or drift off into a deeper sleep, he feels more confident, more sure of what he’s doing. The anticipation is almost unbearable at times.

And then, one morning, it happens.

Lando’s sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling aimlessly through his phone when he hears it — your scream. It’s sharp, panicked, and it sends a jolt of adrenaline rushing through him. He’s up in an instant, his phone slipping from his hand as he bolts toward the walk-in closet where your voice came from.

“Babe?” Lando calls, his heart hammering in his chest. He rounds the corner into the closet, eyes scanning frantically until they land on you, standing in front of the full-length mirror, frozen in place.

You’re staring at your reflection, wide-eyed, your hands hovering over your chest as if you’re too afraid to touch. His eyes follow your gaze, and that’s when he sees it — the two dark spots blooming on the fabric of your dress, right over your breasts. Wet, unmistakable, and spreading slowly.

“What the hell is this?” You whisper, your voice shaky, a mixture of confusion and panic creeping in. “Lando, what is this?”

Lando swallows hard, his mind racing. This is it. The cream has finally started working, and now you’re standing there, completely unaware of what’s been happening. He can see the fear in your eyes, the way you’re trembling just slightly, and he knows he has to act fast.

“Whoa, hey, hey, it’s okay,” Lando says quickly, stepping toward you, his hands outstretched in a gesture of reassurance. “Let’s just take a second, okay? Breathe.”

You glance at him, your eyes wild, and he can see how much this is freaking you out. “Lando, I — this isn’t normal! Why is this happening?” Your voice cracks slightly, and you press a hand over one of the wet spots, as if trying to stop it from spreading further.

Lando moves closer, gently taking your hands in his. He forces himself to stay calm, even though inside, his pulse is racing with a strange mix of excitement and guilt. He can’t let you see that, though. Not now. Not when you’re looking at him like you’re terrified of what’s happening to your body.

“Okay, okay, let’s think about this,” Lando says, his voice steady. “It’s probably just, you know, hormones or something. These things can happen sometimes, right? Bodies do weird stuff.”

You blink at him, still looking unconvinced. “But I’ve never-” you start, but your voice falters. “Why now? I haven’t done anything differently. This is just … weird.”

Lando bites the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out how to spin this without raising any red flags. He can’t let you know about the cream — not now, when you’re already so shaken. He needs to make this sound as natural as possible, something that just happens, something you won’t question.

“Hey, remember that article you showed me a while back?” He says, grasping at straws. “The one about how stress can mess with your body? Maybe it’s that? You’ve been working a lot lately, right? It could be your hormones reacting to all the stress.”

You frown, clearly still confused, but Lando can see a flicker of understanding pass over your face. You do work hard, and lately, you’ve been talking about how exhausted you feel. Maybe that’ll be enough to explain this away, to keep you from digging any deeper.

“Stress can do this?” You ask, your voice still shaky but a little more composed now.

Lando nods, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. “It could. And, you know, hormones fluctuate all the time. Maybe this is just your body’s way of reacting to everything going on. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

You look down at the wet spots again, your brow furrowing as you process his words. “But I’ve never had this happen before,” you say quietly. “This is just … I don’t know, Lando, it feels weird.”

Lando pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, trying to calm the nerves still buzzing in your body. “I know it’s weird,” he murmurs, his voice gentle. “But we’ll figure it out, okay? If it keeps happening, we’ll talk to someone. But right now, let’s just take it one step at a time.”

You nod slowly, your head resting against his chest, and Lando can feel the tension in your body slowly start to melt away. He holds you close, his heart still pounding in his chest, but he knows he has to keep it together. He can’t let you see how deep this goes — how much this was part of his plan all along.

After a few moments, you pull back slightly, glancing down at the dark spots again with a sigh. “I should probably change,” you mutter, a hint of frustration in your voice.

Lando chuckles softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah, might be a good idea.”

You offer a small, half-hearted smile, and Lando can see that you’re still processing everything. But at least you’re not panicking anymore, not freaking out like you were a few minutes ago. That’s a good sign.

He watches as you turn back to the closet, rifling through your clothes for something to change into. His mind is still racing, though. Now that the cream is working, what happens next? Will you notice more changes? Will you start asking questions? He doesn’t know how long he can keep this a secret, but the thought of stopping now feels impossible. He’s already too far in.

Lando’s gaze flickers to the mirror, where your reflection is visible. He watches you change into a fresh dress, the wet spots on the discarded one serving as a reminder of what’s happening. He bites his lip, torn between the thrill of seeing his plan take effect and the guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind.

You finish changing and turn to face him, still looking a little uncertain but calmer now. “Thanks,” you say quietly, your eyes meeting his. “For being so calm. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

Lando’s chest tightens at your words, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. He steps forward, wrapping his arms around you once more, pulling you close. “I’m always here for you,” he says softly, meaning every word, even if there’s a part of him that’s hiding something.

You rest your head against his chest again, and for a moment, everything feels normal — like nothing has changed. But Lando knows better. Things have changed. The cream has started working, and now, there’s no turning back.

As he holds you in his arms, Lando can’t help but think about what comes next. Will the changes continue? Will you start noticing more? He knows he has to tread carefully, but the excitement bubbling inside him is hard to ignore.

He runs his fingers through your hair, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll figure this out,” he says quietly, though he’s already thinking about the next time he’ll use the cream, the next step in this carefully orchestrated plan.

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Yeah, I guess we will.”

Lando smiles back, but his mind is already racing ahead, filled with thoughts of what’s to come.

***

Lando lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room is dark, except for the faint glow of the moon seeping through the curtains, casting soft, silvery light across the room. Next to him, you’re asleep, breathing softly, curled up under the blankets. He watches you for a moment, his heart heavy with an intensity he can’t quite explain.

It’s been days since the incident in the closet, since you first noticed the signs, and while you’ve brushed it off as a hormonal blip — just as he suggested — it’s been gnawing at Lando’s mind constantly. He can’t stop thinking about it, about what’s happening to your body, about the secret he’s been carrying.

And tonight … tonight is different. There’s something humming in the air, something that feels both electric and inevitable.

Lando shifts onto his side, facing you, his eyes tracing the soft curve of your form under the covers. He watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest, knowing exactly what’s happening beneath the fabric of your shirt. The thought sends a jolt of heat through him, a heat he’s been trying to ignore, but it’s becoming too strong now, too insistent.

He knows he shouldn’t. He knows this crosses a line he’s already been walking dangerously close to for weeks, but the temptation has been building, slowly tightening around him until it feels like there’s no escape.

Carefully, he reaches out, his hand hovering just above your shoulder. You’re still fast asleep, unaware of the storm brewing in Lando’s mind, unaware of the secret desires he’s been hiding. His fingers brush your shoulder lightly, testing the waters, and you don’t stir. He lets out a quiet breath, inching closer.

His hand moves down, grazing the fabric of your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin through it. His touch is featherlight, deliberate, as he pulls the blanket back, just enough to give him access. The moonlight bathes you in a soft glow, illuminating your form in a way that feels almost surreal. Lando’s pulse quickens, and he swallows hard, his mouth dry as his hand lingers near your chest.

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t.

But his body moves before his mind can stop it.

Slowly, so slowly it feels like time is crawling, Lando slips his hand under your shirt. The fabric slides up, exposing your skin to the cool night air, and his fingers move over the soft swell of your chest. He can feel the warmth there, the subtle heaviness that wasn’t there before, and it makes his head spin.

He pauses, his hand resting over your chest, his breath shaky. He’s trying to be careful, not to wake you, but his body is tense with anticipation, with something deeper, something that feels dangerous and thrilling all at once.

Lando leans in, his lips hovering just above your skin. He hesitates for a moment, heart racing in his chest, before pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your breast. You stir slightly, but don’t wake, and the rush of relief that floods through him is intoxicating.

He moves lower, his lips trailing gentle kisses along your skin, until he reaches the peak of your chest. The fabric of your shirt is bunched up just above his hand, and Lando carefully pulls it higher, exposing more of your skin. His breath catches in his throat as he sees it — the faint trace of moisture beading at the tip.

It’s real. It’s happening.

His mouth goes dry again, but his body moves on instinct, drawn to the sight in front of him. He leans in, his lips brushing against your skin, and then … he tastes it.

It’s warm, sweet, unlike anything he’s ever tasted before. The sensation sends a shock through him, his entire body lighting up with something primal, something he didn’t even know was there. He presses his lips more firmly against your skin, drawing more of it into his mouth, the sweetness flooding his senses.

You stir again, shifting slightly in your sleep, and Lando freezes, his heart hammering in his chest. But you don’t wake. He lets out a slow, controlled breath, his lips still hovering over your chest.

His mind is racing, caught somewhere between guilt and an overwhelming need that he can’t explain. He knows what he’s doing is wrong — he knows he’s crossing a boundary — but it’s too late. He’s too far gone, too consumed by the feeling of you, by the taste of you.

Lando pulls back just enough to look at your face, making sure you’re still asleep, and when he sees that you are, he dips his head again, pressing his lips against your skin once more. He’s careful, deliberate, trying to keep his movements gentle, but the sensation of tasting you, of feeling the warmth of your body beneath his lips, is making it harder and harder to control himself.

He wants more.

His hand moves higher, slipping further under your shirt, until he’s cupping your chest in his palm. The weight of it feels different now, heavier, and the thought of it sends another jolt of heat through him. He squeezes gently, drawing more of the warm liquid into his mouth, and it takes everything in him not to make a sound.

You let out a soft sigh in your sleep, and Lando’s heart skips a beat. He pulls back again, his lips parting as he stares down at you, his mind spinning. He can’t believe what he’s just done, can’t believe how far he’s let himself go.

For a moment, he just sits there, watching you, his hand still resting on your chest, his breathing shallow. His lips are still tingling from the taste, from the sensation of it, and he knows he’s in too deep now. There’s no going back from this.

Lando carefully pulls your shirt back down, his movements slow and deliberate as he covers you again. He tucks the blanket around you, making sure you’re warm, before lying back down beside you, his heart still pounding in his chest.

As he lies there, staring up at the ceiling, his mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He knows he should feel guilty — he knows this is wrong — but all he can think about is the taste of you, the way it felt to have that small, secret part of you all to himself.

He turns his head to look at you, your face peaceful in sleep, completely unaware of what’s just happened. The moonlight casts a soft glow over your skin, and Lando feels that same overwhelming rush of affection and desire that’s been building for weeks.

He knows he should stop. He knows this can’t go on. But as he lies there, listening to the sound of your breathing, all he can think about is when he can taste you again.

***

Lando collapses onto the small couch in his driver’s room, drenched in sweat and utterly exhausted. The Qatar heat was brutal, and the race had taken everything out of him. His entire body feels heavy, his muscles aching, his skin sticky from the mix of sweat and the desert air. His mind is foggy, still reeling from the intense focus he’d maintained for hours. Dehydration was a real issue here, and it hit him harder than he expected.

“Bloody hell …” he mutters, leaning his head back against the wall, eyes closed.

You’re there almost immediately, a soft, comforting presence at his side. You place a hand on his knee, your touch warm and reassuring.

“You okay?” You ask, your voice soft but full of concern.

Lando opens his eyes slightly, giving you a tired smile. “Yeah … just need to rehydrate. I feel like a raisin.” He forces a chuckle, though his voice is rough, throat dry from the heat.

You stand, quickly moving to the small fridge in the corner of the room. “I’ll get you some water,” you say, already pulling out a bottle and twisting off the cap. “You need to replenish your electrolytes too. You’re completely wiped.”

Lando watches you, his mind still hazy, but there’s something about the way you move, the way you’re so focused on taking care of him, that pulls him out of his fog. You’re always like this after a race — attentive, calm, making sure he’s okay before you even think about yourself. He loves that about you, the way you care for him in these quiet, personal moments.

But today, there’s something else on his mind. Something he’s been thinking about for weeks, ever since that night in bed.

Lando licks his dry lips, his heart picking up speed as a thought crosses his mind. You’ve been by his side this entire time, completely unaware of what he’s been doing, of the secret he’s been keeping. He’s managed to keep things under control, to keep his obsession at bay, but now … now he’s not sure if he can.

He watches as you return to him, holding the bottle of water and a sports drink, and sits down beside him. You hand him the water first, but he hesitates, his fingers curling around the bottle without taking a sip.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your brow furrowed as you look at him.

Lando swallows, his mouth dry, but not just from dehydration. His eyes flick to your chest, lingering for a moment before quickly returning to your face. “I, uh … I was thinking,” he says, trying to keep his voice casual, though his heart is pounding in his chest. “Maybe I could … try something else.”

You blink at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He hesitates, his mind racing as he tries to find the right words. He knows he’s pushing it, knows this is dangerous territory, but the thought of tasting you again — of having that secret part of you, especially now, when he’s so raw and exhausted — feels impossible to resist.

“I mean,” he starts, his voice low, “maybe I could try … you.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and you glance down at yourself, clearly taken aback. “Me? Lando, what are you talking about?”

He shifts slightly, his body tense, but his gaze stays on you, steady despite the pounding of his heart. “I know it sounds weird,” he says quickly, before you can protest. “But … I’m so dehydrated, and … you know, with everything that’s been happening, I just thought … maybe it could help.”

You stare at him for a moment, clearly trying to process what he’s saying. “You … you want to …”

He nods, his throat tight as he watches your reaction. “Just a little. I mean, it’s natural, right? And you’ve been producing, so … I thought it might help. If you’re okay with it.”

You’re silent for a long moment, clearly taken aback, and Lando can see the uncertainty in your eyes. His heart pounds harder, the tension in the room thickening as he waits for your response.

Finally, you let out a breath, glancing down at yourself before looking back at him. “You really think it’ll help?”

Lando nods again, though he knows that’s not really the point. It’s not about the dehydration, not really. But you don’t need to know that. You don’t need to know how much he’s been thinking about this, how much he craves it.

“I think it might,” he says softly, reaching out to gently place a hand on your knee. “Just a little. If you’re comfortable with it.”

You bite your lip, clearly still unsure, but there’s a softness in your eyes, a desire to help him, to take care of him in whatever way you can. Slowly, you nod.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “If you think it’ll help.”

Lando’s heart skips a beat, a rush of excitement flooding through him as you agree. He shifts closer to you on the couch, his hand sliding up your leg to rest on your thigh as he looks into your eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his voice low, though he’s already leaning in, already feeling the pull toward you.

You nod again, though there’s still a hint of hesitation in your expression. “Yeah. I just … I didn’t expect this.”

Lando smiles softly, trying to put you at ease, though inside, his mind is racing. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his hand gently squeezing your thigh. “We’ll take it slow.”

You take a deep breath, and then, with a small nod, you lift the hem of your shirt, exposing your chest to him. Lando’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes immediately drawn to the soft curve of your skin, the subtle sheen of moisture that’s already starting to form.

His mouth goes dry again, but this time, it’s not from the heat.

He leans in slowly, his hand sliding up to cup your breast as his lips brush against your skin. You tense slightly under his touch, but you don’t pull away, and Lando takes that as his cue to continue. He presses a soft kiss to your skin, his heart racing in his chest as he feels the warmth of you beneath his lips.

For a moment, he just stays there, breathing you in, savoring the closeness. Then, slowly, carefully, he opens his mouth and takes you in, drawing the sweet liquid into his mouth.

The taste hits him instantly, flooding his senses with warmth and sweetness. It’s just as he remembered — no, better. The heat, the exhaustion, the rawness of the race — it all amplifies the sensation, making it feel more intense, more real.

He can feel you tense again, a soft gasp escaping your lips, and he pulls back slightly, looking up at you with wide eyes. “You okay?” He asks softly, his voice thick.

You nod, though your breathing is shaky, your hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. “Yeah … I’m okay. It’s just … different.”

Lando nods, understanding, but he can’t stop now. He leans in again, his lips pressing against you once more as he drinks from you, taking in the warmth, the sweetness. It feels like he’s finally giving in to something he’s been craving for so long, and the rush of it makes his head spin.

He moves his hand gently, squeezing softly as he continues, feeling the way your body reacts to him, the way you tremble under his touch. It sends a thrill through him, a deep, primal satisfaction that he can’t explain.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers tightening on his shoulder, and Lando feels a surge of heat in his chest. He’s careful, though — he doesn’t want to push too far, doesn’t want to scare you. He pulls back after a moment, looking up at you again with that same soft smile.

“How was that?” He asks, his voice gentle.

You look down at him, your expression still a mix of confusion and something else — something softer, more vulnerable. “It was … okay,” you say quietly. “Just … unexpected.”

Lando nods, reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I feel a lot better now.”

You smile at him, though it’s a small, uncertain smile, and Lando knows that this is something you’re still processing. But for him … for him, it feels like the beginning of something he’s been waiting for. Something he’s been craving.

As you pull your shirt back down and settle beside him on the couch, Lando leans back, his heart still racing, his mind spinning with everything that just happened. He knows he’s playing with fire, knows that this secret is dangerous, but for now, he’s content.

***

Lando is lying on the couch, lazily scrolling through his phone, the sound of the TV humming in the background. It’s a quiet afternoon, the kind of rare downtime that he savors between races. His body still feels the residual tension from the last few weeks, the physical demands of driving through the relentless heat of Qatar lingering in his muscles.

You’re in the bedroom, sorting through some things. Lando hears the occasional thud of a drawer closing, the rustling of clothes. Everything feels normal. Calm, even.

Until it isn’t.

“Lando!”

Your voice slices through the quiet, sharp and tense. His heart stutters in his chest. The way you say his name — it’s not in the usual tone. There’s something off about it, something more than the usual annoyance over small things.

He sits up, his phone forgotten in his lap. “Yeah?” He calls back, trying to sound casual, but there’s a tightness in his throat.

You appear in the doorway, and immediately, Lando knows something’s wrong. You’re holding something in your hand — a small, innocuous-looking jar. But he recognizes it instantly.

The cream. The cream he thought he’d hidden well enough.

He swallows hard, his pulse quickening. “What’s that?” He asks, feigning ignorance, but his voice wavers ever so slightly.

You step closer, holding up the jar. Your eyes are sharp, full of confusion, but also something else — betrayal, anger, hurt. “I found this,” you say, your voice tight. “In the back of the drawer. Where you obviously didn’t want me to find it.”

Lando shifts uncomfortably on the couch, his mind racing as he tries to come up with an excuse, anything to diffuse the situation. He hadn’t expected this. He thought he’d been careful. “It’s just … it’s just some lotion,” he says, but even as the words leave his mouth, he knows they’re not enough.

Your eyes narrow. “Lotion? Lando, this is not just lotion. This is-” You pause, your breath shaky. “This is the cream that’s supposed to induce lactation, isn’t it?”

He feels his stomach drop. There’s no point in denying it now. You’ve found the evidence, and there’s no going back from this. But he can’t let you stay angry. He can’t let this ruin everything. He’s worked too hard to get to this point, and he doesn’t want to lose what he’s gained.

“Look, I can explain,” he says, standing up from the couch, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. He tries to keep his voice calm, soothing. “I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I just … I thought it would help.”

You stare at him, your expression a mix of disbelief and anger. “Help? Help with what, Lando? You’ve been putting this on me without telling me! Do you realize how messed up that is?”

He steps closer, his heart pounding. “I know. I know it sounds bad. But I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just … I wanted to try something new. I wanted to feel closer to you.”

You shake your head, incredulous. “Closer to me? By making my body do something without my knowledge? This is so far beyond okay. This is — this is a violation of trust.”

Lando feels a surge of panic. He can’t let this spiral out of control. He can’t let you leave, or worse, shut him out. He takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a softer tone, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear. I just-” He hesitates, then says, “I didn’t know how to ask for it.”

Your brows furrow, and you look away, your hand tightening around the jar. Lando can see the conflict in your eyes — the hurt, the confusion, the anger. And he knows that if he doesn’t do something now, he might lose you.

He takes another step closer, his voice gentle. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his hand reaching out to brush your arm. “I just … I couldn’t help it. I’ve been so obsessed with you, with us, and it felt … it felt natural. I didn’t want to scare you.”

You shake your head again, but your anger seems to falter, just a little. “This is … this isn’t something you just hide from someone. You can’t make decisions about my body like that.”

“I know,” he says quickly. “I know. I shouldn’t have done it without telling you. But I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want to make things weird between us.”

You look at him, your eyes searching his face, and Lando feels a small flicker of hope. He can see that you’re still upset, but there’s a crack in the wall you’ve put up, a softness starting to seep through.

He takes another step, closing the distance between you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “Please,” he whispers. “Let me make it up to you. I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose us.”

You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, and Lando can feel the tension in the room shift, just slightly. He knows he’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s close. So close.

“Lando …” you begin, but he cuts you off by leaning in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, desperate kiss. You hesitate at first, but after a moment, you kiss him back, your lips warm and familiar against his.

When he pulls away, his voice is low, almost a whisper. “Let me show you. Let me take care of you.”

You look at him, your eyes still conflicted, but there’s something else there now — curiosity, maybe, or a need for comfort. Lando takes that as his cue to continue, his hands moving to gently guide you to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his hands moving to your shoulders, massaging gently. “I know I messed up. But I want to make it right.”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t resist either. Lando’s hands slide down your arms, soothing and gentle, as he kneels in front of you. He looks up at you, his eyes soft, pleading.

“Let me,” he murmurs, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up slightly. You hesitate for a moment, but then you nod, allowing him to lift it higher, exposing your chest.

Lando’s breath catches in his throat as he looks at you, the soft curve of your body illuminated by the dim light in the room. He presses a kiss to your stomach, his lips warm against your skin.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re perfect.”

You let out a shaky breath, your hand resting on the back of his head as he kisses his way up your chest, his lips trailing along your skin. He pauses at your breast, his lips hovering just above the soft peak.

“Please,” he whispers again, looking up at you. “Let me.”

You nod, your breath shaky, and Lando takes that as permission. He leans in, his mouth closing around you, drawing you in with slow, deliberate movements. The sweet warmth floods his senses, and he feels a rush of satisfaction, of need.

You gasp softly, your fingers tightening in his hair, and Lando’s heart swells with a mix of desire and relief. He’s got you now. He knows he’s distracting you, pulling you away from the anger, and it’s working. You’re softening under his touch, your body responding to him.

He coos softly, his lips never leaving your skin. “You taste so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “So perfect.”

You let out a soft whimper, your hand gripping his shoulder as he continues, his mouth moving gently, rhythmically. He can feel you relaxing, the tension slowly melting away, and it fills him with a deep sense of satisfaction. He’s in control now. He’s guiding you, distracting you, making sure you’re focused on him and nothing else.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice soft and coaxing. “I’ve got you.”

Your breathing is shallow, your body trembling under his touch, and Lando can feel the shift in the room. The anger, the hurt — it’s slipping away, replaced by something else. Something more intimate, more vulnerable.

He pulls back slightly, his lips still brushing against your skin, his eyes looking up at you with that same soft, pleading expression. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to be close to you.”

You look down at him, your eyes still clouded with confusion and emotion, but you don’t pull away. Your hand stays on his shoulder, your fingers tightening slightly as if you’re holding on to him, grounding yourself.

Lando leans in again, pressing another soft kiss to your chest, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulls back completely, sitting back on his heels and looking up at you.

“I love you,” he says quietly, his voice raw. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

You’re silent for a long moment, your chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. Finally, you speak, your voice soft, almost unsure. “This … this is a lot, Lando.”

He swallows hard, reading the uncertainty in your voice, feeling the weight of it settle between you. His heart races, but he knows he can’t push too fast. He doesn’t want to scare you, doesn’t want to lose what they’ve built. This delicate moment, the fragile balance between trust and something deeper — he can feel it teetering.

He stays where he is, kneeling at your feet, looking up at you with that same desperate softness in his eyes. His hands rest gently on your thighs, thumbs brushing back and forth, a soothing rhythm. He knows he has to choose his words carefully.

“I know,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “I know it's a lot. And I know I should’ve told you from the start. But …” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “It felt right. The connection. The closeness. I just-”

Lando falters, unsure if he should say what’s really on his mind. That he's obsessed with the idea of you like this, that every time he sees you, he’s overcome with a need so deep, so primal, it almost scares him. But he swallows it back, not wanting to push too far, too fast.

Your gaze softens, and although the hesitation lingers in your eyes, you’re listening. You’re still here.

“I just wanted more of you,” Lando continues, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not just physically, but emotionally too. It’s been … it’s been overwhelming for me too, but I didn’t know how to explain it. I thought if we … if you … I don’t know. Maybe it was selfish, but I just-”

He looks down, his head hanging low as if ashamed, his hands still gently resting on your thighs. “I didn’t want to scare you off by talking about it. I thought you might think it was weird.”

Your hand reaches out, fingers lightly brushing the top of his head. He looks up at you again, the gentleness of your touch melting the knot of tension in his chest.

“I don’t think you’re weird,” you say quietly, the uncertainty still there but softer now, more understanding. “But … Lando, this is my body. You should’ve talked to me. We could’ve figured it out together.”

Lando nods quickly, his throat tightening. “I know, I know. And I’m so sorry for not being honest. I’ll do better, I swear. I’ll never hide anything from you again.”

Your thumb grazes his cheek as you watch him carefully, the anger you’d felt earlier fading into something else. Something gentler. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t ask me.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “I didn’t want you to say no,” he admits quietly. “Because … I don’t know if I could’ve handled that.”

Silence falls between you, thick with emotion. You let your hand fall away from his face, resting it in your lap as you consider his words, his vulnerability.

Lando can see the gears turning in your head, the mix of confusion, curiosity, and maybe — just maybe — something that mirrors his own desire. He watches you carefully, searching your face for any sign of where this might be heading.

Finally, you let out a soft sigh. “So, you … want me to keep … producing?”

Lando’s eyes widen slightly, and he nods, his heart racing again. “Only if you want to,” he says quickly, his voice soft but insistent. “I won’t push you. But … yeah. I do.”

Your gaze drifts down, and you chew on your bottom lip, thinking it over. Lando’s pulse quickens, the air between you charged with tension and something deeper, something unspoken.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally meet his eyes again, your expression hesitant but open. “And … you want to …”

Lando nods again, this time more firmly. “I do. But only if you're okay with it.”

The silence stretches again, but it feels different now. Lando can feel the shift, the softening. You’re not angry anymore. You’re curious, unsure, but there’s a flicker of trust in your eyes again. It’s fragile, but it’s there.

“You could’ve just asked me,” you say, your voice softer now, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Lando exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his own smile breaking through the tension. “I know. I should’ve. I’m an idiot.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head, and the sound of it is like music to his ears. It’s a relief, like the storm clouds parting just enough to let a sliver of sunlight through.

He reaches out again, his hand gently resting on your knee, his touch warm and grounding. “But … do you want to?” He asks, his voice quiet, hesitant. “We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable. I mean it.”

You look down for a moment, your hands playing with the hem of your shirt, before meeting his eyes again. There’s still a flicker of uncertainty there, but now, there’s something else too. Something deeper. A kind of surrender, maybe, or an acknowledgment of the strange, intense connection that’s grown between you.

Finally, you nod, a small, hesitant movement. “Okay.”

Lando’s heart skips a beat. He wasn’t sure if he’d hear you say that, wasn’t sure if this moment would come. But now that it’s here, he feels a flood of emotion, a mix of relief, excitement, and something much deeper, something he can’t quite put into words.

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice soft, a little breathless.

You nod again, your gaze steady on his. “Yeah. I … I trust you.”

His chest tightens at your words, the weight of them sinking in. Trust. That’s what this all comes down to. You’re giving him that trust again, even after everything, and it means more to him than he can express.

Lando rises slowly, his movements careful and deliberate as he steps closer to you, kneeling between your legs again. His hands rest gently on your hips, his touch reverent, almost worshipful. He doesn’t want to rush this, doesn’t want to break the fragile balance you’ve reached.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You nod, your breath a little shaky, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you reach down, guiding his hands to the hem of your shirt, helping him lift it up and over your head. The soft fabric falls to the floor, leaving your chest bare, vulnerable in the dim light.

Lando’s breath catches in his throat as he looks at you, his hands gently cupping your breasts. His thumbs brush over your skin, slow and deliberate, and you let out a soft gasp at the sensation.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice low and husky, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nod, your lips parting as you take a shaky breath. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

He leans in slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your chest, just above your heart. He feels the steady rhythm of your pulse beneath his lips, and it grounds him, reminding him of the connection you share.

His lips move lower, tracing a path along your skin, until he reaches your breast. He pauses, looking up at you one last time for permission. You nod again, your hand resting on the back of his head, gently guiding him closer.

And then, with a soft, reverent touch, Lando takes you into his mouth.

The sensation is immediate, overwhelming in its intensity. He feels the warmth of you, the sweet, rich taste filling his senses, and it’s everything he’s wanted, everything he’s imagined. You let out a soft moan, your body trembling slightly beneath him, and it only spurs him on.

His mouth moves slowly, rhythmically, savoring every moment, every drop. He’s careful, gentle, but there’s a hunger in him now, a need that he can’t deny. He’s wanted this for so long, and now that he has it, he can’t get enough.

You moan softly, your hand tightening in his hair, and Lando feels a surge of satisfaction, of deep, primal desire. He knows he’s crossed a line, knows that this moment is unlike anything you’ve shared before. But it feels right. It feels natural.

He pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against your skin as he murmurs, “You’re perfect.”

You let out a shaky breath, your body trembling beneath his touch. “Lando …”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and affection. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice raw. “I’ll always take care of you.”

And with that, you gently guide him back, helping him latch again. The room is quiet, save for the soft sounds of your breathing, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around you both like a warm embrace.

And in that moment, nothing else matters. Just you, him, and the connection that binds you tighter than ever before.