I Don't Know If I Should Cry Or Feel Relieved That She Got Rid Of Her Boyfriend, I Just Know That I Would

My husband and our kid❤️🙏

omg did you see Steven's new Instagram post?

the comments seem to think he cut his hair but I think it looks like just in a ponytail. only time will tell though and, with how little he posts, idk if we ever will find out if he cut it

but!! even if he did, look how adorable he is! ♡

Erik testifies about how he felt learning that his mother knew about the abuse.

I’m fucking FERAL for this man, pls tell me I’m not the only one?😳😳😳

loser bf! RODRICK HEFFLEY hc

tags — fem!reader﹒sfw + nsfw﹒headcanons

loser bf!rodrick, who makes a huge show of pda whenever his brother is around. he’ll sling his arm around your shoulder and be like, “yeah, greg. my girlfriend. isn’t she hot?” greg is still fully convinced rodrick’s paying you to be his fake girlfriend, though he has no idea where he’s got the money.

loser bf!rodrick, who lets you sit in on band practice and tries so hard to keep it together, but the second his bandmates start flirting with you, he completely falls apart. his drumming gets so off-tempo that they have to stop and start over.

loser bf!rodrick, who lent you his algebra textbook and completely forgot he’d been doodling your name with his last name all over the margins. when you handed it back, smirking, he looked like he wanted to die.

loser bf!rodrick, whose idea of a date is a night drive to the gas station, where you both load up on slushies and hot dogs. you sit in the parking lot and steal bites off each other’s food (even though you have the same toppings)

loser bf!rodrick, who awkwardly asked his mom to use the “nice-smelling” laundry detergent on his shirts because he knows you like to steal them after having sex and he doesn’t want you thinking he’s gross.

loser bf!rodrick, whose mom acts like you’re already part of the family, offering you snacks and calling you “sweetie” every time you visit. she loves to (unintentionally) embarrassing her eldest son by showing you all of his baby pictures. all the while rodrick hides in the basement.

loser bf!rodrick, whose dad corners you during family dinners and awkwardly tries to sell you on how “rodrick is really a fine young man, despite, uh… some quirks.” you just nod politely while rodrick sits there, sinking into his chair with a beet-red face.

loser bf!rodrick, whose bandmates are constantly making moves on you, asking if you “need anything” during practice or offering to carry your stuff. rodrick will get so pissed that he threatens to kick them out of the band. you think it’s hilarious how defensive he gets.

loser bf!rodrick, who always gives you the front seat in his van, no questions asked. greg has to squish in the back with the instruments, too bad lol.

loser bf!rodrick, who pretends to be terrible at eyeliner just so you’ll do it for him. in return, he paints your nails—or you can also paint his (in exclusively black).

loser bf!rodrick, who acts reluctant whenever you drag him into photobooths at the mall. the two of you end up making the dumbest faces before you lean in and kiss him right on the mouth… with tongue.

loser bf!rodrick, who lets you doodle on his arm with a sharpie, and he refuses to wash them off. they stay there until they fade completely.

loser bf!rodrick, who finally starts wearing deodorant consistently because of you. it’s not even something you asked him to do—he just noticed you sniffing his shirts a little more critically and panicked. now, he’s always freshly applied before seeing you.

loser bf!rodrick, who gets hard every time you kiss him.

loser bf!rodrick, who tries his best to keep his room somewhat presentable whenever you come over. he knows it’s still a fucking disaster by normal standards, but for rodrick, clearing a path to the bed is a grand romantic gesture.

loser bf!rodrick, who’s obsessed so with seeing your hickeys on him. he never bothers to hide them—in fact, he wears them like badges.

loser bf!rodrick, who almost accidentally used the wrong side of the condom when you had sex for the first time.

loser bf!rodrick, who absolutely melts when you tug on his hair during sex. he didn’t even realise he had a thing for it until the first time you did it. now, he practically begs for it without using words, tilting his head back and grinning like a total idiot whenever your fingers get close.

loser bf!rodrick, who keeps every random thing you’ve ever given him — notes you’ve passed to him in class, concert tickets, even candy wrappers.

loser bf!rodrick, who hates being bossed around but will do anything you ask, especially if it involves you kissing his cheek or ruffling his hair in thanks. he’s so whipped and everyone knows it.

loser bf!rodrick, who brags to greg about how sexy and smart and pretty you are, just to rub it in, but secretly feels like he doesn’t deserve you. he gets this dumb, soft look on his face whenever you’re around, like he still can’t believe you chose him.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

Carlos | December 8, 2024 / Abu Dhabi GP 2024 © Ferrari.com

Reader being jealous of their older boyfriend being shipped with another driver

• feat : mark webber, jenson button, fernando alonso, mika häkkinen, lewis hamilton, kimi räikkönen, sebastian vettel, nico rosberg

• genre : crack, suggestive

• A/N : not gonna lie, I love making these

Cooper gets Erik's facial expressions so accurately it's kind of wild

For SpiderGirl Y/N, how would they react to her being injured or dead. I wanna see them suffer. Only if you are ok with it. Love all your stuff, btw.

If you being injured:

The mission had been brutal, the enemy relentless, and the stakes higher than ever. But somehow, they made it through. Barely. And now, there you were—injured but alive, laying on the med bay table like the biggest diva Gotham had ever seen.

“Oh, God, I’m dying,” you groaned, clutching your side dramatically. Your hand was caked in blood, but it was far from life-threatening. Still, that didn’t stop you from milking it for all it was worth.

“You’re not dying, Y/N,” Dick said, crouching beside you with a worried expression. “The wound isn’t even that deep.”

You shot him a glare, your lips curling into a pout. “Easy for you to say, Golden Boy. You’re not the one bleeding out.”

Jason snorted from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “She’s got a scratch, and now she thinks she’s in a soap opera.”

“Shut up, Jason,” you snapped, though the bite was lessened by your theatrics. “I’m injured! I could have bled out on the battlefield. The least you could do is pretend to care.”

Jason rolled his eyes but walked over anyway, leaning down to inspect the wound. “You’re fine, princess,” he said with a smirk, ruffling your hair.

“I’m not fine!” you whined, slapping his hand away. “I need love and attention. Lots of it.”

Dick’s Turn

Dick was always the softie, and you knew exactly how to play him. You reached out with a trembling hand, your eyes wide and watery. “Nightwing,” you murmured weakly, “I don’t think I’ll make it. Hold me.”

He hesitated for a moment before sighing and sitting on the edge of the table. Carefully, he pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest.

“There, there,” he said softly, stroking your hair. “You’re gonna be okay, Y/N.”

You sighed dramatically, leaning into him. “You smell nice,” you muttered, nuzzling into his neck.

Dick blushed furiously, but he didn’t pull away. Jason, on the other hand, gagged audibly.

“God, get a room,” Jason muttered, clearly annoyed.

Jason’s Turn

You turned your big, watery eyes on Jason next. “Jay… my favorite outlaw… my knight in shining armor… can you carry me? Please?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Carry you? To where? The couch is like ten feet away.”

You pouted, batting your eyelashes. “But I’m injured! And it’s your fault for being so handsome that I got distracted during the fight.”

Jason stared at you for a long moment before groaning. “Fine. But only because I don’t want to listen to you whining all night.”

He scooped you up effortlessly, and you wasted no time wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re so strong,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest.

Jason’s ears turned red, but he kept his expression neutral. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it.”

Tim’s Turn

When Tim walked in with a first aid kit, you immediately perked up. “Timmy! My hero!”

He sighed, kneeling beside the table to inspect your wound. “Let me patch you up.”

You let him work for about two minutes before you got bored. Then, with a sly smile, you reached out and pulled his head into your lap.

“Y/N, what are you—” Tim stammered, his face turning bright red.

“I need comfort,” you said innocently, running your fingers through his hair. “You’re such a good boy, Timmy.”

Tim froze, his brain short-circuiting as you hummed softly, clearly enjoying his embarrassment.

Damian’s Turn

Damian stormed into the room, clearly irritated. “Why are you whining like an infant?” he snapped, crossing his arms.

“Because I’m injured, you little gremlin,” you shot back. “Now come here and give me a hug.”

Damian scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

But when you held out your arms, looking pitiful and teary-eyed, he hesitated. Finally, with a huff, he walked over and awkwardly patted your head.

“There. Are you happy now?”

You grinned, pulling him into a tight hug. “Aww, you do care, baby bird.”

Damian squawked indignantly, struggling to escape, but you held on tight. “Let me go, you lunatic!”

Bruce’s Turn

Bruce entered the med bay last, his expression as stern as ever. “What’s going on here?”

“She’s being dramatic,” Jason said, gesturing to you.

“She’s injured,” Dick corrected.

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y/N, stop harassing them and let me see the wound.”

You pouted but let him approach. As he carefully inspected the cut, you leaned your head against his arm. “Daddy Bats, you’re so gentle,” you teased.

Bruce froze, giving you a pointed look. “Do you want me to help or not?”

You grinned. “I do. But a kiss on the forehead would speed up my recovery.”

Bruce groaned, clearly regretting every decision that led to this moment. “You’re impossible.”

By the end of the night, you were bandaged up, pampered, and thoroughly satisfied with the attention you’d received. And while the boys all pretended to be annoyed, they couldn’t hide the fact that they cared.

If you die:

The night was eerily silent, as though the city itself knew it was about to lose its spark. Gotham was cold and unforgiving, but it had always been alive because of you—chaotic, unrelenting, and fearless. And now? Now, you were gone.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Dick (Nightwing)

Dick was the first to find you. Blood pooled beneath your broken body, your mask torn to reveal your face—pale and eerily peaceful. For the first time, he saw you. He saw the girl who was tired, scared, and brave all at once.

“Y/N!” he screamed, sliding to his knees beside you. His hands shook as he cradled your head, desperately searching for a pulse. “No, no, no! Stay with me, okay? You’re gonna be fine!”

But you weren’t fine. You’d fought until the very end, trading jokes for grit, determination, and a ferocity none of them had truly appreciated before. And now? Dick was left holding your lifeless body, sobbing into your blood-soaked suit.

“This isn’t fair,” he whispered, his tears falling onto your face. “You were supposed to be invincible, dammit.”

Jason (Red Hood)

Jason was next, drawn by Dick’s anguished cries. The moment he saw you, his heart stopped. You, who somehow made him laugh even on his darkest days—you were gone.

He didn’t cry, not at first. He couldn’t. Instead, he fell silent, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Who did this?” he growled, his voice trembling with rage.

When no one answered, he turned to Dick, his eyes wild. “WHO DID THIS?!”

Jason’s fury was all-consuming, but beneath it was a grief so raw it threatened to break him. He knelt beside you, brushing the hair from your face with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his shaking hands.

“You weren’t supposed to go out like this,” he muttered. “You were supposed to annoy us forever, you hear me? Forever, Y/N.”

Tim (Red Robin)

Tim didn’t want to believe it. He stood frozen, his mind racing to find a way—any way—to fix this. You couldn’t be dead. You were the one who called him “good boy,” who smothered him with affection, who always seemed untouchable despite your reckless behavior.

“This… this isn’t real,” he stammered, his voice breaking. “She’s faking it. She’s… she’s messing with us.”

But you weren’t. And when Tim finally accepted the truth, he collapsed. He crawled to your side, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. “You can’t leave us,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face. “I need you. We all do.”

Damian (Robin)

Damian didn’t cry. He didn’t scream. He simply stood there, staring at your body as though willing you to get up. You always did when he told you to. Always.

“Get up,” he demanded, his voice cold and sharp. “You’re not allowed to die.”

When you didn’t move, his composure cracked. “Y/N, I’m serious. Get up! Stop… stop playing around!”

And then, for the first time, Damian fell to his knees. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms so hard they drew blood. “You’re a coward,” he spat through gritted teeth, his voice thick with emotion. “You left me. You promised you wouldn’t.”

Bruce (Batman)

Bruce arrived last, his face as stoic as ever—until he saw you. His shoulders sagged, and for a moment, he wasn’t Batman. He wasn’t the Dark Knight. He was just a man who had failed someone he loved.

He knelt beside you, his gloved hand brushing against your cheek. “You were just a kid,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “You deserved more time.”

Bruce had seen death before, but this? This was different. You weren’t just another casualty. You were family. And he had failed you.

“I should have stopped you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I should have protected you.”

Alfred’s Grief

Alfred was the one who had always known how to handle you, from the moment you spat in Bruce’s face as a child to the day you showed up in a spider suit, smugly proclaiming yourself Gotham’s best hero. You were incorrigible, maddening, and unapologetically yourself, and Alfred adored you for it.

When he heard the news, Alfred didn’t cry. Not at first. He simply closed his eyes, placed the tea tray he’d been preparing on the counter, and leaned against the sink. His hands trembled as he clutched the edge, the weight of your loss sinking into his bones.

“She was just a child,” he murmured to no one, his voice thick with grief. “My child.”

That night, Alfred cleaned your suit. He worked silently, meticulously wiping away the blood and patching up the tears as if you might walk through the door and demand it back at any moment. When he finished, he folded it neatly and placed it in the Batcave beside the others, his hands lingering on the fabric.

“She would have wanted it spotless,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

The Manor felt colder without you. He found himself pausing at the sound of laughter, only to realize it wasn’t yours. He missed the way you teased him, calling him “Alfie” and sneaking cookies from the kitchen. Most of all, he missed the way you brought life into a house filled with so much darkness.

The Funeral

The Manor was silent in the days following your death. No one spoke unless absolutely necessary, and even then, it was barely above a whisper. Your absence was a gaping wound none of them knew how to heal.

Jason stayed in his room, punching walls until his knuckles bled. Tim buried himself in work, desperate to distract himself. Damian trained until he collapsed, refusing to let anyone see him cry. And Dick couldn’t even look at your room without breaking down.

Bruce tried to hold them all together, but even he struggled. At your funeral, he gave a speech, his voice steady but his eyes filled with sorrow.

The Aftermath

They all dealt with your death in their own way, but one thing was constant—they would never stop missing you. Every quip, every smile, every moment of chaos you brought into their lives was etched into their memories forever.

Jason would often find himself staring at the night sky, muttering, “You’d probably call me a softie for this.”

Tim would keep a photo of you on his desk, a constant reminder of the person who always believed in him.

Damian would visit your grave, silently promising to make you proud.

And Dick? Dick would tell stories about you to anyone who’d listen, keeping your memory alive.

As for Bruce? He’d sit in the Batcave late at night, staring at your suit and wondering what he could have done differently.

You may have been gone, but you would never be forgotten. You were their light. And the hole you left in their lives would never be filled.

okay... hear me out, friends to lovers with franco.. but a little more ✨spicy✨

you meet at a party of a mutual friend after a few friendly encounters before and at somepoint the conversation shifts to sexual experience. reader gets some kinks exposed and franco is very intrigued by that, suggesting he's very interested in exploring those kinks and more with them👀

You'd met Franco a few times, through mutual friends. And every single time there was a spark.  

Tonight was no different.  

Warnings: discussion around lots of kinks, smut, choking, restraints, mirror sex, recording, as usual too many petnames, sort of edging?, multiple orgasms, kinda unhinged at the end, Franco is a flirt and a tease, alcohol, friends to lovers I guess although the lovers part isn't really discussed  

Each time you came into contact with each other, your friends would roll their eyes at the shameless flirting. 

But every time it fizzled out when the evening ended and you would both go your separate ways with a shake of the hand and a “it's been a pleasure”. 

Tonight Franco was determined to not let you go that easily. 

He had a plan. Which was basically, go in early, and go in hard. 

So to speak. 

Very early on, he’d made you take a few shots with him to loosen you both up, then all but dragged you over to a couch to plant you on his lap. 

“Let’s talk” he said, grabbing a large glass of something you both could share as you yapped. 

And yap you did, about anything and everything, for hours. 

His hands wandered over your bare thighs and you kept slapping them away, giggling about how you were in public. But he could see the blush creep onto your cheeks every time, he could see how much you were definitely tempted. 

He just needed to find a way to make you give in to temptation. 

Ideas trotted around his brain, until one of your mutual, and very drunk at this point, friends came over and begged you to play a game of ‘never have I ever’. 

You and Franco rolled your eyes at the childish suggestion, but followed, and somehow ended up on opposite sides of the circle on the floor of the large living room. 

You all had glasses at varying degrees of fullness while the questions remained mild. 

Then it was your best friend’s turn, and she nudged your side cheekily, looking straight at Franco when she said “Never have I ever... had sex in a car”  

Franco’s eyes narrowed at her as he took a sip, and everyone cheered loudly at him. A couple of others in the circle followed and took sips of their own drinks. 

He looked at you and you giggled at him. “You haven’t?” he mouthed over the noise and you shook your head. 

He shrugged with a shy smile and the game moved on. 

Until your same best friend, obviously trying to achieve something with her questions, asked a question obviously aimed at you, this time. 

“Never have I ever had sex in front of a mirror!” 

She looked excessively proud of herself, and you huffed and took a sip, glancing at Franco, who did not drink but was looking at you with a raised eyebrow. 

You winked and shrugged at him, turning to your friend who looked slightly dissapointed. 

“What are you trying to do mate?” 

She giggled. “I’m playing a game with Gaby!” she motioned to Franco’s friend, sitting a few spaces to your right “First one who manages to find something that you and Franco have both done, wins” 

You scoffed at their ridiculous antics. “Jesus, you two are unbelievable” 

The game continued, your friends finding increasingly ridiculous things to say. 

“Face time sex!” (you drank to that one) 

“Choking!” (you both drank and Gaby cheered) 

“Anal!” and Franco drank hesitantly, but when someone asked “giving or recieving?” he blushed and quickly changed the subject. 

As the questions went on, you noticed a trend. You were drinking at almost every single one, and Franco... well he was getting increasingly flustered every time he noticed you take a sip. 

So far he’d learned you liked dirty talk, mirrors, spanking,  being filmed (his dick twitched at that one), and your favourite position was bent over (it apparently didn’t matter what). 

Gaby shrugged, apparently out of ideas of dirty things to say and most of the others seemed to have given up, so the game ended and you got up to get more drinks from the kitchen. 

Franco followed eagerly, ignoring the knowing looks from his peers. 

“Any other kinks I should know about?” he sidled up to you, leaning an arm on the counter. 

“I don’t know why you should know about any of my kinks, frankly” you feigned nonchalance by taking another gulp of your drink and looking away. But the façade crumbled when you choked in response to his next words. 

“I want to know what you like.” he purred, leaning in closer to your ear “I want to know everything about you, and that includes how to please you” 

You were blushing furiously. How dare he be so smooth. 

“After tonight you know more than enough, don’t you think?” your breath hitched when one of his hands brushed your exposed thigh. 

“Aaah, come on” he groaned “there has to be something else, something you haven’t said yet”  

His face was inches from yours, your breaths mingling as the tension in the kitchen rose to unbearable levels. 

“I’ll tell you what.” you gulped, mesmerised by his eyes boring into yours “if you’re still interested when you’re sober, come over to my place and I’ll show you” 

His pupils dilated and he licked his lips as he took in your words.  

“Okay” he said simply. 

But neither of you made any effort to move away from each other, in fact, you could swear he was getting closer. 

His eyes flicked to your lips briefly, he was breathing hard and his brows were furrowed together in slight frustration. 

“Can I at least kiss you?” he whispered and the slight nod you responded with was enough for him to crash his lips to yours. 

It was desperate and messy, but terribly satisfying as you both felt months of tension finally snapping and becoming something real. 

Reflecting back on it the next day, you barely remembered it, and you definitely didn’t remember the offer you made him. 

Several aspirins and a shower had done the trick to avoid a hangover, but your memories didn’t really come back as you went about your day. 

It wasn’t until the evening, and you were just about ready to order take out, when you recieved a text. 

“Can I come over now? I’m sober ;)" 

You gasped as last night’s conversation came back to you in pieces, and your fingers typed out a response before your brain even had a chance to think of something less desperate. 

“Was about to order food, but I’m sure you’ll taste better” 

He saw the message, and you waited several minutes, but the reply never came. 

You started getting worried so you sent another. 

“Franco?”  

He saw it immediately, and the answer came soon after. 

“Cant type driving” 

You laughed at his eagerness and sat down on your couch, scrolling through your phone while you waited. 

It felt like an eternity before you heard the screech of tyres sliding on the road, and you instinctively knew it was him. 

Your suspicions were confirmed when he rapped on your door with enough force to definitely warrant you checking for damage to his knuckles. 

You opened the door for him and he was about to step forward immediately, but he froze mid-step and his breath hitched when his eyes fell on you. 

You frowned at him gaping at you and looked down at yourself. 

“What- what’s the matter?” 

His gaze softened and he stepped closer to you, lifting you up by your thighs and kicking the door shut behind him as he carried you inside. 

“I have never seen you without makeup...” he muttered, and you blushed at the realisation.  

“Oh... uhmm” you squirmed but his hold tightened on your body, holding you up with his impressive strength, unmoving in the middle of your messy living room. But you were the only thing he was able to look at. 

 “You are so beautiful” he wasn’t exactly helping your blushing, but it was nice to be appreciated. 

“We would make the most beautiful babies” he muttered and you burst out laughing at the out of pocket comment. 

He chuckled at himself and let you down, but didn’t let go of his his hold on you. 

“You gonna stand there and look stupid or are you going to kiss me?” you asked and he gasped softly in mock offence, but did lean down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. 

You could by the way he kissed you that there was a deep hunger inside him, and you were equally hungry for him, so the kiss quickly deepened as you pawed at each other. 

“Franco” you panted “The bedroom is that way” 

You pointed to the hallway and he nodded, picking you up again and carrying you all the way to your bed. 

He set you down, and kneeled on the floor between your legs. 

“You remember our conversation from yesterday?” 

You bit your lip “Yeah, why?” 

He smiled evilly. 

“Then you remember that you need to tell me another one of your kinks”  

You groaned, blushing at the memory. Right. 

“I uhh… I can't remember which ones you already know about…” 

He smiled and climbed onto the bed, caging you in underneath him. 

“Then tell me a few, and I'll tell you which ones I want to try” 

He leaned down to kiss you softly before sitting up, legs either side of your hips so that you couldn't squirm away and escape. 

Your blush was slowly deepening and Franco melted, seeing you so shy under him even though he knew you were filthy was really getting him going. 

“What is it, querida? Cat got your tongue?”  

He chuckled, trailing a hand up your body until it reached your neck, and he wrapped it around your throat. 

Your breath hitched and he smirked. 

“I seem to remember you liking this one. Tell me, what else is there?” 

You gulped, and he felt it under his hand, which turned him on even more for some reason. 

“Uhm… well I like it rough.” 

He smiled and leaned down to peck your cheek. 

“That's a start… anything more specific you want me to do to you?” he whispered in your ear and you shivered at his tone. 

“I like… being tied up. Restrained.”  

He hummed as he kissed down the skin of your neck. “Carry on” 

“I uhh… like being spanked” you said breathlessly “and also…” 

You turned your head to the side and he followed your gaze. 

To the left of your bed was a massive mirror. 

Your eyes met in the refection and he chuckled. 

“Ah yes I remember…” he looked back at you and you looked up at him “and I remember something about… filming?” 

You bit your lip and nodded. 

“Tell me about that” he muttered breathlessly. 

“Well, the idea that you'd find me appealing enough to want to record me- it turns me on. Like that you'd like it enough to want to be able to rewatch the moment whenever you want… I don't know it's silly I guess” 

You hid behind your hands, which was not the right thing to do because Franco caught your wrists and pressed them into the bed above your head. 

“You are beautiful enough to record, and I would be a lucky man to have proof of what I'm about to do to you.” He hovered menacingly, his irises black with desire “and if you feel the need to hide yourself, then I am definitely going to tie your arms behind your back.” 

You gasped and he crawled off the bed. “Now strip” 

You ended up naked, on his lap with his hands running up and down your body in an effort to drive you to the brink of madness. 

And it was working. 

He had indeed tied your hands behind your back, just for the fun of it, to give him a taste of what you would let him do to you in the future. 

His eyes drifted to the mirror, which you had your back to, while he was facing it, and he groaned at the image. 

“Mi vida” he pressed a kiss to your lips “Can I take a picture? You look so good on top of me like this”  

You glanced back at the mirror and smiled. 

“Of course”  

He grabbed his phone and snapped a quick picture before tossing it further up the bed, for later. 

His clothed cock was starting to hurt, so he made quick work of his boxers and poisitioned his tip at your entrance. 

“You ready?” he winked, and you nodded, sinking down on him, inch by glorious inch until you were fully seated on his lap. 

You moaned low in your throat. He felt so good inside you, so perfect, you had to take a few seconds to recompose yourself. 

He bounced you on his lap a few times and you whined loudly in response.  

You let out little cut off ahh, aah, ahh's on every bounce and you could feel him deep inside you. 

His hands were on your hips to steady you as he grinned like a devil, continuing his movements. 

It was overwhelming, your legs were already jelly so you couldn't control the pace, you were just a dead weight for him to use as he pleased while he watched your tits bounce as he pounded into you from below. 

You couldn't even use his chest to stabilise yourself given that your hands were tied, so you let him bounce you like a ragdoll, hoping that your loud cries wouldn't disturb the neighbours. 

Eventually he stopped bouncing you and just rolled his hips lazily, making sure to hit all those spots inside you that would drive you wild. 

Your legs trembled and you whimpered pathetically.  

“Franco… please, I'm so close” 

He cooed and bounced you a couple of times to tease you and you mewled at the stimulation. 

“What do you need, baby?” 

You looked down at him, grinding your hips in circles in search of friction. 

“I need you to touch me, please I can't do it with my hands tied” you whined, frustration evident in your voice. 

He chuckled meanly and rubbed his hands over your stomach, up to cup your tits and tease your nipples, with that devilish grin still on his face. 

“Francoooo…” you whined and he laughed, the movement making you bounce slightly. 

“What? You didn't tell me where to touch, you need to be more specific” 

You eyes shot daggers at him and he just laughed at you, one of his hands going up to hold your neck firmly in his grasp, while his hips continued their maddening grind. 

He squeezed, very briefly cutting off your air flow and you moaned. 

“Tell me” he teased “Where do you want me to touch you?” 

“My- my pussy, please Franco”  

His hips bucked involuntarily at your whiny voice. He didn't know he'd be so turned on by you submitting so completely to him. 

“I need to come, please touch me, please” you chanted like a prayer as you got closer to the edge, but you needed that little extra push that you couldn’t do yourself. 

“Here?” 

The hand that wasn't around your neck travelled south, and his thumb ghosted over your clit as you gasped “yes! Yes please, right there”  

Tears were threatening to fall down your cheeks as you got more desperate, and you looked so pathetic he gave in to your pleading. He used his thumb to rub circles on that tight bundle of nerves, and bounced you gently on his cock at the same time. 

You all but shrieked, as you curled over on yourself when your orgasm hit, it was so strong. 

Your whole body was clenching and shuddering as the intense pleasure washed over you in waves. 

Before you could slump over completely, Franco lifted you up and flipped you so that you could lie on the bed while you slowly regained the feeling in your limbs. 

“Jesus Christ, Franco” you sounded winded and he chuckled. 

“Oh I am not done with you yet” 

Your head whipped up, and indeed he was still hard, admiring you from above while stroked himself lazily. 

Your eyes widened and you realised the man in front of you was a tad more sadistic than you thought. 

He helped you get off the bed and kneel on the floor, this time facing the mirror. 

“Look at yourself. Look how beautiful you are” he muttered from behind you as he untied your hands. 

“Now bend over darling, but keep your eyes focused on the mirror while I fuck you” 

You whimpered, doing as you were told as you leaned on your elbows, arching your back so that you could look at what he was doing in the mirror. 

Thank god for carpeted floors, because you were going to be quite bruised at the end of this. 

He snatched his phone off the bed, opening the camera app and looked at you. 

“I would be a fool not to film this, you are so pretty and exposed like this” he ran a finger up the inside of your thigh, gathering the evidence of your previous orgasm and bringing it to his lips. 

He pushed his cock inside you in one swift move, making sure the camera picked up the way your cunt swallowed him in greedily. 

Every thrust echoed in the room because of how wet your thighs were, and it was only getting worse because with this angle, he was hitting your g-spot dead on. 

“Fuck!” you hissed, and Franco could tell you were having trouble keeping your head up, so his other hand came to tangle in your hair and pull it up himself. 

That made your back arch even more and the angle hit deeper inside you. 

He filmed the way your breaths were coming out fast and uneven as your lidded eyes stared at him through the reflection. 

Franco could feel himself getting close, so he flipped the camera and leaned over you to prop his phone up against the mirror. 

He wrapped his arms around you, one coming back up to hold you up by your neck, the other going down to circle your clit once again. In this position he could use the leverage to pound into you harder than ever, moans tumbling from you both freely. 

It was almost animalistic, they way he rutted into you, and all you could do was take it. 

Your eyes met in the mirror, and he leaned in to pant in your ear “Look at the camera when you come, baby. I want to see it” 

He kissed your cheek sweetly and the contrast in behaviour sent you barreling into your second orgasm, gushing around him as he bullied his cock into you as hard as he dared, and with the noises you were making, you were definitely going to get a complaint from the neighbours. 

It only took a few more thrusts for Franco to come inside you with a deep groan. 

He held you like that, both of you panting and coming down from your orgasms as you waited for your breathing to even out. 

“Please tell me you're done now” you panted. 

He chuckled and kissed your cheek again.  

“For tonight, yes” 

You gave him an unimpressed look while he pulled out and reached for his phone to turn the video off. 

“What? Did you not enjoy tonight?” he asked with a smirk. 

You rolled your eyes at him. 

“I think the wet spot on the carpet speaks for itself” 

He giggled, wrapping you in his arms and kissing you deeply. 

“Well, we will be making more wet spots tomorrow” he said cockily. 

You hummed and looked up at him mischievously, giving him a quick peck before making your way towards the bathroom for a well deserved shower. 

His gaze followed your movements questioningly. 

“I suppose we'll be seeing who exactly will be making the wet spots, you just wait!”  

You called out the next words from the bathroom, and he froze, remembering what he'd admitted to the night before. 

“Until I get the strap-on out!…”