Summary: Waking up sore and still needy, you find yourself back under Bucky, this time in front of a mirror. What follows is six intense rounds of claiming and being claimed, every thrust a promise, every release a mark that you’re his.
The morning sun cut across the sheets, casting golden lines over your bruised hips and messy thighs. You reached down between your legs, feeling slickness still leaking from your sore, swollen pussy.
Fuck, he came so deep…
You shifted with a whimper. Your cunt was pulsing again—already needy. Already craving him.
You turned your head and there he was. Bucky. Sitting on the edge of the bed, naked, silently watching you with those steel-blue eyes. He must’ve pulled out while you were passed out.
His vibranium fingers were resting against his thigh, twitching slightly.
“Morning, doll,” he murmured, voice thick and gravelly. “I was wondering when you’d wake up.”
You looked at him with half-lidded eyes, biting your lip.
“I’m sore…”
“Yeah?” he said softly, brushing a finger along your thigh, near the bruises he’d left. “Too sore?”
You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you crawled toward him and knelt between his legs. You kissed the tip of his cock, still semi-hard and already twitching from the touch.
“Need you again.”
His breath caught.
“Doll—”
“Please. I don’t care if it hurts. I want you to wreck me again. Fill me again. Make sure I can’t walk.”
⸻
Round 1 started on your knees.
It started slow—but filthy. You knelt before him, messy strands of your dirty blonde hair clinging to your flushed cheeks. Bucky’s eyes, stormy with lust, watched you through dark lashes as you lazily sucked him off, lips stretched around his thick length. Your tongue swirled, teasing the head while your hands caressed the base and his heavy balls.
“That’s it, baby doll. Just like that…” he groaned, hips rocking gently into your mouth.
His fingers tangled deep in your hair, guiding your pace. When you swallowed him whole, he nearly lost it—cursing under his breath as your throat fluttered around him.
“Fuck, sweetheart—gonna come—”
You didn’t stop, letting him spill hot and thick down your throat. You moaned around him like it was the only thing keeping you alive, and it was—your cunt ached, pulsing as you swallowed every drop.
But even before the aftershocks faded, he was already rock hard again.
“Get on the edge of the bed,” he growled, voice husky. “Ass out. Now.”
⸻
Round 2 was brutal.
Bucky didn’t wait. He bent you over the mattress, spanking your ass just enough to sting, sending heat blooming across your skin.
“Such a perfect fuckin’ view,” he muttered.
His hands—one cold vibranium, one hot flesh—gripped your waist tight enough to bruise. Each thrust drove you forward, making you cry out, your voice echoing in the room like a sinful hymn. Your slick dripped down your thighs, pooling onto the floor.
“You’re mine,” he growled, slamming deeper.
“I’m yours—fuck—I’m yours, James!” you sobbed, trembling as he bit into your shoulder to muffle his groan.
His warmth flooded you seconds later, and you came with him, shaking violently under the weight of it all.
⸻
Round 3 was slow, sensual—visual.
After a warm cloth wiped between your thighs and a few sweet kisses, Bucky pulled you onto his lap.
“You ever tried mirror play, baby?”
Breathless, you shook your head. He grinned and carried you to the full-length mirror in the corner, setting you on the floor between his knees. Both of you were bare—his dark brunette hair damp with sweat, your golden strands messy and glowing in the low light.
“Watch,” he whispered.
He spread your legs wide, the mirror reflecting every exposed inch of your flushed, trembling body. His fingers—metal and flesh—slipped between your thighs, parting your folds and working you open again. You watched your breasts bounce with every breath, your nipples red and sensitive as his free hand fondled and pinched them. His palm overfilled with your softness, groaning at how plush you were.
“Look how greedy your cunt is, baby.”
“Look how pretty you fall apart for me.”
You came on his fingers, one after another, your gaze locked to the mirror. He kissed your neck, nuzzling you like he owned you.
When he finally slid back inside, it was slow, deep, and devastating.
“Watch me fuck you,” he whispered, grinding into your soaked core. “Watch me claim you.”
You screamed his name, your orgasm wrecking you as you stared at the image of your bodies joined—his fat cock buried inside you.
⸻
Round 4 started with you climbing on top.
You climbed on top next—your hands splayed over his chest as he lay back with a smug smile. His abs flexed beneath your palms, taut and glistening with sweat.
“Come take what you need, sweetheart,” he murmured.
You lined yourself up, sinking down onto his thick cock with a choked moan. The stretch was divine. You rocked your hips slowly, letting him fill you to the brim. Bucky moaned, grabbing your hips.
“So full of me… fuck, you feel like heaven.”
You bounced harder, your thighs trembling with effort. Bucky couldn’t hold back anymore—he sat up, wrapping his strong arms around you, and thrust up into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs.
“You were made for me, love,” he whispered. “I want you dripping with me for days.”
He came again, cock pulsing as he painted your insides, kissing you breathless.
⸻
Round 5 was against the mirror.
He wasn’t done. He bent you over the mirror now, pressing your hands flat against the cool glass. Your breath fogged it up as he slammed into you from behind. The angle was perfect—every thrust had your eyes rolling back, mouth open in a silent scream.
He had his metal hand gripping your hip, the other wrapped around your throat.
“You’re mine, baby doll. Say it again.”
“Yours, James—only yours—”
“Again,” he growled, snapping his hips.
You came violently, squirting over his cock and down your legs. Your knees buckled, but he held you steady, fucking you through the aftershocks.
“Please,” you sobbed. “I can’t—”
“Yes, you can, doll. Just one more.”
⸻
Round 6 was the softest—and the filthiest.
He laid you down like something precious, brushing hair from your face. Your body trembled, your cunt swollen and overstimulated—but you wanted more.
“One more time,” you whispered. “Fill me one more time.”
He slid in slow, deep—grinding against your sweet spot with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, locking him in.
“Breed me, Bucky,” you moaned, arms clinging to him. “Make me yours.”
His rhythm was steady but intense, dragging the pleasure out with every inch.
“Fuck, doll. I will. I’ll give you everything.”
You came together—your final orgasm drawn out, legs shaking as his warmth flooded you one last time. Bucky collapsed on top of you, breathless, flushed, heart thudding against yours.
⸻
You both laid there, tangled in limbs and love, your bodies wrecked but your hearts racing. Sweat clung to your skin, the sheets damp and twisted beneath you. His cock had finally softened, though the way his fingers lazily traced along your curves told you he wasn’t done, not really.
His large palm cupped your breast again, possessive and warm, his thumb flicking lazily over your overstimulated nipple. You whimpered, arching instinctively into his touch.
“Still so sensitive, baby doll,” Bucky murmured with a soft, proud smirk, his voice thick with satisfaction. “My hands can barely hold ‘em. Always spilling out for me, huh?”
You chuckled breathlessly, your voice hoarse from moaning his name. “They’re yours,” you whispered, “just like the rest of me.”
Bucky leaned in, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, then to the curve of your breast, lips lingering like he was memorizing you.
“How many times was that?” you asked, blinking slowly, utterly blissed out.
He nuzzled into your chest, his scruff brushing against your swollen nipple. “Six,” he said with a smug little grin. “And I still haven’t had enough of you, sweetheart.”
His vibranium hand settled low on your belly, gently rubbing where he’d filled you over and over again, marking you from the inside out.
“You’re mine, baby doll. Gonna make sure everyone knows it,” he murmured against your skin, kissing your breast, your neck, the underside of your jaw. “Next time…”
He raised his head, locking his blown pupils onto yours with a devilish smile.
“…we’re trying every room in the tower.”
You bit your lip, eyes fluttering, already soaked again just at the thought.
“Promise?” you teased, voice shaking from the lingering aftershocks.
Bucky kissed your forehead, then your lips—deep and slow, like a seal. “Oh, I never break a promise to my girl.”
Imagine having sex with Alastor. Him licking your sweet slit between your legs while you're sitting down on his desk in front of him behind his mirror. Then he tells you "Turn around and bend over for me Darling". Then you turn around, he fucks you in front of the mirror. He grins at you watching you take all of his big hard cock. Then he pulls your hair.
warnings: daddy jin 😩💦 established relationship, postpartum recovery, body insecurity, body positivity, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, aftercare
word count: 3,957
**************
The salty breeze from the Jeju sea whispered through the open balcony doors of the villa, carrying the faint hum of waves crashing against the shore.
It was their first real escape since the twins arrived three months ago. Little Minji and Junseo, with their tiny fists and insatiable appetites during their midnight feedings. You'd both been running on fumes back home, juggling bottles and burps with the welcomed help of your parents and his.
But here, in this sun kissed paradise, the world felt a little lighter.
No clocks ticking down to nap times, no frantic texts about spilled milk. Just you and Jin, stealing back a sliver of the life you'd built together before parenthood rewrote everything.
The evening had been magical.
Fine dining at a seaside restaurant where the lobster tasted like ocean silk, followed by slow dancing under strings of lantern lights. A few glasses of soju had loosened your limbs, made you laugh until your sides ached at Jin's terrible dad jokes. Ironic, now that he was actually a dad.
His hand had never left the small of your back as you walked the winding path back to the villa, his fingers tracing lazy circles that sent warmth pooling in your belly.
By the time you fumbled with the keycard, his lips were on yours, like he was savoring a dessert he'd waited months for.
He backed you into the room, the door clicking shut behind you with a soft finality. The villa was all warm wood and soft lighting, a king sized bed dominating the space, but it was the full length mirror against the far wall that caught your eye for a split second, before his hands were everywhere. Sliding up your thighs, bunching the fabric of your black cocktail dress, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin just above your knee.
You melted into him, tasting the faint citrus of his drink on his tongue, your fingers tangling in the soft waves of his hair.
"God, I've missed this," he murmured against your mouth, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your chest. His hands roamed higher, finding the zipper at the back of your dress. The metal tab caught between his fingers, and he tugged gently, the sound slicing through the haze of desire like a warning bell.
You tensed.
It was involuntary, a sharp pull in your muscles that made you step back, breaking the kiss.
Your heart stuttered, and you turned away, mumbling something about needing to wash off the makeup first. "Just... give me a minute, okay? I look like a raccoon after all that dancing."
Jin paused, his hands hovering in the air where you'd been.
He wasn't fooled—not for a second.
You'd seen that look in his eyes before, the one that said he could read you like one of his cookbooks, every smudge and spill accounted for. "Hey," he said softly, spinning you around by your shoulders. His gaze searched yours, those warm eyes crinkling with concern. "What's going on? Talk to me."
You swallowed, the lie sticking in your throat like dry rice.
The room suddenly felt too bright, the mirror reflecting your disheveled state back at you. Smudged eyeliner, flushed cheeks, and your dress clinging a little too snugly to hips that still felt foreign, softer than before. Three months postpartum, and your body was a map of changes. Stretch marks like painted silver rivers across your abdomen, breasts heavy and tender from nursing, a lingering softness that no amount of crunches could erase.
You'd caught glimpses in bathroom mirrors at home, avoiding your reflection like it was a stranger. And now, here, with your husband looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered?
It terrified you.
"It's nothing," you tried, but your voice cracked, and his eyes softened in reprimand, pulling the truth out of you like a gentle tide.
"I'm just... not feeling like myself," you admitted, eyes dropping to the floor. "The babies...everything changed so fast. I love them, but my body—it doesn't feel sexy anymore. I don't feel like the woman you married. What if you look at me and... see all that?"
Jin's hands cupped your face, tilting it up so you had no choice but to meet his stare. "Is that what you think? That I don't see you? Baby, I've been looking at you every day since we met. Stretch marks, extra curves, whatever. None of that changes how I feel." He brushed a thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn’t noticed had escaped. "You're the mother of my children. You're stronger than anyone I know. And you're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.”
His voice dipped, that playful lilt turning husky, and before you could protest, he was leading you toward the mirror.
“But words are cheap, right? Let me show you."
The wide pane of glass, framed in polished bamboo, stood as a silent witness in the corner of the room. He guided you before it, taking his place behind you, his reflection rising over yours. One hand anchored at your waist, the other climbed to your jaw, guiding your eyes to meet your own in the glass.
"Watch," he whispered, lips brushing your ear. "Watch how you look when I touch you. See what I see."
Your breath caught when his fingers found the zipper once more, easing it down with a patient glide. The fabric slipped from your shoulders and fell soundlessly, gathering around your feet in a pool of silk. You stood there in your lacy bra and panties, simple ones you’d chosen more for comfort than seduction, and felt exposed, vulnerable under the soft light of the bedside lamp.
But Jin's eyes in the mirror were blazing hot, drinking you in.
"Look at you," he said, his hands sliding up your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "So soft. So perfect." He pressed a kiss to the curve of your neck, right where your pulse fluttered like a trapped bird.
You watched in the reflection as his lips parted, eagerly tasting your skin, and a shiver ran through you.
He didn't rush as his hands explored your body, as if rediscovering a favorite landscape. Fingers splaying across your belly, tracing the faint lines that told the story of your twins. "These," he murmured, voice caressing against your shoulder, "these are proof of what we made together."
He knelt then, slowly, his reflection making the act feel intimate, almost performative.
From behind, you saw his hands glide up your calves, thumbs pressing into the muscles there, easing the ache from hours in heels.
You bit your lip, eyes locked on the mirror as he rose, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand while the other cupped your breast through the lace. You gasped at the spark of pleasure, your nipple hardening instantly under his palm.
"Jin..."
"Shh, watch."
He shed his shirt, revealing the broad planes of his chest, the newly formed definition from his post baby workouts. His skin was warm when he pressed against your back, one arm banding around your waist to hold you close.
In the mirror, you saw it all, the way your body arched into him, the flush creeping up your neck. His free hand teased the clasp of your bra, popping it open with a flick. The straps slid down your arms, and he caught the cups, peeling it away to bare you completely.
Your reflection stared back, breasts fuller than before, heavy with the remnants of milk that sometimes leaked at the most inconvenient times.
But Jin didn't flinch.
He cupped them gently, weighing them in his palms, thumbs circling your nipples until they pebbled. "See how responsive you are?" he said, his breath hot in your ear. "How your body begs for me." He pinched lightly, rolling the sensitive peaks, and you moaned, the sound echoing softly in the room.
Pleasure twisted low in your belly, a reminder that despite everything, your nerves were alive, humming.
He turned you slightly, angling you so you could see his hand descend, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your panties. They were damp already, traitorous evidence of your arousal, and he chuckled softly.
"Already so wet for me. That's my girl."
He stroked through the fabric first, a teasing glide over your folds, making your hips buck involuntarily. In the mirror, you watched your thighs part, your chest heaving, and it was surreal, erotic, like watching a private show starring yourself.
Jin's eyes met yours in the glass, intense and unwavering.
"Don't look away," he commanded gently, slipping a finger inside your panties to circle your clit.
The direct touch made you whimper, your hands gripping his forearms for balance. He worked you slowly, building the pressure with lazy circles, then dipping lower to trace your entrance. You were slick, ready, and he groaned against your neck. "Feel that? That's all for me. Your body knows exactly what it wants."
He added a second finger, sliding them inside you with ease.
Pleasure dragged at your eyes, urging them closed, but you obeyed him, keeping them open—watching your reflection unravel, mouth open, brows knitting as he moved within you. His thumb pressed your clit in rhythm, and the coil in your core tightened, winding higher with each thrust of his hand.
"Jin... please..."
"Not yet," he teased, slowing his pace just as you teetered on the edge. He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his lips in the mirror and sucking them clean with a moan that sent heat flooding your cheeks. "Tastes so good. But I want you to come undone for me properly."
He hooked his fingers in your panties, sliding them down your legs until you stepped out. His hands guided you to the bed. positioning you on the edge, to face the mirror as he knelt between your spread thighs. From this angle, you could see everything, the way his broad shoulders flexed, his hands parting your knees wider.
He looked up at you, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Hold on," he said, and then his mouth was on you.
The first lick was heaven.
Flat and broad, from your entrance to your clit. You cried out, fingers tangling in his hair as his tongue delved deeper, lapping at you like he was starved. He hummed against your folds, the vibration making your toes curl, and in the mirror, you saw your body writhe, breasts bouncing with each gasp. He sucked your clit gently, then harder, one hand pinning your hip while the other slipped his fingers back inside, pumping in time with his mouth.
It built fast this time, the slow teasing having primed you like dry tinder.
Your body trembled, muscles drawn tight, clamping around his head, but he didn’t move, didn’t falter, not letting up until you exploded on his tongue. The orgasm ripped through you, the rush hitting so hard it left you breathless, vision hazy, the room spinning in streaks of light and shadow.
In the mirror, you watched every tremor, every pulse of release painted in reflection.
He lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, a faint smile curving his lips. “That’s one,” he murmured, lips swollen and slick as he kissed your thigh. “And we’ve only just begun.”
He rose, stripping off the rest of his clothes then, his cock releasing from his briefs, curving slightly toward his belly. Impossibly hard and leaking.
You'd missed this sight, the way he looked at you with pure want.
He took your hand and led you to kneel in front of the mirror, kneeling behind you and pressing his large hands against your shoulder until you tipped forward onto your hands.
Back arched, presenting yourself to him. Your eyes met his through the mirror and you gasped. Moaning low when his fingers trailed up the back of your thigh and up the slippery slit of your pussy. "Keep watching us," he said, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance.
His gaze never left yours as he parted you, sundering you open in a claim. Your lips parted at the intimacy of it. Of him watching you as your body stretched to take him.
You were soaked, embarrassingly so, but it had been months. The fullness made you gasp, nails digging into rug beneath you.
In the reflection, you saw it all.
The way his muscles tense. lips falling open. Your back curving up to the ceiling as he seats himself to the hilt inside of you. He leans forward, pressing his weight into you.
His hand slides to trace lazy circles around your clit. The pleasure makes you sag low until your sensitive nipples scrape the rug below, tilting your head up so you have no choice but to meet his gaze.
“Look at you,” he says, eyes half lidded, tender.
“You don’t even realise how good you feel, do you? How beautiful you are.”
Then he was moving, a slow roll of his hips as his cock retreated and sheathed itself back inside your pussy. You moaned, the angle perfect, and he built a rhythm. Deep thrusts that had you seeing the reflection of yourselves rocking together. His hands roamed, one tweaking your nipple, the other rubbing over your ass cheeks. Pleasure coiled again, faster now, and when he angled just right, hitting that spot inside, you came undone a second time.
Your walls clenched around him, milking him, and he groaned, pace faltering but not stopping. "Fuck, yes... cum for me again."
He pressed a hand between your shoulders. Forcing you so low that your torso was completely flat against the rug, your ass arched high, pussy stretched to its limit.
The new position let him go even deeper, his hands gripping your hips as he thrust steadily. You watched your ass ripple, his face behind you set in concentration, sweat glistening on his skin. One hand reached around to your clit, rubbing in tight circles, and you lost yourself to the pleasure, felt the tingling start in your toes, heat scorching the base of your spine as the friction drove you deeper and deeper into the abyss.
It churned inside you like a storm.
The angle making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Thick, hot, heavy dick slamming into you with long strokes. Pulling cries from your lips as the storm grew louder, waves of pleasure getting choppier with every slam of his hips against your ass. Your pussy constricting around his cock with desperation.
“Oh—fuck, Jin. I—I’m…” you moaned, the throbbing in your core in perfect sync with your racing heartbeat.
Seokjin grunted and hissed, undulating his hips so the head of his cock battered into your g-spot. He kept a hand firm on your lower back as he fucked you with abandon. Dick slamming into you over, and over, and over, eyes locked with yours as your faces contorted under the weight of pleasure.
“I know baby, I know. You look stunning like this. Teetering on the edge, lips parted, skin flushed.” He groaned. His other hand reached to tangle in your hair as he continued to bury himself deeper inside you.
The storm was intense, electricity slipping through your veins as you reached your breaking point.
“Yes, yes, yes baby, there you go. Take your pleasure, see how beautiful you look when you cum for me.”
The pleasure tears you apart at the seams and you come undone all at once, trembling and throbbing, pushing and pulling, desperate to hang on to the unbearable bliss of release. He follows with his own cry, unable to resist the quivering of your walls, emptying himself inside you but still hungry for more.
"Another...give me one more, my love."
Your breath hitches as Jin's strong arms pull you back and into his lap, anchoring you against him, the heat of his chest a solid, reassuring wall at your back.
In the dimly lit villa you’re raw and exposed, every curve and quiver on display as he settles into the plush rug beneath you. His knees bend, thighs flexing like coiled springs under your draped legs, spreading you wide, obscenely so, your feet hovering just millimeters from the floor, toes curling in anticipation.
His hands slide beneath your thighs.
Lifting them higher, parting you further, offering you up to the mirror's unblinking gaze.
There you are, impaled fully on his cock, the thick length of him buried to the hilt inside you, stretching your swollen folds with a slick, obscene gleam that catches the light.
Your pussy lips cling to him greedily, flushed and glistening with the evidence of your shared orgasm. His cum mingling with your wetness, dripping down where your bodies join in a slow, teasing trickle. It's filthy, this view, the way your inner thighs tremble and your clit peeks out, swollen and begging for friction.
But dear god, it's beautiful too, the way he fills you so completely, like he was carved from the same stone as your desires.
“Look at you.” His voice a low rumble against your ear, hot breath fanning your skin like a secret only you two share.
His lips brush the shell of your ear, then trail down to your jaw, nipping just hard enough to send a spark straight to your core. A little dirty edge to the tenderness, like he's marking you as his in this private theater inside of the mirror.
"My beautiful wife, the most precious thing in the entire world. Look at how greedy you are for my cock, love. See how it disappears inside you? How your body weeps for more of me?" His words are velvet wrapped sin.
You can't look away.
The sight of his hips canting subtly upward, the base of his shaft flexing as he holds still inside you, it's hypnotic, a live action porn reel starring the man you married, the one who knows every freckle on your back and every sigh that means harder.
Your arms loop around his neck instinctively, fingers threading into the damp strands at his nape, tugging just enough to elicit a growl from deep in his throat. He turns his head, capturing the pulse point on your jaw with his teeth, a gentle bite that blooms into heat without breaking skin. In the mirror your eyes lock, his dark and blazing with that feral devotion, yours wide and glassy, pupils blown with need.
Sweat beads on his temple, his broad shoulders rolling with controlled power behind you, the veins in his forearms standing out as he keeps you splayed open.
"Now do you see it?" he murmurs. "Do you see what I see when I look at you? You're unreal, soft and fierce.”
A nod is all you manage at first, your throat too tight with the building ache low in your belly. The stretch of him inside you borders on too much, every tiny shift sending ripples through your walls, clenching around him involuntarily.
But he wants more.
He always does, drawing out your surrender like it's his favorite melody. "Words, my love," he commands, voice dipping into that husky timbre that brooks no argument, the one he saves for moments like now, when he's buried balls deep and unraveling you thread by thread.
To punctuate it, he rolls his hips in a single, shallow thrust. Dragging his cock along your sensitive walls, the head nudging that spot that makes your breath stutter.
It's torturous, the wet schlick of it echoing softly in the quiet room.
You cry out, a broken keen that shatters the air, your head lolling back against the crook of his shoulder.
The mirror captures it all.
The arch of your spine, the flush creeping down your chest, the way your thighs quake in his grip as he holds you open for the show. "Y-yes," you gasp, the word fracturing on a whimper. "Yes, I see—Jinnie, oh god, please. Move. Fuck me."
He chuckles, low and dark, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours.
And then he does, finally unleashing that pent up desire. His hips buck upward in earnest, slow at first to let you feel every inch retreating and reclaiming you, the mirror turning into a kaleidoscope of motion.
Your breasts bouncing with each drive, his cock plunging in and out with lewd, glistening precision, your joined slickness coating his thighs. One hand abandons your leg to snake between them, fingers finding your clit, rubbing firm circles that match his pace, building the coil tighter, until you're grinding back against him, chasing the edge.
"Fuck, yes. Just like that," he groans, burying his face in your neck, teeth grazing your shoulder as his thrusts deepen, hips snapping with a passion that borders on worship.
“Oh fuck—Jin!”
The slap of skin on skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and his ragged breaths, the mirror reflecting the intimacy of how Seokjin fucks you.
The way your free hand clutches his over your thigh, the blaze in your eyes as climax crests. You're both watching, both lost in the sight of your bodies entwined, a perfect harmony. And when you cum, walls fluttering around him, spilling over his cock in gushes of slick, he follows with a guttural curse, spilling deep inside you, watching as his cum pools around the sides of his cock to seep out of your wrecked pussy.
Finally spent, he withdrew gently, rolling you into his arms. The aftercare was as tender as the lovemaking had been fierce.
Jin stayed behind you for a moment, his breath still uneven against your neck, his hands smoothing over your skin as if reluctant to let go. Then, with a gentleness that always undid you, he shifted, gathering you carefully into his arms and lifting you away from the mirror. You felt the steady beat of his heart against your side as he carried you the short distance to the bed, laying you down as though you were made of glass.
“Stay here,” he murmured, brushing hair from your cheek before disappearing into the bathroom.
You listened to the sound of running water, the clink of porcelain, the rustle of a towel being wrung out. When he returned, the cloth in his hands was warm, steam still curling from it. He took his time tending to you. His touch lingered at your skin’s edge, as if he could soothe every tremor from your body with patience alone.
“You did so well,” he whispered, his voice low and steady. “My beautiful wife. Always so perfect for me.”
He pressed a kiss to your temple, then another to the hollow of your throat. When he was done, he set the cloth aside and pulled the covers up around you both, cocooning you in clean linen and his body heat. His arm slipped beneath your shoulders, drawing you close until your ear rested over his chest. You could feel his heartbeat, steady now, syncing with your own.
His fingers found their way into your hair, combing through the strands slowly. Every stroke seemed to wordlessly promise his devotion.
“Thank you,” you whispered after a while, tracing lazy shapes on his skin. “I saw it…in the mirror. I saw me again.”
He smiled, that familiar grin soft in the dim light. “Good,” he said, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “And we’ll do this again—whenever you need reminding.”
Outside, the sea whispered against the shore, a hush that matched the rise and fall of his breathing. Wrapped in his arms, you felt the world narrow to the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat.
Back to the mirror ideas... I love the idea of setting a guy up on the bed, sitting with his legs spread apart, hands tied behind his back. I'll sit behind him, using my legs over his to keep him spread for me, while I make him watch in the mirror as I slowly tease his cock with a feather, slowly stroking up and down, up and down. Make him watch his own desperation grow. Whispering in his ear about how pretty he looks and how badly he must want to cum.
If he's lucky, maybe I'll take out the wand and place it just under the head of his cock to finally let him cum. If he's unlucky, I'll keep it there, even after he has cum and he's shaking and trying to get away from the wand.
I need to get fucked facing a mirror, I need be able to see everything.
I'd start off sitting in their lap, rolling joints for them with shaky hands but still doing my best. Trying to stay focused despite the hand in my hair holding my head so still, for them to tease and bite my neck.
Hearing their praise, good girl, you're doing so well with those, so well for me
Taking hit after hit, only to be turned around and forced to shotgun it into them, just enough to take the edge off for them but it's a lot more than that for me.
Getting on my knees when they're finished smoking me out, and watching nervously as they slick their fingers and start opening me up. I wouldn't be able to help the moans and they certainly wouldn't let me cover them.
Watch their knuckles whiten on my hip, and see how my soft, pliant body conforms to their grip
I wouldn't be able to see what they're using, but we'd both see the look of bliss on my face when they sink into me. We'd both see my jaw go slack from feeling so hazy, so full
The click of the lighter as they start up another joint, just to watch them put it in front of my open mouth.
You can take a little more can't you? You're made for this, bunny, just another hit and I'll fuck you just how you need
Both of us looking as my dick just slaps uselessly again my leg, leaking everywhere. No way to hide how wet I am for them.
It would drive me crazy, and when my head starts to drop from the pleasure and the high, I want to feel them yank my hair back up and growl at me to keep watching, little bunny. I'm not even close to done with you yet.
