#THESE TWO WILL PROBABLY HATE EACH OTHER OR NEVER INTERACT IN THE STORY BUT THAT WONT STOP ME

[clouvu]

*wheezes* Okay so Hear Me Out-

[mrfoox]

Me: (:

Someone: uh, neither Oliver or Magnus will come by tomorrow...

Me: :(

[becomingmina]

FUCKBOY MIN. little series w/ LEEKNOW

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing: lee minho x female reader genre + warnings: previous fkbuddy relationship, angst, smut mdni!, min is mean, oral (f recieving), semi-public (empty bathroom), hyunjin is a character wc: 3.4k mina's note: Minho is kinda mean. The way I would have done anything for him just so he can like me back. ❤️‍🩹

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

series chapter ➵ part two, part three ending one

"Isn't that Y/N?" Han asked looking over the older boy's shoulder.

Minho turns his head around and sees you amongst the crowd - of the very grand party he dreads. He feels himself tense up at the sight of you, he hasn’t seen you in a while and you looked as beautiful as ever. He can feel the corner of his lip turn up as he replays memories of him and you, and that’s when he realises he misses you.

But the feeling soon fades when he notices you’re with a guy. Only a month and you already found yourself a guy? Loud sweet giggles falls from your lips as you grip the man's biceps, laughing about nothings. He scoffs to himself as he recognises the man.

“Out of all the boys in this fucking city, she chose fucking Hwang Hyunjin?” Minho blurted, he was mad. “She’s got a type. Fuckboys,” he turns back around to Han and raises his brows, as if asking for him to agree with the statement.

“You’re not going to do anything right hyung?” Han nervously asked, knowing his hyung will definitely be doing something.

“She just looks too happy, Han. I gotta ruin it for her. Especially when it’s Hwang Hyunjin she’s fucking with,” Minho says before downing the rest of his drink and ditching the younger boy.

Minho met you a couple months ago at one of his mother’s grand get-together. He only came to these events in hopes to find a hook up or a quick fuck, he was never here to support his mom on what ever event-job-work-promotion she got herself into. He probably got with half of the girls who attended these parties with their rich parents.

“Imagine what your daddy would think of his sweet innocent daughter completely coming vulnerable underneath some guy she just met?” Minho would often whisper in their ears as he thrusts into them. He would say anything to get them to sleep with him then ghost them the next day, leaving them restless.

However you weren’t like any of these girls to him, well at first. Minho was addicted to you, he couldn’t put his finger on it but he kept coming back to you. After seeing you a few times, he proposed for you both to be fwb and you agreed, because to be very honest, Minho was hot and he was a great fuck, the best if you can say. Also, something about him felt very secure to you. Meaningless fucks turned into lingering kisses, then turned into secrets date nights. You both shared such gentle and heartfelt moments, like cooking dinner together to holding hands randomly. Minho became so romantic with you secretly, but he never sincerely voiced it. You fell for him. You wanted to do anything for him in hopes that he liked you back. You became obsessive, got restless, jealous that there was many other girls hovering around him. You wanted him to yourself, and it got to the point where you had pull him away one night, letting your tears run down your face as you admitted your feelings to him, intoxicated. And maybe because he never dealt with such heavy feelings and high emotions like this before that, he turned on you.

“Y/N, you're just like the other girls.. Maybe worse. Easy. Clingy. I would never like you back.. Are you crazy?" You couldn't believe it, he abandoned you. Minho ended up treating you just like all the other girls.

Now the other half of the girls that Minho didn’t hooked up with were probably sorted by Hwang Hyunjin. The city’s heartbreaker. Classic story of two best friends that now hates each other. Minho and Hyunjin grew up together, basically brothers due to their mother’s close friendship. But when the boys got older they grew apart. Times that was supposed be spent together catching up on a tv show or playing basketball turned into time spent with a girl trying to get her to undress underneath them. It was now a competition to see who played the most girls. Oh how toxic.

So when Minho saw you in the ballroom with Hyunjin, he assumed you two were sleeping together. Minho needed to get you alone before the end of the night.

He needed to ruin you, in order to ruin it for Hyunjin aswell.

“Should I get you another drink?” The long haired boy asked realising the glass in your hand was almost empty.

“I was actually eyeing the orange slices over there-” you pointed out, gesturing to the massive grazing table.

“-Mimosa?” He was quick to respond, tone so sweet and cheeky.

“You know me too well Hyunjin,” you smiled admiringly up at the boy.

“I’ll get the champagne, you get the oranges and we meet back here then,” he says, hints of his dorky smile showing.

You were finally alone.

"Hey baby," Minho speaks from behind you, his voice so deep, hands find their way to your hips sending chills down your spine. He used to call you that all the time, and your heart never fails to beat out of your chest from it.

Lee Minho. Why the hell was he behind you? Shouldn’t he breaking some poor innocent girl’s heart?

“I missed you.” You stood still at his words, unable to move.

No not this again.

"Minho, go away," you finally spoke, building up a wall that you know isn’t going to stay up.

"No. I need to talk to you baby. I missed you," he made sure you heard him, his hands now made its way higher to your waist. "You look so pretty tonight..” one hand rests on your waist as the other one slowly travels to your thigh. “I missed your pretty little body so much, baby,” his lips were so close to your face, the proximity is so familiar, so safe that you wanted to turn and press your lips on his. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Minho had you under his spell, his presence was all it took for you to consider him again. You lean back, head taking its place on his shoulder as your back pressed on his chest. You tilt your head up slowly, finally looking at him. Oh, he was so beautiful as ever. His cute little bunny teeth showing from his agape mouth, his pretty sparkly eyes looking down at you, and his sharp nose, which you remember you use to peck so much. You missed him so much, you couldn’t resist it anymore.

“Min.” You say in the most vulnerable tone ever, gripping his forearm, giving in to him. He smiles at the nickname, the nickname only you were allowed to call him by.

"Come with me," and with that he yanked your arm dragging you through the crowd, for sure going to leave Hyunjin confused when he comes back.

Minho pulled you into an empty bathroom and pressed you against the door after locking it, instantly smashing his lips on to yours. His lips feels so soft against yours and your body hasn’t felt this rush of adrenaline in a while that you were going insane. Already feeling yourself start to go wet, you were so bothered, you needed more. Your teeth clashes as he practically devours you, his hand hoists one of your leg over his hip.

“Need you on the counter, bunny,” he murmured in between the kisses, there goes the nicknames again. He carries you to the counter, helping you up, your legs immediately spreading for him to slot himself in between. His hand slips underneath your dress, brushing against your clothed core.

“Already so wet for me,” he smirks, feeling the patch on your panties. “Can I?” He asked tapping his finger twice on your core. You nodded throwing your head back and he accepts the invitation to suck on your neck, leaving marks. Minho’s fingers pulls your panties to the side, his pointer finger finally runs through your folds. You were so warm, so sticky already that Minho let out a moan into your neck, unable to control the pleasure he was also having. You jolted forward when his fingers finally entered you pumping you slowly, causing him to let out an airy scoff. “Need to taste, let me taste?” You nod again knowing every time Minho ate you out, he would reward you with his dick for being such a good girl. You wanted that again.

“Need to hear you say it, Y/N,” he stops his movements, to brush your hair out of your face adoring your features.

Verbal consent has always been a big thing to Minho. He has so much control when the other person expresses what they want. It feeds into his already massive ego seeing the other person submit to him, makes him feel like he was in winning. And right there and then when he asked that question he wanted you to submit, so he can feel bigger than Hyunjin.

“Yes, please Min. I want it,” you gave him exactly what he wanted. You missed this. You missed his body and how he fucked you, how he made love to you. You miss Minho. You miss how sweet and gentle he was. How he would text you if you got home okay after spending the entire day with him. How innocent and lovely he can be talking about his cats, his hobbies. You wanted him to like you back, to want you back that you were willing to let him do anything to you, to use you.

“You’re still so good baby,” he buttered you up pressing a kiss your lips once more, letting it linger on a bit before dropping to his knees. He bundles your thin long dress around your waist, pulling down your soaked panties and burying them deep in his pocket. He is met with your pretty pussy, glistening with arousal. Your scent takes him by surprise and he goes numb. Oh, how he remembers it all so well, he would spend forever in between your legs on a Sunday afternoon. He parts your thighs and moves his face closer to your cunt, finally sliding his tongue in your slit. You still taste as sweet as ever too and that was all it took for Minho to devour you, to eat you out like a starved man. You lean back on one hand and the other one finds its place in Minho’s hair keeping it there. He was so good with his tongue, alternating between giving fat stripes, kitten licks and harsh sucks on your clit. Minho was getting you closer to your orgasm. Moans and whimpers falls from your lips as you allow him to hear how good he is making you feel.

“Feels good baby? You still taste so sweet, I just know you’re still going to be so tight." he removes himself from you just so he can glance up at your fucked out state nodding to every word he was saying.

“Want to- to cum,” you needed to cum, you were on the verge of tears feeling the tension in your stomach start to fade..

“Hm?”

“Please, I want to cum Min,” you restates and he dives back down. He grips your thighs as he makes out with your pussy, his nose hitting your clit every now and then to get you going again. Minho picks up his pace, moving his kisses to your clit where he then sucks harshly earning a sharp moan from you. You jolt forward, thighs closing around him, throwing your head back as you spray Minho with your sweet release. You feel him smirk against your pussy, his mouth and chin coated in your arousal. That wasn’t enough for you, you wanted more. Your hand pushes his head further into your cunt as you grind down in his nose, riding out your high. Minho lets you use him, his tongue still overstimulating you until you were satisfied. Frankly, he found it hot how after just one taste you go feral for him.

He licks his lips cleaning himself off as he gets up from your legs, helping you pull down your dress. He cages you between his hands that are now resting on the counter, you don’t move. Just staring up at him, he examines your features again, taking all everything that he used to adore. Something about this moment just feels so innocent to both of you, that Minho can help but give you small giggles, his lips turning into a smile. You mirror it in return, sitting in silence as you both recalls the old times.

A sudden buzz of your phone causes you both to snap out of the sweet moment, heads turning to the device next to you on the counter. And Minho grows hot, his reputation overshadowed his feelings for you the second he saw Hyunjin’s name pop up. He lets out a scoff, remembering why he got you in this bathroom in the first place.

Minho's leans in slowly, one hand still gripping on the counter but the other comes up close to your face. Your phone forgotten now. You think he's about to kiss you but he dodges your lips, making his way by your ears as he lets out an airy chuckle, he sounded so cocky you were taken by surprise at his sudden change in demeanour.

"God, Y/N. You're still so easy," His tone deep aiming an attack on you as he reaches for the paper towel dispenser behind your head. He pulls out a towel throwing it to you, to clean yourself up. "Still so desperate for me". It broke you. He has never done this to you before, usually he'll be on after care and cleaning up. Your head snaps to his face, taking in his smirk and dark eyes. You swallow hard, a salty taste coat your tongue and you realise you're trying you best to not cry.

“Are you this desperate for Hyunjin too?” you furrowed your brows together in response. What?

“Hmm?” You asked confused.

“You got a type Y/N, you’re so pathetic.” He continues, the vibrating of your phone doesn't help but fuels his anger.

"Min, what do you mean?" It was clear to you that Minho and Hyunjin weren’t the best of friends when you meet with Minho. But that night when Minho abandoned you, Hyunjin witnessed the whole thing. He help you get up, covering you with his his coat, wiping away your tears and took you home.

"What are you doing here with Hwang Hyunjin?" he finally asked. But you don't respond, instead you hop off the counter, unable to control how hurt you are from his previous act. Your eyes sparkle, cheeks pink, lips trembling. He takes in your reaction, making him feel a bit guilty as he has seen this all before. The night you admitted your feelings.

"You guys fucking?" this time his tone and eyes soften, it was like he needed to confirm it first before continuing to take out his anger and tension on you. You reach for your phone but he snatches before you could, declining the call sliding it across the counter where you can’t reach.

"Does he fuck you as good as I do?" He moves in closer, your noses barely touching. "He treats you better than I do?" You stay quiet.

You didn't know what to answer. Do you lie? Do you teel the truth? Regardless at the end of this Minho isn't coming back to you right? You realised the moment he called you pathetic.

He moves in to kiss your cheek, a gentle peck. Your heart starts to race even more, unable to look him in the eyes. One hand comes up to hold your face, thumb rubbing against your cheeks. "Come on baby, tell me and I'll give you what you want," his lips comes in contact with yours. You melt into the kiss, your hands grasping the waist band of his trousers. Snap out of it, Y/N. "Hmm, you going to be good and tell me? He kisses you better than I do?" He kisses you harder, helping you back up the counter. He takes back his initial position, in-between your legs. Minho moves his kisses down your neck as his hands advances to your shoulders, pulling the thin straps down exposing your chest. He gulps at the sight and latching his lips onto your boob, his hand groping the other one. You tired your hardest not to give in but you cant, the feeling is too strong. You whimper at the contact, your hand palming his hard on through his pants. It was the first time you touched him that night and Minho throws his head back, unable to control the sexual frustration.

"Fuck- see what you do to me, baby?" He coos. You undo his belt, pulling his trousers along with his boxer down, meeting with his big cock. He was already so red, a bead of pre cum already spilling frim his tip. You grab the base of his cock, holding it firmly giving him a gentle pump. Just like the way you always did. Fuck Y/N I missed this so much. Minho finds himself addicted again as he shuts his eyes, a little moan slipping from his lip. You continue to pump him and he tries his best not to give into you but your hands felt so good, he could cum like this. You lean forward attaching your lips to his neck, leaving marks just like he did to you before. “Want you Min,” you whimper on his skin. You needed to feel him inside you.

"Answer me first, Y/N." He was getting irritated at your lack of answer. God, why are you so caught up on this Minho! Your phone rings again, the buzzing noises incites his thought, and that was the breaking point for him. Hwang Hyunjin. Only Y/N would want such a pathetic man like him. "I'm not fucking you if you’re dirty Y/N," he says and you halt your movements, completely removed yourself from him.

"What?" You replied. Minho is now faced with your confused face.

"You're so desperate Y/N. I can’t believe you’re with Hyunjin right after I left you? You're so dirty for that,” Minho repeat himself moving closer to you to provoke you, he was sure you had given yourself to the other bloke. Your lack of answer confirmed it for him too. “Did you fuck Hyunjin?" But he was determined to hear it.

You took a deep sigh, and all the names and remarks he had made to you tonight flooded your head. You’re hurt. God, Y/N you are pathetic. You wanted to turn this on him but you couldn’t. Regardless of what you answer, you couldn’t win and Minho won’t be yours.

"No I didn't because I love you, Min," you confessed, pushing him off you. You proceed to pull up your dress and jump off the counter. You needed to leave him.

You brushed past him retrieving your phone and bag, unlocking the door and walking out.

Leaving him the way he left you, abandoned. Although it was your feelings that he disregarded, leaving him while he was hard and sexually unsatisfied like this would have hurt the same for a fuck boy like him.

But Minho wasn’t hurt by that. Your words was the thing that stung him. Shes loves me? No one had ever done this to Minho, he didn't know what to do. Such a similar feeling to how you felt - when he ghosted you and just now.

His words still played in your mind, they're still lingering around you. You wanted to sob, cry your heart out but you couldn't just yet, only allowing the tears to build in your eyes. Did you really just let him treat you like that? You chose pleasure again instead of protecting your already broken heart. Minho was right, you are fucking easy. You see the exit through your blurry vision and you rushed to it, pushing into the many people that was just crowding around. Just as you're about to leave a hand pulls you back.

"Y/n, you okay?" You turned around to meet with Hyunjin, and you couldn't help but burry your face in his chest as you let your tears fall.

"I hate him," you cried loudly, your whole body shaking and your legs go numb. Hyunjin hugs you, both arms wrapped around you tightly as he lets you become completely vulnerable. You were safe with him.

"I know.. Let's go home."

[wanderingsoul6261]

I'm Sorry

credit for gif goes to userbeaufort

James Beaufort x Reader

synopsis: Y/N doesn't come from a rich family, but is close friends with Lydia, but absolutely despises James. She eventually comes to terms with her thoughts and makes amends with James. Was it worth it in the end though?

warning: just a few swear words.

should there be a part 2 to this?

Y/N wasn’t quite sure how she had come to hate James. She just knew that she did, regardless if he was Lydia’s twin brother or not. Maybe it was his arrogance, although it didn’t make much sense to her after some thinking, as most of the students at Maxton were of the arrogant type. She had previously thought about hating him for who his father is, but she also knew how their father treated them and knew that it probably was not a reason to judge or even hate James for. In the end, she had just thought him to be an asshole, and figured that that was enough reason not to like him, because he was an asshole. 

With this in mind, Y/N never treated him fairly, but to be fair, he never did the same for her either, as he hated her just as much as she had hated him. The two were never particularly nasty to each other, but they definitely weren’t nice to each other. 

If they ran into each other in the hallways of Maxton Hall, they scowled at each other, sometimes even flipping each other the finger. They would have small arguments here and there, mostly about what they thought of each other, or what they had assumed that they thought of each other. The two of them believed what they wanted to when it came to the other person, only because they wanted to fuel their hatred for the other. 

Lydia had kind of almost found it funny and amusing. She knew that the two of them technically had no reason to hate each other, but still did. Maybe they didn’t like sharing her. Lydia had always snorted when that thought appeared in her mind, but she thought that that wasn’t quite it. In the end, Lydia herself couldn’t come up with a logical reason that they couldn’t as to why they hated each other. 

They hated each other with no rhyme or reason and that was that. 

However, it was only a matter of time before Y/N started to rescind her hatred for James. After spending so much time with Lydia, Y/N had gotten the chance to know about James and why he was the way that he was. Lydia told her stories about what they would do as kids, and how over the years, the two had managed to stick up for each other. It didn’t matter the situation. Whether it was familial ties or Lydia’s situation with Sutton. The Beaufort twins had each other's back. 

Y/N had paid some mind to the stories, but it wasn;t until she started to experience the softer side of James that she finally agreed with Lydia that maybe James wasn’t all that bad. 

Y/N had visited the Beaufort manor enough to see Lydia to begin to see what she was talking about. Unless Mortimer was around, James had pretty much become his own self. At Maxton he worked to uphold his image and keep it. At home, he could relax. Y/N watched the interactions between the two twins and enjoyed seeing them in their best moments. Although they didn’t laugh much, short chuckles were heard and smiles were given. 

Just once, She could have sworn that as James smiled at some boring joke his sister made over dinner, his eyes glanced over at her. Maybe she had just imagined it, but what she didn’t imagine was the flutter in her stomach at the thought of it. 

From there on, her feelings and thoughts towards James had slowly begun to change, which had brought her to where she is now. 

She was now striding across the lacrosse field towards James, where he currently did sit ups. Y/N picked at her fingernails, slightly nervous, her eyes glancing at him. He had yet to notice that she was advancing on him. His eyes were trained on either the sky or the ground, depending on what position he was in during his set of sit ups. 

Then he stopped, sat up, and turned to look at her. He rested his forearms on his knees. 

“And for what misfortune can I thank for this visit?” he asked, blinking a few times. James gave her a not so pleasant look. Y/N was silent for a few seconds. Her eyes fluttered as she stared down at the ground. 

“I’ve come to apologize.” Y/N stared back up at him. James stood up and turned to fully face her. He showed a slight surprised look on his face. “You know…” She trailed off. He raised an eyebrow, but he had patiently waited for her to speak. “I’ve never really had a specific reason to hate you. And I want to apologize for treating you in the way that I have been, because it’s technically not warranted.” 

“I thought you hated me?” 

“I don’t hate you.” Y/N finally admitted. The two seemed to freeze at that moment. It was almost as if she surprised herself by saying it and that he was surprised that she had said it at all. Then he pouted. 

“So no more flipping each other the bird?” He pretended to be sad, and Y/N had smiled. 

“I mean, if you are used to the routine of it, I’ll do it still. But it won’t hold any meaning to it other than to make you happy.” 

“You, making the attempt to keep me happy? I’m flattered.” James flashed her a smile as she started to back away. 

“Flattery. Boosting your ego. Call it whatever you like.” Y/N took a few steps back, knowing she should probably be heading home, a small smile still adorned her face. The two were silent for several seconds. “Are we good?” She asked. The corner of James’ mouth quirked up. 

“Yea.” He said, quietly. “We’re good.” Y/N’s smile grew a tad bigger, before turning around and starting to walk away. “Oh, and Y/N?” She paused momentarily, turning to look back at him. 

“It’s only my ego you can boost.” He winked, and Y/N flipped him the bird, resulting a smile from the both of them and she put more distance between the two of them. 

—-

Over the next few weeks, the two seemed to grow closer and closer, however, being Lydia’s friend and not exactly coming from a rich family, Y/N tried to keep it hidden. It was hard too, considering everyone went to school together, but they had made it work for the most part. However, Y/N still felt that it was unfair to Lydia, considering that she was her friend. 

Of course, her and James never confirmed anything, but if there was a possibility, she would hate for it to happen under Lydia’s nose. If anything happened between her and James, it could be detrimental to their friendship. 

But now here were Y/N and James. He had bailed on attending the event for the Young Beaufort line and had instead switched places with his sister. He met up with Y/N at the donor gala, where they had danced, before ending up underneath the hall in which the gala was taking place. 

They had turned on the power, but even after it was back on, the two remained downstairs. They stared silently at each other, tension, albeit the good kind, filled the room. It was only seconds before the two pushed themselves against the other, locking themselves into a sensual kiss. James took a few steps forward as he kissed her, physically feeling Y/N melt against him as his hands rested on her waist while hers sat in his hair. 

When he had pushed her up against the wall, one of his hands rested on the wall next to her and the other tangled itself in her hair. 

Then Y/N felt the guilt. Lydia wasn’t even here. She wouldn’t find out, but she didn’t even know about the two of them and what they were doing. Y/N couldn’t do this. Not too Lydia. This wasn’t fair for her. 

Y/N pushed James off of her, guilt written across her face. He stared at her, confused. Did he go too far? Was she okay? He went to open his mouth, but she had stopped him. 

“I- I’m.” She paused for a few seconds, swallowing thickly as she looked everywhere but his eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

And then she was gone, racing up the stairs and out of Maxton Hall, leaving James to wonder what the fuck had exactly just happened. 

taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[jayniks]

SEX NOTE (p.js)

after summoning heeseung, you wandered around your room looking for any ideas. Seeing your poster of your favorite band, you thought "why not invoke the guitarist?" and that's what you did, although the situation was quickly reversed when you saw how malicious he was.

WC . 2,3k

PAIRING . Shinigami!jay x fan!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), oral sex (m receiving), tease, anal sex, mouth fucking, a little cuck!jake?, mentions of Jake's mom and Jake himself, magical appearance, chocking, a little filler just like in the original series, degradation, tying, unreal themes, a bit of noncon?, squirt, curses, let me know if I left something out.

< go back . next chapter >

Let's forget about that awkward interaction with Jake and let's talk about you, although let's not let pass that you avoided each other for 2 days in a row, what matters is that now you two are talking. About what? I don't know, he mentioned something about a trip to Australia for a week to see his family but you weren't paying much attention, you were aware that he was probably abandoning you to avoid any more awkwardness, after all, no one would act nice after listening to his best friend that he knew since he was 3, who helped her in her worst moments, fucking they favorite idol NEXT to his room.

"Dummy, are you even listening to me?" Jake asked in a somewhat tired tone. His words brought you out of your trance and you just nodded, "really? summarize what I said" he looked at you seriously. "Um, are you going on a trip home?" You exclaimed without much confidence, maybe you should have listened to him but you felt physically and mentally exhausted after that night in which a magical book fulfilled your fantasy. "Oh yeah? And why?" He looked at you again with those judging eyes, God, how you hated him. "I don't know," you admitted, already imagining the scolding that awaited you. "I'm going to Australia to see my family, I'll only be gone for 5 days, please don't come into my room, take care of the apartment" he warned you, you knew it was better to listen to him.

"Yes Jakey, I understand, please send my regards to your mom-" you didn't finish the sentence because you were interrupted by your friend, "No, you're going to take her away from me, it seems like she loves you more than me," and with that lie he left the dining room to go pack his bags in his own room. Within hours, you were at the door hugging goodbye, after all, you didn't hate him that much. The house was desolate, you felt more alone than ever.... it's good that you had the book to help you. It was a little selfish and self-centered that you cared more about the book than your own best friend who watched you grow up. But you know what else grew? Your desire to try more people.

You ran to your room and sat at your desk to prepare to look at the notebook. You just did that, watching it for almost 10 minutes, maybe waiting for it to start writing itself. Finally, you opened it, there was what you had written about Heeseung yesterday, in the first few lines of the page. You had the decision whether to repeat the same thing from yesterday or write a new story below. You scanned your room for something, anything, to find any answer to a question you hadn't asked yet. Your favorite Chinese actress? No, she was in a relationship. Your teacher? Ew, gross. Your favorite band? No! There were a lot of people and you would just go on the safe side- OH GOD! YOUR FAVORITE BAND!

Sure, Glam was your favorite band years ago, but it was a band from the '30s, the members were already dead, although you were hyper fixated on the guitarist, Jay Park. Of course, he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen before; his upturned nose, his strong jaw, the way his cheeks are marked when he smiles, those skillful fingers... if you were to mention all the reasons why you love him you would probably never finish and this fanfic would never be published.

You grabbed the same pencil you had written about your night with Heeseung with, hoping to capture a new adventure, this time with Jay. Emotions overwhelmed you, but this time you wanted to give it a different touch, perhaps less imaginative and more direct. You sat at your desk, ready to put every detail on paper. "Jay Park from the Glam group will appear..." you began to write, but suddenly the pencil stopped working. Frustrated, you looked at the tip, trying to figure out what had happened. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You decided to try scratching the pencil on a piece of paper to the side. But no matter how hard you tried, there wasn't a single mark. Resigned, you grabbed a permanent marker, determined not to let a simple pencil stop you. With a firm hand, you started again: "Jay Park from the group Gla..." But, just as you were about to finish the word, something strange happened. The letters began to fade before your eyes, as if the paper was rebelling against your attempts. Desperation took over you. You gripped the marker tighter and began scratching furiously on the page, as if the simple act of writing could exorcise the frustration you felt. But in your outburst, the blade tore with a tearing sound.

Suddenly, the book opened on its own, as if it had a life of its own. The pages began to move, creating a ghostly wind in the room. Dark letters appeared on the torn page, slowly forming a sentence: "For being greedy, you will be punished." Fear paralyzed you, a chill ran down your spine. It was as if the book was alive and aware of your desires and failings. You felt a rising panic, a primal fear that told you something terrible was about to happen. You closed your eyes, resigned to your fate, waiting for the punishment that, according to the book, you deserved. The room fell into a deep silence, and you prepared to face the unknown, your blood freezing and your heart pounding in your chest...

Silence.

You opened your eyes after a few minutes of silence, and nothing had happened. Confused, you looked around, but everything remained the same. You thought maybe you had read it wrong, but no, nothing had happened. You sighed in relief, trying to convince yourself that maybe the book had just played a prank on you. Maybe you had imagined it all, the result of your sexual frustration and lack of sleep. Yes, that must have been it, you were delirious, right? With a slightly clearer conscience, you turned to make the bed that you hadn't tidied since Jake left for Australia. Time had passed quickly since then, and the mess was piling up. But just as you were going to start cleaning, you felt a chill run down your spine.

When you turn around, you almost had a heart attack when you see the guitarist of your favorite band sitting on your bed, looking at you with a machiavellian smile. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Weren't you expecting me?" He said, faking a pout as he spoke to you. You were petrified. How was it possible? Had it just appeared out of nowhere? Your mind couldn't form a coherent thought when suddenly he grabbed you by the neck, choking you, and threw you hard onto the bed. "Honestly, I didn't expect to show up like this. I thought you would use the book wisely," he hissed. His words surprised you. Did you know about the book? Nothing made sense. What was happening? "You're wondering a lot of things, gorgeous. Do you really think a book like that would come alone?" He chuckled, his tone clearly mocking, "I'm a Shinigami. Who do you think gave your friend the note?"

Oh right, Sim fucking Jaeyun.

Jake was coming back from shopping, it was not his best day, the plastic of the bag he was carrying broke and his purchases flew due to the storm that hit just 4 minutes ago. He sighed in defeat, looking down to avoid getting soaked by the rain because his umbrella bent and broke. He wasn't looking forward so he ended up colliding with a stranger. He was going to turn around to apologize but there was no one there. He looked at the floor and saw a black notebook that was covered with a layer of plastic so it wouldn't get wet. At least he won't return home empty-handed.

Let's go back to where we left off, 'Jay' turned you around putting your arms behind your back. He took off his belt and tied your arms with it, leaving you completely at his mercy. He grabbed your hair, pulling you back and turning your head a little to whisper something near the juncture of your ear and cheek. "I didn't steal that fucking book so that a dirty human like you could come and desecrate it, scratching it and destroying it just out of anger," he spat with venom in his tone. He proceeded to throw you to the ground, kneeling in front of him while he looked at you superiorly. Your response was to look him in the eyes with pleading eyes, praying that he would even take pity on you and not hurt you.

He took your jaw in his hands, forcing you to look at him, and then he parted your lips, putting his thumb inside your mouth. "Let's see how well you know how to use that beautiful little mouth" he let out along with a deep laugh and then grabbed his erect member and passed his head over your lips, smearing them with pre-cum. You took the hint immediately and gobbled down what you could, leaving a considerable portion out due to its size, something that Jay didn't care about because when he heard your first 'gag' he pushed your head until your nose was touching his pelvis.

You were surprised and your throat contracted, you felt very strange, but you didn't think much about it either because he took his member out of your mouth the same way he put it in. You were about to breathe when, oh surprise, he thrust it back in! He made that move repeatedly, fucking your throat to his pleasure. "This is what you wanted, huh? You needy fucking slut". The boy exclaimed with a harsh voice, but do you know what else was even harsher? Your throat. His cock entered and left your throat with inhuman ease (because he's not human hahaha), letting drops of your own saliva mixed with precum fall into your mouth. You felt like you were choking, so Jay, being the gentleman he is, pulled his cock roughly out of your throat, holding onto your hair to keep you still as you took a sharp breath. He looked at you superiorly and proceeded to laugh at your state, "God, look at you, so pathetic, and we're just getting started," he smirked. Taking advantage of your weak state, he threw you on the bed with your legs bent, face down, leaving your butt within his reach and whim.

You had your head down so as not to turn around to see him, although I don't blame you, it would scare me too. You felt his cold hands caress your back and pajama pants. The calm was short-lived when you felt him tear your pants, making a hole in the center, right where your holes were. You couldn't see anything, and you felt disgusted by the fact that the fear you felt was turning you on. Your panties were wet, as were your buttocks from the licks Jay left behind. You swallowed dryly as you felt him rip your panties for more access, although that wasn't the worst, that came when you finally realized he wasn't going for your pussy, he was going for your asshole. You were going to protest about that but the scream that left your throat silenced all the words you had learned so far. He entered your inexperienced hole with the same force he used on your throat.

Your forehead hitting the headboard wasn't the most painful thing, curiously neither was his thrusts, it was the way your back was bending to keep you in a position where you wouldn't break. You knew Jay was talking to you, but you didn't understand, your mind was clouded by two things: pleasure and pain. Because of the position you were in you could feel your juices running down your legs and the splash when his sack hit your pussy. You couldn't take it anymore, it was too much for you, you began to feel that tickling in your belly that was so familiar but so different at the same time, it felt like your orgasm was close but much more powerful.

Jay's tip was mercilessly pounding that space inside you, which was enough to make you collapse, spurting his sack that only did more than slap your pussy to splatter more. Your throat was hot from the screams that came from it, being replaced by long sighs once Jay stopped for a few moments, perhaps to make sure you were okay, was there any goodness within that mocking creature? Well, no, because he proceeded to resume his thrusts with the same brutality as before. He crouched down a little so he was at the same height as your head so he could whisper some words to you that you had barely caught, "I'm not done yet."

Jake had tried to call you to let you know he was returning; he had bought the ticket for the next week. Once inside your shared apartment, he proceeded to look for you. "(___) you will not believe me!" he shouted excitedly, hoping his voice would resonate in the silence of the apartment. However, he received no response. He walked through the living room and kitchen, but he didn't find you. He heard sounds similar to your voice, which was a relief, but worry began to grow inside him, because he also heard other sounds accompanying yours.

Jake approached the door, narrowing his eyes in curiosity and some trepidation. The sounds were like knocks, followed by slimy-sounding splashes, clear enough to pique his interest. Without a second thought, he turned the knob and slowly opened the door. What he saw on the other side left him speechless, his best friend being ridden by another person he couldn't recognize.

Taglist:

@nshmrarki @cha0thicpisces @seokseokjinkim @kimsunoo2003 @rikisave @strxwbloody @nyfwyeonjun @enhalusional @kgneptun @fleurixzs @simpjay

Enha Taglist only:

@lilyuwon @myywonie @ratedjaeyoon

(I couldn't tag the others)

©: made by jayniks on tumblr, do not copy or adapt my works on any platform without my consent.

A/N: omg guys thank you so much for those 700 followers! I honestly didn't expect so much love from your part 🥺🫶 also, let me know if y'all want a kinktober ^^

[helslastangel]

Mars in 1H & 7H Synastry: From My Experiences 🔞

Minors, do not interact. This one's not for you.

I know this is widely known with 1H Mars synastry, but it bears repeating: this is such an electric and sexy aspect to have!

...IF you like each other. But if you don't?

Especially if the attraction is one-sided? It is SO cringe. One of you could end up hating the other easily.

In fact, let me tell you two stories that show just how differently things can go with this aspect.

Positive 1H Mars Synastry

Guy A: Leo Sun, Virgo Moon, Cancer Rising & Venus

I have my Mars in his 1H and his Venus is in my 1H.

This a VERY physical aspect, so if you're the type who loves long hugs, hugs from behind, poking, nibbling, cuddling, kissing and a LOT of sex, even after YEARS together, then keep an eye out for this aspect.

Guy A was my boyfriend of 4 years and we broke up right around the time we would have been talking engagement and such. He was also my best friend for 8 years (which would be 15 years now if we hadn't stopped talking a year after the break up).

I was wildly attracted to this guy from day one. And vice versa! And when we finally got together? Literally could not stop touching each other. It was so funny at times. You know those annoying couples trying to hold hands, steer the cart, and pick stuff up all at once in the grocery store? Yeah, we were that couple. Typically, if I wasn't literally on his lap, I'd be under his arm or pretty much pressed up beside him somehow-and vice versa. Watching TV? Someone's head would be in the other's lap, someone's hands would be in the other's hair, or rubbing their arm or belly.

I remember the first time Guy A and I went on a cute lunch date, before we officially got together. Everyone was pointing and giggling at us because it was sooooo obvious we both couldn't keep our hands off each other at all. 😂

To this day, neither his parents nor mine can believe we didn't get married. We probably should have, tbh. Lol.

Negative 1H Mars Synastry:

Guy B: Gemini Sun, Cancer Moon & Rising, Aries Venus.

I also have my Mars in his 1H. (His moon is in my 1H).

Mars in 1st synastry in one-sided connections is the absolute worst because one of you is madly (VERY madly) in lust confused for love, and the other is perpetually annoyed but attached to the adrenaline rush from all the static, especially if life isn't otherwise exciting at the time.

Guy B was long-term frenemy who I did NOT like romantically and barely liked platonically. We met on a dating site and the conversation was great but from the 1st date in person, I was instantly turned off. All his mannerisms annoyed me, I wasn't attracted to him, and I didn't want him to touch me at all. My reflex was to pull away when he tried. He was extremely attracted to me for some reason despite this, and never let it go. Not even years later. He begged to stay friends when I declined a 2nd date and I was too nice back then so I reluctantly agreed.

Every time he touched me, I wanted to backflip into a volcano. A simple hug made me irrationally angry if he tried to linger half a second too long. It didn't help that he'd always complain about me giving "church hugs."

And before the men start carrying on about how he must have been short, yada yada yada... no, lol he's 6' 5" and fairly good-looking. Just didn't like him then and still don't now.

Our dynamic was always very aggressive, especially from my end. Even our mutual friends noticed that I seemed like a different person specifically around him and not in a good way. I was verbally combative and physically tense around him, even my voice sounded less soft and I was extremely sarcastic. I don't know if he's into girls who are normally like that or if his Aries Venus just liked the challenge, but that annoyed me even more. My dad met him once and immediately acted like he wasn't even there and my mom was like "Yeah, no, don't ever date each other because one of you won't make it out of that alive, it's very obvious."

She's definitely not wrong, our entire "friendship" was a strange anomaly defined around me being perpetually annoyed that he existed but also finding entertainment in all the toxicity and him pretending not to notice that Id happily sell him to the devil for a bag of chips and continuously convincing himself that I secretly liked him.

I told him multiple times he was free to react like a normal human being and not talk to me and his response was, "Eh, I know but somehow even though I hate arguing, I don't really mind arguing with you. Like I hate it but at the same time, it's you. I'm used to it now."

Idk to say about that but yeah, there you have it folks. The moral of the story is: there are always two sides to a coin 😂

Synastry is something that can go two (if not more) ways. No placement or aspect is ever guaranteed to be positive or negative, though some skew one way or the other. If they were, we could all find our perfect matches just by picking birth charts out of a jar and studying them. Be mindful and listen to what your heart and gut tell you and then use your head.

All that being said though, can I talk about 7H Mars synastry for a sec? GOSH I LOVE when someone's Mars is in my 7H.

Mars in 7H Synastry (Positive)

Guy C: Aries Sun, Scorpio Moon, Scorpio Rising, Aries Venus

He has Capricorn Mars in my 7H and my gawd. So intentional. This was eons ago. Technically my second boyfriend, but this was the first serious boyfriend who I had all my first times with. The moment my very own McSteamy decided he wanted to date me, there was no long drawn out "should I, shouldn't I, she loves me, she loves me not" - none of that wishy-washy shit. He strolled right up to me and said, "Look, you're allowed to say yes, no, or "get lost, fool" -whatever you want. And I know this may seem a bit soon, and to be honest when I first met you, I didn't know what to think, you kinda seemed like a miss-goody-two-shoes type. But getting to know you for a couple months? I realize you're actually quite a rebel and adventurous like me, but also smart and know how to lay low and play a character when you need to. Anyway, I'd really like to kiss you, but I'm gonna ask you to be my girlfriend first, so let me know."

Well, hell I said yes before he was even done talking and he picked me right up and kissed me against the wall. That was my first kiss too, and a great memory. I love direct people who know what they want, aren't scared to take a risk and are comfortable taking the lead, especially when it's a relationship. That's a Capricorn Mars right there. With Capricorn moon in my 7H that was literally like hitting the jackpot- except I was so young. He was 8 years older than me and ready to settle down. I was just about to fly the nest and see the world and he was kind enough to realize this and not hold me back when I decided to leave.

I will say this placement is excellent if you're sure about wanting a family, kids, and the whole white picket fence thing. I made the right choice as I'm still childfree by choice now and would rather live a semi-nomadic life, working and traveling the world with someone who is the same kind of crazy as me.

I'm not sure if I've experienced any negative Mars 7H house synastry. There are so people I've connected with whose birthdays I've either forgotten or didn't ask for, so I don't have their charts. Of the charts I do have, Guy C is the only one I have this aspect with. I haven't quite felt the same 100% confident, 'all-in' relationship energy from anyone else.

I am curious about how the negative side of this would go, so if any of you have had bad experiences with Mars 7H synastry and want to share, let's meet in the comments 😹

[wilcze-kudly]

Aang is great because almost every ship you can put him in instantly becomes top-tier.

Like:

Kataang- they literally make me cry every single time I think of them. Their love story is wonderful and genuinely heartwarming. It symbolises healing and peace for both of them and the literal world. He showed her the world and he's her biggest supporter and she always defends him and they find solace in each other because they understand what it's like to be the last of their respective kind. And they're each other's hope and just... ahhh. They're so much more than the vanilla hero gets the girl ship people paint it as. Haters stay mad or smth.

Zukaang- the symbolism? They're the actual Ying and Yang of the show! The Rozin parallels? Them standing in a vortex of rainbow fire as two dragons (the blue one like Aang's tatoos facing zuko and the other one, red like Zuko's general colour scheme facing Aang) forming a heart shape around them? Zuko was literally searching for Aang and found his redemption in Aang and Aang made him a better person and Aang is literally the only person who genuinely experienced Fire Nation culture before the war and he clearly values it and he's helping Zuko bring peace to the world and the nation...

Taang- The og tomboy x soft boy dynamic. He's literally the person that helped her free herself from her parents and Air is the element of freedom? And she teaches him when to stand firm like the Earth? And I love when they do synchronised earthbending it's so satisfying and they work so well together. Toph having lost her face in one of Aang's nightmares is also a nice parallel to Ummi and Kuruk. (One caveat though: i hate taang being used as a "get Aang out of the way" side ship to Zutara)

Sokaang- they kinda come out of left field for me but the more I think about them the more obsessed I become. It's all about a teenage boy who has been forced into a role that demanded way too much of him finally learning to trust and rely on others. It's about Sokka finally living out the childhood that he was forced to grow out of. Sokka also has such a cute bond with Momo and more importantly, Appa, Aang's animal soulmate. The fics write themselves.

Sukaang- ok, I know Suki and Aang barely interacted in the show but like Hear me out.Suki is so connected to one of Aang's past lives. And she saved Appa, which would totally bond her and Aang (genuinely distressed that this was never discussed in canon). And they both value a sense of community so much, and Aang was one of the people who inspired Suki to leave Kyoshi to help others. Plus, there could be some amazing Rangshi parallels if Suki became Aang's bodyguard instead of Zuko's, which could be very plausible.

Azulaang- I adore this ship because I genuinely think Aang could really help Azula find her redemption. Hell, he was so nice to her in The Search and she literally killed him. Plus I've already laughed about how it would absolutely kill Ozai. The mental crisis Azula would go through due to fallingin love with Aang would be hilarious, and also the guilt over everything she's done, as Aang's kindness makes her realsie she was on the wrong side this whole time. He's one of the only people who can beat her at her prime and he doesn't seem to fear her at all, which is rare for her. Aang could give her the unconditional love she so desperately craves and needs.

Maiaang- genuinely adorable to me. Other than the obvious grumpy x sunshine trope, Maiaang has a lot of potential. Mai seems to genuinely like Aang in the comics, which is really cute. I also think Aang would be able to help Mai express her more positive emotions, other than just anger. Also something about the girl who was forced to remain silent and passive her whole life learning to finally let go and allow herself to just live with the help of probably one of the most active and expressive characters of the show has me by the throat. Plus, he got along great with her lil bro!

Tyaang- They're so similar and cute and bubbly! They'd have tons of fun together and I just know Ty Lee would teach Aang some gymnastics and he really enjoy it! I think he can also find Ty Lee's chiblocking very cool, since it is essentially a great way to deal with a conflict without causing permanent damage. Very airbendery. Speaking of which, Ty Lee is also very airbendry herself. I can genuinely see her finding herself in Air Nomad culture and be excited to help revive it.

Onjaang- i just find this ship so funny because imagine being a random schoolgirl in the fire nation and not only rizzing up a demigod but rizzing that demigod up successfully. This ship can also go so many ways depending on On Ji's reaction to that random cute guy who threw a cool dance party is actually the Avatar, so it's certainly interesting.

Yuaang- the ultimate cinnamon roll x cinnamon roll ship. But more than that, there's of course the Yue becoming the Moon Spirit and Aang getting lowkey possessed by the grieving Ocean Spirit. There's Yue appearing when Aang needed her most, while he's stranded in the middle of the ocean and helping him. They both understand sacrifice and responsibility, and maybe they could comfort each other through it. Also Aang being the bridge between the spirit worlds and Yue being a Spirit could lead to a very interesting romance, depending on how much the Avatar could interact with the Moon Spirit.

Jetaang- ok, Aang was just as infatuated with Jet as Katara was, right? And I think Aang was heavily affected by Jet's actions and behaviour. Also Aang really not wanting to hurt Jet while fighting him (twice!) was really cute. And Aang helping Jet snap out of the Dai Li brainwashing could be a really cool ship moment the more you think anout it.

Teoaang- Honestly their little one sided rivalry at the beginning of the episode was really cute. And I think there could be some interesting symbolism between them. Aang symbolising the old and Teo symbolising the new. They compliment each other like that. Teo comforting Aang by showing him that the critters of the temple are still alive and well is also sweet. And Aang admitting that Teo has the spirit of an airbender is so sweet.

Kuzaang- they're adorable. I loved the comic about them. Aang calling Kuzon "Hotman" is really funny. Aang helping Kuzon make a bigger flame with airbending is also really sweet. I especially like this ship in combination with Zukaang. It's such tasty symbolism.

Aang may just be the most shippable charater of this franchise, argue with the wall. He's so filled with love I have no choice but to multiship.

[haechansdoll]

my little doll - ml x reader

Pairing : Boxer!Lee Mark x f!Reader

Description : Humans have hormones, you understand that much. But does that explain why you can't stop the filthy daydreams that fill your head whenever you see a specific redhead? Does it excuse you for getting turned on by him simply breathing in your direction? And to make matters worse, he is off-limits, if your father found out you were messing with his prized boxer? You would be chained to a tower and your red-haired crush would be used as mincemeat.

Warnings : Bloody Nose, Perversion, Dom/Sub, Power Play, Panties, Caught Having Sex, Overstimulation

Wordcount : 20k

Hormones.

You dearly hate them, you hate how your chest does somersaults at the mere sight of him, or the fact you have to cross your legs when his voice tickles your ear, let alone the mocking sensation of arousal that forever plagues your core at the sweet little pet names he sure loves giving you. From the crimson red hair that falls over his shoulders, typically pulled back with a loose-fitting clip, a matching pair of eyes that have this undeniable sultry and charming glint to them, or the scars from broken bones or other mishaps he has yet to give you a story about that stick to his powerful arms and mesmerizing torso.

If anyone were to find out about the things that run through your head, the lewd imagery, the erotic scenarios... you would never be able to show your face again. It's normal to have less-than-pure thoughts, right? You're no less human than the next person, everyone has desires and fantasies!

But does that excuse the fact you've desperately been waiting for any chance you can get to go and relieve yourself? That the more you stare at him, the more you think about how good he may be in bed? His muscles flexing with each thrust, imagining the length and girth of his cock, would his voice be gruff or husky?

The recollection of your inner desires has you aching, it is humiliating, to say the least. Especially when the man who is the center of these very thoughts just so happens to be standing behind you, one hand on your shoulder, the other guiding your wrist. The close proximity has you feeling sick, between his voice right beside your ear and his hands on your arm.

To be honest, aren't you sick? Pretty sick in the head to be lewding Mark without his knowledge, what would he think of you if he were to learn of these sinful scenarios you let consume you? You simply cannot help it, any woman in your position would probably be the same, right? Thinking of all the things those hands can do, how his rough fingertips would feel between your legs, his tongue against your...

It isn't like anyone knows either, after all, it would spread like a wildfire if anyone were to find out about your less than an innocent crush. In your opinion, you do quite a good job at masking it, not too clingy to him but also not completely avoiding him. After all, he is your father's "student" if you could say that, often training under the watchful gaze of your dad.

Sometimes it still feels like just the other day when you two first interacted, him introducing himself, saying how he works under your dad. You heard of him from your father often boasting about this guy he is training. You figure it would be another older guy, rough around the edges, not good enough to be eye candy. You couldn't have been any more wrong, completely in shock to learn that this "guy" was not only a lot younger than you expected but looked like those Greek statues.

You can never quite focus when he speaks to you, eyes wandering ever so discreetly, ears deafening when you catch sight of a bead of sweat dripping down his neck, how the lump in his throat bobs while he talks or drinks water. 

Even now, as you throw another punch per his instruction, your focus is entirely elsewhere. Not on the way he tells you to twist your wrist when launching your fist from your body, but rather how good it feels when he speaks right next to your shoulder, each word making your eardrums vibrate. If only he knew that you weren't very focused on his self-defense lesson, but rather how good it would feel to have those big hands wrapped around your neck or your thigh... anywhere is fine by you.

Most nights you find yourself fantasizing about Mark…Mark, all the filthy scenarios possible flooding your already corrupted mind the whole time you feel yourself up. Gripping your sheets and pretending it's his hair, breathing into your pillow to try and mask the sounds of pleasure you just can't keep in. You feel awful every time you finish, though. Hastily fixing yourself and going to shower, hoping the water will wash away sin.

Alas, you know that any level you go to repent would never erase the tainted marks of lust from your body. You're trapped in this, like a stalkerish fan swooning over her celebrity crush. Again, thanking whomever it concerns that mind-reading is not a thing.

A hand comes down onto the top of your head, drawing you from your deeper workings, "That time was really good," Mark praised with a grin, fingers dripping from your skin, much to your dismay, "Try it again without me guiding you, put your all into it!" If you had any less self-control, a moan would have passed your lips from his perfect voice, each word rolling off his tongue like honey from a spoon. 

Times like now you wish you had a deeper relationship than what is now accessed, that way you could just grab at his arms and give him the prettiest bats of your lashes all for the sake of begging him to take you somewhere private. That's all you want right now, to feel his soft lips on yours, to taste his tongue that probably will feel minty from the gum he is currently chewing. The simple privilege of being able to kiss him would surely kill you.

You throw another punch and really start to feel that ache in your shoulder, but Mark calls it a "good burn", something you remember even your father saying back when you were little. Your eyes glance to the clock hung on the wall, usually, you are hoping time will fly by, but right now? You hope it goes painfully slow, who knows when the next time will be when you have him so close with his hands all over you.

"I think you've mastered how to punch someone, I'm a little scared by how quick you are..." The playfulness in his voice does more than make you smile, it also contributes to the arousal that continues to soak into your panties, which you can probably assume are ruined at this point, "Let's practice a kick for if you're being restrained by two people." 

The last thing you expect is to feel him come up from behind and wrap his arms around your torso, restraining your arms and keeping you firmly pressed to his solid front. You would have cum right there if it wasn't for how focused you were on the veins in his arms or his flushed knuckles, "So if someone comes from behind, they'll most likely grab you in a way to trap your arms." His voice vibrates in his chest, which in turn vibrates against your back. 

Mark gives you a bit of a squeeze, a soft gasp fluttering from your lips not because of the restriction on your lungs but rather how if you arch your back just enough... you would probably feel the one thing you daydream about. The one thing you imagine fucking you every night when you touched yourself. 

"It'll be hard to elbow them, and depending on how tall they are you may not be able to head-butt them... so you can take one of your legs and then jab your heel into the arch of their foot, the point is to fracture or break those bones because then it'll either make them immobile or they won't be able to run after you when you get away." You nod your head along to his words, "Or, some people say to put as much as you can to lean forward because attackers expect you to thrash in their arms or try to hit them."

Mark lightly nudges you as a means to lean forward, you almost think not to, afraid of the hormones that are already driving you up the wall. But you do it anyway, leaning forward, despite the fact he is pressed into every inch of your backside, "Take both of your hands and grab at one of my legs, whichever you think is easier, and then you're gonna pull as hard as you can to try and knock me off."

You almost feel bad, but you assume that since he is giving you this lesson, he expects to get roughed up a little. So despite your inner conflict not to, you lean forward as much as it takes to grab the leg closest to you, that being his right leg, and firmly gripping his calf and pulling his leg towards you. You're almost surprised by how easy it was, one second he is holding onto you, his breath wafting against the back of your neck, and now he is flat on his back.

"That caught me off guard," He says in disbelief, without your knowledge his crimson eyes watch how you slowly stand up straight after successfully breaking free of his grasp, "I shouldn't underestimate you considering how intense your father is with training." He notices your panties peeking through the fabric of your yoga leggings, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip, and staring until the red fabric is no longer peaking through.

"When I was little he taught me some basic things," You turn around to offer him a hand, which he gratefully takes, "But I don't think the moves I learned when I was little will be much assistance now." You help him up with a smile, for a moment you forget the tension that had previously been eating you, "Thank you for helping me, you make it more fun than it should be."

The crimson-haired boxer offers you one of his signature smiles, flashing those pearly white teeth you always think of dragging your tongue over, "You're adorable," His fingers playfully give your cheeks a pinch just to see you pout, "Let's do one more move before you gotta close up, I think you have it in you to give it a try." Who are you to argue? After all, it means more time to ogle over him, to feel his hands, to dream up filthy scenarios that have your pussy throbbing.

What you don't expect is to feel one of his hands fall on the dip of your waist to stabilize you, the other coming down to hook under your knee and slowly lift your leg, "You're pretty flexible, I expected that... naturally everyone's legs are stronger than their arms. So sometimes if you see an opening, go for a nice high kick right into either their chin or nose." So that's why he is holding you like this.

His words, just for a moment, blur as you look at his hands on your body. The position is oddly provocative, it is easy to just picture you both nude, his cock driving in and out of you just like this. His hands holding your soft thighs wide open for him, one leg hooked over his arm as those very fingers tease your clit, his other hand snaking up your front to tweak your nipples and torturously squeeze your tits.

It's disgusting, filthy that all he is doing is holding you like this to guide you and you're imagining him fucking you just like this. It's horribly wrong, sickening - but oh, it would probably feel so good like this. His tip would rub against that sweet stop your fingers can barely reach, his breath against the very shoulder he would mark with hickeys...

"There we go," His voice sounds so close it nearly makes you flinch, "Okay, you want to aim with your heel and not the tip of your shoe because it can strain your ankle or even hurt the arch of your foot. So lock your leg as you swing it up and pretend like you're jabbing someone with your heel." You wish his cock was jabbing your insides, but nonetheless, you strike your heel into the air effortlessly.

Mark whistles at the power in your leg, what he would give to see you beat the shit out of someone. He is sure you could probably even take him out if you tried, which is another reason he hopes he never gets on your bad side. The first reason being that your dad would kill him.

"Maybe I should start practicing with you," He muses when you smoothly bring your leg back down, "I bet you'd be able to break me down, especially with a kick like that." What you would give to simply watch him train with your father, you've seen it a handful of times. How he drives his fists into the punching bag, or the muscles in his thighs stiffening when he tries to knock his sparring partner down. He always leaves you drooling, hoping to feel those very hands wrapped around your throat or to ride his thighs while he teases you for being such a slut. 

As much as you would love to spend the time with him, you know you wouldn't be able to handle all the touching, to see him sweating and his muscles showing through his less-than-covering tank top. Sometimes he even goes shirtless, which is ten times worse and even more hormone-inducing. If only there was a way to confidently tell him, "I've wanted to have sex with you since I first saw you, so please do whatever you want with me."

"I think you'd probably break me..." The words weren't meant to come out sounding so sexual, leaving a pinkish blush on his cheeks and at the tip of his ears, "But we can always practice like this whenever you want." You miss how he shuffles in place, trying to knock your first sentence from his head. Break you? He knows what you meant... but even he has some not-so-innocent thoughts.

With it being time to close, regulars gradually leave the gym, bidding you a farewell per usual, the machines slowly becoming empty. Though the only person who patiently remains, discreetly watching passing figures as they leave the building, is the redhead you have been eyeing all day. It is rather exciting, watching the final person pack up their things and leave, finally granting you the privacy you've desired all day.

You begin the process of locking up the gym, working the locks on the alternate entrance, as well as pulling the drop-down fence that cages the windows. You two often leave through the back door, so you always lock up the front earlier than you both intend to depart. Whenever he stays a little later than usual, he often waits for you to close and you will leave together. 

Being so focused on closing the main entrances and front of the gym, you don't notice the figure approaching you from behind, not until a shadow casts over you and you notice the lighting change. Not until a hand falls onto your shoulder, to which you peer behind you to see Markall packed up, "Did you bring a sweater? It's supposed to be cold out."

"I didn't, but it's fine because my car is right there." He knows it is, but he also knows that you tend to park quite a bit away from the apartment you share with your father because it didn't have a parking garage, "I'll be fine! Worst case scenario I catch a cold and can't come to work tomorrow." That's when you remember an important detail about tomorrow, one that you've been looking forward to all week.

"You have a match tomorrow, right?" Comes your voice amid his needless thinking, "Dad is making the plans, he's been running around all day... I think he may be more excited than you." You try to change the subject, knowing he will be persistent regarding you taking his sweater.

"Yeah, and that's another reason you should take my hoodie... that way you don't get sick and you can be there to cheer me on." His words make you feel so warm and fuzzy inside, is he really that worried? Does he really want you there to see him? It's too much, you may just pass out knowing he wants you to cheer for him in the crowd!

You heard rumors of professionals possibly attending, managers of some sort. It all sounds a little too good to be true, but knowing your father he is always pulling strings. To locals, it's considered a big deal because of the chance to gamble bets, entertainment... The matches are memorable. Mark likes the attention, to hear people chant his name and praise him, that adrenaline he gets when he is so close to winning. It is a drug, an addiction he just cannot shake. He needs support.

Finally, you take the hoodie from his hand, pulling the thick fabric over your head and covering yourself, "Thank you, Mark." He is so sweet, it makes you feel guilty for letting these thoughts ravage your brain. For allowing yourself to lewd him constantly, he has been nothing but respectful with you and all you can think about is how fucking good it would feel to sit on his face right now.

"Are you gonna be there to give me some good luck?" His words catch you off guard, give him some good luck? you never really see him before his matches, usually, only after will you congratulate him and offer to take him out for something to eat, per request from your father. It is a tradition to celebrate after a successful fight. Most of the night you will ogle over him, how good he looks with a slightly swollen lip, or how you would kill to lick the little bit of blood sticking to the fresh wound on his brow.

What could you possibly do to give him good luck? You will have to think of something, you can't disappoint him, "Since tomorrow is a big deal, I guess I have to make sure you have as much luck as possible, right?" Your words bring a grin to his face, you've always been so kind yet carefree. He likes that a lot about you, how you don't take everything so seriously, and never feels like he has to walk on eggshells around you. 

Whatever it may be, he likes getting some sort of recognition from you before he fights, you leave this positive and sweet taste in his chest. He finds that he tries harder with you around, whether it be to impress you or earn plenty of praises and compliments when the match is over. He doesn't care what you come up with, so long as it's from you.

Mark Remembers that you're off the clock and should get home before it's too dark, "A-Anway," He clears his throat and adjusts his gym bag over his shoulder, "Let's get out of here, I think we both could use a shower..." Despite his words, he is eyeing how exhausted you look, sweaty and your eyes a little swollen from overworking yourself. It reminds him of the time you went on a run with him, an innocent invitation he gave you since he never really sees you outside of the gym.

To his surprise, you weren't at all a bad runner, but unfortunately, your stamina does not nearly match his and he can still remember how cute you looked, tripping over your feet and waving your hand for him to slow down. The sweat that stuck to your face, neck, chest... how you were shivering all the while scraping to regain some oxygen in your lungs. Your fingers holding onto his arm, leaning into him with your eyes closed. 

You had looked so pretty that day, but all he could think about was whether or not you'd look the same if he were to have sex with you. Would the sweet bead up the same? Would your eyes get heavy once it was over? Would you pant and cling to him like now, doing your best to keep up and not collapse from exhaustion? That was the first time he ever thought of you other than as a friend, and ever since it feels like the daydreams have gotten a little worse.

Not nearly as explicit as yours, though.

God, you want to fuck him so bad. You want to ride him until your thighs burn, to feel his teeth marking your skin with every push of his hips, to open your mouth just so he can spit in it... reminding you that you're nothing but a perverted, disgusting, awful whore. That's exactly what you are. A brainless, hormonal...

Right, you're supposed to be leaving. With a final adjustment to the sweater he had kindly given you, you lead the way to the back door of the gym. You wish you didn't have to depart so soon, just before he had his hands all over you! Touching your legs, holding your waist... can't you turn back time just enough to go through that all over again? Even if it's just him guiding you to a proper punch. 

What you would give to feel those hands on your tits, or cupping the apex of your thighs. Would it feel different from when you touch yourself? Probably. His fingers are bigger, thicker, rough... you can only imagine the way they would curl to rub that special spot inside of your walls. You bet he would be able to make you squirt, you can only imagine it... if only.

"Make sure you sleep early," He chimes from beside you, "That way I can see you early before I have to go prepare for tomorrow night." It is bizarre how insistent he is on seeing you before the fight, did you do something different to yourself? Deep down, you're praying he may just have a little crush on you, but you doubt it. He could like anyone, he would never choose you... right?

Nonetheless, you don't let your selfish thinking distract you from the handsome man beside you. What doe sit matter whether he likes you or not? At least he talks with you. But every human has selfish desires, yours just happens to be wanting the crimson-haired boxer beside you to be yours, "I wouldn't miss a chance to see you," The words come out faster than you could bite your tongue, but with the cat out of the bag you roll with it, "Maybe I could bring you something to eat?"

The suggestions noticeably brighten him, the two of you coming out of the back door which you begin to lock for the night, "That would be nice, remember those grape leaves you had made that one time? I'd kill for those..." Neither of you misses how his voice noticeably quiets, as if he only wants you to hear that, for the huskiness in his tone to catch your ears. 

To say it doesn't cause a million and one butterflies to waltz in from your stomach into your chest, would be a lie. It would be a lie to deny how the most minuscule quirks he has always leave you in a state of your own temporary bliss. You wish you could hear him whisper over and over, to come up behind you like in those cliche romance films from the 60s. For his arms to encase your midsection, lips meeting the shell of your ear, telling you how his day is better now that he is home with you.

Oh, what you would give to live out a shitty romance film from however many decades ago with Mark. To be that mindless trophy wife even if for a day, to forget all responsibility and for him safely coming home to you to be your only worry. To spend your hours cooking and cleaning, making yourself look your prettiest if it means letting him use you to destress.

You just want to make him happy, is that so wrong? Maybe.

"I'll be sure to make you some," You say back, eyes falling from his to instead look at your sneakers, "W-Well, I'll see you early tomorrow... I'll be sure to bring your sweater back." You miss the subtle smile due to your eyes being elsewhere, a smile that lasts until you look back up to him, "Drive home safe, I can't wait to see the fight tomorrow."

The two of you bid your farewell, Mark keeping his eye on you up until you safely enter the comfort of your car, and only then does he get into his own. You always miss those gentlemanly gestures he does, how he never leaves until he sees you're safely in your car, always keeping an eye out for you whenever you go off to the bathroom. He gets so worried over you being just a minute too long, and part of him excuses it for a "need to protect" urge in him.

But a very small part of him has already learned to accept he may or may not have feelings for you, whether they are romantic or platonic, he cannot pinpoint; especially because he hasn't even fully accepted the fact he has potential feelings for you. 

Regardless, you drive away, unaware of how he waited for you to leave first. The entire ride home, all you could focus on was the cologne that stuck to the hoodie he let you borrow. How the masculine odor filled not only your nose but the car. It felt mocking like the hoodie knew how down bad you are forMark, but you try not to let it get to you. You try not to imagine how it would feel to bury your face into his shoulder and smell the cologne stuck to his skin.

That familiar heat floods between your legs, reminding you of how awful you are. Even with him gone, you can't stop the dirty thoughts. Maybe you just need to get laid? Maybe it's less that you like him, and just you being horny and deprived of intimacy. 

You know that isn't the case, but it's nice to pretend it is.

What would his favorite position be? Would he prefer you on top? Bent over? If you had to decide, you'd want to be able to see his face, to watch how good you can make him feel. No amount of brainstorming could probably compare to how sexy he would look engulfed in pleasure, nor how he would sound. You take him for someone who tries to hold back their moans, not wanting you to know you're being good for him.

"Oh, god..." You whisper under your breath as you continue to drive, knuckles bulging from gripping the steering wheel so hard, not to mention the ache in your lower back from how far you've arched yourself to try and ignore the throbbing in your clit. It's ridiculous, here you are driving home on an empty street, your apartment building isn't even that far away...

And yet you find yourself pulled over on the side of the road.

The entire time, you mentally scold yourself, eyes frantically looking about all the while you sick back into your seat. Your nose is buried into the collar of the sweater, the familiar scent comforting you while your hand moves under the waistband of your leggings and then under your soaked panties. Were you really this wet? Usually, you would be riddled with shame, but now? You can only thank yourself, knowing it will make it all the easier for your fingers to snake themselves inside of you.

You know that your fingers will never compare to the real thing, and most of the time you don't even get much pleasure from them being inside of you, but that minor sense of fullness somehow is just relaxing. Between your index and middle fingers being knuckle deep inside of your pulsating entrance, your walls clenching around what little space your fingers take up, and your palm grinding into your clit.

"M-Mark..." His name is always falling from your tongue, every time you find yourself viciously rubbing your clit in desperation, or grinding into the soft fabric of your pillow. Whatever you may be doing to pleasure yourself, his name is the only thing that you manage to utter during the entire process. Praising him for making you feel so good and whimpering how it's too much for you. 

If only he could see you now, curled up in your car and humping at your hand, panting and whining for the only man you've thought about for however long you've known him. If only he were here, to witness how filthy you are, that you're anything but sugar and honey - you're not sweet at all, you're just a needy nymphomaniac. 

You spread your thighs just a little more, fingers dipping in and out of your entrance only to then come out and give your neglected clit circular rubs before seeping back inside of your pussy, "I wanna cum,Mark~" Imagining it is his fingers pumping in and out of you, that it's his palm that continues to grind into your poor clit.

With the fabric of his sweater pressed firmly to your nose, it helps to muffle your pathetic sounds; strings of his name and pleas floating within the air of your car. the only other noise being the wet squelching sound of your fingers inside of you. It all feels so lewd, to be touching yourself like this in your car. If anyone were to find out, surely you would be not only shunned, but you'd never hear the end of it.

But god his hands felt so good on your thighs and waist when he was training you earlier, they were so warm, so big... his palms rough when they dragged over the skin of your arms. You wish he would've gone just a little higher

"F-Fuck... ah~ fuck me,Mark-" You squeak when your fingers nudge at your walls a little too roughly, further hiding your face in his sweater as it gradually becomes harder to contain your whimpers. The thought of him praising you, calling you his good girl, and saying you take it so well - would he pepper your teary face with kisses? Slow down to make sure he doesn't completely ruin you?

Your insides feel hot, tortuously hot. Every grind of your clit into your palm gradually brings you closer to the anticipated climax. Are you catching a fever? You know it is just your body readying itself for the oncoming bliss, the buildup in your stomach that feels like electricity, "I-I'm cumming," You breathe out a strained whine, "F-Fuck, I'm cumming... I'm cumming~!" You lose your voice as your fingers focus on your clit, rubbing back and forth against the poor nerve.

"M-Mark~ fuck, fuck, fuck- nngh~!" It all happens so quick, the squirting of your climax soaking into your panties and leggings, tainting the skin of your hand and pruning fingers, luckily not too much getting on the seat of your car. But it isn't the mess, it's the pulse you feel in your clit, a neverending throb that has your walls clenching and unclenching. 

You must look wrecked, between how you've managed to bizarrely sink into your seat, your leggings and panties slightly pulled down and your fingers covered in a mess of your cum and slick. You feel ridiculous more than you look it, having just touched yourself in your car to the thought of someone who most likely sees you as nothing but a friend. 

Once again you feel like you're taking a walk of shame; pulling your panties and leggings back up despite the uncomfortable and icky sensation of how wet the fabric is, adjusting yourself in your seat, and looking around for any ongoing or incoming cars. Only when you deem it safe, pulling out of the spot you had parked to continue your trek home, all in silence as a means to reflect on yet again letting your lust get the best of you.

All you can do is hope that when you get home and take a nice warm shower and make those grape leaves poor Mark asked for, that it will somehow erase this awful encounter with yourself from your head. Hopefully, tomorrow will be a better day. Though, you doubt it will take eight hours of sleep to cure you of the hormonal devil on your shoulder.

To make matters worse, the familiar chime of your phone interrupts your mental meditation on what just happened. Though, it isn't your phone that makes things worse, but rather the fact that the very name you see in the notifications bar is the one person you were hoping to get out of your head. You almost think not to answer, let alone look at it, but you could never do that to him.

Upon opening the message, you nearly cry with guilt - how can he be so sweet? Why do you have to be so awful?

Remember that time we went for a run? I forgot I took this pic of u when we finished... after u started to vomit because u pushed urself 2 much. U looked cute tho (:

Scrolling up you hold back the urge to get on your knees before some religious statue and beg for forgiveness. There he is smiling at the camera, holding it high enough to catch himself but also you in the back, to your surprise you don't look awful. Sure, you may be on the verge of death from running so much, and even sweatier than him, but the sunset somehow brought it all together.

And did he just say you looked cute?

You bite back the urge to squeal and get into a car accident, but mostly not to verbally freak out. Does he really think you're cute? Really? You almost don't want to believe it, why would he think you're cute? You don't dwell on it too much, happily accepting the compliment and rereading the message over and over again until another one comes through.

We should do it again, I had fun <3 see u 2morrow, don't forget the grape leaves!

Why does he have to be so perfect? It's always the nice guys who are barely out of your reach. Not that you deserve Mark, someone as obsessive as you doesn't deserve that sort of happiness - not when you focus more on wanting to have sex with him every day, rather than building up the courage to just ask him out.

Maybe tomorrow you will try.

The following morning comes all too quickly, but you give yourself credit for having not had a wet dream - something that shamefully occurs often - and waking up to the sound of your early set alarm without trouble. You're never usually up at this time, but keeping your promise to the crimson-haired man you think about more than you do yourself is your top priority. It would be awful to say you will be there with breakfast, only to diss him.

And surely he would end up not liking you at all, he has mentioned being prejudice against people who do not stay true to their words. 

You like to think that you got ready so quickly, so haphazardly due to your stress over possibly being late... but you know it's because of how excited you are to see Mark and the fact he told you he wanted to see you before he would have to go and prepare for his fight.

Before you leave, you make sure to grab his sweater which you left neatly folded at your desk. When you got home after your shower, the first thing you did was throw it in the wash and put it as far away from you as possible - that damned sweater, you should have never accepted it because look what it made you do! Nonetheless, you are grateful he thought of you and your health and that is the reason you washed it, to cleanse it of any and all evidence of the sin you committed in your car last night. It is still humiliating that you allowed yourself to lose that self-control, but at least you're not in denial. 

If your father were to have seen you with that hoodie, you are almost certain he would have recognized it and interrogated you. Luckily, that didn't happen, because if it had you aren't sure you would be able to explain without the flooding images of last night filling your head and driving you up the wall.

But none of that is your concern, not when you have to make it to the gym in time for him, you're certain he should be there at this time, as well as your father who is preparing the back building where all boxing training, practice, and matches go on. Your only hope is neither of you bumps into your old man, but with how analytical he is, he practically smells when and where he needs to stick his nose into business that isn't his.

As you pull your car into the lot of the gym, noticing the familiar vehicles that belong to both the man you are excited to see, but also the one you hope you don't bump into, the butterflies begin to catch up. He wanted to see you, even to now you still replay those very words, asking you to come by earlier so he could see you before he had to go and prepare himself for the night.

The nerves are beginning to start, you never quite got over that feeling that you were stepping into unfamiliar territory. You've known Mark for quite some time by now, can't you just get over it and walk in there? It isn't even him that you're fearful of, more so the eyes that may follow you the moment you step into the gym. What will others think? You're never so early, and walking up to the redhead with a bento box? You can only imagine the rumors this will start.

Yet, you suck it up. Your father didn't raise you to run away from things, worst-case scenario is he can't talk right now and you end up looking like a fool. You doubt it, but there are a hundred and one possibilities you are anything but prepared for. But isn't that what makes it exciting? The unknown.

Not really, you hate the unknown. The entire walk to the front door of the gym, as well as entering it to see not many people you are familiar with there, which isn't surprising since you work from the afternoon until it gets dark. Nowhere in sight do you see the redhead you have been waiting to see since you last saw him yesterday evening, and you aren't even sure where he could be.

Part of you worries you may be too late, but you figure if he were to be anywhere he must be in the back building. The only issue is you would have to possibly come face-to-face with your father, not only to hand back Mark's sweater but also breakfast you prepared for him. You almost think to just bail, claim there is a ridiculous amount of traffic and you're still on the road, but he isn't stupid.

And you're also not gonna hurt his feelings.

You carry yourself towards the back doors of the building to find the separate structure where all the boxers practice and train, it is rather run down in comparison to the main gym, but it makes sense since most of the fights that go on here go on without the knowledge of authority. You aren't even sure if your father has a proper permit for this building, but he's gotten away with it before, and you're sure you've seen local officers in their casual attire attending the matches.

But all of that is beside the point, not when you enter the building and come face to face with chaos. Between people moving chairs and tables around, cleaners mopping at the floor, boxers gathered to the far end of the building where you see your father. Unfortunately, there is noMark-

Before the figure behind you can even speak, this weird tingle down your spine alerted you to an approaching figure, which you quickly look back only to be met with long red hair and a bare, sweat-tainted torso. Had he always been so tall? So big? You have no clue where to even look, your eyes jumping from his chest to his shoulder, raking over his long hair, and finally locking with the familiar crimson eyes you are used to. You feel silly for staring at him, but you just can't help it.

"You made it," Comes his voice, a grin plastered onto his face at the sight of you holding his sweater and the bento box, "I see you brought me some gifts, is this what I think it is?" The tip of his finger points at the box of grape leaves, to which you hold them out for him to take, your words trapped in your throat at the sight of him completely shirtless in front of you. 

Mark opens the box and whistles at the plentiful amount of grape leaves you had prepared for him, "You spoil me~" He hums while bringing one to his lips, taking it all in his mouth in one bite. Your eyes lock on a droplet of oil that is stuck to the corner of his mouth, how his jaw looks when he chews, the bob of his adam's apple whenever he swallows. You can only imagine how much better he would look swallowing your cum, if only he was there last night to catch your juices in his mouth when you made yourself cum like that.

"How is everything coming along?" You finally find your voice, even if to just ask a question, from what you can tell most of the necessary tasks are just about done - which would leave Mark with an hour or so to get ready for the match later this afternoon - and most are just focusing on creating space to accommodate the customers coming to watch.

Nights like this your father makes the most money, charging for entry and snacks. You call him a shark for how he robs these people with his ridiculous fees, but what business is it to you? If it's what the people want, you're sure they would pay any amount just to watch some men beat each up other up. You weren't a fan of boxing until you first seen Mark, only ever wasting your time to see him in the ring.

When he swallows his third grape leaf, much to your shock, his eyes scan the room with an unsure shrug, "I'd say it looks fine, I've been trying to help out but your father refuses... keeps saying I should just go and warm up in the gym." You would figure as much, your father has favorites and those favorites tend to get the better end of the stick. 

You smile seeing how happy he is with the bento box you prepared for him, nothing makes you happier than when someone enjoys your cooking. Especially the person you like, a lot. It feels good to just be able to look at him and feel nothing but that giddy crush feeling bubbling inside of you, without the added turn-off of your anything but pure imagery that infests your less than perfect brain.

"There aren't too many people in the gym... maybe it will do you some good to stretch or something before you gotta get ready." Mark knows you're right, and he doesn't particularly enjoy doing absolutely nothing when everyone around him is up to some sort of agenda, "I don't plan on going anywhere now that I'm here, it wouldn't make sense... did you need help with anything in particular."

Of course, part of you is hoping to hear something like 'yeah, can you suck my dick?' but you know that won't happen. It is quite humiliating to even think that, how nice his thighs would feel in your palms, his cock shoved balls deep in your throat, tearing up and choking from the size. You bet he tastes just as good as he looks, and he looks like he tastes really good.

Mark closes the bento box, "Actually, yeah..." The three fingers the were covered in the thick oil that the grape leaves are cast in are one by one popped into his mouth, and oh is a sight to admire. His tongue dragging over the single-digit before dragging it out from his mouth with a light pop, "You mind wrapping my hands for me? I never do it tight enough." 

You've seen him struggle plenty of times with that hair of his, thick and down to his lower back. You aren't sure how he manages to take care of it, after all, it always looks so silky and voluminous. The women in those shampoo commercials could never compare, you're sure if Mark ever got into doing commercials he would have shelves empty within the first two seconds of the ad. 

Who wouldn't want to sit there and stare at him? His voice shaking every bone in your body, the way his muscles flex with the slightest movement, his pretty white teeth, not to mention thick lashes, and the way they frame his sharp eyes. Anyone would be happy to hear him talk, let alone drag their eyes over every dip and curve of his powerhouse of a body.

Before you are quiet for too long you come back to your senses, "Of course!" It comes out rather too enthusiastic, but Mark either doesn't notice or care. Especially not when you walk past him in that pretty little skirt of yours, you look so delicious clutching his sweater to your chest, your hips swaying in the most hypnotizing way. God forbid anyone, let alone your father catches his eyes checking you out from behind.

He follows you like a lost puppy, drooling over your legs and how soft they must be, how your thighs would feel amazing to just lay his head down on them. He's always found you attractive, and your sweet personality makes it ten times better. Whenever you wear those yoga leggings, he finds himself staring too long at you, watching you walk until you disappear somewhere.

What he would give to see you in cute little stockings, holding that skirt of yours up for him to admire the adorable panties you have on. Would you be into that? Letting him stare down at you, memorize every inch of your body, rub you through your panties, and push your shirt up and over your soft tits. The things he would do to you if you gave him the chance, and today he hopes he can coax you into paying more attention to him.

The two of you enter the gym, seeing that only a few other regulars have joined the same faces from when you came. The only sound being of the equipment and the cheesy music playing through the loudspeakers. Onlookers glance for a moment, watching the two of you as you both settle at one of the benches. You know they only look because they're interested in Mark and what he could possibly be doing with you. But who cares? You get to have an excuse to hold his hand!

"Did you sleep well?" He asks while fishing into the pocket of his shorts to pull out the hand wraps, "To be honest, I was a little worried about you since it was so cold... that's why I texted you, to make sure you were okay." Every word leaves you more and more in a state of speechlessness, he truly did care. All night that's all you could wonder if he genuinely cared and it turns out he did.

You contain your excitement, not wanting it to show how happy that made you, "Really?" You squeak out, "I-I was fine... your sweater kept me warm." You hide the flustered look by focusing down at the gauze in your hands, unwrapping the elastic material, "I made sure to wash it before I brought it back, I was pretty sweaty last night."

He finds you adorable, how your pretty hands hesitantly grab one of his and hold it in your lap. Your skin is so soft, so warm, he has to hold himself back from just squeezing or dragging his palm over the exposed skin. You're so careful with how you bring the gauze over his knuckles and between his thumb and index finger, making sure it is neither too tight nor too loose.

"Too bad, you always smell really good..." He watches your expression with a smirk, not missing how you tense up, "You never answered my question about whether or not you slept..." He loses his train of words as he watches your fingers trace over his knuckles. You're gentle, treating his hand like it's the most fragile thing you ever held, between the way you've fastened the gauze just right and are now just adjusting the wrap to better cover his abused knuckles.

The only thing on your mind is whether he takes proper care of his hands or not, does he make sure to clean them up and put ice? To massage all the kinks and knots out? You worry too much for him, not that he could ever tell. The tips of your fingers trace what scars aren't being covered, admiring how much he has probably been through to get this far. You've seen the way he trains, hours without a break, and always pushing himself, that's how stars are made.

Would it be so bad...? You feel conflicted, despite your hand already gradually bringing his closer to you, has anyone ever made sure he took care of himself? You try to do so, but sometimes your selfishness gets in the way. Is there anyone he lives with that pampers him? What you would give to be that person; rubbing his aching shoulders, kissing the bruises and cuts he has, washing his hair and back for him...

"y/n-" Your name leaves his mouth with a stutter, crimson eyes caught on your lips pressing delicate kisses to his knuckles. Your lips are soft, shimmering slightly from the lip-balm you have on, not to mention the warmth of your breath wafting against his hand. He doesn't protest, more so in awe at how pretty you look, how you don't even seem to be aware of what you're doing.

To say he hasn't pictured this exact scenario a hundred times or more, you wrapping his hands before a match, kissing each finger with one of your beautiful smiles. All he can do now is soak in this mini victory, a dream come true if you will. Your eyes peering through your lashes when your lips pull away from his hand, the cutest look of shame flashing on your pretty face, "Sorry, it just looks like it hurts..."

Mark stays silent as you hold his wrapped hand, reminiscing on how your lips felt on him, wondering if they would feel even better elsewhere. He doesn't respond right away, placing his unwrapped hand in your lap with a smile, "I liked it..." He says while you start to wrap his other hand, "Y-You should do it more often." 

You never expected him to say something like that, not that you expected him to be upset with you. To be honest, you weren't entirely sure what you were expecting his response to being when you pulled away. Part of you thought the atmosphere would grow awkward, unwanted even. Yet, here you are repeating the process with his other hand, the entire time you can't keep yourself from glancing up, only for your eyes to lock with his and his lips to curl into a smug smirk.

Just as you had with his other hand, you sheepishly bring the newly wrapped knuckles to your lips. Of course, this time you aren't as confident, but he finds it just as pleasurable. Your pretty eyes locked with his, kissing at the scarred flesh and trying to sit still. He can tell you're embarrassed simply by your body language, which you shouldn't be, he likes this show you're putting on for him.

Only when you finish, lowering his hand from your face and sitting up straight on the bench opposite to him, does Mark get a good look at your face. You would look good with a swollen bottom lip, irritated from his teeth nipping and tugging at it, and he wouldn't mind giving your cheek a playful bite, too. He realizes he doesn't quite want you to move away just yet, the simple act of you wrapping his hands already leaving him craving more of your attention.

"Could you help me with my hair, too?" You are only a little surprised by the question, especially since you've seen him put up his hair - despite it looking rather rough around the edges and a bit too low - and be perfectly fine with it. But you wouldn't turn down the opportunity to be close with him for a little longer. Did he ask that because he wants the same thing? You want to believe it.

Mark hands you the tie around his wrist, watching you come to a stand and circle around to stand behind him. His hair looks shiny, like layers of red silk on his head, "You have nice hair," You shyly state, putting the tie around your wrist as you start to gather his long and thick hair in your hands, "I bet you'd look nice with a half-up half-down style, but keeping it all up is probably for the best so it doesn't obstruct your vision, right?"

He wanted to answer you, but your voice sends such a chill through his spine, your warm breath hitting the back of his neck as you work to make sure not a single hair has fallen astray. Your fingers are like heaven, rubbing against his scalp, combing through the heavy bundle of red hair, "The last time I wore my hair down for a fight," He holds his tongue when you lean forward, the softness of your tummy pressing into him as you lean over his body to make sure you gather the hair in front, "I-It kept getting the way and stuck on things..."

You hum softly, not even really aware that the fact you're practically laying over his back to pull back the loose strands have him swelling in his briefs. Fuck, he would do anything to fill you up right here, let everyone watch him do it too. Pretty little y/n get her pussy stuffed for being a teasing little whore, panties around your ankle, barely fitting him inside of you. 

"You'll do great tonight," You say loud enough for only him to hear, "And um... maybe after we can go out for dinner?" Mark almost laughs at the predicament, it seems you beat him to it, "I-I mean, only if you're up for it, I just know this place with really good western dishes and I wanted-"

"Would you believe me if I said I was gonna ask you the same question after the match?" Your heart lodges in your throat, he is serious... right? Of course, why else would he say that? But it feels too good to be true! Would he really ask you out for dinner? It feels like everything is just falling together with the more the day goes by; wanting to see you before the match, wanting to ask you out for dinner, kissing his knuckles, touching his hair... it feels too perfect.

Technically it is because it seems your fifteen minutes of heaven is up when the familiar face of your father approaches you both, your fingers fall from the red hair you had been playing with, "I've been looking everywhere for you, kid... and you've been here the whole time!" His hands go up in the air, urgingMark to stand up, "Turns out we are actually behind schedule, the guys who came for the match are here an hour early so we gotta get you changed and ready to go in thirty minutes. Understood?"

PoorMark looks like a deer caught in headlights, "H-Huh? I thought the matches weren't until later...?" Even you are a tad confused by the situation, the matches are always held later in the day, wouldn't it be inconvenient to start now when there aren't even any customers?

But it turns out everything happens for a reason, "That was the impression I was under, but it turns out the new kid I hired to put up posters and shit put in the wrong damn time. So not only are people expecting a match in the next thirty minutes, but I haven't even finished getting the beer and shit out." Your father seems to be off the walls, between the anger in his tone and the way his brows are knitted close together, you don't think now is the time to upset him.

"You, go get changed and ready." Your father pushes Mark in the direction to the dressing rooms, "And you," He smiles while taking your face in his palms, "If I see that redhead getting too friendly with you I will kick his ass, now go and get yourself something to eat from the back you look half-awake." That's your father for you, even protective when the nice guys are around.

Alas, you do not argue, now is probably not the best time to tell him you wanted to go to dinner with Mark later tonight. You follow his orders to go and help with the food and beverages, you're sure he wouldn't want you working, but you figured with all the stress of the times being wrong you could help even just a little bit.

This is the most chaotic you have seen the gym, people coming with nowhere to go just yet, workers running around with chairs and tables and mops, carrying cases of whiskey and soda and things alike. If you weren't used to such disorder, for sure you would have cracked under the pressure of everything. Working a gym that also happens to have a "secret" boxing system in itself is just a mess.

Deep down, you feel bad for everyone and seeing the boxers rush in and out half-dressed in their uniforms and still trying to help, but at the same time, the fact that everything has been pushed earlier simply means you not only get to go out with Mark sooner but most likely stay out with him longer. You only hope that the stress of this mishap and the fight doesn't ruin those chances and he forgets, or even worse, just doesn't want to go out anymore.

As usual, you know that is just your overactive imagination and the pessimistic side of you, always questioning your worth and whether or not an opportunity is real or not. A lot of nights you spend laughing at yourself, how silly you were for holding so much doubt and worry over nothing; now is one of those moments.

When you should be focusing on helping to carry this case of water to the back building, you're wondering how Mark is coming along. He looked a little under pressure the last time you saw him, what if he might need help? Probably not...

But he did say he needed a little good luck before the match.

Maybe visiting him will somehow ease his nerves, despite him being a big guy with a lot of confidence, you are sure even men like him can be on edge for something like a boxing match. It's like football in high school minus being in high school and the football, right? Before game adrenaline, eyeing up the enemy, mentally and physically preparing yourself for the fight of your life. Everyone wants to win.

The only difference is that you know Markwill come out on top, you've never had as much faith in anyone as you do with him... which is why your feed deters from the back door to the second building in favor of finding which room Mark may be holed up in. Every dressing room has a name on it, and there are only five being used tonight because most of the boxers being trainees.

Your father is a big perfectionist, and if he doesn't have one hundred percent faith in you, then there is no way he will have you representing him. You learned that a lot growing up, but you think that's one of the reasons you crave perfection over minuscule things like how the gym equipment is set up, and where the towels and waters out, how things are accessible. They do say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

As you make your way down the hall of vacant and occupied doors, your eyes finally catch sight of the familiar name done in the familiar striking handwriting you have seen thousand times over. Mark has this little within quirk that you can easily identify, always sharpening his letters and irregular capitalization. You've always liked coming to work to see his name on the sign-in sheet, always so bold and pop from the rest of the list of names. 

For a moment you almost hesitate to knock on his door, but it is either now or never that you speak to him. You bring your knuckles to the door, knocking three times before stepping back and waiting. You don't hear anything on the other side of the door, could he have already left? It is a possibility, out of everyone his costume has always been the most... let's just say revealing. Mark is meant to be the eye-catcher, he is young, has bold red hair, is big and intimidating all the while looking soft.

All the boxers have their teams, and Mark's just so happens to be a nice, scary piece of eye candy. Not that you mind at all, more for you to look at! But when the door doesn't open, you come to the conclusion he isn't there, turning on your heel to head back out and see if anyone needs help. You're disappointed to say the truth, having wanted to talk with him for a second before the match, but not everything can just fall into place.

You get about ten feet from the door before you hear the sound of a door handle turning and the squeak of its opening, "y/n?" The familiar voice stops you in place, you had thought the door belonged to someone else but turning to look into the crimson eyes of the person you had been hoping to see, "Hey, what's up?" He is only a little shocked to see you there, to be truthful he was hoping it was you on the other end of the door when he hurried to get to it.

But you standing there, he almost didn't believe it for a second, not until you scurried your pretty little self back the way you came to meet him at his door, "N-No! I just thought you could use a little help, you looked distressed when you had to rush out of there before." Your words sink in for a moment, you were worried. He finds it rather cute, you worrying your head over him and wanting to be a good helper.

"Is that so...?" He hums, smiling when you slowly crack under his gaze, "Can you help me get this shitty top on? Your father forgot to order a bigger size so we are trying to compromise." You're a little flustered to help him with his costume of all things, you'll be alone in a room with him and his uniform barely covers anything. Between the fact, his entire torso is revealed aside from the signature black arm sleeves, and you'll be dangerously close to him? You are melting and you aren't even entirely in his room yet.

No matter what, you refuse to turn him down, not now. You look both ways down the hall before quietly entering his room, the door shutting behind you both, "I'll be sure to order a resizing for you," You say and examine the rest of what should be a part of the top of his costume, "He must have gotten you mixed up with the new guy, but that's okay people aren't here to judge you for what you're wearing!"

Mark sits down for you, letting you adjust the arm sleeves on his arm, due to the collar and shoulder pieces not fitting him, they won't have anything to be held up with, "I find it kinda funny how big your dad is about image and impression, considering he has men beating on each other for like four hours straight." Your fingers feel hot against his skin, apply a makeshift tape to the inside of the hem of the sleeves so that it has a better grip on his biceps.

"I was thinking... maybe instead of staying for everything to finish, we could just go out as soon as my match is over?" Your heart leaps at the suggestion, you're starting to think that he can read your thoughts, that the entire time you were freaking out over that dinner date not working he heard it all and was now making sure you could rest assured. Again, once again your imagination going over the top, but it doesn't kill a girl to dream!

With nothing more to modify regarding his costume - which you realized he never needed help with it to start and he was giving an excuse for you to stick around - you circle to look him in the face, "I would like that, I don't really... I kinda only go to these matches to watch you." He knew that but you don't know that he knows, so he pretends he is shocked, "A-And because the matches are earlier than they were supposed to, maybe we have time before or after dinner to do something else?"

His mind wandered, he won't deny it, what could pretty y/n possibly have in mind for before or after dinner? He'd love for it to be you bouncing in his lap with your tits spilling out that top of yours, you'd probably love that, wouldn't you? Mark can just imagine how good you would look, squealing and gasping, doing your best to take his big cock, even crying a little because you don't wanna mess up and not be good enough for him.

Fuck, you look so tantalizing standing there, your fingers messing with one another in front of you as you wait for a response, "What did you have in mind?" Mark wants to know what sort of ideas you have brewing in your head. Here is he wanting to fuck you whenever he gets the chance, and poor you have no clue. Part of him wouldn't be surprised if you have fantasies of your own, it's always the one who acts all sweet and sugary that ends up being sour and spicy.

"I-I'm not sure... but we could figure it out later, right?" He is a little disappointed you didn't have anything specific you wanted to do, but he figured as much since everything is so last minute. Nonetheless, he can't wait to see what happens later, he knows you'll make it work just like you always do.

The silence that falls for a few brief seconds doesn't last long when a knock comes at the door, to which you look over in horror. You don't need someone walking in and seeing you here, especially if that is your father. But Mark has it under control, going over to the door and peeking out. You can't see who it is, but you can hear their conversation from start to finish.

"You're on in five, so get that uniform finished and get out there, 'kay?" You figured it was your father with how strict he is when it comes to time, "Also, have you seen y/n?" You freeze up at the mention of your name, you'll be dead if he so much as smells you in this room, which is the reason you sink further into the corner and as far away from the door as possible.

"I haven't, but I'll be done in a minute, don't worry." Less is more with your father, and thankfully you can hear the sound of him going on with whatever it was he was doing before checking on Mark. The door clicks shut and only then do you let out the breath you had been holding, "Shit, that was close..."

If only he knew how badly your heart was racing, and you wish you could say it was out of fear, but all you feel is hot, that adrenaline of your father finding his sweet little girl in the room of one of his scary boxers. What would he think? Sure he would tie you up in the tallest tower, but he would for sure hasMark's head on a pike in the gym. You almost miss that he is beginning to gather his things and ready himself to go out to the ring.

You still haven't given him any sort of good luck; no pep talk, no awkward friendship bracelet, no bouquet of cheap flowers. Why were you even here then? You wonder if he is disappointed, he did specifically say 'are you going to give me some good luck?' yesterday and here you show up empty-handed. But the last thing you want is to leave him with no sort of confirmation that you wish him the best.

Before he can leave, you are quick to make a move, "Mark-" You stop him with a grab to his wrist, crimson orbs look over broad shoulders to meet your own, "You said you needed good luck before the game..." What are you doing? You have nothing to give or show...

Markwaits in suspense, he had entirely forgotten the very words he said yesterday. He didn't mean it he was just teasing you a little like he always does. But the fact you remembered? He is flattered, albeit confused because he doesn't see anything in your hands and you don't have a bag or pockets on you... his head wanders, maybe a kiss? He would be more than just happy with that, through the roof even!

But as he watches you, tense where you stand and caught in some sort of conflict, the last thing he expects is to see you bend forward. He isn't quite sure what it is you're doing at first, but then your hands shimmy up and under your skirt.

What makes it even more of a smack to his face is when he sees something pink and lacy being slipped down your legs. Maybe it was how dumbfounded he was, but until you slipped your pretty legs out from the fabric and hold it out for him, does he realize that little pink lace is your panties, "A-A good luck charm for Red Riot from his... from his number one fan."

The two of you stand there for what seems like forever, did you kill him? He looks almost dead where he stands, his eyes wide, and locked on the bundle of fabric in your hand. You almost worry you did too much, "Kick some ass." You quickly take his hand and shove your panties in them, hurrying out the room with the most flustered yet satisfied grin on your face. You did it, sure it may have been a bit much, but your feelings are out there and the ball is in his field. Now it's his job to decide whether he accepts it or not.

You hurry out to the back building, knowing your father is most likely being driven up the wall by not knowing where you are. You concoct an excuse in your head, you were just in the bathroom because something you ate didn't sit right. He would believe that, right? He's always doting after you like you're still his little princess dressing up and walking around in sequins and glitter.

The building is a lot more crowded than you expected, but it is easy to find your father after shimmying through the crowd, "Where the hell were you, y/n? I was asking everyone and running around like crazy, I thought some psycho had-" You stop him with a gentle pat to his back, oh if only daddy knew what exactly it was you were doing, "Whatever, it doesn't matter, right? You're here, and you better be making sure you leeches don't go over and try to steal snacks."

Almost directly after, your father is surfing through the crowd to try and sell gym merch, memberships, popcorn, and peanuts. He has always been a businessman at heart, and you are anything but shocked to see him with his bag of random foods and trinkets to sell to customers.

The chaos doesn't last long, the familiar ring of the bell that calls attention to the crowd has the room quieting. You are familiar with the process of hyping up the crowd, when you were little and watching boxing matches on television with your father, you would imitate the spokesperson to make him laugh. You always wanted to do something like that, have all eyes on you as you do nothing but talk.

But you grew out of it inevitably, though it doesn't mean watching someone else do it makes it any less enjoyable, "Anyway, let me stop boring you all with meaningless conversation... let me welcome the man representing this very ring, Red Riot!" Everything else was a blur, Mark happily coming out, but if anyone could tell something was off it was you. The way his eyes wolfishly searched the crowds, as if he is expecting something or someone to be there...

Only after the spokesperson finishes introducing the redhead to the crowd of wild and returning fans, does he return to that strange behavior of looking around, he doesn't even pay attention to his opponent who is trying to antagonize and rile him up. What you least expect is for him to walk straight across the ring to where you are and lean down so you can get a good look at his face, "You're crazy," He whispers with one of the scariest smiles you've ever seen, "I think I figured out what we could do before dinner, you better be in that dressing room when this is over."

If anything could describe the things you felt right then, it would be both fear and excitement. Especially when he shamelessly reaches through the ring, knowing your father is completely distracted and grabs you by the collar of your shirt, and pulls you forward. You trip over your own feet, holding down your skirt when you remember you gave your panties to the crimson-haired man that has you in the palm of his hand.

Mark presses the sweetest kiss to your cheek, and if it weren't for the fact you both were in public, you would have grabbed his face and smashed your lips right onto his. But you take what you can get and flash him your prettiest smile before he has to let you go and return his attention to the man he is supposed to fight.

Everything feels surreal, your fingers constantly reaching up to touch the exact spot his soft lips had found your skin. God, if you were to die you would be totally fine with it after having that kiss, the match feels like a blur. Usually, you are ready to cheer him on, but now? All you can manage to do is watch and wait for it to be over, and with the way, the fight is going? You're certain the poor guy he is against is going to fall any second. 

Mark dodges the third punch the guy has thrown, you're starting to think he is growing desperate and exhausted. Why else is he just throwing random and uncoordinated punches? You've seen it a thousand times before, they always start going wild when they are tired and desperate. And you know Mark well, he isn't a fan of a sloppy opponent. This is why, although you flinched, you're also not surprised by the force he puts into his punch to humble the man in front of him. You hate how messy things can get, the sweat on them, blood... it's like watching two wild bears claw at one another's throats.

"Ouch! Looks like you're gonna pass out there, buddy... thinking of calling it quits and handing the win to Red?" You wish he would say yes, that he would just give up and let Mark have it for the night. You can barely find it in you to worry over some boxing match when he demanded you to meet him in his room. All of these scenarios are burning through your head, and even if it isn't what you want, you would be more than happy with another kiss.

Between the punches and swings, the blood you just noticed was dripping from Mark's nose and onto the lips he had kissed you with, it is all so overwhelming in addition to your hormones going crazy. You have never wished for a boxing match withMark to be over so badly, and it isn't even that you don't want to see him fight! You just want to see him elsewhere, specifically in private... specifically where he is undressed.

But when you see the man get Mark in a headlock, your heart drops for a second, he has this, right? You know he does, but you hate how long it's taking him to get out of that. You always get nervous for him when he takes a few seconds too long to take the advantage back, "Oh, do we have a possible turn around?" You can't stand him being stuck like that.

The only thing you know that could possibly give him the energy he needs to get out of that headlock is someone cheering for him. And sure the whole room is cheering from him, but he specifically told you, 'hearing you cheer is different from hearing everyone else, so use your voice!'

With all you have, you take a deep breath and cup your mouth to amplify your voice, "You got this,Mark!" And if anyone can pick your name from the crowd, it is him. It's like watching someone suddenly going through a drug boost, the way his arms coming up and tug himself free of the grasp around his head, all you can do is continue to cheer for him until he finally lands a good enough punch stun the guy. Red eyes find you in the crowd, and although he looks scary with the swollen lip and blood from his nose, you still get butterflies when he gives you that charming smile and a wink.

"Never mind, Red Riot has once again held his ground! Don't forget to place your bets in the back on who will win and possibly receive a free gym membership for two months!" It feels like you have been standing there for a million years, the snack table isn't even at the top of your priority list right now, you couldn't care less if they stole everything including the table!

The fight is already in the hands of the very man you have been cheering for this whole time, you didn't doubt it for a second. It is only a matter of either that man tapping out or Mark knocking him out and you don't care which it is. You are on the tips of your toes with how things are looking, Mark has insane stamina but you can tell he is getting a little fed up and tired, "Knock him out, Mark!" 

He lands a punch to the abdomen, the man curling over to armor his stomach, which anyone knows is the worst thing you can do. Right then and there, you knew it was over, especially when right after Mark knocks him directly in the nose and the guy goes falling back. He may not be unconscious, but his body language, the wooziness to his movements... you know he is finished.

"Aaaand~" Everyone counts down from three, "We have checkmate! But are we surprised with who is the winner? No!" You don't even listen to what the man has to say, not when the referee climbs the ring to hold Red Riot's fist in the air, a formal symbol that he has taken this week's fight. 

And when he looks right at you with that goofy smile of his, you can't help but to practically jumping in place with your biggest smile, blowing him a kiss. Of course, you didn't forget his demand for you to meet him in the dressing room. The moment you see him climbing out of the ring, you are high tailing out of that building. Could your father be calling for you? Maybe. Do you care? Absolutely not.

Not when you are holding down your skirt and running double-time right out of that humid building to get to where you need to be. Every muscle in your body is aching, every nerve aflame. If you could describe what it was you were feeling, it's like teetering over the edge right before you cum. To feel everything in your body working, like a thousand electric shocks straight to your core. 

You're so focused on getting down that hallway and into that room, your ears are deaf to the oncoming footsteps rapidly approaching behind you, "Gotcha!" A scream catches in your throat when you recognize the arms that wrap around your midsection and pick you up, no one else wears black arm sleeves like this, "C'mere." His hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look back at him just so his lips could finally meet yours.

And you should be disgusted by the blood from his nose rubbing off on your upper lip, or how you can taste the iron on your tongue. But you have waited so long to kiss him like this, even if it wasn't you imagined a hundred times over, it feels better than you could ever concoct in your imaginative brain. His lips are not at all chapped, they are soft and plush and perfectly mold with yours. 

Only when his tongue playfully swipes at your bottom teeth do the two of you break apart for air, eyes locked together in a moment of silence. You've never felt like this, as if you have a million and one little feathers moving around all inside of you, "I don't what I'm gonna do to you first." His voice is like a growl against your nape, the vibrations deep and rumbling into your sensitive skin.

He doesn't let you go yet, his arms remain tight around your torso as he carries you in front of him the rest of the way to the room with your toes barely touching the ground, "What are you going to- ah~!" Your eyes tear up when he sinks his teeth into your neck, slamming the door behind him with his heel, "M-Mark... mm~" He doesn't let up on your neck, sucking at the already darkening bite mark he has created. If someone were to tell you that you would be in this situation, with Mark Markholding you snug against his front and forcing you to bend over the vanity in his dressing room, you wouldn't believe them.

"Fuck, I was so close to grabbing you and dragging you right back in here when you gave me these," He digs your panties from his pocket, "You thought that was cute, huh? Tugging these off right in front of me like that?" You know he isn't expecting an answer, but you can't expect but to give him the smuggest nod you can while looking at him in the mirror, "You think you're so cute, don't you?"

The way he speaks with you, it's almost on the dot with every fantasy you have had. To feel like the perfect bittersweet brat just for him, if this is the reaction you will get then you plan to push his buttons more often. Every word that leaves him has you further hooked on his line and you will do anything just for him to keep whispering those things in your ear, for him to grab your face and make you meet his eyes.

"I wanna kiss again..." You give him your sweetest pout, doing your best to peer over your shoulder and trying to reach behind you to bring him closer, but he is having none of your little needinesses. Your hands are gathered easily in one of his big palms, pinned in front of you at the desk, "Mark, please~" 

He gives you a shake of his head, his free hand coming up to grab your chin and keep you still for him, "Nuh-uh, look at you..." His thumb swipes at your upper lip, "Got blood all over you, babe..." You felt it and tasted it the moment you kissed him, but you couldn't care less, your tongue dragging over your upper lip to clean it up. And you didn't miss the wolfish look in his eyes, watching your tongue drag over that blood and smear it even more.

Before your tongue can retract back into your mouth, he is quick to lean forward and press his lips to yours so his tongue can pry its way into your mouth. You don't fight it either, this is exactly what you had wanted and you are getting it. His tongue tastes like mint and a hint of iron from his busted bottom lip, but it is all good to you, if you could you would dance your tongue with his until you were on the brink of asphyxiation.

But you know that isn't possible, not when he is already pulling away from the kiss in favor of leaving a trail of them down your tender neck. It tickles, but you take it like you're supposed to, only somewhat flinching when he finds the bruise he had already left. It feels like needles, burning under the playful tracing of his tongue over the bite marks in your flesh. 

"Jerk..." You're silenced with a sharp spank, and you should be whining over it, but you've wanted this time and time again. You have no room to complain that it left your poor ass burning, not when it has you craving another. He likes your little resistance, how you give him something to dance around. As much as he enjoys the idea of you being his submissive little lamb, this little game you have going on is all the more interesting.

Without warning the bottom of your skirt is tugged up, your bare and wet pussy coming right into view, "Look at you, walking around with nothing under this... I bet you enjoyed that, look at how wet you are." Mark's hand is so hot on your ass, tugging it to pull your pussy nice and open for him to look at. You look so soft, so sweet, if he could he would take a nice bite out of you right now.

"Fuck, you think you can fit it?" You try to answer, you really do, but you can't stop focusing on his hand mocking you. The way it slowly circles your ass, the pad of his thumb barely grazing at your slit, "You want it, don't you?" You nod slowly while watching him through the mirror, how his abdominal muscles flex with every movement of his body, the sweat that sticks to his skin, not to mention the evident strain in his pants.

Everything feels hot, from the tip of your nose down to your toes, it's like you've been engulfed in hellfire... in a good way. Everything he does to you feels good, even if it's just locking eyes with you in the mirror, or readjusting your hips to take in every dip, curve, and roll on your pretty self. It doesn't matter what he does, and you know that the reason he has you so worked up is simply that it is him.

You are aware that the two of you are strapped for time, being here and like this is as unconventional as it can get. You know you can't be too loud, and you both can't take as long as you want, but you plan to make the most of it. If anything, you still have time to possibly exchange that dinner date for something else and you're sureMark wouldn't mind that, not with how you can feel his breath down your spine.

As much as you dreamed of your first encounter with him to be romantic, the moment you slipped off your panties and put them in his hand drew the line between a romantic night out and the potential that night you both won't be able to keep your hands to yourselves, "You're gonna watch me fuck you," He points at the mirror for you to look, not that you haven't been staring at yourselves through it this whole time, "I want you to see the slutty faces you make."

For a moment, you actually believed that he would finally fuck you, as foolish as that is, but rather than pulling off his own pants he is guiding you to sit on the vanity desk with your front showing in the mirror. The awkward position forces your pretty thighs open, giving you a look at just how ruined your pretty little cunny is, how your slick sticks to it and dribbles just a little onto the vanity you are sat on.

No words are exchanged between the both of you, his eyes are locked on your changing expression while yours are locked on his wandering hands. His fingers snake their way from your waist, gradually moving upward and under your shirt. His palms are rough and calloused, still wrapped in the gauze you had done prior to the fight, pulling at the sensitive skin of your torso. The fabric has the hairs on your neck standing up and when his large hands grope your tits through your bra you feel a familiar electric shock goes straight to your core.

"What're you making that face for?" You hadn't realized the way your face scrunched up in response to his hands, and the cocky smirk on his face only makes you all the more embarrassed, "Are you sensitive here...?" To test his intuition, his fingers push under your bra to feel at your bare tits, grinning at how soft they are and the way they fit so nicely in his palms.

You hate how it makes you feel, how every swipe of his thumb over your nipple has your hips bucking just a little, "M-Mark... mm- ah!" You're caught off guard by the mean pinch he gives your pert nipples, giving the sensitive buds an observant twist, watching your every reaction and every little twitch of those soft thighs. You look perfect, completely at his mercy and leaning back into him as his hands do what they please under your shirt, "Hah... y-you don't have to be so harsh..."

"No?" You shake your head in response, a cute little pout pulling at your bottom lip, "But I like how you react and look," One of his hands pull from beneath your shirt in favor of hiking up the bottom of your skirt to reveal your swollen and dripping pussy, "You seem to like it, too... making a mess all over yourself." He isn't wrong, you love it. You love the burn of your nipples with every painful twist, how your tits feel sore from his tight squeezes.

But simply touching them aren't enough for him, he wants to see them. You're already a pretty little thing, he doesn't doubt for a second your tits will only add to the list of things he likes about it. As well as to the list of things that turn him on, you being at the very top of that list.

You peer over your shoulder expectantly, eyes flicking from his down to his lips, you give him the only hint he needs to lean forward and slot his lips with yours. His tongue tastes just as good in your mouth as it did before, dancing teasingly and brush under your tongue. It's a wet, icky feeling but also one you wouldn't want to share with anyone but him. And with you so distracted by his tongue dancing with yours and tracing over your teeth, it gives him the perfect chance to do as he pleases.

One hand is swift with guiding your shirt up and over your tits, and it doesn't take much effort for his two fingers to get the clasp behind your back to snap open. The only obstacle being the straps that prevent him from completely taking the article of clothing off, but you're already on it, all without breaking the kiss you are sharing with him. While you work your arms out of the straps but also keeping your shirt on just in case you two have to make a run for it, Mark focuses his attention on your spread legs.

Opening just one of his eyes allows him to see the arousal that sticks to your cunny shimmers against the light of the room, all he has done was kiss you and play with your tits... you're a perverted girl, getting this wet over nothing, he bets you were thinking things that would leave even him a little shocked. Maybe later he will make it his mission to drag those fantasies out of you.

With the way you're situated on the vanity, feet planted on the desk as to give him the best view of your entire body in the mirror, it is easy for you to spread your legs impossibly wider for his hand that continues to slowly travel down your navel. The kiss breaks, only for you to little his jaw and neck with kisses, stopping right under his ear to begin sucking your own hickey into the sensitive skin.

Nothing could have prepared you for when his fingers finally met your throbbing clit, dragging over the neglected nerve, barely applying pressure with how he circles your clit and smears your arousal over your pussy, "You're a messy little thing, aren't you?" A pathetic hum of agreement passes your lips at his question, one you know he didn't expect you to answer. But he doesn't pay too much attention to that, not when he is dragging his fingers down between your folds to spread you open, "Fuck, you're so tight..."

Mark prods his middle finger at your not-yet-prepped entrance, watching how your walls suck his finger inside in desperation for some sort of relief. All this teasing and beating around the bush has your poor insides churning from the suspense. It's only one finger, but just as you expected that one finger feels a million times better than your two fingers. He knows how to curl them, to rub at the spongy patches inside of you, "Mm~! I-It feels good there..."

"Where?" He coos at your relaxed expression, "Here?" His finger rudely jabs at the spot he knows is making every muscle in your body go lax, to which you flash him a less than pleasant glare, "I'm just playing with you." His index finger is careful with how it slowly eases itself inside, pushing in with your middle fingers and getting you used to the stretch. It feels good, no discomfort in the slightest, and you can assume it's because of the way he continues to mess with that single spot that had your knees buckling.

His fingers push in as far as they can go just to mess with your walls, grinding and curling at the sensitive patches of nerves, only to remove both fingers entirely just to give your poor clit a few wet pats, "Ngh-Markiii, stop teasing it hurts..." He knows it does, he can see it in your twisted expression with every tap your clit receives, how you go from relaxing in his arms to flinching at the abuse.

But he can't help himself, not with how adorable you look bucking into his hand when he circles your clit, or your thighs twitching at the intrusion of his fingers. You look stunning, grabbing at his wrist when he is too rough, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. If it means seeing you continue to make such soft noises and to continue to breathe out his name like that, he'll keep doing what he has to do.

"If you don't want me teasing you, what do you want?" Oh, he can tell you weren't ready for that. It reads entirely in your flustered expression, and his fingers continuing to pump inside of you aren't doing anything to help... especially with the lewd squelching sounds your cunny just can't seem to stop making. It's humiliating, to say the least, how your pussy sucks his fingers inside desperately, the eroticism of watching his fingers disappear inside of you.

"M-Mark...: You don't even want to say all the things you want him to do to you, how do you tell him you've always wanted this? That night and night again you have touched yourself to the thought of him doing just about everything to you, from bouncing you in his lap, riding his face, bending you over, and having his way with you. You don't know where to start.

Mark can read it in your eyes that you have your words lodged in your throat, "If you don't tell me, this is all you're gonna get," He emphasizes his words with the pats of his fingers against your clit, "So be a good girl and speak up." You know he won't let you go until you give him exactly what he wants, the words are right on the tip of your tongue!

Your breath gets caught in your throat when his fingers slip out from your cunny, only to begin rubbing your clit back and forth, "I-I..." You squeak as he only seems to be rougher with you, purposely making you trip over your own words, "Mark~ fuck, fuck fuck-" Your fingers dig into his wrist, "I-I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-" A strangled breath gets caught in your throat when he quickly pulls his fingers from your clit, "W-Wait, I was close,Mark!"

"Answer me and I'll let you cum." 

His lips on your throat make it all the more difficult, but without the added pressure of his fingers abusing your poor cunny, you finally muster up the words to tell him, "I want you..." He gives you that look, the one that shows he expects more, "I want you inside me-"

"What do you want inside?" He coos, fingers brushing under your chin to bring your focus to him, "My fingers?" You shake your head with a subtle smile, "Hm... this?" He sticks out his tongue at you, only to earn himself another shake of your head. He feigns ignorance, pretending he has no idea what you could be possibly talking about. 

Your sneaky fingers reach behind you, Mark didn't even notice because of how absorbed he was with your cute tits, cupping at the bulge in his pants, "This..." He didn't expect you to be so bold, not after how stubborn you were just being, but he likes the playful squeeze you give him, "Does that answer your question?" Your snooty little comment earns a sharp pinch to your clit.

"Yeah, it does," Through the mirror you can see him undoing the belt that holds up his pants, watching the cargo material fall around his thighs and revealing just how strained his aroused cock is against his briefs, "C'mon, get down and bend over the desk." You didn't expect him to be so quick to give you what you want, but deep down you think he still has something up his sleeve.

Without arguing, you climb down from the vanity as you were told, watching Mark in the mirror as you lean forward and put your weight on the desk. As much as you were watching him, he was also watching you. His eyes dragging down the curve of your back to your soaked pussy peaking from under the hem of your shirt, he has imagined this very scenario time and time again, and here you are right in front of him.

Somehow the real thing requires so much more thought than if it were only in his head, knowing whether you're okay, making sure you're not uncomfortable. No longer is it all just him and his dirty thoughts, he has to worry about your feelings too. And he is fine with that, but he never expected himself to feel like he has two tons on his shoulders by simply looking at you. It's one thing for you to be in his head bent over, but for you to be bent over actually in front of him? Well, let's just say his nerves aren't cooperating.

Maybe you noticed this, enough that briefly stand up from your previous position to meet his gaze, "I'm kinda nervous..." If he knows it isn't just him that's a little fearful of the unknown, there is a possibility it could bring back his confidence, "We can start slow and find our flow, right? that's how it's supposed to be." You're right, and he knows you are, maybe it was the thought that you had these high expectations that were making him nervous.

Little does he realize, as much as you want to be pretty enough and good enough for him, he wants to be just the same for you. But seeing the way you look at him, no sort of judgment or expectancy behind your eyes, giving him your signature smile, helps to melt all of that frustration and uncertainty away. You've always been good at doing that.

He isn't sure what came over him to cup your cheeks like that and pull you into a kiss, and sure the two of you knocked teeth from how urgent the kiss was at first, but the passion behind the kiss seemed to cast every sliver of doubt and second-guessing aside. All of your focus is on him, and his focus is on you in that very moment. 

The electricity that surges through you with every push of your lips against his, tugging at his lip only for him to bite back and do the same to you. It's like you two found a middle ground, the kiss connecting you both in a way nothing else could, blindly guiding you two in the position you both need to feel comfortable. Somehow you finding yourself seated on the vanity desk and his hips between your spread thighs.

You break the kiss, lungs burning from holding your breath for as long as you could, eyes falling down between your spread legs, "Ah..." Your breath catches at the sight of him beginning to push inside, you didn't get a well enough look at how big he is, but the feeling alone is a little unnerving. You aren't even sure how much is in, but it feels like more than you truly think it is.

"Don't pay attention to that," His voice is hushed, grabbing your attention and making you pick your head back up, "Does it hurt?" To be honest, it doesn't, it's more like this full stretch that is only slightly discomforting. Something you weren't prepared for but believe you can handle. You shake your head, not wanting him to think he is doing something wrong, which he isn't.

His hair looks so soft, albeit messy because of the fight, but nonetheless still silky and you can't keep your fingers from combing into it, "I want another kiss," Your fingers tug the tie from his hair and watch the red locks fall to lay over his broad shoulders, "Unless you're too nervous to kiss me, hm?" 

Your challenge ignites a fire within his chest, you sure know what things to say and when to get him riled up. And what you just said about him being too nervous? Oh, he isn't having it. Mark doesn't even need to speak for you to see the "game on" look in his eyes, and it doesn't make you any more shocked when his hand finds your throat and uses it to pull you forward.

The air is knocked from your lungs at the jerk of your body forward to meet him halfway, but you don't complain for a second, not when he gives you the confidence you had thought disappeared. It feels good to have that authoritative role back in him, for him to be taking back control with how he wants you and what he wants to do to you. Through the sloppy kiss that he has you locked in, you can feel your body being laid back on the vanity.

To your surprise, you have enough room to properly lay back, and with that Mark takes advantage of it. The desk perfectly supports your weight, allowing him the chance to grab your right leg and hoist it over his shoulder to create a more open angle for him to have you in. Immediately you can tell the difference in the feeling with this position, it pushes deeper at your walls rather than just rubbing past those spongy patches.

"Ngh... fuck, th-there it..." You can't form the right words to tell him how good it feels, even with the slow and controlled pace he has set for you, "Mark, I can take more. Please." You don't even try to hide the need in your tone, how it comes out as almost a whine rather than a polite little request. And he doesn't mind the demand, if you need more he is going to give it to you. After all, you're used to being daddy's little princess.

"You really think you can take more?" You nod your head, your hum of affirmation coming out as a moan, "Yeah? I don't think you can." His words contradict his actions, his back arching forward as he picks up the pace. No longer is the room echoing with nothing but moans and the obnoxiously wet sounds of your overwhelmed cunny, but the added volume of skin slapping skin makes what you both are doing here all the riskier. 

His cock is ruthless, no matter the pace he uses you can feel every vein and the slight curve of his member, it feels too much even if he isn't giving you enough. The size itself is a problem, and he likes to use that to tease you; you're too small, you can't take it... it doesn't matter. If he finds a way to make you feel little and weak in comparison to him? He goes for it.

And you don't mind, you like the dominance, how he keeps you pinned down with one hand on your throat and the other pinning your left thigh down. You feel completely at his mercy where you lay, unable to do anything but take it, "Mark, fuck, fuck-" 

"Shh," He warns you, "Don't forget where we are." And you haven't, the whole time you two have been doing this all you could do was worry over someone walking in or by or something, "Don't need your father finding out his little girl is getting her sloppy pussy stretched open... and it'll make it worse if he finds out I'm the one doing it." You know that, but you're a big girl, you don't need your father's permission to get laid!

Unfortunately, you keep that attitude too. Why should you have to keep quiet? You're having fun, that's no one's business but yours and Mark's. "B-But... but I like it-" You gasp when your right leg is brought down from your shoulder in favor of both knees being pinned to your shoulders, "Ah- too much, too much, too much~!" 

Mark, as much as he loves your sexy moans and cutesy whimpers, he doesn't love the idea of either of you getting caught like this, and what better way to fix the noise problem than shoving the panties you kindly give him right in your mouth? And it's only better that the pink of your panties looks nice hanging from your glossy lips. 

"That's what you get, babe..." He pants out each word and adds salt to the wound by flashing a cocky grin, "Bad girls who can't keep quiet when they're told get dirty panties in their mouth." If only he knew the things he was doing to you, the strikes to your core his cock cause, how his intimidating dominance over you has your insides turning, "But you don't need your voice to make you feel good, right? Look at you..."

It's ironic that he asks you to take a look at yourself, a mirror is just behind you and you can't see yourself from this angle. Luckily for you, your redhead is one step ahead to make sure you can really see how slutty you look right now with those panties shoved in your mouth. Mark takes your hips, wordlessly guiding you to turn around onto your stomach and plant your feet back on the ground.

You are forced to look yourself in the eyes, to see the little tears pricking the corners of your eyes, look at your swollen lips and your panties, and to make it all the more humiliating, Mark is standing right behind you. He is staring right at you, making sure you know he is there and watching you, and if that doesn't make you nervous... you aren't sure what does.

A hand comes down to grip your chin, fixing your head to look straight at the mirror and more specifically yourself, "Don't look away from that mirror, understood?" His voice is at least two octaves lower than before, rumbling in the pit of his chest and vibrating against your back. It shakes your core, but in the best way possible, tingles running up your spine and back down.

It isn't long before the warmth and fullness of his cock is sinking back inside of your gummy walls, making itself comfortable deep inside of you to the point his tip kisses gently at your cervix, "It's all the way in, y/n..." He whispers into your ear, "You ready? You think you can take all of it?" The only right answer is to nod your head, humming desperately and letting him know you're ready, you want it. And who is he to deny that? His pretty girl wants her cunny stretched, why shouldn't he give in and let her have it just how she wants? 

Unlike before he doesn't let you prepare yourself, oh no, the pace went from zero all the way to one hundred in exactly one second. It was like being plowed into, the force of his hips bouncing you off and into the desk. And if you looked horrible and worn out before, you looked twice as bad now. Your sparkly eyes rolling back to make way for the oncoming flow of tears, your entire body trembling with his thrusts.

"Mmph~! Nngh-" Even through the panties he can hear you, muffled and incoherent but still like music to his ears. You take him so well, struggling maybe, but you don't complain for a second about him being too big... and it probably is because your panties are down your throat. But if you really did need him to stop, he is sure you would find another way.

"Feels good, right?" He can't tell if you're nodding or that's just your head moving in sync with his forceful jerks, "Having this little pussy nice and filled... bet you couldn't wait for this the entire match, right?" If you were able to answer, you would be screaming yes from the hills! But instead, you can only stare him in the eyes through the mirror, tears and all, and he can see just how drunk you are on his cock. A pretty whore for him to fuck.

If he had known you were such a perverted slut, so needy to have a dick train you, he would have grabbed you by your cheeky yoga leggings and made you ride his dick while he did bench presses. And seeing you like this? You would have done it without question.

"You're getting all tense, y/n..." His eyes trail down to watch himself disappearing inside of you, and the ripple of your ass smacking his hips, "You gonna cum? This pretty cunt gonna make a mess for me?" You're more than just close to cumming, it's like a fire in the pits of your core, and every pass of his member inside of you has your thighs jumping and twitching, "Yeah, that's it, babe."

Oh, you wish he wouldn't call you that, the things it does to you... and the overwhelming pleasure of his tip plunging into your poor cervix? You feel like you're on the verge of passing out, "Don't look away," He keeps your head straight and makes you look straight ahead at yourself, "Watch yourself cum." You aren't even sure if you have it in you to hold it in long enough to properly look at yourself, let alone the energy to keep your head up.

Your eyes are locked on the mirror, your breath fogging it up with the forceful pants your lungs push out. If you were wearing makeup, you're sure it would be leaving streaks down your cheeks from the tears. They aren't tears of pain, not even close, but rather ones of overstimulation. You aren't sure how much longer you can last, but you don't have time to dwell over it, not when you watch the hand not pinning your waist to the vanity snakes down between your legs.

If the panties weren't in your mouth, you would be protesting and begging him not to. You aren't sure you could handle it! His cock is already tearing your poor cunny in half, his fingers will surely break you. But you can only watch in fear, and anxiously wait for his fingers to meet your throbbing pearl between your legs.

"Mmph~! Mm-" Your nails dig into the desk and back arches to try and get away from his fingers, but Mark doesn't give up, "Mm! Mmm~!" He knows you're protesting, he knows it's too much for your sensitive little cunny. But he wants to see you come undone, to see more of your pretty tears and those sparkly eyes roll back in absolute bliss. And with the vicious pace his fingers inflict on your burning clit, you aren't far from that edge.

"That's it, babe... that's it, I wanna taste this pussy when finish. I bet you taste so sweet, just as sweet as you look right now..." And he isn't lying, you've never looked as stunning as you do right now. No angel could compare to you, nothing. The sweat coating your skin and your juices tainting the apex of your thighs, "I got you, baby-"

He doesn't have the chance to finish his pep talk before he feels you come undone beneath him, your squeals and whimpers completely muffled by your stuffed mouth. Your poor nerves going off of the wall, thighs jumping and nails digging at the wood of the vanity, and your pussy squirting all over his cock and onto your thighs. You're embarrassed by the mess, but to Mark? It is the biggest ego stroker he could have encountered... he got you to squirt.

"Fuck, good girl, good fucking girl..." Mark slows the thrusts, as much as he wants to cum he can see how worn out you are, "Take a deep breath, princess. Just like that," You try your best to do as he asks, but it's so difficult with how quick your climax comes and the panties being in your mouth. You put all of your weight on the vanity, fingers clawing at it as if it could help ease the electricity shooting through every inch of you.

Mark sees you and he thinks he may have been too rough, "Shh, c'mere." The panties are taken from your mouth, saliva soaked into the thin fabric and sticking to your chin, "You okay?" Fingers, although rough and calloused, gently brush over your cheek to gather your tears, he worries he may have forgotten himself somewhere and been too hard on you. 

And your expression, weak and twisted, for a moment makes him feel horrible. What had he done? This was his first time having sex with you, something he has wanted for so long, and he just screwed it up. His eyes watched your every move, lips opening to say something and hesitating for a minute, you were probably pissed at him.

"Y-You..." Little tears prick at your eyes and he panics, "You didn't even cum inside of me, was I not doing enough?" For a moment, silence befalls the both of you other than your pathetic little sniffles. Were you really... that worried over him finishing? Is that really what has you on the verge of crying? If he could, he would eat you up right where you stand in front of him, you're too cute.

Two hands cup your swollen cheeks and bring your face close, "You want me to cum inside of you? That's what you worked up?" You nod your head all while leaning into his hands, "You're so cute, but I think you need to take a break, babe. You're shaking." He can tell you're teetering right at the edge of too much, he fears if he does anymore he may actually hurt you.

"But I want..." He shakes his head and kisses the tip of your nose, "Then... Then I'll suck it off." You won't let up so easily, he just gave you the best climax of your life, and if he thinks you'll let him walk out of this room with blue balls he is more than just wrong. 

Mark wants to argue, he knows you should clean yourself up and you both should get out of here. He isn't even sure what time it is or how long it has been, the fights could very well be over and neither of you has any clue. But what harm can you getting on your knees do? Maybe give you a sore throat, but he is sure with how loud you were, muffled or not, you are already on the train to a strained voice.

"Make it quick, I still wanna take you to dinner." Even after all of this, somehow taking you to dinner may just be the highlight of the night. Sex is great, but for Mark Markit is the intimate, quiet moments that mean the world to him. All those times you would open early or stay late with him, he cherished those memories. Unlike him, you could not care less about dinner or memorable moments or anything, you're far more focused on what his cum might taste like. You've thought of it a million times, and finally, you will be able to know. 

You ease yourself onto your knees in front of him, Mark fixing his pants out of your way and leaning back against the desk as he watches you make yourself comfortable. If he thought you looked beautiful lying underneath him with your knees by your ears, he isn't sure what to call you on your knees. Your gorgeous eyes looking at him through those lashes of yours, tongue dragging out and over your lips.

"Don't hurt yourself, pretty girl... I saw you struggling before when I started picking up the pace." You don't like being talked down to, but you know that's just him trying to get you worked up and you won't let him have that satisfaction. 

All of your weight is put onto your knees as you lean forward, the tip of your warm tongue licking your own cum from his cock, "Be nice to me or I'll use my teeth." He can't argue with that, and he knows you will do it. Your tongue drags over the veins, tracing them carefully, breath hot and fanning over his ready-to-burst member. If he had it his way, he would grab your pretty face and fuck this squishy mouth of yours, but he already pushed it and he wants you to go at your pace now.

"Fuck, that's good... tap it on your tongue for me," You stick out your tongue and do as he says, "Shiiiit, you look so hot right now." You know you do, if anyone could see the hearts in Mark's eyes, it's you... and those hearts are practically jumping out while he watches you rubbing your tongue over his messy dick, doing everything but putting it in your mouth, "C'mon, y/n... please."

"You want me to put it in my mouth?" You feign innocence while looking up at him, giving him puppy eyes and suckling at his tip. Mark nods breathlessly, even so much as adding an extra, needy please to really show you how much he wants it. He was so kind to give you exactly what you want, it would mean not to do the same for him!

Making yourself comfortable, you open your mouth wide enough to fit his tip inside, tasting that sweetness of your juices on your tongue. Is this what heaven feels like? For him to be guiding your mouth on his dick, cooing words of praise every time you successfully ease the tip in your throat without hurting yourself or choking too much.

The two of you see, hear, and know nothing but each other at this moment. Eyes locked together and no sound other than him breathing shakily and the rare pass of your name on his tongue, mixed in with the disgusting wet sounds of your throat stretching over him. You two wouldn't have been able to pick up on the footsteps coming down the hall, or the call of two very familiar names who just so happen to be missing at the same time.

And neither of you would have been prepared for the door to open, let alone, for the one person both of you feared catching you to be standing in the doorway in shock, horror... and Mark locked eyes for just a second, a second that allowed to see the seven layers of hell in your father's eyes, before the door slammed shut and feet moved down the hall faster than you could pull off of Mark's cock. 

"I... I think we should get out of here before he comes back."

[twistmusings]

florid and (arguably) azujade are feasting this chapter update. congrats us

Honestly Anon, you're so right.

Chapter 7 is so interesting for Octavinelle - largely because we do get to see so much of how they think of each other and themselves, and we get to see so much of their relationship with each other. Honestly the shippers are thriving, but so are so many Jade and Floyd fans.

CW: Spoilers, Twisted Wonderland Character Shipping and mentions of Neurodivergence under the cut in case that isn't your cup of tea. It's very long and examines Floyd and Riddle's and Jade and Azul's dynamics throughout TWST and is sort of Character Analysis as well. Special note that there are Visual spoilers under the cut that will spoil some of the jokes from this chapter, so proceed with caution.

First, Floyd, who we see is outright distraught when everything goes right. Honestly at this point it makes me, as an ADHD person, struggle to not view Floyd as also having ADHD. I tend to not actually assign the characters neurodivergence or diagnose them, but honestly his characteristics really point to him being understimulated and just generally miserable because he's not doing anything and that's boring him. I have heard this from so many other folks with ADHD and have experienced it myself. I think, truth be told, that Floyd is a really good picture of a young person with ADHD. Especially as someone who was just properly diagnosed later in life - I would get these random, massive intense moods and would never be able to explain them until I began to suspect I had ADHD. If we consider Floyd's general characterization - he hates to be 'bored', he hates to force himself to do things that he doesn't want to do, he had random, intense moods, randomly struggling with some academics while really excelling in the things that interest him, comparing himself to other people and not understanding why he's different ... like, yeah, as a person with ADHD I relate to him so much. It's so interesting to me because Japan in general has a lot of medical bias against diagnosing and managing neurodiversity, so I think generally speaking, he's honestly a really well written example of someone who is struggling. I think his portrayal is probably so important for young people who play the game because it makes them feel normal and accepted, and I can't deny that.

And then Floyd and Riddle... these two are so funny. Like, if you had to ask me any character that shows having a crush on someone else canonically, I would probably point to Floyd and how he acts with Riddle. Considering that they're teenagers and we know neither he nor Riddle have any experience dating (none of the characters except Ace really do), I think it's really charming because like... are they annoying the fuck out of each other? Yeah, and I think that's pretty realistic for people who are 17 who have crushes on each other. Of course, I don't want to say I support people annoying or antagonizing their partners, but they are young people who are still learning how life works. I realize that teasing =/= having a crush on someone, but like...

In the recent stitch event they had this dialogue

Riddle gets so genuinely happy when Floyd praises him. Even Jack takes note of it. And then in Floyd's Labwear...

This interaction is so telling of the sort of relationship that they have with one another - first Floyd interprets their interactions as playing. Second, Riddle takes note that Floyd is in a bad mood which means that Riddle pays enough attention to him to notice when he's having a bad day. And then you have Jade over there just like 👀. It's so goofy but it's kind of wholesome also because it shows that in spite of everything, Riddle still shows concern for Floyd and Jade is a nosy sibling.

I don't know how many people have actually read the comic anthology, but there's a side story with Floyd and Riddle where Riddle is trying to study how to control himself better following his OB and Floyd, of course, comes to bother him and notices him reading advanced books and that ends in this interaction.

Like, is Floyd being a shit? Yes, of course, but he also doesn't take it back when he says that he thinks that it's admirable that Riddle works hard.

They really are the duality. Please enjoy this too-high effort shitpost I made.

And then add the fact that in the most recent story chapters the thing that gets Floyd to wake up is Silver and Jamil reminding him of the entrance ceremony where Riddle threw him through the air, and Floyd essentially being like "Yeah goldfishie is fun that was fun" and that being what snaps him out of it? Like these two are fated to irritate the hell out of each other by the story itself.

Also I think it's such a funny cute touch that the reason Floyd even started irritating Riddle is because Riddle couldn't control his temper and flung him. Floyd was just being curious, and while, yeah he probably should have asked before he touched Riddle's hair because he was curious if it would feel hot, Riddle immediately rose to meet his energy, and generally speaking we know that Floyd is a physically motivated person. He likes to fight, and he likes to test his strength. No one else caused a scene at the Sophomore orientation except Riddle. You know, the character that is almost entirely focused on not breaking rules? Riddle painted a massive target on his own back with his temper. And honestly, what I think does make it work is that even though Floyd teases Riddle literally all the time, he does respect Riddle. Riddle is interesting to him because he's strong and reacts when Floyd irritates him. As I said before, on Floyd's end at least, the antagonism is playful, and considering Floyd's relationship with Jade and Azul it's easy to see why. It's how he was raised to view affection from friends and peers.

Now, how about Riddle's side of things? Well, while we don't get a ton of canon crumbs from Riddle, there's at least a few things that we do get. We know that Riddle sort of resents that Floyd teases him, but he has been told multiple times by other people that Floyd is just trying to get a rise out of him. And yet, every time Floyd compliments Riddle and then immediately starts teasing him, Riddle falls for it. On some level, I'm sure it's because Riddle likes the attention just as much as Floyd, even if for a different reason. Riddle gets put down a lot - from his dorm and from his own mother. But even if Floyd teases him, Floyd also gasses him up because, like I said, Floyd genuinely thinks highly of Riddle. Riddle gets complimented and he gets smug about it because he thinks highly of himself, and it probably feels good to have that recognized.

Compare Riddle's interactions with Floyd to the ones he has with Jade, for example.

From the Spectral Soiree event.

There are a couple reasons why I feel like this is important to note. First, Riddle recognizes that Jade is making fun of him immediately. Riddle also misses Jade's sarcasm. Riddle isn't good at reading Jade - he finds Jade unpredictable and malicious, and interprets this as Jade making fun of him. In contrast, you don't see Riddle outright refuse a compliment from Floyd - he knows that Floyd is being upfront about how he feels when he says the things he does, but he doesn't know that about Jade. Riddle is also the butt of the joke here, whereas if we compare it to the similar situation that he went through with Floyd during the Tropical Turbulence event.

Floyd is teasing Riddle, yes, but in this situation he isn't making Riddle the butt of the joke, he's just causing a little bit of chaos. Floyd already has a plan in place, but Riddle the two aren't arguing with each other. It's also important to note that Floyd is one of the few characters outside of his dorm that Riddle really banters with comfortably.

The other thing is that though they compete with and annoy each other, Floyd and Riddle are actually genuinely pretty nice to each other otherwise. They both compliment each other pretty frequently even if they usually pepper in barbs as they do.

Floyd and Riddle are also pretty similar people, too:

At any rate, that's a lot of screenshots to basically say, yes they do make fun of each other and tease each other, but when they do get onto the same page, they work very well together and seem to have a mutual respect for each other even if they criticize each other. They can identify the aspects in each other that they can't identify in themselves and it makes their chemistry interesting because every time they share screentime it seems like they learn from each other.

Anyway, Florid fans eat well literally any time these two share screen time.

And then Jade and Azul... honestly those two cracked me up the entire time.

First you have Jade's dream with his god awful imagination. Jade literally gets the knockoff versions of Azul and Floyd as I said in the first post about it, but I think it's interesting to see how he perceives both of them. I'll be including images this time.

I'll start with Floyd because HOO buddy if I was Floyd and had to endure this shit.

This is an actual crime.

That being said, Floyd is noticeably more childish in Jade's dream than the actual Floyd is in reality, both in his rather immature visage as well as a more child-like way of speaking.

It's worth noting, in Floyd's dream, Floyd doesn't really pay much attention to where Jade is, and he doesn't really pay any attention to where Azul is either. He says "Eh, Jade's probably with Azul on land because the Mostro Lounge was succeeding." Floyd also makes a point of saying that it's a rule between the three of them - they don't have to stick together - if they don't want to do something, then they won't stick together and whoever wants to do it can do it on their own, or if they don't want to involve someone in something, they don't involve them in it. (Ironically, I would argue that this is one of the healthier dynamics for friendship in TWST that we see. All three of them have discussed and come to understand that if they need to separate ways, they will, they don't want to hold each other back from the things they enjoy.)

Jade on the other hand, and whether Floyd likes it or not, seems to view Floyd as a younger brother. We don't get confirmation as to whether or not Jade hatched first or if Floyd hatched first, but regardless of whichever it is, it seems like Jade views Floyd as his younger brother, and seems to have an instinct to coddle him, even if this portrayal of Floyd is deeply unflattering to Floyd and starts a whole fight.

It's also of note: Floyd didn't expect to be in Jade's dream at all. Floyd talks about how he figures that Jade has just dreamed about him in a similar way that Floyd had dreamed of Jade - off doing whatever he wanted to do. That's not true - Floyd is there, with Jade, and engaging in Jade's interests.

In Jade's official EN school uniform home tap he says:

Though some translations tend to interpret this line differently, and essentially instead say that Floyd is clingier than he seems.

The reason I'm pointing this out is because Jade is the only one of the three who's primary dream features all three of them together. This would seem to point toward Jade actually being the one who's clingier, and to being the one who's most attached to both of them. I can't really say for certain, but I almost wonder if Jade has a bit of a fear of abandonment with regard to Azul and Floyd and that's why his ideal dream world is one where they're both so reliant on him.

And then Azul...

Is Giorno Giovanna in the room with us?

Seriously though, I think it's kind of interesting to see how Azul is portrayed in Jade's imagination.

For reference, here's what Azul actually looks like in his mer form in the same pose.

The thing I immediately noticed is Azul's eyes. Sure, the image Jade has of Azul is a JJBA joke, but there's something else I want to point out about them in particular.

Azul's eyes are an entirely different, brighter color. In fact, it's also a different color from Azul's overblot eye color as well.

We know that Jade's limited imagination means he's working on his own impressions of Floyd and Azul and you're telling me that Jade's impression of Azul is that he looks like a character from a manga known for being about handsome, fabulous men and that he has ginormous, bright, shiny blue eyes that look like sapphires? Hello?????? Jade???

I think this is fascinating because had they just drawn Azul as like a normal old JJBA reference but kept his color palette the same, I could see it just being explained as "oh, neat, Jade thinks Azul is handsome when Azul doesn't" but follow me with this: Jade's imagination is painting them in broad strokes the way that Epel's imagination was doing in his dream. These are Jade's impressions of Floyd and Azul.

Floyd tracks - he sees Floyd as a younger brother and someone he inherently wants to take care of, even if it's not realistic. Floyd is a childish younger brother in a cartoonish way. Azul is motivated by money in a cartoonish way. These are the traits that stick out the most about the both of them to Jade.

So when Jade imagines Azul physically what he sees is Azul being handsome AND that he has these shiny bright blue eyes even if his memory gets the shade of blue wrong. Jade....... honey................ I need you to sit down when I tell you this..........

And then after he and Floyd fight, because Jade is too stubborn to wake up because he can't grasp that what he's seeing is wrong, the thing that finally triggers him to realize something is off is this version of dream Azul checking on him after the fight and being relieved he's okay and then saying that he's afraid he would have lost his "かわいい部下".

The thing that triggers Jade to start waking up is Azul calling Jade his cute subordinate (essentially his cute assistant). I am not exaggerating this. That is literally the phrase that triggers Jade. Jade even repeats it.

AND HE FUCKING PANICS

JADE. I AM BEGGING THE SECONDHAND CRINGE THIS MADE ME FEEL.

From there the dream Floyd of course says he's going to cry if Jade left him and like that just seals the deal. And everyone is super impressed because Jade realized it was wrong by himself and woke himself up.

I don't tend to insert my opinions much in my post but there is not a single person on this planet that is not going to make me believe that Jade did not just gay panic himself awake. I feel like most queer people have experienced something just like this. Jade literally wakes himself up because he's like "no, wait, hold on, Azul wouldn't say that, right?" and then Floyd saying he's going to cry sells it. Dream Azul essentially just fucking "baby girl"ed him and Jade was like "no, actually, that's too cringe for me to even dream about".

Then you have Azul's dream. Honestly there aren't a lot of crumbs there for Jade, but I think it's sort of sweet how even if they're sort of forced to, Jade and Floyd don't want to force Azul to do anything. They have a lot of respect for each other's personal boundaries, and they were fully prepared to let Azul stay asleep and allow him to work it out himself if he wanted to wake up. It doesn't end up working out that way, but it's not hard to tell that both the twins and Azul had respect for each other as individuals.

Another neat thing is that Azul is one of the few people who's dreams aren't inherently things he really wants. They're more of "what-if" scenarios. What if Azul was good at sports and ended up being a high school athlete? What if Azul actually got to follow through on burning that picture of his younger self and then opened a Mostro Lounge branch? I think it's interesting that Azul seems to be kept in these dreams because his imagination is vivid, and not because they're an ideal world perse. In a sense they are - but Azul himself admits that he doesn't really want either of them.

Azul gets so much growth shown in this chapter. He ends up wanting to wake up because he wants to live for himself, and not live for what other people think of him or having to rely on them. Azul still wants to succeed, but he wants to succeed for himself and not because he feels a need to one up the people that bullied him, and he wants to be fulfilled in himself. He's actually working on his mental health, I love that for him.

And, one more thing of note, I think it's so fucking cool that at the end of the book, Azul doesn't freak out about other people seeing him in his true form. In fact, he doesn't freak out about seeing himself in his true form when Idia makes a proxy version of him - he's just thinking about how cool it would be to have a second version of himself. I feel like most people have gotten the sense that Azul has a sense of self-loathing regarding his mer-form, but it seems like if he did at some point, he's made peace with it.

Anyway that's an unnecessarily long infodump about my feelings about the character relationships that we've got in the new update. Like obnoxiously long. So, uh... I'll just end the post with Azul's smiling sprite because I just think it's fucking adorable.

[loverofstufflof]

Black Myth: Wukong rant because I’m just… so tired of you people.

I hate the community this game has cultivated. I hate looking through the tags and seeing people tearing each other apart over a game based on a story I love.

There’s two stances:

Those who say that merely interacting with the game is in support of all the terrible things the developers have (allegedly) done. Who parade accusations that many have stated were mistranslated and that the situation is far more complicated than it appears.

Those who mock the former by making a straw man of their concerns while simultaneously displaying their misogyny, racism, homophobia, and general traits that make it clear they’ve never touched a woman in their life.

One is slightly more tolerable than the other. Neither make me feel welcome in enjoying this project I’ve been looking forward to for years.

I will be talking more about purple, because I don’t speak Chinese, and feel that I have no authority speaking too much on orange.

Purple people are beyond insufferable.

I think that most of this came from a Screen Rant review that listed one of the game’s flaws as “a lack of diversity.” This is an accurate analysis, and has been warped beyond belief.

I can understand the outrage… a bit. When playing a game surrounding Chinese culture, in which you play as an inhuman character fighting equally inhuman enemies, it doesn’t make too much sense to request racial representation. And when there isn’t any romance, representation for sexual orientations also wouldn’t work. Including anything in those merit would feel forced and out of place, I agree.

But you wanna know what the reviewer wrote?

She was concerned about the lack of women.

She felt unwelcome when playing a game made by rumoured misogynists because there were no women at all.

And she explicitly said that the game was still enjoyable despite this.

She gave it such a “low score” (3/5) because of the performance issues and repetitiveness. By her own rating, the game was listed as “Worth a shot despite its flaws.”

Everything got so bad they had to take down her name for her safety.

People in the purple category took this review to mean that the “woke left” was “pushing an agenda” and “trying to cancel this game for not having pansexual nonbinary black people.” Which, as I’m sure you can now understand, was not the case. The boycott surrounding this game is purely based on accusations targeted towards the developers, not the game’s content.

Of course, I don’t expect many of the aforementioned people in this category to care too much. I’ve seen the Steam reviews where they praise the lack of women. I’ve read the Reddit threads where they feel grateful that there’s “finally a company who understands the male authority.” I’ve scrolled through post after post on Tumblr that “no one would want to play a game where females jiggle their tits around while doing nothing.”

That last one gets me. It’s really telling what you can learn about a person when they say things like that.

The point is, these people make me feel very unwelcome in a community that previously made me most comfortable.

So let’s recap:

The people who I would find community with are portraying the mere interest in this game as a sin that’s worthy of being blocked and shamed over, and the people who are actually in this community remind me why I’m terrified to walk alone.

I have a lot more that I want to say on this, but I don’t really have the words quite yet, and still need to do a fair amount of research (which I probably won’t be doing because holy shit I’m so done with this). Maybe I’ll come back and add some more, but for now I just might block the tag entirely.

I just feel shitty ‘s’all ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

[ladyloveandjustice]

I love how in Princess Tutu everybody's relationships deepen and change in unexpected ways, leading to a deep love they all share at the end--Ahiru and Rue, Fakir and Mytho, Mytho and Ahiru, Mytho and Rue, Fakir and Ahiru--EXCEPT for Fakir and Rue.

It is ON SIGHT for them from the moment they meet as kids and throughout the entire anime... and the only real change in that in the last episode is that they are civil/neutral with each other. They don't even talk to each other when Mytho and Rue say goodbye, with Fakir only addressing Mytho and Rue only addressing Ahiru. I think they both now care if the other lives or dies, Fakir did help save Rue even if it was probably for Mytho and Ahiru as much as her and all that, and they probably understand each other a little better. But other than that? Nope. Just two people in the same friend group who want nothing to do with each other.

It's so funny how there's never a single tender moment between them when there is with everyone else. Like of course they're still not friends, Fakir's interactions with Rue are always just "WHERE IS MYTHO", trying to fight her, grabbing her and shaking her at one point, and calling her an ugly crow a couple times in the first season (and interrupting a moment where Ahiru might have been able to snap her out of being Kraehe). Meanwhile on Rue's side, she deliberately triggered his past life PTSD, attempted to murder him (which resulted in serious injuries), and said "hey man you're useless I think you should kys :)" every single time she saw him in most of season 2. Hard to get over that. And neither of them are as forgiving as Ahiru and Mytho are!

And what's also funny is as much as Drosselmeyer wanted Ahiru and Rue to hate each other's guts and fight incessantly over a boy, that never really happened- Ahiru never wanted to fight, was totally fine with Mytho choosing Rue, and loved Rue openly and deeply, just wanting the best for her, and on Rue's side, she did love Ahiru deep down but couldn't acknowledge it because of her father and her role in the story she felt she had to fulfill. BUT, meanwhile, Fakir and Rue WERE geniuinely hating each others guts and no-holds barred fighting incessantly over a boy. And had been since they were children. Just good ol' fashioned rivalry and "he's mine" vibes and Dross didn't even notice thanks to heteronormativity.

And that grudge runs deep, so I don't think they'll ever truly forget it even if they've stopped hating each other.

I like to think Fakir and Ahiru (whether in duck form or not) go visit Rue and Mytho, and that it's mostly fine but always extremely awkward when they end up in a room alone together. Just forced into stilted small talk and awkward silences. I also like to think because they can't conceive not arguing, they pivot to fighting over Ahiru: who she likes best, who's hogging too much of her attention, who understands her more....Rue probably just picks up Ahiru in duck mode and runs away from him with her at one point, and Fakir will be running after her yelling while Mytho watches in mild amusement.

[loremaster]

i went crazy (as i am known to do) and drew BOTH of each daily prompt for @raincodeshipweek! nothing past PG-13 here. double check the tags for ships below - or if you want to be surprised, jump in and see them all here:

Hurt/Comfort - Clockmare - I remember a while ago @pixelatedraindrops did a poll over which of the two to draw sick in bed… Halara's cat allergies won out, but I thought the opposite scenario of Fubuki needing recovery from overusing her rewind powers was cute too! This is a very cute ship that needs more love!

Healing - Kokolight - This is *THE* ship that's all about healing. (Emotional healing at least.) Yuma learns a lot from Vivia about how to embrace the uncomfortable parts of life… and Vivia learns a lot from Yuma about how not to let that diminish your spark. Plus, by the end, they understand what each other’s been through more than any other characters... almost. Also, dat height difference. Good shit.

Dancing - Aetheria trio - Similar bonding over shared grief here! But this time there's three of them! Big 3 of Cups energy. It's a shame we never really got to see much genuine interaction between Yoshiko, Waruna, and Kurane during the game's story… but sometimes the most fun parts are what we get to imagine for ourselves, hmm? Anyway, yeah. These three are bonded for life. (Too bad it wasn't a very long one...)

Domesticity - Viviakou - There's nothing funnier than two guys with opposite behaviors. Vivia wedges himself into the crack between the bed and the wall as far as he can. Yakou spreads out and takes up more room than the bed even has. Plus, he snores. Disasters, both of them. …I was going to try and come up with another ship for this prompt, since - spoilers - there'll be more Viviakou later on... but I thought of this image and laughed hard enough I couldn't not draw it!

Sun/Rain - Yakou/Amaterasu Researcher. - One of the happiest moments of Yakou's life was when his wife got him a boat for his birthday. A whole boat!!! A portable office! Never had he felt so loved before. …Never has the sun shone that brightly again. He hates the rain.

Stars - Clockbolt - Fubuki is staring out wistfully at the rain clouds, lamenting that she cannot see her star - the one her parents bought for her. But luckily - “Don't worry, Princess, I'll be your star…!” says Desuhiko. Bolder, brighter, and much, much closer than her faraway prize…Yeah, I think Fubuki would eat that up. This is a fun ship. I like that Desuhiko - against all odds - treats Fubuki like a person. And ironically I think that would make her like him more!!

Flowers - Furroughs - What else could I have drawn for 'flowers,' honestly? It's a cheap bouquet of Black-Eyed Susans! I can't see this as a healthy relationship, honestly, but that's what makes it fun! Imagining them as childhood friends who used to be really close but grew apart in adulthood strikes just the right chord of melancholy with me. Even more heartbreaking if you see them both as trans - imagine Yakou's so excited to have a friend like him, and then as soon as Seth transitions he's like "you don't know me. never speak to me again." Mmm, I do so love to put Yakou through the wringer.

Memories - Yumagami - Sometimes you don't know what you've got until it's gone. I imagine Yuma goes through phantom pains after their pact gets broken, not knowing whose laughter keeps ringing through his ears, what's up with that tingly spot on his cheek, or why he can't look at a barrel without his face feeling hot. (Though, he's probably astute enough to put together the clues...)

First Times - Viviakou - The first time Yakou heard Vivia say that catchphrase, it didn't feel very good.

Final Moments - Viviakou - ...The last time didn't feel very good either.

Swap - Vivia/Amaterasu Researcher - Okay, hear me out. If Yakou had managed to run up that hill, make a deal with Kodaka, and get him to swap their places - that is, he dies while his wife survives and becomes Chief of the Nocturnal Detective Agency - I think Vivia would think the same of Mrs. Furio that he did of Mr. Furio (that is, helplessly smitten). EXTREMELY underrated. Please ship this with me.

Alternate Universe - Zilara - My personal pet rarepair!!! Alas, our two confident creature-lovers have been kept from each other by the cruel hands of fate. So, I cope by drawing them getting fancy little drinks together. This is an homage to Boba AU, of course, but honestly, while drawing this, I was picturing them as students at the local prestigious college campus. Maybe they're members of frat Alpha Beta Omega or something.

Past/Future - Makoyuma - This one's more of a concept/pitch than a fully explored scene, but hear me out: time travel AU. What if Yuma meets a mysterious masked stranger who turns out to be a tech-savvy time traveler from a destroyed future... but then also turns out to be himself, somehow? How is there someone who looks exactly like him, 5000 years from now? What's the connection between Yuma and Makoto? And why are they so drawn to each other?

...The last prompt for the official Ship Week is a free day - so I'm going to take the day off! Though, there are a lot of other ships I lament not shouting out here - Kokobolt, Kokomare, Twimare, Fubugami, just to name a few!!! But I'm gonna give myself a break for now. Don't worry, you'll see more art from me soon - maybe even print versions of this, and some of my other Rain Code fanart. And if there's a specific ship or scenario you really can't wait to see... my commissions are open! ;D

[rachetmath]

Favorite Jaune Ship

Okay, let me do this. My Jaune ships. Other ships I’ll do later.

Lancaster/SilverKnight (Jaune x Ruby);

This ship still holds a special place in my heart and to me was supposed to be one of the factors of the show. Jaune and Ruby's relationship started at Beacon. Jaune was Ruby’s first friend and was the first thought of being a part of a team besides her sister. Unfortunately, she was stuck with Weiss and Jaune had a crush on her. Ruby has times when she and Jaune talk but were always cut short for reasons. However, after the fall of Beacon, I was happy to see her and Jaune team up. But my hopes were short-lived when Weiss and Oscar came onto the scene. Now, because of them, the one relationship I could support died because the story tries its damndest to push Whiteknight and Rosegarden together. (Like seriously, this is one of the reasons why I hate Oscar to this day. Volume five, to this day, I believe Jaune should have unlocked his semblance for Ruby instead of Weiss.)

DragonKnght/GoldenKnight/DragonSlayer(Jaune x Yang);

Now normally this is a crack ship. This ship is just two people boning for almost no reason, but I can see a story behind this ship with Jaune and Yang being an alternate version of Tai and Raven. Jaune is Raven because both  have supportive semblances, use swords, and have a distaste for Ozpin’s methods. Yang is Tai due to mainly being raised by him alone. Throughout the story, we see how Jaune and Yang interact and how their relationship differs from Tai and Raven’s. How Tai and Raven fell apart and what they should’ve done to maintain it. How Jaune and Yang handle situations differently they’ll always find a way to bounce back by talking it out and giving each other space. Though I believe Bumblebee fans would be offended and probably say, “Blake could add that same effect”, I still stand by this.

SilentKnight(Jaune x Neo)

Cute, deadly, and very sad. I haven't read the book but I have heard about it. Also, I wish they made a movie starring her or gave us an episode but… okay. Back on topic, I find this ship enduring. They have only one thing in common but that's enough to create a dynamic between them. However what makes the ship sad is that Neo will be the only one hurt. Image Neo trying to be Ruby just to be with Jaune only for him not wanting to be with her. Loving and caring for Ruby more than Neo. Neo hates and becomes jealous of Ruby because unlike her Neo has no friends. Roman died. And Cinder betrayed her. Jaune probably being the best thing in her life but she will never have. So sorry folks, Silentknight was a no-go.

Topaz (Jaune x Emerald)

Same as Silent Knight except it's Emerald’s loyalty to Cinder getting in the way of her having any relationship with anyone. Jaune probably would talk to her but trusting her could be too much of a stretch for him. Emerald might as well be one of the few who could talk to Jaune one-on-one and be real with him but still, I don't think neither of them is looking to like each other.

Knightshade (Jaune x Blake)

These two never had a single one-on-one conversation. Like really they barely interact with each other. I would not be surprised if they both got drunk somewhere and were found sleeping in the same bed by accident. But I believe they are good friends.

Knightfall (Jaune x Cinder)

Okay, this can go either way. Jaune is done playing the good guy to a bunch of girls who are favored by everyone and want to destroy the world. Cinder decides to be a good person and wants to redeem herself. I highly doubt this would happen but I love the concept. Imagen Jaune has to tell Cinder to chill out all the time. Then having to be the most patient with her especially when following a plan. Cinder trying to be nice but pushing her feelings down so she doesn't show weakness is funny, sad, and insane.  

Martial Arc and Nora's Arc(Jaune x Ren x Nora)

You two do not deserve him. You had four volumes to talk with this man but you didn't. Ruby knows your leader better. Yang treats your leader better. Shit Weiss treated your leader better. Ya’ll barely maintain a relationship with each other. How will you two be in a relationship with this guy if you can't contribute or commit to it? F*** the both of you.

Whiteknight(Jaune x Weiss)

Okay, now this may be my f*** all worst ship. First, I’ll admit Jaune was just a fanboy seeing his female idol for the first time in real life. But as he continues he eventually gets over her a bit. Then in some way, he does try to get with Pyrrha, who was an upgrade. What I don't like about this ship is unlike Lancaster it feels forced. Like in volume five Weiss got stabbed by Cinder for no reason. It should have been Ruby considering Jaune traveled and spent more time with her than Weiss. And Cinder hates Ruby. Then in volume seven she basically used the man to get away from Bumblebee. And the only time she ever acknowledged this man was in volume nine when he turned out to be her favorite character in a story. I may be wrong but no, this is not my favorite.

[cameronspecial]

The Story Of Them

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Swearing, Drug Use, and Unhealthy/Toxic Relationship

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 5.5K

Summary: They thought that their story was supposed to be a fairytale, but what happens when the universe is showing them signs that it isn't because of their vices. Should they keep fighting for them or should they let their story come to an end?

Masterlist

It’s like their relationship has bipolar disorder. One minute, they are in an argument worse than any world war. The next, they are manic in trying to be consumed by each other, not caring if they are reckless. They are each other’s first loves and hope to be their last, so they ignore the warning signs of an unhealthy relationship that they probably shouldn’t have. They both have their faults. Hers is her lack of communication and his being reliant on his addiction. If any of her friends are in a similar relationship as her, then she would be the first to warn them about the red flags. But for some reason, she is blinded from seeing those flags with Rafe. When they first started dating, everything was amazing. They were young and believed that it was them against the world. Their dates were full of laughter and innocent love. They thought that they could have that feeling forever; however, reality has a funny way of creeping in and crushing rose-coloured glasses under its boots. Even though Y/N and Rafe fall victim to this realization, they still hold onto each other because they are all that they know. Their story doesn’t have a happy ending, but at least they can say they had one to begin with. At least they can say they loved each other with a fiery passion that went out with a bang. 

———

Even before they started dating, they weren’t allowed to have a sense of calm between them. Rafe didn’t know what it was about her. He’s never seen any other girl as more than someone to warm his bed; however, Y/N could never escape his thoughts, not through his dreams either. Could it be the way her fingertips graze the bottom of her dresses as she fiddles with it? Could it be because it doesn’t take just anything to elicit a laugh out of her? He really had to put thought into the jokes he told her to hear those delicious giggles. Or could it be that she wasn’t afraid to stand up to him or back down? No matter what it was, Rafe knew he wanted her to be a permanent fixture in his life. He approached her with jagged fingernails that he had to remember to file when he got home. She sat on a bench in front of the school, waiting as always for her brother to pick her up. He cleared his throat to catch her attention and she looked up from her phone with a small pout to her lips. 

She was surprised to see him. They ran in the same social groups, yet interactions between the two were not very common. She had to admit he found a way to take the breath from her lungs, whether that be through making her laugh or a sweet action that surprised her. She didn’t think she could ever catch his eye. He was the most popular boy in school and she just hung out with the most popular girls. She was timid; not confident. She was quiet; not loud. She was stubborn; not docile. She was nothing like the popular girls and that was why she stood out to Rafe. It didn’t mean she thought she wasn’t like the other girls. She embraced her femininity and knew that in this large world, nothing she did could be unique from another human. It meant she recognized the fact of being different from the types of girls Rafe normally frequented, so she didn’t think she had a chance. She believed he hated her for those qualities. He wasn’t used to people disagreeing with him and this made her think he wouldn’t like her. She preferred to keep to herself during their group's social outings, so why would he notice her? Similar to the rest of the man-loving population of the school, Y/N had fallen for Rafe’s charm. Who didn’t love a man with a dazzling smile and who knew how to please a woman sexually? Fuckboy or not, the world couldn’t deny the fact that Rafe was the fixation of its attention. 

“Hey,” he greeted with a soft smile. She got butterflies solely by the way he was looking at her, “Hi, can I help you with anything?” She didn’t meet his gaze as she pulled a strand of hair behind her ear. He gestured to the seat beside her. “Can I sit?” She nodded, “Yeah, I’m just waiting for my brother.” “I know,” he admitted without any thought that he could be seen as a stalker because of his statement. Her head tilted to the side, “You do?”

“Uhhh, yep. I noticed because I see you getting into his car every day when I leave football practice.” 

“Right, I guess it doesn’t take rocket science to figure that out.”

“No, it does not. I’m going to cut right to the chase before I lose my confidence. Y/N, will you go out on a date with me?” 

Her lips parted slightly. “Date?” She knew he didn’t do dates and she wasn’t opposed to having a fling with him, except calling it a date gave her a promise of something else and she wanted to make sure they were on the same page. Nerves racked through him at her reaction. His diminishing nails came between his teeth to soothe him. “Uh, yeah. It could be dinner or a movie or go axe-throwing. Anything you want really,” he presented, lifting a finger at each activity. “I know what a date is. I was just wondering if the activities would be done so you can end up in my pants. It’s okay if you only want to have sex, just don’t pretend you want more,” she clarified. Her vision dropped to the floor and she observed a ladybug crawling in front of her. Ladybugs were a sign of good luck, so it tricked her into thinking this had a favourable ending. Rafe’s smile fell, “Wow, I can’t believe you think so lowly of me.” She tried to backtrack to explain herself. He pushed her shoulder, “I’m just kidding. I know I’m not known for wanting to commit to a woman. I think you are different. I can see myself getting married to you, Love.” “You aren’t lying because going on a date means you are open to the idea of devoting yourself to me. Are you sure you are ready for that?” she verified, meeting his eyes. 

He agreed, “I am fully prepared to be yours.” She couldn’t be happier. The man she liked wanted to be with her. “Then I would happily go on a date with you.” It was a dream come true.

This feeling quickly changed the next day. She was at her locker when she heard the rumour. “I heard Rafe had sex with Y/N yesterday,” a freshman muttered to her friend behind her hand. It was still loud enough for her to hear. Fury devoured her. He said he wanted a relationship with her and he lied. Why else would he go around telling people they slept together? She knew that rumours have a way of snowballing, yet she decided not to go to Rafe to discuss this issue. Instead, she did what she did best and iced him out of her life. 

Rafe didn’t understand why she wasn’t answering his texts until he heard the whispers himself. “Crap. Crap. Crap,” he swore, leaving football practice. She probably thought the words were his truth and that is why she was angry with him. He didn’t take the time to take a shower and get his stuff. He could do that tomorrow. What was important was that he cleared the air with Y/N. She wasn’t on her normal bench in front of the school, so he assumed she must have gone home already. He drove as fast as he could without breaking any laws to verify his conclusion. She sat on the porch swing, swinging with the wind. Her gaze was fixed out towards the street. At the sight of him, she got up from her seat and headed inside. “Love, wait,” he pleaded, jogging up the porch to catch up with her. His foot wedges between the closing door and the door frame. He followed her into the house. She continued to ignore him and went up to her room. Once enclosed in the privacy of her room, she turned toward him with annoyance in her eyes. “I could call the police on you for trespassing,” she warned. Her arms crossed over each other. Rafe’s jaw clenched, “Go ahead. See if I care. I need to talk to you.” “You don’t get to barge in here and order me around,” she complained.

“I can if you aren’t listening to me. I assume you’ve heard the gossip about us and we need to talk about it.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you. You lied and I’m not naive enough to give you a chance.”

“WE NEED TO TALK. WHAT THEY SAID DIDN’T COME FROM ME!” 

She leaned back at his yell, “I don’t like it when you talk to me like that. It goes to show that you aren’t mature enough to be in a relationship. His head moved from side to side as he let out a low chuckle. “You seriously are calling me immature when you are the one who doesn’t even want to talk. That’s childish,” he responded. She pointed at the door, “If I’m so immature, then we don’t have to go on that date anymore. I don’t want to date someone who is a liar and a juvenile.” Rafe stormed out of the room with a slam of the door, not before snarking. “Gladly. I don’t want anything to do with you either.” 

———

Y/N remembered the first time she realized she was in love with Rafe. They went on a date eventually and it had been the beginning of their story as a couple. Flowers. Giggling. Kisses. Hand Holding. It all made them feel as though they were on cloud nine. So far, there had only been small fights in between since their argument about the hearsay about menial things, such as where to eat or who has to pay. The first notion of her being in love with him popped into her mind while he was on the football team. They had been playing against their rivals of Kildare County and the students of Kildare Academy were cheering in hopes of encouraging the team to get a lead on the other team. Per his request, Y/N was in the front row, wearing his jersey. Her voice attempted to be louder than anyone else in the crowd. Rafe was thrown the ball and as the clock got closer to zero, he dashed toward the endzone. He masterfully dodged every opposing player who tried to tackle him, making it to his destination. He slammed the ball into the ground and cheered in victory. The air horn singalling the end of the game blasted through the air. Rafe secured the win. 

It wasn’t the win that guaranteed her heart; it was being the first person he wanted to celebrate it with that gave him her heart. Whilst the rest of his team ran to congratulate him, he had his path set on someone in the stands. He began his jog, throwing off his helmet onto the grass. Y/N ran to the fence separating the benches from the field and Rafe climbed up it to meet her. His hand cupped her cheek to pull her into a kiss. She moved her lips against his and her fingers ran through his hair. The roar of the people dulled to the buzzing of a bee. All she smelt was the sweat that had started to accumulate on his skin. The world ceased to exist when his lips were on hers. “I love you,” she mumbled against his petals. “I love you too.”

The euphoric feeling died that night as well. That same night was when she also realized whatever she had with Rafe didn’t have a chance at forever. No matter how much they both wanted it to. They had gone to the after-party to celebrate their triumph and Rafe had promised her he wouldn’t drink that much. He was supposed to drive them home at the end of the night. In all honesty, since the party was at Topper’s, she didn’t mind if he drank because they could stay in one of the guest bedrooms as a last resort. The discovery of their ending being bound came with what an inebriated Rafe executed thanks to the drink. Y/N’s front pressed against Rafe’s side. She was swaying her hips and his head bopped, pressing the lip of his solo cup between his. Robin bumped into Y/N and his drink poured all over her back. She flew into Rafe’s hold to escape the fizzy drink. The man repeated his apologies, ripping off a piece of paper towel from the counter behind him. Y/N reassured him that it was okay and took the towels he offered to dry herself off. Rafe wasn’t forgiving like his girlfriend and the alcohol in his veins meant his hot-tempered personality was even easier to trigger. He yanked himself away from Y/N. His feet lead him so his chest is pressed against the other male’s. “Watch where you are going, asshole,” he growled.

Y/N placed a hand on Rafe’s chest to separate the two. “Honey, leave it. It was an accident.” Rafe disregarded her words, cocking his face at the blank face on the boy’s face. His fist collides with that face. Robin stumbled back from the force and his nose started bleeding profusely. Rafe provided no time for the bleeding man to recuperate. 

Rafe dove onto Robin and knocked them both onto the ground. Robin’s head banged again and again against the floor. The party-goers fled the area to give the fight space. Y/N jumped onto Rafe’s back and tried to peel him off of the smaller boy. “Honey! Get off of him. Please, you are going to kill him. Look how much he is hurt already,” she shrieked. Tears ran down her face. His drunken state focused his attention on the source of his rage. Not his girlfriend’s pleas. The attack was ended only with the help of Topper and Kelce; they dragged their friend away from the injured boy. Y/N rushed to check on Robin with concerns. Not solely because he was a victim of her boyfriend’s anger, but because if he died it would be bad for Rafe. This made Rafe see red and he sped to his girlfriend. His hand circled her bicep in a vice, wrenching her to her feet. She was jerked toward the stairs leading upstairs. He threw her into one of the empty bedrooms before slamming the door shut. His eyes bore into her, “Why the fuck were you so worried about him? Are you cheating on me with him?” “How can you say that? You beat him like he was dough, so I had to make sure he didn’t die,” she yelled back. Her face was now streaming with drops of frustration. His accusation was ironic considering he was the one known as the ladies' man before they started dating. 

“I had to defend your honour. I did this for you.” 

“You didn’t do this for me. You did this because you were drunk. If you did it for me, you would’ve stopped as soon as I begged you to leave him. It was an accident.”

“Why are you so angry about it? You shouldn’t care about him? You wouldn’t unless you were sleeping with him.

“For god���s sake, Rafe. Stop bringing that up like it’s a fact. I have never touched Robin in that way nor will I ever. You know what? I’m done talking about this. I’m going to sleep. I’m taking the bed, so you better sleep on the floor.” 

Rafe wasn’t surprised that she shut down during their argument. She had a good way of wanting to escape any type of true communication. Just like she did after hearing the rumours and during every other minor argument they had. The drinks in him began to make him drowsy, so he didn’t argue. They both got settled in their perspective sleeping arrangements, facing away from each other. Sleep didn’t find them though. Y/N was too busy thinking over the fact that the night started with so much hope. She sensed merely adoration for him and now, it wrapped up with outrage. She doubted the possibility of a happy ending for them because he may love her, but she would never be able to fill the holes his addictions were able to. Her fears caught up to her and released themselves with a sob. Rafe’s heart clenched at the sound of her sniffles. He hated being the reason for her unhappiness and had to make it better. The blanket fell off of him as he got up from the ground and encroached toward the bed. He carefully lifted the blanket from her body, sliding in beside her. His arms found her waist to bring her closer to his chest. His head dropped to her neck and he pressed a kiss on her soft spot. “I’m so sorry, Love. Of course, I don’t think you are cheating on me. It was because I was drunk. I’ll never drink again. I love you,” he promised. Her breath hitched at his words, letting it slap a bandaid on her aching heart. “I love you too.” She let this dissolve her belief of their destined un-fairytale ending and fell asleep with this lie.  

———

Y/N let things ruminate inside of her. Problems she had with people were kept locked up inside of her, locked away forever. This stemmed from her hatred for talking through her issues, which was ironic because she was known to have a voice when her stubbornness came into play. However, if her unwillingness to do something wasn’t in her mindset, then she let it stew inside of her. It drove Rafe mad because he never knew what was wrong with her. That was till she found snide ways to express her frustration. Rafe returned home from class, leaving his shoes in the middle of the hallway. Y/N approached the front entrance of their off-campus house to greet her boyfriend. She spotted the shoes he left and sighed, not surprised by his carelessness. “Of course, leave your shoes there, in the middle of the room, like a child. Let me pick up after you like your mother,” she grunted under her breath. She leaned down to grab the shoes and placed them on the shoe rack. Rafe paused from walking further into the house, turning toward Y/N. “What was that?” he paused with his head cocked. She gave her attention to him, “Nothing, Honey. How was your day?” 

Rafe’s head shook and his hand lifted. “You murmured something, Love. I heard it. So tell me,” he ordered. She huffed, “I was talking to myself.” “Yeah, about me. If you can say it to yourself, then you can say it to me,” he noted, bringing his finger to point at his chest. Y/N’s arms crossed over her chest, “I don’t want to talk about this, Honey.” She tried to remove herself from the room, except Rafe held onto her wrist. “Tell me,” he instructed. “No.” She yanked her arm away from him and stormed upstairs with Rafe in tow. “You don’t get to do this, Love. You don’t get to just ignore the problem when I confront you and then be snarky about it later on,” he insisted. She froze in the centre of the upstairs hallway and looked at him. “I am not talking about this,” she gritted through her teeth. She entered their bedroom with a slam and a lock of the door. Leaving Rafe to feel exasperated by her constant avoidance. 

———

The clock showed eight and she didn’t know why she was staying at the restaurant. He left her waiting there for an hour. She had one idea where he was and she was going to confirm this suspicion. Her car sputtered on the unpaved road, coming to a halt in front of the trailer. Rafe heard her door slam shut from inside. He checked his watch. “Shit,” he groaned, trying to tidy up the evidence of the drugs he was using. Barry laughed, “What has your panties in a twist? Where are you going? I still have so much stuff for us to use.” Rafe’s head moved from side to side. “I can’t. I’m late from dinner and Y/N is here,” he informed. He checked the mirror to wipe away the residue of coke on it. He was too late. Y/N opened the door to catch Rafe dusting off the white powder from under his nose. Wrath filled her, “YOU TOLD ME THAT YOU QUIT.” “Love, I promise that I’m not doing it as often. It’s only to blow off some steam sometimes,” Rafe pledged, rushing to her side with blown pupils. Her eyes cut into slivers, “This is the fourth time this week that you’ve been late to something. That doesn’t count as sometimes.” Rafe gapped at her like a fish, opening and closing his mouth. 

“I’m sorry that I was late, Love. How about we go back to the restaurant and you can order whatever you want. Order the whole menu for all I care,” he proposed. He tried to make the mess go away with a flash of his teeth. Her arms shuddered at her sides, “You don’t get to pretend everything is alright. You deceived me by saying you were getting clean when it was a lie.” He tracked her outside and held the driver’s side door of her car closed. He fell to his knees with his hands held together. His folded hands quaked, “I will quit. I will never touch another speck of cocaine or a drop of alcohol again. Please, just let me take you out to dinner.” She towered him from her standing position. She saw the tears bearming his eyelids and she felt her own about to make an appearance. She didn’t understand why the universe was constantly pushing them apart. She didn’t know why their sweet relationship always had to have a bitter aftertaste.“Don’t make a vow that we both know you aren’t going to keep.”

———

Ultimately, the bitter overpowers the sweet and she can’t ignore it anymore, toppling the last dominion of their relationship. Barry finds her when she is returning home from the grocery store. “Country Club owes me money,” he utters, causing her a fright. She drops the paper bags she is holding and the items inside litter the floor. Y/N twists to look at him with a frown, leaning over to pick up her fallen purchases. Once she straightens up from her actions, Barry slams her against her car. “Did you hear me, Bitch? Rafe owns me money,” he restates. Y/N glares at him, “And last time I checked, I’m not Rafe. Go bother him with your problems.” “See, he knows that he does and he doesn’t care, so I’m bringing the problem to you because I know you’ll listen to me,” he warns, griping her jar tightly. “Get me my money or else.” His eyes burn into her and she meekly nods her head. Satisfied with the response, he pushes off the car and gets onto his bike, leaving the girl behind. She almost wants to laugh at the idea that Barry thinks she would talk to Rafe about this. No, this encounter would be taken to her grave. 

A week later, Barry returns to their house in a fury. He pushes through the semi-open door, almost causing a tried Rafe to nearly fall on his butt. “It’s been a week. Where is my money, Country Club?” Rafe rubs the sleep from his eyes to give the dealer a crossed look, “We talked about this. I don’t owe you anything.” “Yeah and then I had another conversation with that bitch of yours. I made it clear that I had a different opinion,” Barry explains, laughing. The creak of the steps reveals the arrival of the now-awake female. Her palms dig into her eyes as she slots herself in Rafe’s arms in just his t-shirt barely hiding her pastel green underwear. “What’s going on?” she croaks. Barry jeers, “There is the woman of the hour. I hear you didn’t tell your little boy toy about my visit.” Rafe pulls away from her to give her a confused look, “What is he talking about?” Freezing at the mention of her confidentiality, she pads over to the side table by the door. Her hands dig through the drawer to pull out a wad of cash Rafe keeps there in case of an emergency. She presses it into the brunette’s chest and shoves him out the door. “There is your money. Now, leave us alone, asshole,” she commands, slamming the door in his face. This is going to lead to a fight and she doesn’t need for there to be an audience when it breaks out. “He threatened you?” Rafe confirms with his fingers pointing at the door Barry left from. 

She exhales, “Yes, last week.” “Why didn’t you tell me? Did you hurt me?” he wonders how he didn’t notice. She exposes her unharmed body to him, “No, he wanted to scare me with dramatics. That’s it.” “That is beside the point. He could’ve hurt you. You know, this is exactly like you. You never tell me anything that is going on in that vault of a brain of yours,” he accuses, crossing his arms. Her head whips toward him, “Oh, no. You do not get to bring this back to my problems. Your problem is the reason why he came to me in the first place. If you had gotten clean in the first place like you promised, he wouldn’t have come to me in the first place.”

“That is not fair! I’ve been trying to get sober. I’ve been trying to get sober for you.”

“Maybe… maybe that’s the problem. Honey, I don’t want you to get sober for me. I want you to get sober for you. Because you realize just how much this is hurting you. How much it is changing you as a person.”

“Why can’t I want it for the both of us?” 

“Because I think sometimes you want to do it just to spite me and that’s what stopping you. You want to prove me wrong, which means you are doing it for the wrong reasons so it won’t stick. I think… I think that maybe that is what our whole relationship has been.”

This breaks a damn in Rafe. The broken look of realization on her face calls forth tears in his eyes, “What do you mean, Love? Our whole relationship has been about our love for each other.” “Has it though? Honey, all we ever do is fight. How is that love?” she poses, enclosing her small hands around his bigger ones. His blurry vision finds her, “We fight because we are fighting for our relationship. Because we care.” “Honey,” she whispers with agony. “We both know that even before we started dating, our vices made us like fire and ice.” “And we overcame those problems. Together. Please don’t talk about us like this we are over. We can work together. We can get through this,” he argues, gripping onto her like a life vest. “Until the next fight comes along. Then we are at each other’s throats, getting in as many digs as we can to hurt each other. How is that love, Rafe?” He doesn’t have an answer for her. All he wants is to give her a thousand reasons why they are meant to be together, except he gets completely overwhelmed by the situation. “Please don’t say we are over,” he begs.

“Don’t think of us as over, Honey. Think of this as us completing our story, giving us the chance to go on to make a new one.”

“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t, mean it. You just need some time to think it over. I know it. So I’m going to go to give you some space. And when I come back, we can talk it out.” His words aren’t an order; they are a plea. He leaves her with the hope that the distance from their emotions will help them settle the argument because he doesn’t know what he will do if it doesn’t work. 

———

Rafe didn’t think she was serious about breaking up. They’ve tried to separate so many times since they started dating, except it doesn’t mean that either of them actually went through it. She thought it would be the end after she got rid of his stash one time. His anger burnt hotter than the sun and she thought she would wake up in her bed alone. That morning, she woke up to whisper apologies and kisses to her stomach. He thought it was done when she found out that he was the reason she didn’t get a spot in the study abroad program. The thought of being away from her for a semester terrified him. She came back two days later with tears streaming down her face, saying she understood why he did it. She wouldn’t have been able to be gone for that long either. 

He is wrong about this time. As he walks into their home, it is like he walked into the wrong universe. What made this house his home feels different and yet he chooses to ignore it. The first thing he notices is that her shoes are gone. No neighbour for the pair of shoes he is abandoning at the door. The first clue should’ve been the lack of Y/N, but the fight they had would’ve been the explanation for that. He tries to tell himself she is going through her shoes and that is why they are missing. He goes to the kitchen to fix himself something to eat and get a beer. She won’t like it if she comes back home to find him drinking, so he’ll have to finish it before she does. He gobbles the peanuts and alcohol down in record time. With his snack completely, he heads to their bedroom to get changed out of his suit into something more comfortable. He neglects the absence of her personal items in the room, too preoccupied with thinking about what to make for dinner. He’ll make smothered pork chops; it’s one of her favourites. When he is about to go to cook, he realizes he should buy her flowers first. He slips on his shoes and walks to the grocery store. It will give him time to go over what he wants to say to her once she is home. He doubts she will be home until dinner, so why rush? He has time. 

Jasmine spots Rafe’s nearing figure and her lips tighten into a straight line. This isn’t his first visit to her. He is here at least once a week to buy Y/N flowers because of an argument. “How bad is it this time?” He scratches the back of her neck and gives her an awkward smile, “It was disastrous. Blue hyacinths and baby’s-breath, please. Oh, and that vase.” He points to a tear-dropped-shaped vase. The opening is smaller than the base and it is circled in ridges. Jasmine bobs her head, filling the glass with water prior to placing the bouquet into them. Rafe pays for the items and walks back home. He sits the vase in the middle of the dining room table and begins to make dinner. He plates the food, setting it on the made table. Everything is in place. The cutlery. The food. The drinks. Rafe. Now, all he needs is for Y/N to come home so they can make up. The hours of the night creep up on him and he eventually eats alone because if she isn’t home by now, then she probably won’t be coming home tonight. He uses Saran wrap to cover her room, placing it in the fridge with a sigh. He hopes she is safe wherever she is. 

Day after day the flowers go unadmired by the person they are meant for. Soft petals shrivell up like aging skin. The vibrant blue turns brown, which signifies death. Rafe keeps them in the vase even if they are long gone, hoping she will see the effort of his action. As the flowers progress in the later stage of decomposition, Rafe recognizes that Y/N will never see them. Because it genuinely is over. Their story is complete. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @victory-in-the-llama

[bekolxeram]

So... I said I couldn't wait for the plane disaster arc to be over, and I still stand by that statement. If you read my blog regularly, you'd know I loved it, the more plane stuff the merrier, but at the same time, it was a huge relief for me to finally be able to move on.

Warning: long rant incoming

I joined this fandom last season because of my love for BuckTommy and aviation, I've made it clear many times before. I saw comments downplaying Tommy's role in the cruise ship rescue, and I thought, well I know a thing or two about how hard flying is, especially flying a helicopter, so maybe I should write something about it.

Fast forward to last month, someone asked me whether Tommy could fly a plane realistically, so I answered it as they asked, realistically no. I can imagine him flying a light plane as a hobby, but never a four engine turboprop military plane that takes 5-12 crew members to fly, or an airliner that's basically a flying computer. I wasn't even aware of the Airport 1975 pilot transfer theory at first, so imagine my shock when I woke up to multiple posts naming my theory by name, (yeah, I said the water bomber in 2x14 belonged to CAL FIRE, I made my first post about this a long time ago, and I don't think anyone from the other side even made the effort to dig this deep, so those posts were referring to me) each with 400+ notes, and many reblogs by people I'd been following, telling me to shut the fuck up. It wasn't even aware that my aviation hc would be anything close to controversial, it deeply upset me and it fundamentally changed my interaction with the fandom as a whole.

I tried putting my more aviation focused posts under a specific tag that people can block if they're not interested, still, like clockwork, some posts popped up in the main ship tag around 6 hours later, digging up old interviews from Tim saying "Tommy did the water drop, just off screen" or expressing their disbelief that there were still people out there who thought Tommy didn't fly the air tanker.

I wanted to explain my reasoning, but I knew it would come across as needlessly confrontational, so I kept my mouth shut. I saw the pilot transfer theory gaining traction, I knew it was too crazy and too expensive for the show to pull off, but I kept my mouth shut. I even leaned into that theory at one point saying Tommy could be flying the helicopter in that stunt, but still the theory was hyped up more and more and its supporters were gradually getting more annoyed by me. I knew I would feel bad whether Tommy rappel into that cockpit or not, because on one hand, I hate that film with a burning passion, on the other, I basically stood back and watched everyone got their hopes way up then witnessed them getting crushed in real time.

Now Schrödinger's cat box is opened, without Tommy in it, I guess there's no need for me to self censor anymore. So here are some stuff I was too afraid to post when people were still deeply invested in their theory, before we all move on from this disaster arc.

The writers don't care about timeline, they can't even get when Tommy transferred out of the 118 right

Tommy supposedly left the 118 right before Buck joined, so 7 years ago, but in 7x09 Tommy said he joined Harbor 5 years ago. My very first post on this site is about this timeline conflict. My explanation was that it takes some years of training before you can even touch a helicopter at Air Ops (in real life LAFD sends you to LAPD for basic training), so Tommy probably only officially transferred to Harbor 5 years ago.

That led to a lot of comments saying the writers just didn't give a damn, they didn't care to google or get their story right, just accept it. But you don't even need to google. The description Tommy gave Buck in the Harbor tour scene was lifted straight from the LAFD Air Ops website, and you know what? If you scroll a little bit further down, you can clearly see the "at least two years of LAFD AIr Operations training line". It takes less than 5 minutes to read it all through.

Tim said Tommy did the water drop, so it's canon he flew that plane in 2x14

Someone pulled out Tim's interview specifically to disprove my CAL FIRE hc. Yeah, he did say Tommy did the water drop:

But I've never heard anyone from the show said Tommy was literally grabbing the yoke, pulling the thrust levers, flying the plane. A C-130 (or L-100 as the civilian variant) is not a single engine water scooper, it's a four engine monstrosity.

The heavier the plane, the faster it has to fly for the wings the generate enough lift to keep it in the sky, right? Well, in order to drop water/fire retardant in an accurate and effective fashion, the C-130 has to fly low and slow enough that the flight crew has to get used to hearing the "terrain! terrain! pull up!" and "stall! stall!" warnings at all time during a mission.

In fact, the C-130 water tanker usually flies behind a lead plane, most of the time a lighter business jet that surveys the area and plots the optimal route for the water drop. It fires a line of smoke to mark out the designated location for the payload, the C-130 behind it just has to release the water/fire retardant once the nose of the plane hit the trail of smoke.

That coordination is extremely cool.

The C-130 takes at the very least 3 crew members to fly: 2 pilots and a flight engineer, no fly-by-wire on this one, but it usually takes even more for a safer more accurate operation.

I can absolutely picture Tommy being one of the people sitting behind the pilots in 2x14. They didn't have a lead plane, so maybe the CAL FIRE guys asked him to pull his weight, since he was the one who asked for the favor and he was also an aerial firefighter, they needed an extra pair of professional eyes anyway. So technically he did the water drop, but he flew no plane that day. (I have a fully developed backstory in my head about Tommy's involvement in that episode, but unfortunately I'm not a good writer, and it'll probably piss people off more than it entertains them. It's about a clandestine mission à la 7x03 and Tommy's meet cute with his ex boyfriend)

If you've made it this far, you probably really like my blog or aviation stuff, and I think you for your support. At one point, I told myself I would leave the fandom behind if I saw one more post telling me to shut up, I got so closed to it. Now, reading post after post saying leaving the newly reintroduced pilot character out of the show's plane disaster arc is a missed opportunity just makes me, I don't know, kind of sad? I've always thought he's just a helicopter pilot, he wouldn't be much help in guiding the crippled jet down anyway, that I was right, but then what? It doesn't feel good to be right this time. I can accept not seeing Tommy working with the 118 on the ground, I can be patient and wait for a week longer for his presence, but accidentally annoying people with what I thought was fun trivia, watching hundreds of them clown on me for taking the show too seriously, for being a nitpicker, for being too obsessive, I don't think I can ever erase it from my mind.

Let's just hope we can all move on (mostly on my part), and I can return to making bad quality humorous gifs about our boys. I'll still post stuff about aviation, now that it's less controversial. If you're a brave soul you can go search for the tag I created for others to block (#aviation realism).

[thankeywa]

Star-crossed | Lo'ak x fem!human!reader pt. 2

Part two of my Lo'ak x reader fic (you can find part 1 here), also posted on @lucozadehulahoop. Trying to post all of my avatar stuff on this account, so follow me on here like the 7 badasses who already have done so! Thank you all so much for the love, this story is ongoing so let me know if you want to be on the tag list. I will be getting to some requests next! Unfortunately, it is exam season for me y'all, but keep the requests coming because writing keeps me sane.

part 3 part 4

Warnings: once again, both Lo'ak and the reader are 20y/o, and there will be eventual mature stuffs, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT with this or anything on my accounts.

words: 1K

summary: reader is a human left behind on pandora, she grew up with the remaining humans who'd been aloud to stay on the planet after the war and has been friends with the Sully clan her entire life. She and Lo'ak were best friends until he began to pull away from her in their teen years for seemingly no reason. This story is about them reconnecting on the day of her twentieth birthday, and dealing with the feelings they have for each other and the obstacles that come with them being from two different worlds.

Translations for this chapter:

Ngaru lu fpom srak? = Are you alright?

Eywa ngahu = (May) Eywa be with you

Y/n stepped outside the bunker and turned around the corner. Lo'ak was there, after all, hastily trying to get up and off his ass before she could see him. He cussed, giving himself away, but only managed to get back up on his knees, before freezing in his tracks. He hadn't seen her face to face in so long, he didn't know what to do with himself. Why was it so hard for him to even say a word all of a sudden? Lo'ak felt like he couldn't breathe.

The sunlight had gone, but now the entirety of the forest was a glow with the night, along with the 'freckles' on the Na'vi's skin, making him look like a constellation come to life. Y/n could see it: how much taller Lo'ak had grown since the last time she'd seen him. He'd also filled out his lanky features a little more; she imagined it was due to all of that training Jake and Neytiri put their kids through. "Hey..." she hugged herself, not really dressed for the cold air of the night. "Ngaru lu fpom srak?" She asked in concern, but he simply stared back at her. "Are you hurt? Is something out there...?"

"I'm fine." Lo'ak managed finally, and y/n looked away.

That was all he had to say to her after all those years?

All of a sudden, Y/n felt stupid and naive. Who was to say he'd come to see her on purpose? It had just been her own wishful thinking playing tricks on her. With how much of a clutz she remembered Lo'ak being, he'd most likely just fallen out of a tree by accident. She'd just wanted to check he wasn't in any immediate danger.

"Well." She quipped. "If there's nothing I can do for you, Eywa ngahu." Y/n bid him goodnight, and Lo'ak had to bite his tongue to stop himself from calling out to her. He'd made the mess they were in, and now y/n probably thought he'd shown up just to mess with her head. Eywa knew, he hadn't meant for y/n to see him. He'd just wanted to get a glimpse of her, tired of hearing his family constantly talking about her with him no longer being a part of her life.

By his own fault, nobody else's, as Neteyam had said.

But no, it wasn't just that. What did his brother know? What did any of them understand of the pain he was in? He was in love with a human. With his best friend. Someone who could never want back him the same way he did. Someone so infuriatingly understanding and accepting of him, she'd just talked to him with the same kindness and patience in her eyes as she'd done since they'd been kids together. As if he hadn't thrown it all back in her face. As if the past four years had never happened.

Why couldn't she just hate him?

"You know what—" He started, but was immediately cut off.

The second y/n was a about to turn away and walk the other direction, a blood curling growl was heard from the not so far away distance, and she immediately reached out for Lo'ak, who was about to run his mouth as always. Too distracted with what was going on in his own head to see the danger around him. He'd knelt down to her level, which made shutting his mouth a lot easier.

Y/n hadn't even thought about the fact that she'd basically pinned the Na'vi against the outside wall of her home, as if she could shield him from whatever hell was out there, until she could feel his laboured breath against her skin.

Something was moving out there, and that was all she could think about.

"I-N-S-I-D-E." She signed across the plane of his chest. "N-O-W." y/n looked into Lo'ak's yellow eyes to see if he'd understood that they would have to reasume talking another time.

She leaned against his side, guiding them slowly through the dark, when suddenly the damn fool decided to hoist her up and start running. It didn't fail to alert the Thanator that had been out prowling nearby for a midnight snack. Y/n dug her nails into Lo'ak's skin, probably drawing blood, and struggled to keep quiet as they got through the door. She yanked the Na'vi inside with her, not trusting Lo'ak not to do something stupid like stand outside and fight the apex predator of the forests of Pandora.

"Shit, shit, shit‐"

"Shut. Up." They snapped at each other in the dark in hushed tones.

She put out all the lights and they both lay down on the floor, holding onto each other as they listened to the beast's heavy paws prowl the grounds just outside her door, along with the slight snarl it made every time it exhaled. Lo'ak held her close, maybe a little too tight, while his other hand went to his dagger.

If the Thanator did decide it was going to attack the bunker until it got through, Lo'ak was going to throw himself at it with everything he had. He wanted to say everything he hadn't told y/n up until that point, realizing how cruel it would be for either one of them to die thinking their once best friend hated them. Y/n saw the Thanator's shadow on her kitchen floor as it passed by the window, and closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against Lo'ak's shoulder.

"Eywa, please, not him. He is he one of your people... I'll do anything. Please..." She chanted, mustering up her best Na'vi as tears began to stream down her face.

Y/n couldn't believe it. She actually was praying. Not that she didn't believe Eywa was a very real goddess. Y/n simply didn't think humans had the right to ask anything of the Mother of Pandora. Yet she meant it, wholeheartedly. She would have repaid any debt in exchange for Lo'ak safety, knowing full well that the words that were leaving her mouth were not to be taken lightly.

And Lo'ak knew it too.

He was the one to muffle her ramblings this time, covering her mouth with his overly large hand, eyes wide with fear, and his ears now pointed backward. Y/n had just vouched for his life to be saved at any price.

What have you done?

Lo'ak wanted to scream at her, and he knew she could see it in his eyes. Y/n didn't care.

Her prayers had just been answered and the Thanator was gone.

tag list for the people who asked for part 2: @aleromania, @ghostjoohoney