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seraphdreams · 1 year ago

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JJK MEN AS YOUR PERSONAL TRAINER. | TOJI FUSHIGURO, GOJO SATORU, CHOSO KAMO, SUGURU GETO.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. having private sessions with the men prove to be an experience. what type of trainer are each of them?

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. smut, edging, degradation, praise, dry humping, fellatio, switch!choso, overstimulation, emo boy!choso, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, they are all whores. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 3.1k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! oh em gee ?? headcanon format ? yup! i originally wrote this as a little joke since i started pilates but then my mind wandered and it wasn’t a joke anymore. other than that, ino was supposed to be on the list but he couldn’t make it :( something about being busy .. regardless, comment / reblog if u like ! it would make my day, thank u ♡

TOJI — THE CORRUPT TRAINER.

there must’ve been a clear distinction as to why your trainer only allowed sessions from 9pm up until midnight, but your desperation when it came to relentlessly searching for a personal trainer didn’t leave enough room in your mind to think deeper about the true nature of its shadiness. all you needed was a spotter, and toji’s services claimed to provide just that.

and what happens when you combine height, a monsterous build, superhuman stamina, and a handsome face? well, you get toji fushiguro in all his abhorrent glory.

his chiseled body virtually doubled your frame with biceps the size of your head, shoulders wide enough to emphasize the narrowness of his waist, and veins crawling up his limbs even when the muscles weren’t flexed. a mean looking man with a scar over his mouth like some battered veteran. whatever he got into during the day was truly nothing you’d want to take part in.

inviting him over to your home gym was one thing, but it was looking to be another when his “help” took the form of sensuality; his large hands running along the back of your thighs when he’d seemingly fold you over with your legs on either side of your head for warm-up stretches, or even the occasional groping of your ass when it came down to squats, he was barely doing his job, what you paid a hefty price for, and yet you loved every bit of it.

“c’mon, you can take more of it, cant’cha?” toji’s gruff voice goads, watching the way your tiny cunt struggles with swallowing the head of his wrist-thick, bulbous cock. you were put in the awkward position of doggy, yet another one of his sessions derailed and he deemed this new workout could help you build up some much needed endurance. you were going to need it if you planned on keeping him around.

it surely seems that way when you’re practically running from the pleasure he pistons into you, thick cock kissing your cervix with each skillful, angled thrust of his. large hands were wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place for him — because if there was one thing your personal trainer was strict about, it was form. and your form was beyond perfect.

“‘s just too good.” you mindlessly whined, attempting your hardest to grip onto the thin cushion of the yoga mat beneath you. toji lets out a deep scoff at your vocables, driving his hips against your ass once more, this time a bit sharper with a hint of fervor as its aftertaste. “and you’ve been training with me for how long now?” his question came out in a mocking tone as his lips stretched wide in a crooked smile, that of a statement rather than a query.

“t-two weeks .. fuck.” you respond, mind going hazy from the gaining intensity of his potent movements. the feeling was all too much, it came as no surprise when pleasure began to surge from your spine to coil at your core, building up that high you've been chasing for the past hour, that grumpy ol’ toji continued to rip away from you.

pressing a heavy hand to the small of your back, he arches you forward, groaning at the sight of how swiftly you position yourself for him, your face pushed against the mat.

maybe his training has paid off. . “two weeks and you’re still struggling to take my cock?” he pulled your hips back against his, leaving you defenseless in the ministrations. “guess i need to train this pretty little hole of yours more often.”

with the end of his sentence, he snakes his thick arm around your waist, the pad of his thumb finding your achy, puffy clit, rubbing the nub in tight, harsh circles. if your moans weren’t already loud enough, you were sure the whole town could hear you by now, crying out his name like no tomorrow while your legs trembled with your impending orgasm. “‘m cumming! so hard!” you cry, drooling into the mat as he fucks you through your orgasm.

it wasn’t until soon after that he finally reached his high, sending hot and sticky ropes of cum into your womb. not once had a session with toji ended with him shooting his cum in a more responsible way, with a rubber. it was clear to you since the very first time you allowed his fantasies to come to fruition — toji didn’t believe in condoms.

your body went lax as soon as he pulled out, and he tucked his cock back into his pants, hovering over your sad frame with an amused smirk on his scarred lips.

“good session. i expect $800 wired to my account by the mornin’.”

GOJO — THE ENABLING TRAINER.

when you first showed up to the private room of your local gym in search of your assigned instructor for the night a.k.a “the strongest,” you were expecting some big burly man with a cocky attitude — someone you didn’t particularly get along with. but much to your surprise, instead, he was handsome; fluffy white strands of hair that strayed upwards and a million dollar smile with just the charisma, the charm to back it up.

gojo stood over 6 feet tall, and although he was on the lankier side, there was no denying the lean muscles that peeked through his skintight black top. he smiled, throwing a loose cloth over his broad shoulders.

“you ready to get started?”

your eyes greedily took him in, scanning over the finer details of his gorgeous build. it wasn’t until about thirty seconds of daydreaming about what he’d look like unclothed that you finally gave him a response in the form of a nod and hum.

of course satoru wasn’t an idiot, he could tell from how dazed you were during the first few minutes of instruction that you were focused on something else, not that he minds though, it’s truly an honor that a girl as pretty as you is capable of fawning over him, just as many others do.

after having to shake your thoughts whenever it came to watching him take a large swig from his water, droplets of the liquid streaming down his chin to graze his prominent adam's apple, or the soft appraises he’d coo when you finally got the hang of his workouts, it was the end of yet another vigorous session with him, sweat dripping from your chin down to your chest that was scantily clad in a baby pink sports bra. you held on taut to your water bottle as satoru carried conversation with you.

“you improved so much in just an hour. i’m proud.”

his praises barely reached your ears before you looked at him with adoration glossed over those pretty eyes — there was something about him that you just couldn’t get over, but you knew you needed him badly. you dabbed perspiration from your forehead with a matching pink towel, soft smile forming on your doll-like features.

“thank you,”

he nods his head slightly before starting, “you seemed a bit distracted today, though. something on your mind?” his query pulled you from your gojo-induced hypnosis, causing you to blink away the embarrassment pooling up within you. were you truly that obvious?

“hm? there’s nothing, i’m fine,” your reply came out low and sheepish while your eyes struggled to find anywhere else to settle besides those bright baby blues. he took it upon himself to inch closer to you, studying your features until you gasped softly once your back hit the wall. “nothing?” he asks for confirmation, and you affirm. “nothing.”

“all you gotta do is use your words if you need me.”

gojo’s hands found their way at your thighs, creeping them upwards underneath the thin spandex of your shorts. his touch felt hot against your skin, each brush of his fingertips along the expanse of your inner thigh causing shivers to trickle down your spine while he watched with mirth at your pitiful attempt to keep your whines at bay.

“i think .. i think i need you.”

with that, satoru smirked and lifted your leg up just enough so that it fell over his arm. his lips met yours with a salacious that only the whorest of whores could possess, skilled tongue angling its way inside your mouth to gently clash with yours in the sweetest harmony that had you buckling underneath the frame of his body.

it must’ve been a spur of the moment when you found yourself rutting your hips up in search for satoru’s, a pitchy moan sounded into the kiss when he matches your ministrations, grinding his sweatpant clad and half-hard, leaking length into the seat of your shorts; creating the most delicious sensation as the tip nudged against your clit.

his free hand took purchase at your cheek, his thumb rubbing ever so gently against the heated skin while his movements increased in greediness. your mind’s too hazy to make out anything besides the pleasure and build up of your orgasm — so much so, that it pulled you back to reality as soon as it hit, your sloppy kisses coating gojo’s soft lips in a thin sheen and the seat of your shorts sopping wet from the release of your high.

yet, gojo kept at it until he too came to a falter, cumming an ample amount in his sweats while groaning deep into your mouth. he separated from the kiss for just a split second before he took it upon him to goad,

“we can add 30 more minutes and i’ll give you more than just a taste.”

CHOSO — THE INTIMIDATING TRAINER.

a pierced tongue, some tattoos running along both veined arms, and a deep, monotonous voice were a recipe for your timidness when it came to the kamo, who you’d invited over for your very first home training session. it didn’t help that he was on the quieter side, responding to whatever small talk you’d make with one or two words while his intense eyes would follow every move you’d make as he’d help with your form.

he truly wasn’t a bad guy, or so you thought. even now, during your session with him, his praises were appropriate, he wasn’t too handsy nor did he seem to have any ill intent; being with him felt surprisingly comfortable and refreshing just as the crisp, cold water you two were currently drinking, made fresh from your refrigerator’s tap.

“was it too intense?” he’d asked in regard to the exercises you had just completed. intense was an understatement, you didn’t know how you could move your body in such ways that you did, which wouldn’t have been possible without his expertise. choso set the chilled glass of water down onto your coffee table, feeling coy from sitting on your couch, something he’d never done even with his regulars, and in response, you shook your head at the query, settling yourself by his side.

there was truly no denying how absolutely stunning you were, like some angelic being brought to him from the heavens up above in the form of the sweetest thing he’s ever met. he was afraid that if he blinked too hard, you’d vanish.

the more his eyes focused on your lips when you talked, how you’d massage the sore muscles of your thighs and even let out cute whines because of the fact, the more he found it harder to contain his thoughts, rapidfire in his mind. those perverted thoughts that only some horny teenager could have, not a well off adult like him.

yet, it wasn’t enough to stop him from getting hard in his sweats, a dark grey patch spreading at the crotch, what he’d hoped you’d mistake as spilt water.

“shit,” with that of a husky sigh, he ran his hand over his face, tinges of pink battering the tattooed scar across his nose and cheeks. “i’m sorry.”

oblivious to his situation, you were quick to express your inquiry. “sorry about wh- oh.” the head of his cock practically peeked through the barrier of the hem of his sweats while he made a futile effort to cover himself with one of your pillows once you had realized.

he looked cute like that, embarrassed by something so natural that it even spurred on your arousal, the thought of him getting worked up over you doing virtually nothing. “i-it’s okay.. i can help you if you want.” you offer, moving your position to sit between his thighs.

violet hued eyes widened from your newfound boldness, the clearing of his throat being the only true source of sound he could make in that moment.

“nah, nah. it’s-“ before he could inch out the words, you were drawing featherlight circles at his tip over the fabric, causing his breath to hitch and resolve to falter.

choso wasn’t someone who’d allow himself to be in such a pathetic situation, yet the thought of you carrying out his perfect porn plot fantasy was all he needed for that internal morality to fly straight out the window.

you chuckled at the way he hiked himself up when you finally took him from his bottoms and into your hot, wet mouth. just the sight of his cock disappearing past soft, glossy pink lips has his temperature rising, feeling as though he could pass out.

it’s hazy for him — your hand at the base, the rhythmic bobbing of your head slowly while gradually picking up speed. he never would’ve thought the job he took on for extra cash to fund his college textbooks would end up with someone as gorgeous as you giving him a chance. every pump of your hand around what couldn’t fit into your mouth had him groaning, bucking his hips up as gently as he could without battering the back of your throat.

though, he wouldn’t mind if he did.

staving off a gag, you ultimately increased your pace, determined to get him off while your other hand fondled his plump balls.

from the faint touches alone, he could feel his high approaching, embarrassingly quicker than usual. yet, he couldn’t help it when you started to grow sloppy, a mix of spit and precum dribbling down his shaft.

“w-wait, fuck.. ‘m gonna.”

it took no time for him to shoot his seed into your awaiting throat, his head thrown back against the headrest while he bucked his hips to jettison every last drop. you swallowed all he had to offer before pulling away, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

maybe he wasn’t as intimidating after all.

GETO — THE CHARMING TRAINER.

you were his favorite. you had to be. even in the long line of women waiting to have their own turn with him, you were always a top contender. he had always made time for you, and you alone.

geto’s popularity made perfect sense in your mind. he was tall, handsome with narrow features and dragon tattoos strung along both arms, a man ahead of his time. not to mention, his docile, gentle demeanor. he was charming as all get out and you were beyond aware of your superstar status of being the only one he wanted.

“are we actually going to get some training done or is there something else you want to do?” he straps his fingerless gloves around his palm, tank top tight around his torso, carving out each and every trace of his abs while looking over you, a pleasant smile quirked at his lips.

you felt sheepish under his sharp gaze, a feeling that comes all too natural with expert trainer, suguru geto. “i’m fine with whatever you have in mind, sugu.”

if you didn’t know any better, you’d swore you saw his cheeks dust in the lightest shade of pink at the endearing nickname. you were cute, too fucking cute and perhaps, that was the reason he kept you around.

“i’m thinking we test that stamina ‘nd see if you can hold up riding me?” he hooks his finger under your chin, tilting your head up just slightly. “no help, all on your own.” in all honesty, you could definitely take up his challenge. how hard could it be to take some dick?

or so you thought.

“fuck, sugu! ‘s too much!”

you wouldn’t want to be caught dead in the miserable state that you were in but it ultimately did seem as though geto’s lessons had gotten you nowhere. the tip of his cock wasn’t even an inch past your cunt while you rested your hands on his broad shoulders, pathetically trying to take what was the easiest part.

he smirked at you, resting his hands behind his head. “i’m not helping, princess. i meant it.”

you continued to try and sink yourself down onto his unreasonably thick cock, a soft crack of a whine tumbling past parted lips when your pussy engulfed another half inch of him. “but-“

“if i have to help you, we’re not finishing until you’re a mess.” he grits, not harsh enough to come off as daunting but stern enough to warn you. yet, the warning fell to deaf ears when you began to whorishly beg pleas of “help me, sugu. help me.”

from that, he let out a low groan, his hands on your waist sinking you all the way down to the base before he gained stability, flattening his feet onto the floor and fucking his cock into your fluttering cunt.

with the way he moves, you were almost positive you had the wind knocked out of you from those first few thrusts alone. soft babbles resonated throughout the room while you clung to his body like it’d comfort you in the hell that was his potent ministrations.

you felt far more sensitive than you ever felt, white hot pleasure coiling within you in no time, your pussy tightening around his shaft in such a suffocating way, geto felt as though he couldn’t breathe either. “s-so tight, princess. i know you wanna cum, cum for me, baby.” he goads through a strained voice, his thumb now working between your folds to find purchase at your clit, rubbing the puffy nub in moderate circles.

“if you do t-that, i might—“

and before you knew it, you were gushing around his pretty cock, face twisted in the prettiest picture of pleasure. the aftershocks of your orgasm were way more intense as you were fucked to overstimulation, a sly grin on his lips.

“told you we weren’t stopping, darling.”

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yogazephyr · 1 year ago

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Finding the Perfect Fit: Yoga Mat Reviews and Recommendations

When it comes to practicing yoga, the right mat can make all the difference. A good quality yoga mat not only provides comfort and support but also enhances your overall yoga experience. In this article, we will dive into the world of yoga mats, providing you with insightful yoga mat reviews and recommendations to help you find the perfect fit for your practice.

The Importance of Choosing the Right Yoga Mat Before we delve into the reviews, let's explore why selecting the right yoga mat is crucial for your practice.

Comfort: A yoga mat with adequate cushioning ensures that your body is comfortable during poses and transitions, reducing the risk of strain or discomfort.

Grip: A non-slip surface is essential to maintain stability and prevent slipping during challenging poses, especially in hot yoga or intense sessions.

Durability: Investing in a durable yoga mat means it will last longer and offer a better return on your investment.

Portability: If you're a yogi on the go, a lightweight and portable yoga mat is essential for easy transport to and from classes.

Now, let's explore some top-rated yoga mats through these yoga mat reviews:

Manduka PRO Yoga Mat The Manduka PRO Yoga Mat is renowned for its durability and exceptional cushioning. It offers ample support for your joints and provides a firm grip, even in the sweatiest of yoga sessions. While it's on the heavier side, making it less ideal for frequent travelers, its longevity and performance make it a favorite among serious yogis.

Gaiam Essentials Thick Yoga Mat For those on a budget, the Gaiam Essentials Thick Yoga Mat is a fantastic option. It provides good cushioning for joints and is lightweight, making it easy to carry to and from the studio. Its textured, non-slip surface ensures stability during your practice.

Liforme Yoga Mat The Liforme Yoga Mat is eco-friendly and known for its exceptional grip. It's made from biodegradable, non-toxic natural rubber and features alignment guides to help you perfect your poses. While it's a bit pricier, its quality and sustainability are worth the investment.

Jade Yoga Harmony Mat If you're looking for an eco-conscious option, the Jade Yoga Harmony Mat is made from natural rubber tapped from rubber trees. It provides excellent cushioning and grip while being environmentally friendly. Plus, Jade Yoga plants a tree for every mat sold, contributing to reforestation efforts.

prAna E.C.O Yoga Mat The prAna E.C.O Yoga Mat is another eco-friendly choice, made from thermoplastic elastomer (TPE). It offers decent cushioning, is lightweight, and free from harmful chemicals. Its closed-cell construction repels moisture, making it easy to clean after a sweaty practice.

#Yoga Zephyr #Yoga Mat Reviews #Yoga Accessories Reviews #Meditation Cushions

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gamlychaze · 1 year ago

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Backstrap Yoga Mat Sling|cornickfitness

You are introducing the Backstrap Yoga Mat Sling - the ultimate companion for yogis on the go! Say goodbye to awkwardly carrying your yoga mat and hello to effortless convenience. Our sleek and stylish sling allows you to effortlessly transport your carpet from home to the studio or wherever your yoga journey takes you. Designed with comfort and durability, our adjustable sling fits all mat sizes and ensures a secure, hands-free carrying experience. Experience the freedom of movement and make a statement with the Backstrap Yoga Mat Sling today.

#CHILLAX Muscle Recovery Gel #Sliding Core Exercise Discs #Weight Lifting Gym Exercise Barbell #Cork Yoga Block #Yoga Mat Cleaner Organic #Zabuton Yoga Meditation cushion #3 Pack Resistance Band Bundle #KEEP GOING Workout Tank Top

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hanasnx · 11 months ago

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dick grayson would fit given the whole acrobat thing and all. him taking advantage of you wanting to be more flexible and asking him to be your teacher thinking he would just teach you a few stretches…ends up stretching you out in a whole different way

-🍃

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: based on the porn i got off to last night

"All the way down." DICK GRAYSON directs, motioning forward. As an experienced instructor, you trust his judgement. Sitting on your knees, you crawl on your hands until you can arch your back towards the floor, reaching your arms out as far as they can go. Your ass in the air, you can feel the stretch in your entire body. It's good enough to ignore the compromising position you're in.

You don't think about it when the warmth of another presence slots behind you, and big hands clutch your hips, drawing you back. If you could see him, you'd witness how he's crouched, situating your ass at his crotch, staring hard at it while he moistens his lips. "There you go." he commends casually. Oblivious to the dirty ulterior motive to see what you'd look when he fucks you doggy style, you focus on how delectable it feels to be taken care of, that pleasant burn in your body either from how you stretch or the residual memories of what you were doing the last time you were in this position.

"You're so good at this, Dick." you tell him, more sultry than you meant to.

"Don't praise me just yet." he replies in a scoff, and you brush off your confusion. "Push forward." Two thumbs press into the fat of your ass, and you pick yourself up on your arms while you straighten your legs to form upward facing dog. "You want to feel it right here in the spine..." he muses, a large palm stamping onto your tailbone and canvasing the dimples at your lower back, commending you for your deep arch. "That's right, that's..." he trails off as he scans your posture, and the cushion of your yoga mat dips when it's met with his knees. He straddles your thighs, and inclines over you, molding your body with his. It's safe to say his methods of instructing you are unconventional, but he's the expert. So when his pants nudge the crevice of your ass as he overlays you in upwards facing dog, you take your mind off of the bulge. He's so close his cheek kisses the side of your head, and his voice is right up next to your ear. "That's deep."

You try to suppress your shiver, but you're sure he felt it travel all the way up to your neck.

"Hold it right there." he tells you as he backs up, and momentarily you mourn the loss of his body heat. "Hold it... Alright—" You do as you did before, returning to balasana, but when you back all the way up, your booty shorts bump his pelvis.

Hot in the face, you look over your shoulder at him just in time to witness how he eyes you up, but when he doesn't mention it you're quick to straighten yourself out. "It's okay, happens a lot." he assures. His hands rest on his hips, and he throws his head back. "This is good though, I can feel you trying hard. Just hold that." A smile stretches onto his lips, and he picks himself up further into a taller kneel, raising his hips to yours as his hand fixes on your tailbone again to keep you from running away. You can feel something half-hard through his pants but you don't allow yourself to dwell on it. Especially not when the brush of contact makes your eyes flutter. "Definitely hold that."

For a second, you're frozen in place, afraid to do something stupid or unprofessional.

"Remember to breathe." he reminds you, and you expel a burst of air you didn't realize you were holding. "And... release." You move at a steady pace so as to not alert him to your embarrassment, slipping back into upwards dog for the second time. "That's perfect. You look perfect." A surge of heat blooms on your face again. "Turn to the side for me. Let's go ahead and raise this leg." You oblige him, and he lifts the aforementioned leg by your ankle. Two hands wrapped around the joint makes your foot look small.

When you bring it up, he inspects it, his eyes following the curvature intently. He's a very attentive instructor. "All the way up. Straighten the knee." You curl your other leg to support yourself, propped up on your elbow, all so it's possible to stand your foot into the sky until it's a tall pole. "Let's open you up here." Your gaze widens as he approaches you again, tucking himself into your space so he can palm your calf, and his crotch slides up against your exposed pussy. The constricting shorts you wore— regulation according to him— outline your cunt in a way that has it swell through the fabric, and here he is grazing against it like it's no big deal... You have to be reading this wrong. Gently, he forces your leg back, and a burn tingles in your ham string. It's not the only thing that tingles, his crotch now firmly pressed to yours. "You're still a little stiff." he notes, which takes your attention away from his halfie in his basketball shorts. It can't be though, it must be his phone in his pocket or something.

He splays his hands on either side of your waist, pushing forward so your ankle's on his shoulder, your knee at your nose. He exhales. There's not enough oxygen in the room, it's practically spinning, and your heart is pounding in your chest. He's so large you can't see his face as it reaches clear over your head and all you can look at is his pants, desperate to deduce the familiar shape of a boner. No such luck when all these limbs are in your way.

"Wow. Flexible, huh?" He grins wolfishly. Pride preens at the notion the acrobat noticed how bendy you are. "Let's go into bridge. You remember bridge?"

You swallow hard and nod, "Mhm," you respond uneasily, throat thick from the coating of silence. Giving you enough space to shift, your hips align on the floor, grounding your arms flat so you can raise your pelvis. It doesn't take much for his thighs to be under yours again, fooling you into thinking he's taking a constructive gander of your pose until his arm straps under you. Fingers curl around the handle of torso, and your eyes widen as he uses his fist on mat to pick you up. Briefly, your toes leave the floor when he adjusts himself to slot between your legs snugly. When he's satisfied, he holds his own hand over your hip, arm still secured under your tailbone, and arches your spine manually. "That's it." he praises, and splays fingers onto your belly, fingertips just brushing your ribcage. "Feel that now? In the core?" Timidly, you nod. "One more ought'a do it. Sit down for me." For me. The words resound in your head as you drop, and he reaches behind him to clutch your ankles, bringing them over his thighs to fold over your head. "Legs straight." he reminds you, and he curls your body for you, letting your hole get some air as it faces the ceiling.

Those huge fingers cling onto the meat of your thighs, digging into the flesh as your tits spill to your chin in your little sports bra. "Wow, you are tight, huh?" he muses and you jelly. Folded all the way over yourself, his hands slide to the inside of your knees to pin you in place and your shorts ride completely up into your ass crack, cheeks defined as his jaw hovers just above your swollen cunt. Can he smell you?

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drowning-in-paragraphs · 2 months ago

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(UN)FINISHED CHEMISTRY

a/n: This second part was requested. Enjoy!

PART 1: (UN)FINISHED BUSINESS

jude bellingham x exgf!reader

warnings: a bit suggestive... Also, someone teach me how to come up with titles.

summary: Not enough time has passed for them to see each other again, yet Jude and she are forced to interact once more in another of Adidas’ “wonderful” campaigns. This time, though, they’re a bit closer...

The second photoshoot wasn’t supposed to happen so soon. In fact, they had both hoped to avoid each other for as long as possible, but fate—or rather, Adidas—had other plans. Just two weeks after their last encounter, they found themselves in another sterile, brightly lit studio. This time, the set was more intimate. Dimmed lights, softer tones, and a background that screamed "romance." It was all part of Adidas’ latest campaign for their new sportswear line: “Body connection.”

Right. Body connection.

Jude arrived first, dressed in a fitted black T-shirt and grey sweat pants, his athletic physique on full display. He scanned the room, taking in the atmosphere. The set was designed to look like a private gym, sleek and modern, with cushioned mats, low lights, and a few props—an exercise bench, a yoga mat, and a punching bag. It all screamed tension and sweat.

It would’ve been the perfect setting for anyone else. But when she walked in, the air shifted.

She appeared, effortlessly stunning in a sports bra and high-waisted leggings, both in deep navy that contrasted beautifully with her skin. Her hair was tied up this time, giving her a fierce, no-nonsense look. But Jude saw the way her eyes flickered when they landed on him. She was nervous, just like last time.

But it was different today. The tension wasn’t just from unfinished business or bitter memories—it was from the photoshoot brief itself.

The photographer clapped his hands as soon as she stepped onto the set. “Alright, everyone! Let’s pick up where we left off. This time, we’re focusing on physicality. I want to see raw energy, that connection. Jude, you’re going to be guiding her through some workout moves. Maybe a bit of flexibility. Close contact. Real, physical chemistry.”

Physical chemistry.

Jude swallowed hard.

Her breath hitched.

As she stepped closer, her face unreadable, they stood barely a foot apart. The energy between them crackled, and neither could deny it this time.

“Alright, let’s start with something simple. Jude, stand behind her and guide her through some stretching. Show her how to do it right,” the photographer directed, oblivious to the wildfire about to ignite between them.

Jude moved behind her as instructed, his body looming over hers as she bent forward, preparing for the stretch. His hands hovered just above her hips hesitant before they made contact, his touch firm but gentle as he guided her posture. His fingers splayed over her waist, his thumbs grazing the skin just above her waistband. She stiffened for a moment, the contact electrifying, but forced herself to stay composed.

"You’re tense," he whispered against the back of her neck, so low only she could hear. "You need to loosen up."

She wanted to snap back at him, to tell him to keep his hands to himself, but his touch—it was familiar. Too familiar. Her skin tingled where his fingers rested, her pulse quickening in a way that both thrilled and terrified her.

Jude’s voice was controlled, low and steady, but there was a heat behind it that wasn’t just for the camera. “Lean into me.”

She hesitated, her body betraying her as she shifted her weight slightly back. She could feel the hardness of his chest pressing into her back, his breath grazing her ear. He leaned in closer, their proximity leaving nothing to the imagination.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile as his breath ghosted across her neck. “This is supposed to be professional.”

“Right,” he said, his voice teasing. “Because nothing says professional like having your ex feel you up.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the flutter of excitement his words ignited within her. The pull between them was undeniable, and Jude could sense it.

The photographer was completely oblivious to the tension building between them. “Perfect, perfect! Now, Jude, step in front of her. I want you two to do some light sparring, playful but intense.”

They broke apart, and for a second, she felt a strange emptiness where his body had been. Shaking it off, she took her stance, fists up, eyes locked on his. This time, she was ready to match him, toe to toe. Jude grinned, that infuriatingly confident smirk tugging at his lips.

“Don’t hold back,” he murmured, raising his fists. “I know you want to punch me.”

The playful challenge in his voice lit a fire in her, and she threw a light punch at his chest. He caught her wrist with ease, spinning her around so her back was against him once more, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. The motion was swift, almost too quick for her to react, and suddenly she found herself pinned against his body, her breath hitching as his grip tightened.

Of course, the photographer was delighted.

For a split second, the world fell away. It was just the two of them. His hand on her stomach, his breath at her neck, his body flush against hers.

“Easy,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to her ear. His fingers slid along her skin, resting just under her ribs as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her. The heat between them was almost unbearable now.

She felt the muscle in her jaw tighten, trying to keep herself from melting into him. “Let go of me.”

Jude’s smirk deepened, but he released her slowly, savoring the feel of her slipping from his grasp. As she turned to face him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with a mixture of anger and something else, she realized they were far beyond the point of pretending.

"Alright, alright, let’s move on," the photographer called, completely unaware of the silent storm brewing between them. "Jude, lift her like you’re helping her with a pull-up. Close contact, show that strength. We want it to look intense.”

Jude raised a brow, and she shot him a warning glance. “Careful Bellingham…”

He chuckled shortly and stepped forward, slipping his hands around her waist again, this time lifting her effortlessly off the ground as she gripped a pull-up bar above her. As her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist for balance, she felt the undeniable semi-hard length of him pressing against her.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she muttered, half to herself, half to him.

She could feel his breath on her lips, his heartbeat against her own. Her body was practically molded to his, and for a moment, the rest of the room faded into oblivion.

Jude held her there, his hands pressing into her lower back, fingers digging in just slightly. “As if this were easy for me,” he murmured, his voice rough, his lips grazing her ear as he lowered her back down slowly.

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Did he miss her or did he just hate her? He was playing with fire, and they both knew it. Her breath came faster, her pulse racing as his grip tightened just slightly, their bodies still pressed together.

“You’re tickling me,” she muttered, her voice breathless, but even as she said it, her hands slid down to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

For a second, she thought he might kiss her. His eyes darkened, flicking to her lips, and she could see the struggle within him—the same one she was battling. But instead, he pulled back just enough to let her go, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

“I’m not falling Y/N,” he whispered again, that same taunting edge in his voice.

She half-pouted, but before she could respond, the photographer chimed in with one final instruction, completely oblivious to the electric storm between them. "That’s a wrap! Great work, guys! The chemistry is unreal."

Jude gave her one last lingering look, his eyes burning with unspoken words, and then he stepped away, leaving her standing there, her body still buzzing from the contact.

As he walked off set, she let out a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. She hated him. But God, she wanted him too.

As the crew began packing up, Y/N stayed rooted to the spot, still feeling the echo of Jude’s touch on her skin. The room had returned to its normal buzz of activity, but her mind was somewhere else, replaying the weight of his hands on her waist, the heat of his breath on her neck, the pressure against her bum...

She reached for her phone, half-expecting to find some mundane message from her manager or a notification of an app. Instead, her heart skipped a beat when Jude’s or rater, the contact named: that arrogant jerk, flashed across the screen.

Body conection? Nailed.

Her breath caught in her throat. She stared at the message for a long moment, the flickering studio lights casting a dim glow across the phone’s screen. She didn’t know what to say—didn’t know if she should say anything at all. It had been months since she had entered his chat.

A second text buzzed in before she had time to think.

Any idea when round three is?

Her pulse raced, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard. She bit her lip, the mix of amusement and desire swirling inside her like a storm. Every nerve in her body screamed for her to resist—to keep up the wall she’d built between them and left him on read—but a small part of her, the part that still remembered how things used to be, was tempted to tear it down.

She started typing, paused, then erased the words before starting again. Finally, she sent a single, teasing reply.

Don’t get too comfortable, Bellingham. Next time, I’m throwing the punch.

A few seconds later, her phone buzzed again.

His response came almost immediately.

Can’t wait.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It was far from over.

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cosmorugs · 11 months ago

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diorkittys · 4 months ago

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yoga lessons ˚ ♡ ⋆｡ teacher!ramattra + [human] reader

synopsis : being late to your teachings with your bhikkhu wasn’t unbeknownst to either one of you. though, maybe you should’ve studied up a little more on your poses. it’s okay, your teacher will remind you lazy work does not go unpunished. maybe that’s not a punishment in itself.

—TW : smut , female body parts , mentor and student (not an age gap, i promise) , size difference , hittin it from behind , dom! ramattra , exhibitionism , slight dumification , slight overstimulation , yapping

‘sleeping in’ was a foreign concept in the monastery of the monks. you were expected to be up ‘before the arrival of surya’—the sun himself. Although, that wasn’t necessarily a problem anyone there faced; an unspoken rule of awaking at 4:00, meditation until 5:00, and chanting before 6:00… all to be fulfilled to begin your day.

early mornings didn’t phase you anymore, it was to be assumed regarding the fact you live with the monks. And so whilst everyone finished their routine, you had an extra step: teaching. Bhante Ramattra took you under his wing as his novice 6 months ago, when you had fled to the monastery in search of spiritual guidance and inner peace… as most do. He was a stoic mentor with a gentle soul; and he was always gentle with you. you figured he, as a bhikkhu, however, was like that to most. it was still nice to perceive it as your own.

“Namo tassa bhagavato arahato samma sambuddhassa.” you finished your daily prayer, taking in a deep breath, and standing from your place on your cushion. in about 5 minutes you would be late to your lessons with your bhikkhu.

you hurried to put on your robes and make your way to the gardens of the monastery. you passed by various monks walking the halls, taking a quick bow with your hands together to each one. you finally reached the scenic path to the gardens, feeling the cold cobblestone nipping at your socks. bhante ramattra sat on an intricate-patterned mat in a clearing of grass. his back straight and turned against you. you approached quietly, seemingly tiptoeing on the meadow.

“late again, my lotus?” you cringed, scrunching your nose. how could you sneak up on someone who’s practice is higher understanding? and his endearing nickname only seemed to make you more awkward.

“only by a minute or two this time. you can’t blame me if my reasoning is prayer.” you sat on the mat draped in front of him, noticing his loose robe showing off his chest plate. you let your eyes wander for a brief second.

“a moment delayed is an opportunity for patience and reflection… have you practiced either of the sort during your travel here?” if ramattra’s eyes shown, they would be staring deep into yours, quizzical and smug.

“well, what about you? you weren’t very patient for my arrival..”

“in questioning, we uncover the path to wisdom. in your case, i see no benefiting outcome in questioning me, besides a failing grade.” ramattra folded his arms.

“since when am i graded?” you giggled.

“i am your mentor; i grade you by progress, not by numbers.” at this point, ramattra has begun his dhyana mudra practice, joining his thumb and index together as a way to get rid of the headache in front of him. “now, have you rehearsed your yoga poses i gave as homework. i would hope you took this seriously as today’s lesson encompasses the custom.”

“yes, i think i have them all perfected.” you started on your warmup stretches, pulling your leg, then the next, to your sides. “excellent. are you confident to demonstrate your teachings?” you nodded and even with an expressionless face, ramattra seemed pleased.

you started with a simple locust pose to begin—balancing on your stomach, neck bent upwards, and hands stretched behind your back. your bhikkhu hummed in contentment, “very well, my lotus. now form into a cobra stance.”

again, the pet name only made your body stutter and for a moment you had blanked on how to do such a pose. ramattra is observant, he was taught about even the smallest body language from an early start of his own teachings—he noticed.

your black out didn’t last more than a second, though, and you pressed your pelvis to the floor, steading your weight on your hands. the omnic watched as you faced the sky, adam’s apple bobbing when you swallowed.

again, ramattra hummed, watching the muscles of your back push together. “you’re doing well. i see my instructions didn’t fall on deaf ears. switch into fish pose.”

“you know,” you strained, falling onto your hands and rolling on your back. “these names don’t have any correlation to the pose itself. who came up with them?” you propped yourself on your elbows and awaited a response.

“matsyasana. that’s the original sanskrit name. we haven’t fully completed your language lessons yet, so we will stick to the westernized name of the position.” the omnic looked a bit displeased with the naming himself, but he was considered more traditional, so you assumed he didn’t like the newer adaptation.

“but how does it resemble a fis—er.. matsyasana? all i am doing is arching my back—what matsyasana have you seen do that?”

ramattra let out a raspy chuckle, and it brought a sense of pride that you could get that out of him. you liked the sound… even if it was a bit robotic and rough; almost like it was new to him too.

“you seem to keep ahold of your humanistic, logical ideals; embrace the current of life’s flow with a light heart.” your bhikkhu sighed, “but, if you must know, the pose resembles the graceful arch of a fish jumping out of water.”

ramattra stood to sit at your side, placing a metal hand under the palm of your back; he put his other on the cavity of your chest, gently forcing your rib cage to stick out. “like this.”

you looked up at your mentor, he looked down at you… and for a moment you could’ve sworn you both couldn’t look away. but in the second he was above you, he was now back to where he sat. it was probably—most likely, in your head.

the pose was difficult and hard to keep. your breathing wasn’t very steady as your body contorted in almost 180 degrees. “try not to focus on the position, instead focus on each exhale, releasing your struggle.”

“…easier,” you huffed, eyebrows furrowed, “…said than done.” ramattra tried to think of another way he could find you strength, but something in front of him was blurring his thoughts…

your breasts were perked up by the way your back stretched, laying on your chest oh, so perfect, and so vulnerable. something inside ramattra was whirring—electronic signals zapping circuits and tangled his wires.

he’s never… he’s never felt so hot before; maybe it was a malfunction.

but your chest kept heaving as your breathing deepened. your mouth was slightly agape as you tried to hold together, on a tiny thread. and your little noises were only stirring on this… feeling inside him even more. no, it couldn’t be a malfunction; he knew his sensations were purposeful. but, by devine presence, what kind of monk would he be? still holding onto the chains of lust, how foolish.

and yet, here he was, allowing himself the pleasure of watching you, watching you struggle, watching your body with desire. so lost in his own selfishness, he didn’t even hear your pleas.

“bhante ramattra? bhikkhu? please… am i finished?”

you were so strained. maybe this was a test? why else has your bhikkhu let you hurt without lesson?

ramattra snapped out of it, now feeling slightly guilty for letting you writhe in pain. “my apologies, lotus. you may lay out of pose.” he didn’t have to tell you twice. letting your body drop to the floor in exhaustion.

“i’m sorry.”

“for what?”

you let yourself calm down before continuing, “i’ll admit, i didn’t practice that position as much as i should have.” your mentor shook his head. “learn from this experience, and with a sincere heart, your efforts will blossom.” although, ramattra knew it shouldn’t be you to take the blame.

…

“are you restful enough for another demonstration?”

you nodded. ramattra was satisfied.

“marjaryasana.” he spoke, finding your readiness to speak more sanskrit endearing.

you remembered from previous teachings that ‘marjaraha’ meant ‘cat’ and you understood it to start a cat pose.

you planted yourself on the ground with your hands, balancing on your knees and lifting your head to the sky. you expectingly awaited your bhikkhu’s approval… but he said nothing.

“you’re missing something.”

“this is a cat pose, is it not? marjaraha?” what could you possibly have done wrong? you may have messed up your last instructions, but you were certain you had this simple one down. your continuous practice the night before being a witness.

“your sanskrit is correct; i’m proud of your remembrance—but your posing is lacking.” ramattra stood from his spot to come kneel behind you. “allow me to help.”

the large omnic loomed over you. from an outside perspective, it looked as if a wolf engulfing it’s prey.

but ramattra wasn’t a ravenous creature, at least, from your understanding.

he took two big hands and gripped your waist, bunching up the fabric of your thin sanghati; ramattra would have to have a word with you next time on wearing the correct number of robes.

“bend.” he commanded. gesturing to the small of your back. you obliged. you were warm all over besides the chill of his metal holding you in place, which hardened your nipples through your clothes.

you wondered if this explicit position was all but innocent… surely, your wise mentor didn’t have any further intentions; you couldn’t hold yourself to that high regard… that didn’t stop your lustful thoughts. and anyone with common sense could stumble into the garden and most certainly view it just as suggestive as you… right?

you kept silent, letting the bigger man behind take the lead and guide you. he pressed against your skin until your arch was just to his standards.

you were almost positive that you could feel warmth radiating from how close his crotch was from your ass… that is, if a robot could emit such a thing.

“perfect.” he finally spoke. the bhikkhu admired his work from above.

you were afraid to respond… partly because you didn’t want to scare him away, and partly because you felt that if you opened your mouth, a long, suppressed moan would come out instead.

so you sat there, on all fours, back arched, unmoving, trying—desperately trying to squeeze your thighs together as best as you could to maybe satisfy this need you craved.

biting your lip, you stifled a pathetic whimper as ramattra’s thigh grazed over yours. how wrong this must be. a novice lusting over their bhikkhu… in a place of respect and religion. siddhartha, guide you now…

ramattra noticed your quietness, bending down closer to your head. had he made you uncomfortable? were the tensions thick for you too? he’ll admit his grip on your waist was rather tight; the plush skin beneath your garments was enticing.

you were… small compared to him. you allowed him to touch you and you obeyed his words. very obedient. and now comes the remembrance that you were practically all his. his novice. his responsibility. his student.

and you were a very good student.

“what’s wrong, my lotus?” he asked, hovering over you. “is this pose too much for you than the last? i would’ve expected this one to be easier.”

you shook your head. your shoulders were stiff now, especially with that whirring, raspy voice his speakers emitted behind your ear.

“in silence, we give, but in words, we convey. should we revisit that lesson again?”

his words were teasing. ramattra slid his metallic fingers up your torso, just enough for the skin of your back to peak out.

you shook your head again. he squeezed.

“no…” you shivered, berating yourself for the unsteadiness of your words.

“no, what? perhaps a deeper dive into honorifics sometime the-“

“no, bhante ramattra.” you blurted before he could finish. “…sorry, bhikkhu. i didn’t mean to come out disrespectful.”

“mistakes are life lessons. now listen to your teacher once more and bend down on your arms.”

this craving could not be denied any longer. ramattra should listen to his… perhaps, vile instincts and have you here, right beneath him. how foolish he has accepted himself to be in this moment of need, because he did, in fact, need you. his star novice; much to learn, but he knew you had so much to give.

where in his circuits he’d be wired to lust, who knows. but after all, sentience was a gift to be held… and to be cherished. no amount of enlightenment could take the selfishness out of living.

it was clear now to the both of you that this was not so unrequited. that this back and forth game, that no other monk and apprentice shared, was not out of the blue, but a slow burned 6 months.

of course, you did not disobey your bhikkhu. you, ass up, face covered by elbows, awaited ramattra’s instructions, or actions.

the large omnic let his hands travel down the small of your waist, down below your naval. his other hand let way, bunching your beige attire into a fist. but he stayed a second longer, observing.

“tell me, lotus, are humans naturally this sensitive? i’ve barely touched you and you’re quivering as if it were snowing.” ramattra chuckled.

it was true. a simple graze was enough for you to be fully at his mercy. embarrassing, really, but one look from this monk could have your knees buckling. did he not realize how enticing he truly was? you can only imagine how many yearn for his attention—but no villager has ever had it; he’s been to busy teaching you.

“just… cold.” what a believable response.

“cold? the sensors in my fingers speak otherwise; you’re burning up.” he continued, “a lie is temporary refuge for a simple answer. you’ve been rather deceiving today—something you did not learn from me.”

“how have i? i know better.” you furrow your brows. this is… frustrating. speaking when all you want to do is scream the omnic’s name. waiting when he knows exactly what he’s doing. was this really a time for discussion?

“you should have told me sooner that you have had selfish thoughts. these are things that will lead you astray from your higher path.”

“i-“ he cut you off.

“i am no fool; i see how you look at me. how you react to the small things i do. how you stutter and play with your fingers when i look down at you.”

ramattra slowly slides his middle fingers along your slit, coating himself in your arousal. you stifle a whimper, burying your head in your folded arms.

“for thoughts like those, you could be casted out of the monastery. it is frowned upon to hold a bhikkhu in such low regard.”

long fingers split you open and felt you inside. each circle on your swollen clit was a jolt of hot pleasure through your body. your sounds were lewd—moans rolling off your tongue like your prayer this morning.

“it’s a good thing i like you so much; otherwise, your consequences wouldn’t be so… nice.”

does he ever stop talking? isn’t it apart of monk code to be listening instead of boastful? his voice is sexy though, you thought. as long as he keeps reassuring this was not at all one sided, it’s not a problem.

ramattra was toying you, using your venerable feelings as a way to touch you the way he wants. touching and pressing—and you could’ve sworn his robotic fingers had a sort of buzz to them. but this was torture, and he knows it; you needed him elsewhere.

“bhikkhu… please.”

“please what, lotus?” his movements were slower now, giving you just enough to want more.

“what do you need?”

“you,” you huffed, “inside me… please.”

ramattra dragged his long digits across your pussy, stopping at your hole and pressing down. you let out a guttural moan, shoving your ass forward for him to continue. he slowly pushed himself inside you, basking in the way you choked on your voice. whole body tensing and then relaxing all in a second.

“right here?”

“right there.”

he pumped in and out, curling into the spongy spot that had your hairs sticking up. his other hand pushed your garments out of the way, feeling you up—goosebumps littering your skin from the cold.

you slightly swayed from his movement, fingernails pressing into the rug below you so hard it almost hurt. but, you couldn’t focus on anything besides the full feeling you got from his fingers knuckle deep inside you, and then that empty, needy—pleading feeling your pussy sent all the way to your head when he pulled out. a back and forth that eventually fried any coherent thought you could have formed; sensory overload that made your skin buzz and toes curl.

your previous nervous and shameful scenarios of anyone being able to find you like this—to see one of the most disgraceful acts performed inside a sacred monastery, still stuck somewhere in the back of your mind. by divine presence, how awful! you would surely be cast out—you and your bhikkhu, just like he said. could even buddha be enough to guide you back astray?

and yet, here you were almost worry-free. for some reason that hadn’t been discussed, you felt as if… protected—safe with your bhikkhu behind you. as though bhante ramattra truly wouldn’t allow anything to happen to his precious student—and you were the most precious in this moment.

ramattra’s free hand moved from the fabric of your robe to the mound of your breast. he lingered beneath your nipple for a minute, almost like hesitation… too much for his artificial hormones to handle. after all, this was fairly new to omnics—like testing the waters to see how far he could make it before short-circuiting.

he let the quiet air sit still for a brief second, hearing the ever-present squelches sounding from beneath the two of you, and your breathless noises, before speaking.

“i would be deceitful to say you were the only one sneaking lustful glances, my novice… i have… wondered… how you must look coming out of the shower, or behind closed doors when we say ‘goodnight’. i’ve pictured you bare, as dishonorable as it sounds.”

another pump inside you.

“although, you leave nothing to the imagination when you don’t wear your proper attire—i assume there’s more than just me whose thought of you like that… but, i wonder… if you dress like that just for me.”

his voice lowered; it sent a new chill down your spine, and a new whimper out your plush lips. ramattra leaned even closer to your ear, hunched over you.

‘ramattra wasn’t a ravenous creature’, you thought, but right now, you worried he might actually devour you.

his movements slowed. again, keeping that tortuous pace that barely gave you what you need. just enough for you to whine and groan.

“i wouldn’t put it past you; i’m surprised you haven’t begged me onto you before now—so needy, you are… practically clung to me.”

he lowly chuckled, in his own robotic, whirring way.

“and my teachings can’t be that good, no… my lotus… you’ve needed me.” “ah!” you sharply gasped, teeth digging into your lip when your bhikkhu hit a particularly sensitive spot.

the monk’s hand now pushed past his previous hesitation, coming to grope your breast, fondling the plush skin. you heard the slightest grunt come from his speakers, if at all. his middle and index capturing your nipple and pinching.

“oh, fuck!” you moaned, furrowing your brows.

ramattra, again, chuckled, “i haven’t heard you curse since the beginning of your teaching… might i add that to the list to revisit?”

you groaned, “is this really—erugh!—the time for judgement?” the monk shook his head, “there is no place for judgement at any given moment; i do not judge you, my lotus, far from it. i admire you.”

ramattra curled metal into the tip of your cervix, slightly spread his fingers, then curled again.

“is that not obvious?”

maybe you were see-through—had he made that comment in a normal circumstance, you surely would’ve stumbled on your words. picturing it now with heat blooming across your pretty cheeks, nervously toying with your pinkies as if that’s the highest regard anyone could’ve held you at.

prized student, but now also, ramattra’s worship.

the omnic switched from fondling your sensitive breasts to trace his hands over the skin of your chest… then your waist, then below your navel, pressing ever-so-slightly to feel the indent of himself inside you. it was almost like he was trying to remember you; perhaps, scared that this might be the last of this lesson—that he’ll never get to see his student like this again, so he will savor it.

the metal of his thumb stretched out to your clit, pushing on the bundle of nerves to see how’d you react, which you would respond with a mewl of his name and he’d take that a sign to continue.

he started carefully, then gradually began the same pace he was fucking you with. ramattra huffs and holds onto you a little tighter when your once coherent moans turned into a mess of crying, whining, and blurts of ‘bhikkhu!’.

you felt a familiar, sickly sweet feeling bubbling in your tummy, flowering to your chest, and burning your inner thighs. your desperation had a mind of its own, and you arched your back farther than you thought you ever could. your pretty ass pressing more into your mentor’s crotch, fingernails bracing yourself. your blissful noises shortened and choked on each other as your mouth hung agape.

with another teasing pull of ramattra’s fingers, coming almost all the way out before shoving back inside your dripping cunt, you tipped over. that sweet, hot, white feeling coating your entire body, prickling the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. you orgasmed… hard, coming undone right beneath your bhikkhu, all for him to see.

your knees quivering, body too heavy to carry now, but ramattra had a firm hand to your navel, keeping you up for him to pump his, now cum-coated, fingers through your high. and when the slightest graze to your g-spot had you jolting, he stopped, setting you down gently and running his hands down the sides of your waist once more before sitting back on his knees.

you heaved your breaths, sweat glistening in the sunbeams through the trees, clothes tousled almost purposefully around you. ramattra would mutter a comment about how you look celestial, astrology hanging from the droplets in your hair.

it took a moment to get your bearings, and even 5 minutes later, you’re still tired and sore and hung up on the fact your teacher, who you no idea reciprocated your feelings, had fucked you so hard and passionately next to a statue of aurora ten feet away.

ramattra placed a hand on your back—the same one used to pleasure you, would you ever look at it the same?—but, nonetheless a hand and you were grateful it was made of metal, cool to the touch.

“yathā tvaṁ mām āvaśyakaṁ, tathā aham api tvāṁ āvaśyakam.” ramattra muttered, quiet and soft. you wondered how an artificial intelligence could muster up something so human sounding.

you peek up at him, the side of your face still pressed against the mat. he dragged a finger down the disks of your spine, tilting his head. you question, “i’m sorry, bhante ramattra, i haven’t gotten that far in my studies; i don’t understand.”

“and i wouldn’t expect you to, my lotus. but in unknowing lies the seed of understanding—soon, lotus, you’ll be able to read between my lines—like a flower holding the promise of fruit. i will teach you much more.” he promised. you stare at him; he stares back.

suddenly, you pushed yourself up with your hands, gathering your disorganized fabric to cover your chest. you were in the middle of the gardens of the monastery. you fucked in the middle of the gardens of the monastery. “oh, siddhartha—oh, shit!”

“what is it, novice?” ramattra watched as you frantically dressed yourself in your sanghati. you turned to him with wide eyes and a flustered face. “we just fucked in the gardens!” you whisper-yelled.

your bhikkhu did not respond in the panicked way you thought he would’ve. no. instead, the monk began to laugh, more of a chuckle—well, more of a buzz—whatever noise equates an omnic laugh.

“i assure you, lotus, i will not let harm or discrimination come your way. you’re safe with me. besides… the clock strikes the time for afternoon prayer; no one must have walked our path.”

and that lifted a weight off your shoulders. was your entire public display lewd and dishonorable? absolutely. but something tells you this is one of many more lessons to come… and you’ll simply have to get used to it.

notes: “yathā tvaṁ mām āvaśyakaṁ, tathā aham api tvāṁ āvaśyakam” - “i’ve needed you as much as you’ve needed me”

#ramattra #ramattra smut #overwatch #overwatch x you #overwatch x reader #overwatch fic #overwatch 2 #overwatch smut #ramattra x reader #ramattra x you #ow2 #ramattra overwatch

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anmolsmsblog · 2 months ago

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BULLIANT Socks For Women 2/6Pairs-Womens Athletic Ankle Socks No Show Cushioned for Walking Running-Compression Arch Support

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thefoldymat · 10 months ago

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Taking Your Pilates and Yoga Practice to the Next Level with an Outstanding Exercise Mat

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jpnriikicore · 8 months ago

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Paul Aron as your best friend core

paring paul aron x reader, word count 994, genre fluff, warning roughy translated estonian, authors note sorry, for not releasing this faster i was writing other works for charles and lando <3 ( masterlist )

beach days.

you spend a lot of time on the beach in your free hours lounging around. go off swimming in the ocean. the sun is like a warm blanket wrapped around your body that came fresh out of the dryer. filming him on a cam-recorder when he backflips from a cliff. he somehow tricks you onto the cliff with him occasionally.

late night on the beaches or watching the sunset is the best part. your sides bumping into one another as you walk barefoot along the shoreline feeling the warm sand between your toes and chill seawater slash up onto your ankles. he swings your sandals back and forth from the straps of your sandals since he offered to carry them for you knowing that you hated carrying them yourself. admiring the sunset ahead of you or the moon above you.

boat days.

the sun shone on them basking in it's warmth. a good way to celebrate a podium win for paul. you hit the sea together for a weekend to be still and peaceful in just nothingness. away from his fast life to just have a moment of tranquility together. it’s makes moments like this more special. your legs spread laying onto top of his as your back leans against the comfortable plush white cushions of the boat. his hands soothing rubbing up and down your legs. his pink swimming trunks clad against his thighs after taking a dip into the water. his initials on a chain around your neck.

supporting him during races. through thick and thin and high and lows.

you're always spotted in a secluded corner on the floor of the prema truck. you’re seated together his jacket draped over to you keeping the chill off of you. if qualifying doesn’t go well that day you would sit in comfortable silence whilst reassuring his negative thoughts and feelings through physical touch. your head resting against his shoulder, your slight grazes over his hand, the feeling of you fiddling with his fingers, or the traces on the lines of his palms. just a reminder that everything will be okay. a feathery kiss on the top of his head with a whisper of praise makes him believe that he can do better tomorrow and make all his nerves disappear into thin air.

quality time ( exercise ver. )

you wake up tangled limbs in the sheets of your shared king-sized hotel room bed. the waves crashing on shore was heard from the cracked open balcony doors. seagulls flying around in the early morning blue sky. you vaguely remember him mentioning earlier that morning that he was going for a run before pressing a gentle kiss on your temple before leaving.

some mornings or evenings you would attend runs with him and karl. even staying with him when he works out in the gym maybe getting a mile or two in on the treadmill. he enjoys quality time with you. so, even if you're just sitting crisscrossed on a yoga mat watching him he enjoys it.

he’d convince you that he needs a spotter. even if the weights are a bit too heavy for you and you could help him only very little if you needed too. he still enjoys having your company and letting you feel included. he lightens the load of his weights when you finally do agree on spotting him.

"nii lõbus ei tohiks trennis olla. ( exercise shouldn't be this fun )."

traveling to tallinn and races with him when you can.

traveling around northern italy on a vespa, him driving you around as your arms are wrapped around his torso. towards the end of the night you ride towards a fancy friendship dinner date.

you settled in flimsy chairs on the balcony of your shared hotel room trying out different pastas and slices of pizza from restaurants attempting to find the best one in the country that you’re visiting.

while visiting his home in tallinn he would ensure to bundle you up in thick coats for the cold estonian weather. crunched snow underneath your boots a trail of footsteps in the white left behind you as you take a walk in the snowy weather around midnight.

his siblings.

during, your friendship with paul you’ve become close with his siblings, anna and ralf. anna is like a sister to you. ralf gives you lots of advice and shows embarrassing childhood pictures of paul. which for the record you find oh-so adorable and he finds incredibly embarrassing. you’ve grown expectably close to them due to tagging along on family vacations occasionally since him and his family seem typically fond of your presence. him and his extended family tend to have dinners when his finally back home leading to you practically being apart of his family since you sit in with so many of his family dinners and get to know his close and distant relatives.

"meil peres juba uus ralliäss kasvamas ( we already have a new rally ace growing up in our family )."

teaching you phrases in estonian.

after expressing that you wanted to learn how to speak his native language to speak to his family in the most comfortable way for them and show gratitude towards his parents for raising him the way that they did. he taught you simple phrases, to begin with just enough to get you around his home country without being completely lost.

dino and ollie.

after getting introduced to dino and ollie during the first race you attended with paul you’ve become quick friends with them since it was so easy to speak with them. your often spotted joking around with dino and ollie. just chilling on the floor of the prema truck goofing off with them even walking around the track with them. especially, dancing around with dino to whatever song that plays from his playlist on rainy qualifying days. you was there with the prema team supporting ollie’s debut in formula one.

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tyunphoria · 2 years ago

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🌪️ wearing something that turns skz on — lee know, hyunjin

[NSFW CONTENT AHEAD ‼️]

- - - - -

INCLUDES: AFAB! reader x dom! lino and hyunjin, booty hunter lino, hyunjin stuffing y/n full with his fingers🤭, spanking, mentions of choking(lino), mentions of voyeurism(hyun), slightly jealous and protective hyun.

other part(s): bang chan + changbin

- - - - -

Lee Know

you always forget that wearing gym tights around lee know is a goddamn risk. doing yoga always results to getting a harsh smack on your ass, the soft flesh jiggling under the force of his hand which leaves a stinging print on your skin that can last up to hours. the first time you wore them, his members started snickering as they pulled you outside to warn you of your boyfriend’s odd antics of smacking peoples ass. they would complain about it everytime. except, your case is much more special. when you first started dating, he was always so respectful (and he still is!) but ever since you started doing yoga, it gets harder and harder for him to hold back his urges.

“I can never finish my lessons because of you.” you grunt as he bends you over on the mat, your head pressed up against the yoga block with your back arched perfectly. not to mention your behind already being abused and squeezed by his impatient hands through the thin fabric. he pulls the tights down to your thighs, eyes lighting up as your ass spills over the waistband.

“then stop wearing these tights.” he scoffs. you can hear the sound of a belt unbuckling behind you. “then what am i supposed to fucking wear? jeans to yoga?—“ he cuts you off as he fully sheaths himself inside you. the motion makes you gasp, and your voice is suddenly lost due to the feeling of him. he thinks you look pretty with the look of ecstasy on your face right now as his cock hits all of the parts of you that make your toes curl.

his hand slides up to the column of your throat, tears brim in your eyes to the feeling of another harsh stinging sensation brought on your left cheek. he brings his hand down again, then again, then again. until there’s a huge blush covering your ass which made him almost come from such pretty sight. your knees buckle due to the pain and euphoria, the stimulation you were receiving was too much as his hips continue to move faster with his cock slamming into your cunt. you walls squeeze around him as he savors the delicious moans spilling out your mouth. “lino, ‘s too much…” you reach a hand behind you to swat the hand that was gripping onto your ass and tell him to slow down.

“then don’t start something you can’t finish.”

Hyunjin

“Wait! Hyun, your group’s about to come on stage!” You say, barely above a squeak as he trails his slender fingers up your skirt. hyunjin plays a smile on his lips, swiping his tongue around the hickey he painted beautifully on your neck. “Such a pretty little thing…” hyunjin was chosen to be one of the MC’s of Inkigayo. when he found out that your group was performing on the show for your comeback stage, he couldn’t get any happier and was eager to see you perform. hyunjin took note of the way your short skirt would ride up every time you moved and swayed your hips to the song. he bit his cheek throughout the whole performance. the performance was broadcasted live for thousands and thousands of fans watching; and the thought of thousands of perverts probably drooling over his partner made him furious and accidentally dig through the leather cushioned seat. “You good?” changbin asked but hyunjin only excused himself to use the restroom but instead he quietly trails behind you backstage. they tell him to hurry since they’re performing next but sparing a few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

he moves your underwear aside, thumb circling around your clit as he hungrily attacks your lips. “this skirt looks so beautiful on you, baby. but it’s a bit short, don’t you think? do you enjoy having people watch your ass jiggle on stage because of how slutty this skirt is? it makes really angry, y/n.” You part your lips to apologize but it was replaced by a moan as hyunjin plunges his ring and middle fingers in your already sopping wet cunt. “m’ sorry, hyun…”

He twists his wrist, pressing his long fingers into you–reveling against the shaky moan you let out in response. “fuck, baby. you’re getting so tight. how am i gonna stuff you full with my cock if i won’t be able to get the tip in?” Your mouth hangs slack as he meanly flicks his wrist, pressing his two fingers even deeper inside you and spreading them in a scissoring motion. he tucks his nose against the crook of your neck, sucking a mark against your skin, you can’t help the way you clench around him.

hyunjin finally takes his fingers out, a whine leaving your swollen lips from biting down onto your bottom lip too hard. his thumb presses down on your swollen clit, as he begins to softly rub over the aching nub. the new feeling of pleasure is mind-melting, and the urge to grind against his hand is overwhelming. you watch as his eyes fixate on the mess between your thighs, how he finally took note to how his cock is stiff in his boxers. he sits on the vanity chair , pulling you on his lap.

“let me watch you bounce on my cock, pretty baby. keep your skirt on and try to be quiet.”

#reader insert #skz x y/n #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee know x reader #lee know smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #established relationship #x reader #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #kpop oneshots #x reader oneshot #stray kids scenarios #kpop scenarios

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