#Yoga with Sweaty Palms and Feet

[jedifarmerr]

Chapter 6

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader/OFC (no y/n or physical descriptions)

Rating: E (18+ blog)

Word Count: over 4k

Chapter Warnings: language, smut, very very light dom/sub undertones, pregnancy, anxiety, nightmares, discussions of parent death. (let me know if I missed anything)

Series Masterlist

Javier watched her eyes light up as she walked into the nursery. Her hand slid across the smooth white wood, clearly surprised to come home to this. She had only been gone a couple hours. Prenatal yoga, dinner afterwards with some ladies in the same class. 

All the while, Javier’s Saturday night was spent hunched over vague directions. His knees ached. He’d squinted so much that it made his crow’s feet hurt. Clearly, the print was made with someone a decade younger than him in mind. 

Instead of a regular standard crib, she had wanted something different – complicated. Circular cribs. He’d gotten tangled up in a flowy dual of sheer canopies. She’d thought they would be whimsical, fitting the theme: sweet dreams. 

“Javi. I told you I would help.” 

Javier rolled his eyes at her. Even if both his arms were broken, he would never let that happen.

At seven months pregnant, she was already uncomfortable enough without sitting on the hard ground for hours.

“I wanted to do it,” he assured her. Javier was never someone that liked to be bone-idle. For him, he needed to feel like he was actually doing something. This felt like the only way he could contribute. 

They had moved in a month ago, and really this was the only room left to finish. So, he’d personally taken it on as his own project. 

Last weekend, he painted over the custard yellow. A sage-y color; Granite Grey according to Benjamin Moore. Joe and him had lugged the changing table and dresser up the stairs. Luckily, those came practically assembled. Now, it was down to the little details. 

Coming up behind her, Javier grasped her by the arc of her hips and pulled her flat against his chest. It was the only position that allowed him to get this close to her anymore. 

He sighed as he nuzzled his nose into her neck, and inhaled. “Smell good,” he groaned. 

“There’s no way. I’m all sweaty,” she protested, but that didn’t matter when he liked all her smells. 

“So? I am too.” He kissed the nape of her neck then licked his lips. Salty. God – something was wrong with him. 

His hands roamed across her belly as he perched his chin on her shoulder. Her belly button poked out from her shirt. Her beach-ball stomach was firm and swollen. He was weirdly obsessed with it. Slightly possessive about it. 

His. His. His. Swirling around his mind.

“How’re they doing today?” 

The babies responded to him with little kicks against his palm. Javier wouldn’t pretend to know the logistics of what was going on in there, but he liked to think somehow, someway they could recognize him. They always reacted to his voice. That couldn’t be purely coincidental. 

Soon, the tiny kicks became a strong double wriggle. She winced at a particularly forceful one. Despite his primal instinct to hold on, he gave her space and let her go.

Still, his gaze stayed latched onto her. It seemed to be her shoulders, down to her lower back that was bothering her. 

“Anything I can do?” He asked, wiggling his fingers into a loose fist at his side. 

“Become a seahorse.” Her voice sounded like it came out of a clogged up pipe. She shut her eyes and paced around the room, working herself through the discomfort. Her yoga class had taught her helpful breathing techniques, calming exercises for times like this. 

The tension drained from Javier’s shoulder when it finally seemed to pass. 

“They’ve been really active today,” she explained, and Javier didn’t argue with her. If it was anything serious, he hoped she would tell him. She waddled to the door. “Have you eaten?” 

He shrugged noncommittally. “I had a little something.”

Somehow she seemed to know that was code for a handful of chips around 6. She clicked her tongue at him. “Well, it’s a good thing I brought you back something then.” 

A traitorous growl tore through his stomach. Theresa’s was some of the best Mexican food in Austin. It reminded him of his favorite spot in central Laredo. A hole-in-the-wall with top-tier mole. 

“You’re too good to me,” he cooed at her, and she scoffed. 

“You’re one to talk.” She swirled her finger around the room. “Now, go eat. I’ll be down after I shower.” 

Javier did as he was told. Inside the styrofoam box was his order exactly how he liked it. She’d even remembered an extra thing of sauce on the side. 

After scarfing down his food, they curled up on the couch and watched reruns of America’s Funniest Home Videos for the rest of night. 

Showering before bed, Javier scrubbed a towel through his damp hair. “What’re you reading there?” He asked. 

She showed off a bubblegum pink cover. The Ultimate Baby Name Book. Surprise, surprise. That seemed to be all she read nowadays. 

Javier threw his towel in the hamper, turned on his bedside lamp, then joined her on top of the covers. 

She tapped on the page. “What do you think of Eva?” 

Eva Peña. He shrugged. Not too bad. 

“Yeah. If you like it.” 

That must have been the wrong answer since she clasped the book shut, her hands stacked over the cover. “Your opinion matters just as much as mine,” she reminded him. 

“Does it?” He asked, but she didn’t laugh. Her expression cinched, and he supposed it was best to agree with her. “Alright. Eva’s fine, but let’s hear another.” 

She licked her thumb and flipped through the book. Each page was marked up. Names he must’ve blown off were crossed out, very few were highlighted, even less of them starred. 

“Okay. Gabriela?” 

“No.” Fuck no. 

“Good. Definitive. I like that. What about….Mia?” 

Javier hesitated, and made a low, drawn out thinking noise. “I knew a lot of Mia’s growing up.” 

“I get that,” she said, and her face suddenly contorted into a tight grimace.

Every muscle in his body went rigid, until he realized it was her shoulders – again. He'd caught her messing with them all night. He wouldn’t let her suffer any longer. 

He didn’t give her a choice, and plucked the book from her, throwing it on the nightstand. Once the pillows were adjusted, his legs spread out, he patted the space between his thighs. 

“Come here.” 

She usually would put up a tiny fight – assure him she was fine. But not tonight. She simply crawled over without a word. 

His hands scooped underneath the flimsy straps of her nightgown, and immediately set to work. Slow and steady. With the flat of his palm, he started chiseling away at the tension in her shoulders. She let out a low sound of relief, her head drooped forward like an over-loved stuffed animal. 

“Oh, right there,” she moaned when he hit a particularly sensitive spot between her shoulder blades. 

Laser-focused, his thumbs kneaded at the tight band of muscle, drawing little noises and sweet little whimpers. Each one burned hotter in the pit of his belly. 

“Let me get your lower back. Lean forward a little for me, baby.” 

He didn’t expect his cock to twitch when she let him guide her into position. His hand on the center of her back ran along the curve of her spine, admiring the shiny satin that stuck to her skin like spilled sangria. Pliant. So soft. If he wasn’t careful it could easily go to his head – both heads. 

Her lower back was especially aggravated. A web of knots had spun themselves around her tailbone that even the tiniest bit of pressure made her pretty lips part, panting.

Her breath hitched, tensed as he began to uncoil one embedded deep underneath the surface.  

“Relax. Let me take care of you.” His voice was low and tainted by his swelling arousal. Luckily, she seemed too lost in his dutiful hands to notice. 

“Oh, Javi,” she choked out, digging her nails into his thighs. His quads flexed under her palms. 

Desire was now swirling in his gut, and when he glanced down, his cock was tenting the baby blue cotton. But he kept ignoring it, and continued his ministrations until not an inch of her back went untouched. 

“What hurts the most?” His breath fanned over her ear, and goosebumps erupted across her skin. 

He wondered if she was as affected by this as he was. He was starting to think he would find her soaked underneath the hem of her sinfully teeny nightgown with how long it took for her to respond:

“Shoulders.” 

He discreetly tucked his cock into his waistband before urging her to lay back. She sank into his body instantly. Her head lulled around the shadow of his collarbone. When his gaze dipped to her chest, he licked his lips as her swollen breasts strained the fabric with each heavy breath.

As he kneaded the tops of her shoulders, her legs unconsciously inched apart until her feet tangled up with his. 

“Feel good?” He skimmed his lips over the sensitive spot, just behind her ear.

That seemed to make her brain fizzle out. She went to speak, but unable to form a coherent word, she simply whimpered. It stroked something primal deep inside him to have her like this.

Daring himself to go further, he snuck one hand around her and rested it on her thigh. Just below the hem, her hips automatically bucked. 

Her skin burned against his palm, but he didn’t move his hand, only his thumb in slow, maddening circles. He intended to take his time, to draw this out. He wanted to make her so desperate, so needy that she begged for it. 

He brushed his fingertips across her shoulder. Like a feather, sliding along the column of her neck. “Javi,” she said – breathless. Whiny. God – she was so sensitive. So responsive to him. It was driving him insane.

“What is it, baby?” Her neck bent to his whim as his fingers danced along her jaw. “Tell me.” He thumbed the hem of her dress.

She didn’t answer, only squirmed around. Her ass was mere inches from his cock when he tsked his tongue, gripped her thigh. 

Even though she stopped, it didn’t come without a whine. “Javiiiii.” 

Her lips formed a pout, which he traced with his thumb. She opened up like a flower, let him feed one finger, then two into her eager mouth. 

Fuck – she was a vision. 

He applied pressure to the flat of her tongue, slowly dragging his fingers up and down the length.

“Suck,” he ordered, and her lips instantly formed a tight seal around his knuckles. Her cheeks hollowed out, and the throaty, wet moan she gave hummed through his veins. She looked absolutely depraved. “Fuck - look at you. So greedy. You like this, don’t you?” 

Hooded eyes – long, fluttery lashes. She nodded, pushing his fingers deeper into her warm wet mouth. She used to get so embarrassed when she would get like this. She would try and hide from him, but not anymore. He’d snuffed out the voices, until it was only his own.

Javier made a strangled, growling noise when she nearly choked on his fingers, taking him up into the point that she was drooling. A trail of spit dripping onto the tops of her breasts.

“Your damn mouth is fucking heaven.” She mewled at his praise. Grinding her hips into the thin air, the mattress squeaked under her hips. Vaguely, he wondered if he could make her come just like this. If he weren’t so aroused, he probably would have waited to see.

His hand roamed further up her thigh, and “Fuck,” he hissed, finding her thighs sticky and wet. He gathered what he could on his fingertips. “I haven’t even touched your pussy and look at that.” 

Her slick glistened in the low lamp light. Gorgeous. 

“I bet your panties are ruined, aren’t they?” He taunted her, and his fingers left her swollen lips with a pop. He smeared the excess spit all across her lips. “Should we see?” 

She dumbly nodded, and angled her gaze to watch him slowly reveal herself to him. The dark spot on her cotton-candy pink panties made his cock throb painfully, his pants felt like a cage.

“Holy shit. You’re soaked.” He clasped her tighter to him, burrowed his face into her neck as he teased the lacey elastic band. 

Her chest expanded with a cry of his name. It echoed in the safe-keeping of their bedroom. He had to keep one hand on her hip to keep her still when his fingers formed into a V and rasped across the cotton. The dips between his fingers just barely missed her clit with each stroke. Every time her body would tense, then shudder in disappointment – desperation. 

The tip of his nose nuzzled into her plush cheek. “Want me to touch you?” 

She swallowed, insistently nodding. He swore he heard her croak - yes. 

“Then beg,” he forced the word through gritted teeth. “Beg and I’ll give it to you.” 

“Oh fuck. Javi.” She cried out. “Please baby. God. I need it - I need you. Oh, please! Please.” 

She kept babbling until he hooked his thumbs into her waistband, and she helped shimmy them off.“Hold your dress and spread your legs. Let me see you.” 

There was no hesitation. She displayed herself for him, then peered up with a glazed, glossy look in her eyes. “Please,” she whimpered, and that was it.

He sealed his lips against her temple and started to gently circle her puffy clit. Her whole body convulsed, twitched. Even with a gossamer touch, she still moaned.

Months ago, he would have kept her like this for hours. Bring her to the edge over and over until she withered into sheets and prayed for release. One time, she swore she blacked out from her orgasm. It was one of his proudest accomplishments.

“Do you want more?” He asked, continuing to tease her clit, softly swirling the swollen bud.

She opened her mouth, but all that came out was nonsense. So, instead she bobbed her head.

“You want my fingers?” She nodded even faster. “Can you be good and keep still? Let me do the work - let me take care of you?” 

She must have known he would want a verbal response because she swallowed. “I - I’ll try.” 

“That’s all I ask,” he hummed, then without any resistance, slid a single finger inside her. Her walls clamped around him, and he growled, wanting to feel her wrapped around his cock.

Soon.

After only a few moments, she was already begging for more. “I can take it. Please, Javi. I need it.”

“Yeah?” His deep chuckle rumbled around his chest. He didn’t wait for a response, and sunk two fingers into her, curling until he hit that sweet, spongy spot.

Her legs twitched, fighting to keep still as he sped up. The wet squelch was nearly enough to send him over the edge, and when he stretched her out with a third, he was about to burst. He could feel his cock leaking with each thrust, smearing around his skin and shorts as she trembled for more.

“Fuck, you’re so good. So good, baby.” He slowed down, but kept a steady pace. “You gonna let me use your pretty pussy? Wanna cum around my cock?” 

“Oh shit - Javi. Please. Please. God - I wanna cum. Wanna - fuck.” 

“Hands and knees or on top?” 

She didn’t answer verbally, but crawled to the middle of the bed instead. She yanked off her dress before presenting herself. Ass up. 

“Goddamn,” he grumbled under his breath, ripping off his shorts. He glanced down and he was way too fucking hard. His cock bobbed heavily against his stomach. The tip swollen and red as jasper. 

He squeezed the base of his cock. His fingers biting into her ass as he spread her apart. Everything was wet and swollen and all his.

“Fucking beautiful.” 

He teased his cock along her slippery slit. The fat head bumped against her clit, and she scrambled to fist the sheets. His jaw went slack, watching her cunt drip and clench around nothing.

“Shit - Javi.” She rocked back to try and catch even just the tip of him inside her. He snatched her by the hips, and held her in place. 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“Your cock,” she whined. “God, I want you to fuck me. Pleaseeee Javi!”

He praised her while lining himself up, then slowly buried himself inside her. He stared down as his cock completely disappeared. She was completely at his mercy. The thought made his cock twitch, and her pussy spasmed around him. 

Throwing his head back, he squeezed his eyes shut until his own release receded. He withdrew, taking a second to admire the ring of slick around his dick before thrusting back in.

“Holy shit. So fuck - fucking good.” She purposely clenched and it was way too tight; his stomach swooped. “Oh shit. Baby, don’t do that.” 

She gave a girlish little giggle. What a fucking menace. 

“That funny to you?” He asked, snagging the blunt head of his cock against her g-spot. Her only reply came in moan muffled by the sheets. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

With a firm grasp on her hips, he fucked her with long, deep strokes that always hit the spot. Her walls spasmed with every rock of his hips. She sobbed from being right on the edge.

He knew exactly what she needed, but couldn’t give it to her. At least, not at this angle.

“Come here, baby.” He helped haul her upwards. Her tacky skin sealed against his chest. His fingers skated across her breasts, circled her neglected nipples. He wished he could play with them, bite them, suck them, tease them, but most of the time they were too sensitive for anything but a feathery touch. The line between pain and pleasure was razor-thin and too blurry. 

Even now, the tiniest brush made her breath catch in her throat. 

Finally, Javier started to toy with her clit. With his cock grinding up into her warm, wet pussy and his lips frantically mouthing at the column of her throat, the first touch made her nearly buckle. Her walls squeezed him even tighter, and he swore this was heaven.

Javier wet his lips. “Kiss me, come on. I need it, baby.” He didn’t care how desperate he sounded. He didn’t care about the awkward angle or how messy it was when her tongue lapped against his. She tangled her fingers into his hair and gave a sharp tug. Every nerve and cell in his body fired at the same time, and he knew this wasn’t gonna last much longer.

He drove his cock as deep as it could go. Their skin slapped together and she was leaking everywhere, down his thighs, dripping onto the sheets.

“Perfect pussy,” he growled, and pinched her clit, rolling it between his fingers. “Fuck. I can feel it. So tight. Oh, come on. Fuck.” 

“Shit - Javi!” Her walls fluttered around him, and he clasped her against him right before her legs gave out.

She pulled away from his mouth, just enough to look into his eyes as he continued to split her open. The hand in his hair came to rest on his jaw; her thumb caressed over his cheek and it hooked on something deep in his chest.

He suddenly felt exposed. Vulnerable. Her eyes bore into his and he swore she could see inside him. She could see every crack and broken piece of him, and despite it - she still looked at him like that. 

She still loved him. 

There was a split-second where he felt like he couldn’t breathe. All of it became too much. All too much. His release licked across his skin, and swelled up inside him.

He made a low, punched out sound and buried his face into her neck. Lavender soap and soft skin. His own release took hold of him. 

“That’s it baby,” her voice seeped in through the dull ringing in his ears. “Fill me up, Javi.” His hips stuttered, and he didn’t recognize the noises that came out of him. Grunts. A near sob without any tears.

He swore he’d never cum so hard in his life.

Finally, his lips started to move across her throat, along the nape of her neck. Soft, sleepy kisses like the ones she would give his fingertips before bed. 

There was a strange part of him that felt like he should apologize, but he didn’t know for what exactly. 

“Was that okay?” He asked before the guilt could fester and turn into an ugly, black mold inside him. His voice sounded weak – meager. Maybe it could pass as breathless.

“Javi.” He still didn’t look at her, didn’t even move. His cock was still inside her, softening. “Javier.” 

That got his attention, and he drew back to find her eyes searching his. She seemed worried. “If it wasn’t okay, I would let you know. Alright?” She petted his cheek, “You always make me feel so good.”

“Now, you’re exaggerating.” 

His cum spilled down her legs once he pulled out of her. He groaned as he plopped onto his back, palming the space between his brows. 

She curled up beside him. “I’m serious, Javi. I liked it - a lot in fact.” 

“Okay.”

She scooped up the strands of hair stuck to his forehead. “Did you like it?” 

He hooked his arm around her, and kissed her on the nose. “Of course.” 

They laid like that for a minute, her body enfolded on him. Even with her clasped against him, he couldn’t shake himself out of this. It only seemed to make the uncomfortable feeling settle deeper into his chest.

Terminal. A sense of finality. 

He tugged her even closer, and tried to lose himself in the scent of her shampoo.

He told himself he was just tired. That was all this was.

---

Javier didn’t know what time it was, but it had to be well past midnight as the city was completely still, quiet aside from the recently awakened bugs. 

There was a storm rolling in. Flashes of white lit up the dark sky as he inhaled another drag of his cigarette. Smoke smoldered in his throat, burning his lungs like a cheap glass of whiskey.

This was exactly what he needed. Fresh air. The sweet shallowness of a nicotine buzz.

For the most part he stuck to nicorette gum, but sometimes that shit didn’t cut it. He kept a carton of Marlboros stashed in his glove boxes for moments such as this.

The nightmares didn’t happen nearly as often as they once did. He supposed, in a way, he’d grown used to the torrent memories. The flashbacks. Colombia. 

But tonight, it hadn’t been the sound of machine guns or war-torn streets that woke him up in a cold sweat. 

It was her. All his dreams lately had been about her. 

He was about half-way through his second cigarette when the sliding door opened. She was standing underneath the porch light, her satin robe shimmering. There was something so ethereal about her. 

“Thought I might find you out here,” she said. 

He gave a light chuckle; a trail of smoke wisped from the sides of his mouth, and he squished out the orange bulb. She knew about his smoking. She also knew what it meant when he did. 

She insisted on joining him on the porch step. Even though it took her a minute to get down. The silence settled comfortably around them. She seemed content to just sit there until he was ready. 

“It was just a bad dream,” he said, after a long moment. 

“Was it about me?” 

He didn’t answer, and instead stared out at the freshly-cut lawn. He’d assumed she had figured it out by now. There was no hiding anything from her. She could read him as easily as her go-to comfort book. The pages tabbed and torn, all marked up, but she cherished it nonetheless. 

He couldn’t lose her.

Each doctor’s appointment set him on edge. Complications. High-risk. It reminded him of his mom and the bullshit medical jargon they used. They gave her two years and it took her in eight months. 

Javier didn’t know how his dad did it. How he just continued to go on. How he lived in their house. If something happened to her, Javier couldn’t come back here. He didn’t even know how to live with an empty side of the bed anymore. 

“Javi.” Her soft voice beckoned him back to her. Her eyes bore into him. The warmth of her body pressed against him. “I won’t promise anything I can’t keep. But, Javi I promise, I feel fine. I feel good. And if I ever think something is wrong, I’ll tell you. Okay?” 

Javier cradled her face in his hands, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. “Promise?” 

“I swear. I swear, I will.” 

Abruptly, he crushed his lips against her forehead, then slotted her right beside him. With his fingers rooted on her hip, she stayed curled up against him. 

The air had turned sticky and the sky had begun to rumble by the time Javier looked her in the eyes. “What if we name one after my mom?” Caught off guard, her jaw went slack, and he knew it was because he rarely brought his mom up. 

He supposed he was scared too. He’d always neatly boxed away his grief. Every loss in his life was stuffed in the same tiny closet. Now, if he opened it up something else was bound to topple out, and whatever it was – it was going to hurt. 

He wished he could talk about her more. It felt like his wife barely knew anything about her. His mom deserved better than to be a silent memory. She deserved recognition. 

“Are you thinking María or Dolores?” She asked.

Javier snorted. “Neither.” 

His mom didn’t really like her name. María Dolores. She always said it made her sound too old. No one that really knew her ever called her by either. 

“I’m thinking Lola. Pops called her Dolly, but to everyone else - she was Lola.” 

“Lola,” she repeated, and rubbed her belly. “I like that. Lola Peña. Now, we just need to figure out the second.”

She squeezed his hand, and then; it started to rain.

[yuki4amano]

Chance Encounter in the Backyard

Yuki Amano let out a deep breath as she settled onto her yoga mat, the warm afternoon sun filtering through the trees in her backyard. This quiet, secluded space was her sanctuary, a refuge from the constant anxiety and self-doubt that plagued her. Here, she could immerse herself in the gentle flow of her practice, letting the worries of the outside world melt away, if only for a little while.

As she began to move through the familiar poses, Yuki felt a sense of peace wash over her. The rhythmic breathing and the stretch of her muscles provided a welcome distraction from the incessant chatter in her mind. She was so lost in the moment that she almost didn't notice the sudden rustling in the nearby bushes.

Startled, Yuki paused mid-pose, her heart racing. She scanned the area, wondering if she had simply imagined the sound. But then, a figure emerged from the greenery, causing Yuki to let out a small gasp.

A man, dressed in a dark hoodie and baseball cap, was crouched in the bushes, his eyes darting around nervously. Yuki's first instinct was to run, to retreat back into the safety of her home, but something about the man's demeanor gave her pause. He seemed more afraid than threatening.

Gathering her courage, Yuki took a step forward, clearing her throat to announce her presence. "Excuse me, is everything alright?"

The man's head snapped in her direction, his eyes widening behind the cap's brim. "Shh!" he hissed, raising a finger to his lips. "Please, don't make any noise. I'm... I'm hiding."

Yuki blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Hiding?" she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. "From what?"

The man hesitated, glancing around the backyard once more. "From my... fans," he admitted, his shoulders sagging. "I'm a pro hero, and they've been following me all day. I just needed a moment of peace and quiet."

Yuki's eyes widened in surprise. A pro hero? In her backyard? She couldn't believe her luck – or rather, her misfortune. Yuki was a secret fan of Deku, one of the top heroes in the country, and the thought of being in his presence was both thrilling and terrifying. She had always admired his bravery and dedication, but the idea of actually interacting with him, let alone having him hide in her own backyard, was enough to make her palms sweaty and her heart race.

Swallowing hard, Yuki nodded slowly. "I... I see," she murmured, her gaze darting around nervously. "Well, you're welcome to stay, I suppose. Just... try to keep quiet, okay?"

The man's face lit up with relief, and he offered her a grateful smile. "Thank you, truly. I won't be long, I promise." He settled back into the bushes, tucking himself away as best he could.

Yuki stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Part of her wanted to run and tell everyone that Deku, the famous pro hero, was hiding in her backyard, but the overwhelming anxiety that gripped her prevented her from doing so. Instead, she slowly made her way back to her yoga mat, trying to resume her practice, but finding it increasingly difficult to focus.

Every few moments, Yuki's gaze would flick towards the bushes, her curiosity and admiration for the hero warring with her crippling social anxiety. She couldn't believe that Deku, the symbol of peace and justice, was mere feet away, yet she was too terrified to approach him or even acknowledge his presence.

As the minutes ticked by, Yuki could feel the tension building within her. She had always been painfully shy, struggling to even order her own food at a restaurant, let alone interact with a celebrity. The idea of revealing her secret admiration for Deku was enough to make her stomach churn with dread.

Just when Yuki thought she couldn't take the anticipation any longer, the man in the bushes stirred, slowly emerging from his hiding spot. Yuki held her breath, her eyes fixed on him as he dusted off his clothes and straightened his cap.

"Well, I think it's safe to come out now," he said, flashing Yuki a grateful smile. "Thank you for your discretion. I really appreciate you not giving me away."

Yuki nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. "Of course," she managed to croak out, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm... I'm glad I could help."

The man studied her for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. "You know, you look familiar," he mused, taking a step closer. "Have we met before?"

Yuki's heart pounded in her chest as she shook her head quickly. "No, no, I don't think so," she stammered, her gaze darting away from his. "I, um, I'm Yuki. Yuki Amano."

"Yuki, huh?" The man's lips curved into a warm smile. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Izuku Midoriya."

Yuki's eyes widened in surprise, and she had to resist the urge to blurt out, "I know who you are!" Instead, she nodded, offering him a shy smile in return. "It's nice to meet you too, Izuku."

As the two stood there, an awkward silence settled between them. Yuki could feel the weight of Izuku's gaze on her, and she fidgeted nervously, unsure of what to say. Part of her wanted to ask him a million questions, to gush about how much she admired his heroic exploits, but the anxiety that gripped her made it impossible to form the words.

Finally, Izuku cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Well, I suppose I should be on my way. Thank you again for your help, Yuki. I really appreciate it."

Yuki nodded, relief and disappointment warring within her. "Of course," she murmured, watching as Izuku turned and made his way towards the gate, disappearing from her backyard and her life as quickly as he had appeared.

As Yuki stared at the spot where Izuku had been, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. She had been given a rare opportunity to interact with her hero, and she had let it slip through her fingers, paralyzed by her own fears and insecurities. With a heavy sigh, she gathered her yoga mat and headed back inside, her mind already whirling with the events of the afternoon.

Little did she know, this chance encounter was just the beginning of a journey that would change her life in ways she could never have imagined.

[oxbowridgehq]

You flew too high up off the ground, It’s stormy wheater an’ had to come back down.

STATS.

NAME: Bethany Walker GENDER & PRONOUNS: cis woman & she/her AGE: 32 OCCUPATION: Actress & Singer AFFILIATIONS: Walker FACECLAIMS: Brianne Howey

ABOUT.

Bethany's first audience was the sky; her first applause the thunder. The title of baby was hung about her neck like a short bit of rope, pulled tighter each year she refused to grow out of it. She was the youngest of Benjamin Walker's grandchildren and, to hear it told, the favored grandchild. For each year that passed drew her more in the likeness of her grandmother. There was always a second sweet tucked in her pocket when it came to him, always an ear set aside for her dramatics.

He might have been the only Walker to love her.

She had no taste for ranch work and only disdain for the bubbling tensions within and without. She was a spill in a family that admired restraint. All her joy tasted like quicksilver and popped like firecrackers against pavement. It was the sensation of taking a horse to trot the first time, or singing the national anthem at the rodeo, or even climbing to the roof of the ranch and watching a meteor shower. It was a tolerable childhood . . .

. . .until it wasn't. Her mother leaving without a word, without her, hurt more than she would ever let on. She coated that pain in resentment for Oxbow Ridge, for the family legacy, for the ranch that breathed, and ate, and bitched like a sixth Walker grandchild. To anyone outside the family she was bit of sunshine dropped in their lap. Useless as she was for the household chores, it became her task to provide a little bread and circus. When her father's friends came around she'd toss on some makeup, a skirt, and boots.

It was through this she learned the power in a lie. She could bend a room to her with a smile and pull sympathy with tears. She became a consummate actress. If her family had her number, it didn't matter. She was hoarding coins and piling up dreams that stretched farther than Walker land. It would have been a clean break too if it wasn't for a pair of killer legs. Falling for them wasn't part of the script. They were half a dozen rewrites, dripping in red ink and slashed through her story. They were an affair tossed together backstage, tasting like cherry lip gloss and backwater gin. Loving them nearly made Oxbow worth it. But one night she was careless slipping out of the house. Her father was stripping leather when he sat her down. He didn't bother to pause when he made it clear that she could go the same way as her uncle and cousins. Maybe he thought she'd fold, maybe he wanted to see if she'd run. He had always looked at her like a creature that needed herding. She spit at his feet that night and after graduation made the choice for him.

Los Angeles breathed new life into her. The streets running like arteries, clogged with tourists and balyage blondes, with skateboarders and yoga enthusiasts. She found work waitressing as she gorged herself on auditions. There was no trick to success. She'd known since she was little how to play it. She could cut her teeth just so when a hundred, sweaty palmed executives patted her knee; when their hugs lingered just this side of long. Recognition came in spurts, bolstered by a savvy social media preference, and then one day she was going viral for singing John Denver on the subway.

The rest, she says, is history. That's a sugary turn of phrase that she drops in a midwestern twang. It's a you betcha with her legs crossed just so on a talk show. It doesn't speak to the tireless work that goes into crafting and maintaining her brand. She's a marketable asset, good for a buck here, or a partnership there. Somewhere over the past decade, she stopped picking up her father's calls. She made a new inner circle. She found a suitably handsome athlete, with a suitably infectious charm, and a suitably interesting life. Their engagement photos were circulated around magazine covers four months ago, their wedding a topic for buzz on gossip networks. If there was a vapid, tawdry taste after more than a decade she wouldn't speak it. This was the life she'd burned bridges for.

Her father's accident, his obituary in black ink, is the only thing that could have wrangled her back to Montana. That and the need for a breather. She's been stretched thin as of late finding herself snapping at her assistants, her fiancé, and her agents. Oxbow's not a break. Not really. She knows Coop has his marks set for her. She has her own to hit as well.

[ultra-maha-us]

Yoga Beginner: What Type Of Yoga Mat Do I Need?

Congratulations on making that decision of purchasing yoga mat even if you are still a beginner in this healthy exercise lifestyle. Practicing yoga is a way of life; it is not just a fitness program. It is about keeping yourself in good physical shape and being fit because you want to prolong your life. But what type of exercise mat does a beginner in yoga use?

There Is No Such Thing As "For Beginners Only" Mat

As a beginner in yoga, you can buy and use any slip free yoga mat that you desire. Mats being sold in malls or direct from an online seller have different qualities and with that you can pick which yoga mat will suit you best. The most common and perhaps a best seller mat are usually made of PVC material.

PVC

PVC is short for Poly Vinyl Chloride. This type of material is thermoplastic which can be melted on a certain temperature and it hardens upon cooling down. The raw materials of PVC is made of oil and salt but there are debates cotton yoga bag on it being unsafe. A lot of yoga aficionados use the PVC because of its low price. If you have sweaty palms or feet, it is best to use yoga gloves or socks together with your PVC yoga mat since it does not absorb sweat.

(Added bonus: PVC mat can be a camping mat too!)

Rubber

If you are not sensitive to latex, the natural rubber yoga mat may serve you best. It absorbs perspiration which makes it slip-free while you perform your moves. This may not be hygienic for some but what you can do is use a yoga towel in between your rubber slip free yoga mat and it's perfect.

TPE

You might have heard of tpe yoga mat. TPE stands for thermal plastic elastomer. This is an eco-friendly choice for an exercise mat because it is made of carbon. It has no PVC or rubber-like materials in it. This type of yoga mat may not be able to absorb moisture but the good thing about that is it inhibits growth of bacteria. Is it non-slip? Of course! It provides the necessary support while you are doing your poses.

Organic Cotton

Some manufacturers of organic cotton mats take pride on the fact that their mats are filled with kapok. It is often used for restorative yoga. Restorative yoga is a type of yoga exercise wherein most positions are done lying down. The mat is thick for back support and the cover is pure cotton with a separate kapok cushion. An organic cotton yoga mat can be washed; air-dried and re-used as is.

If you are into backyard outings, this is a great camping mat because of its kapok cotton feature. It feels like foam.

[bruh-changbin]

invasion of privacy

pairing: roommate!heeseung x afab reader

genre: good ol' smut baby (minors dni)

warnings: male masturbation, brief mention of female masturbation, heeseung is a perv and a panty thief, voyeurism (?)

word count: 2k

a/n: the pervy roommate trope has been done to death but it's so good so here's my contribution. enjoy

photos not mine, credits to original owners (retrieved from Pinterest)

heeseung’s down bad.

like, real bad.

but how can you blame him? he has to spend every second of every day living in a shared apartment with you. you, who he’s had a crush on since he first saw you. and the worst thing is, he can’t even do anything about it!

well, technically he could, but the fear of rejection overpowers the feelings of lust and desire. heeseung wouldn’t really say you’re out of his league, but you carry yourself with such poise that it would be somewhat shocking for you to be with a timid guy like him.

that doesn’t stop him from fantasising though.

it started off simple enough. you were making some kind of smoothie in the kitchen and heeseung had just woken up, which was evident in the way his hair was sticking out in every direction.

the interaction was civil as they always were. heeseung apologised as he reached above you to grab a box of lucky charms, and made the mistake of inhaling deeply when he was pressed up right against you.

you smelled good, and he wondered why he had never caught a whiff of your scent before. surely it’s because he had never had a chance to be this close to you. there was a hint of floral; lavender, maybe? no, definitely jasmine. but underneath the perfume or body spray or whatever product it was that made you smell akin to a meadow, there was a scent that was undeniably you.

it made heeseung embarrassingly horny.

he busied himself with the task of preparing his cereal, doing everything in his power to keep his back turned to you out of the fear that you would spot his growing erection if he faced you.

at long last he had managed to fix himself a bowl of lucky charms, albeit he did spill some milk in the process due to his sweaty palms. hurrying back to his room like some sort of cave dweller, he made the fatal mistake of taking a quick glance over his shoulder at your back profile.

of course you’re wearing fucking yoga pants. the exact pair that sculpts your ass, accentuates your hips, and cinches your waist in ways that leaves little to the imagination.

heeseungs door was barely even closed before his fingers hooked onto the elastic band of his boxers, the material pulled down his legs before he spat in his hand and wrapped it around his cock that was already leaking precum.

his cheeks were flushed a deep shade of red as he fisted his dick, his back pressed up against the door that you’re on the other side of, only a few feet away. it only took him a few minutes to finish; his stomach spazzed and his teeth dug into his bottom lip so hard it stung and he finished all over his hand and the hardwood floor. it was disgusting.

dude, you just came to the thought of your fucking roommate. what the fuck?

heeseung tried to shush the little devil perched on his shoulder as he grabbed a fistful of tissues to clean up his mess. this is totally normal. it’s normal to be attracted to someone. it’s normal to get off while thinking of someone you find hot.

he tried to convince himself it was just a one time thing. he woke up horny and you were the first person he saw - you just so happened to be wearing a pair of pants that made you look as if you were sculpted by the gods. simple as that.

still, he couldn’t push away the yucky feeling in his tummy as he stared at his bowl of soggy lucky charms.

how far is it until he’s past the point of no return?

it turns out that that morning in heeseungs bedroom was just the beginning.

he thinks of you day and night, in both romantic and erotic ways.

he likes to imagine what you’re like in bed, and more often than not he closes his eyes while getting himself off so as to convince himself that it’s your hand and not his own. other times, he likes to imagine what it would be like to take care of you after fucking you dumb. he would kiss you and hold you and brush your hair, all while whispering sweet nothings into your ears.

you did so well for me, you’re amazing, i love you.

you’ve been spending a lot more time out of the apartment recently. heeseung has noticed.

he’s also noticed that you tend to leave your bedroom door unlocked, if not fully open.

he feels bad because he knows that you leaving your door open is a sign of trust. you’re comfortable enough leaving the door to your room open knowing that he won’t cross any boundaries. but surely if you leave your door open that means you’re ok with people going inside, right?

heeseungs trips into your room are always short. he tries to convince himself that it’s because he wants to respect your privacy and not that he’s worried you’re going to come barging in and catch him red handed.

plus, if he really did value your privacy he wouldn’t ransack your laundry hamper in search of a pair of your panties that haven’t been washed yet.

he knows it’s wrong, he really does. but the scent of you eats away at his brain and the more he tries to stave himself from it the more he craves it. pink lace, blue cotton, red polyester. it doesn’t matter what colour, what material, what brand; as long as it’s yours, he’s happy.

on nights when heeseung’s all cooped up in his room, he’ll smother his face with your used panties as he gets himself off. a few times he’s tried wrapping the fabric around his cock as he pumps it, but he worries that his release will stain the fabric so he doesn’t do that often.

heeseung knows he’s gone past the point of no return the day he catches you with your hands down your pants.

it’s not his fault! your door was slightly ajar and he could’ve sworn he had heard the front door close about half an hour earlier, so he thought he had the all clear to go do some snooping.

the first thing he noticed was that your room was darker than usual. weird, you probably just forgot to open your blinds. but just as he was about to wrap his hand around the handle of your door and make his way inside, he caught a glimpse of movement on your bed. lo and behold, there you were.

it took everything in him not to gasp or make any sort of noise to give himself away. and for a few seconds he just… watched. he watched your fingers dance underneath the thin cotton of your sleep shorts, your brows furrowed and bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

heeseungs throat got dry and his dick got wet.

without making a sound he managed to slip back into his room and gave himself the best orgasm he’s ever had, his mind plagued with thoughts of you fingering yourself with your pair of white lacy panties shoved against his nose.

it’s just past 11 pm and heeseung’s locked away in his room, as usual. he had planned on spending the night with jake, but opted to stay home for the sake of finishing some upcoming assignments. you had gone out with some friends, and his focus on his studies prevented his brain from convincing him to venture into your room.

the lo-fi beats echoing from his speaker aren’t enough to cover the slam of the front door, followed by your footsteps making their way through the kitchen and living room. you’re home early.

the second heeseung hears another pair of footsteps following behind yours his heart sinks. maybe you just brought one of your friends back and the two of you are going to hang out? but then he hears a man's voice and the undeniable sound of lips and tongues pressing against each other.

please god this can’t be happening.

heeseung tries to ignore it by upping the volume of his music and returning his focus to his calculus assignment, but the walls in your apartment have the integrity of cardboard and the second you and the mystery man step into your room he can hear basically everything.

heeseung knows he shouldn’t be surprised. you’re and adult woman and he’s seen the tinder notifications pop up on the screen of your phone on multiple occasions.

but still, he’s grappling with the fact that this is real and that you, the person he’s had the hots for for months now, are about to have sex with some random guy in the room right beside his.

perhaps this is payback for all of the panties he’s swiped from your room. damn it.

for a while it’s relatively quiet, and heeseung wonders if the two of you somehow fell asleep before getting further than first base - although he knows that’s not the case.

soon enough he can hear your whimpers and groans through the drywall, and his face flushes. the mystery man cusses, and heeseung rolls his eyes. that should be him.

luckily someone answered his prayers as it seems the two of you decided to skip the foreplay and get straight into fucking - if it was him, he would take his time with you. who does this guy think he is? you deserve better.

it starts off slow, and your moans are somewhat muffled; likely due to the guys tongue being shoved down your throat. heeseungs glad this random guy isn’t very vocal, as it allows him to focus on every little noise you make.

he knows he shouldn’t. masturbating to the thought of you is one thing, but masturbating while listening to you get fucked by a different guy? come on heeseung, you’re better than this (he’s not).

as much as he tries to ignore the aching feeling between his legs, it becomes more and more unbearable with each passing second, and he mentally slaps himself when he reaches down to palm at his dick through his grey sweatpants.

it’s quite embarrassing really, the fact that he’s basically fully hard as he continues to massage his cock through his pants. the relief it brings him is indescribable, and he finds himself somewhat rutting his hips against his hand.

through the wall he can hear your moans increase in pitch, and he tugs at his dick with more fervour. the headboard of your bed is knocking against the wall and heeseungs desk chair is squeaking as he rocks his hips back and forth.

if he closes his eyes and hones in on the sounds your making, he can imagine that he’s the one fucking you into your mattress. he imagines pinning your hips down as he snaps his hips against yours, causing your nails to scratch and claw at his shoulders and back.

he’d suck on your tits and play with your clit all while you’re screaming his name underneath him, begging for him to keep going, to give you that sweet release.

heeseung’s able to pull himself out of his fantasy just in time to hear you finish with a high pitched sob before he finishes just after you. he audibly groans as he soils his sweatpants, his release coating his dick and thighs and seeping through the grey material.

soon all sounds of movement coming from your room stop, and heeseung’s left alone with his thoughts. his mind is racing, and it’s hard to describe what he’s feeling in this particular moment. shame, that’s for sure. a tinge of heartbreak, yes. but also desire - for you of course. he wants to make you moan, he wants to be the reason behind your pleasure.

and as he peels his sticky pants and underwear off of himself before flopping onto his mattress, his mind is still racing with thoughts of you.

one day he’ll work up the courage to confess, to tell you about how you consume his thoughts, how he can’t get enough of you. he just hopes he works up the courage before someone else does.

[bitchlessdino]

j.w.w. ; edging

“Edging” (edg·ing)

the practice of engaging in sexual stimulation to the point of ejaculation before stopping and starting again.

Pairing: rich girl!reader x personal trainer!wonwoo

Genre: smut

Word count: 1.2k

BEWARE OF: gym equipment, fingering, tease!wonu, a taste of tease!reader, thicc!reader, hickeys, degradation, nicknames, dirty talk, frustrating edging

Series Masterlist

author note: :), slowly going insane everyday really. 

You’ve been meeting a personal trainer since your father noticed the ‘extra weight��� you’ve been carrying. Frankly, this would make you upset to hear, but it was your father, you were used to this type of blunt treatment. He’s attempting to re-establish your familial relationship by showing how much he cares and it started with conditioning your well being.

“I’m bringing up the speed.”

Wonwoo, your trainer for the past month, has been a pain in the ass and working you to your core. He had you sweating from your head to your feet, pulling every possible muscle you have. If he wasn’t so insanely hot, you would not have endured this much.

“You brought up the speed 5 minutes ago,” you panted, drenched in sweat as you struggled to maintain your stamina on your treadmill.

“Endurance is important, do as I say. This is the easy part, no way you’re giving up today now.”

You shook your head, “I can’t.”

You slammed your hand on the big red button, slowing down the machine's momentum before it ultimately stopped. Your body folded over, your heavy breathing controlling you as you tried catching your breath. He clicked his tongue at you, approaching you. “What are you even paying me for?”

“I’m not. My dad is.” You responded in a snarking manner, catching your sweat with the back of your hand.

“Right, and you’re wasting his money.” He pointed out obnoxiously.

You sneered at him. “Whatever, I’m taking a shower.”

“You’re not done yet,” his face drew close to yours with a deep knowing gaze, “should I have to remind you what I can do when you don’t commit?”

“I don’t know,” A corner of your lips reached up to your ear, “are you going to go back on your word again like last time?”

He shook his head as stepped on the equipment in front of you, his hands on either treadmill arm, trapping you. You remained unfazed by swift 180 and anticipated his head closing the gap to meet your lips. “You have no sense of discipline whatsoever.”

Your palms cupped his face, reconnecting your lips as you tasted the long-awaited sweetness of his lips that teased you since a week ago. Back then, you were a stationary bike away from sticking your tongue down his throat as you were basically at each other's throats. His hands roamed freely around your sweaty build, pulling your sports bra down and pushing your bountiful flesh out, showing off where some of the weight you gained carried over. 

“There’s so much work that needs to be done with you,” one in either hand, he ran his tongue over the textured surface as you kneaded the other half like dough.

You softly whimpered, your stomach coiling at how his muscle’s quick reflexes on your bud as you pulled him closer by the bottom hem of his muscle tee. Your hands crawled underneath, pictured the tracing of his perfectly developed upper half, confirming you that he was made for his job. “You’re actually Adonis, fuck you.”

He let out a deep chuckle. “Gladly.”

He pulled the material over and off his body in a matter of seconds and quickly fixed the placement of your yoga pants, letting them pool at your feet before kicking them aside. You backed into the treadmill behind you as Wonwoo’s hand was quick to find your clit, rubbing the bulbous shape surrounded by your juices. His crotch hits the surface of your stomach, his fat bulge rubbing against you through his track pants, nudging you. 

“What a spoiled little princess. First, daddy pays for your own personal trainer and now that trainer’s gonna fuck you dirty. You’re a dirty, privileged little slut, aren’t you?”

You hummed, suppressing your moans as his wrist jerked his fingers forward, sliding over your slit and stopping without notice. A cocky sneer watching your pleasure unfold by the mere movement of his fingers. Your lips parted in a gasp at the sheer touch of his calloused fingers soaking in your arousal, pressing a slick digit at the center of your folds. You mewled at his force, irritated by his slow progression.

“You’re so fucking annoying.” You whined.

“Just giving you the treatment you deserve; never giving what you want.” His finger dipped inside your wet entrance before pulling it out tauntingly. “If you’re gonna waste my time, I’m going to waste yours. I get paid either way.”

“You wanna play it that way? Fine.” You fingered through his hair, pulling his head to expose his neck, attacking it with your vengeful lips. You ran against his bare skin, gnashing your teeth until you saw shades of blue and red. The man let out a throaty moan, shivers running down his spine, not relinquishing his fingers. His free arm grabbed a handful of your ass in response, the white of his nails plunging in your ass cheek while he growled.

Feeling challenged, Wonwoo interjected, “Oh, baby. I’ve changed my mind. I have no intentions of fucking you.” 

He jerked his head back in control, lips ghosting over your ear. “I'd rather make you suffer by letting you think you’d get an orgasm, only to have it never come:”

His body shoved you slightly, making you fall back on the control box, your elbows to the sides of the machine as Wonwoo’s middle and index digit plunged in your core. He rammed them the same way he intended his dick would in the situation, hard and steady. His eyes fell on your form, lips curling up at your forceful grip on the machine as you were helpless to his control. Occasionally there would be the slip of his pace, pulling them out to tease yours folds once more, I’m which he’d only reply in an audible ‘oops.’

“Really? Very classy, Wonwoo. Adding another disappointing sexual encounter to your roster, maybe?”

He, this time, entered three full fledged fingers into your core, curling them in place, retrieving a sickly sweet moan from your lips. “You don’t sound disappointed. And if I’m not mistaken, it sounds like you’re more than enjoying my service. As privileged little sluts do and you’re just the cream of the crop, aren’t you?”

Salvia ran down your throat like a water slide, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean no matter how many times I’ll leave you hanging, your dirty little cunt will come begging for more because you like the resistance. It’s the only thing to entertain the person that has it all, right? You’ll be begging for my cock for as long as I don’t give it to you. That’s what makes my job fun.”

His fingers would flick inside you, bringing you closer and closer to gratification only to take away at the last second. He did warn you of his actions but convinced yourself enough to keep it going, believing he’d give up in the end. Your hand gravitated over his clothed crotch, reaching underneath the hem to grasp his boulder of a cock, firm and throbbingly large in your hand. Wonwoo lightly groaned, growing seemingly more aware of your presence.

You met his eyes, only grinning as he bitterly played with your pussy as you stretched the skin of his member to its tip, tugging it dryly. You hummed. “I can be an asshole too. Your guess who'll eventually give in first.”

“We’ll see about that princess.”

[sukirichi]

defeat (m.)

no thoughts, just sparring with naoya in his black tee and fucking him all sweaty

cw. sweaty sex, breeding kink, naoya and his wife are both ass people, doggy style, naoya is very touchy, lame fight scenes lol, creampie, unedited and just brainrot tbh

note. in honor of naoya being a canon ass man and overall just celebrating his sexiness (plus talking to my wife about naoya genuinely awakened my breeding kink) prompted by this ask!

# part of the trophy wife collection

“Let’s train. Gym, in five minutes,” your husband commands with a playful glare. Rolling your eyes at him, you lean back to make yourself more comfortable on your seat, arms crossed over the robes to show your defiance.

It’s not every day you tease him like this, but training in the middle of the day? You’re not in the mood of it.

One quirked brow from Naoya, though – merely a premise of what is to come if you don’t follow him to the training grounds – has you switching to your yoga pants and a fit shirt to match his outfit. The whole way there, you shamelessly stare at his backside that looks enticing and begging to be squeezed, especially in his light grey sweats that cling to his thighs deliciously.

“You done staring at my ass now?”

“Nope,” you chirp, popping the ‘p’ as he begins to stretch, rolling his eyes at you when you still very much openly stare at his ass. But it’s fine, since he’s doing the same and you’re prompting him to in the first place.

Out of your extensive wardrobe that your husband spoils you with, you had to choose a pair of dark yoga pants that are hugging the outlines of your legs, your shirt barely even keeping you modest as you extend your arms side to side. You and Naoya smirk at one another, cursed energy kept brimmed to the bare minimum as to not hurt each other. Despite always being cooped up in the Zen’in Estate per Naoya’s orders (and you don’t really feel like going out anyway), neither of you doubted your skills in sparring.

Long before he met you, he’s heard of your name spoken in high esteem, another special grade one sorcerer just like he was. This fact remains even as you’re married now, and Naoya closes the gap between your bodies, his gaze directed at your lips and hands trailing up to squeeze your neck, his eyes so hazy that it seems as if he’s not entirely aware of his actions.

“My love,” you purred, clasping the wrist connected by the hand where his thumb is rubbing circles over your vein. “Are we here to train or are you too distracted?”

“A sorcerer must never be distracted.”

“So keep your eyes wide open, sweetheart,” Ducking your head under his grasp, you ram yourself into his chest where he immediately falls on the ground, the wind knocked from his chest. Naoya’s reflexes are fast before he’s up to his feet again to mimic your stance, his arrogant grin showing that he’s not that irritated by how devious you could be, using your allure as his woman to take his attention away, if only for  a little bit. “You look a little tired. Want me to go easy on you, babe?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Cheater, he’s a fucking cheater! Faster than you could comprehend, Naoya already has you pinned before him, your legs locked in place with how he’s shifting his weight onto your ankles. You hated it so much every time he used his technique against you, but then again, there weren’t any rules that stopped him from doing so.

“Well?” he prompts and leans down, hovering his lips right before your ear while you pant under him. “Aren’t you going to fight back? I didn’t invite you here to be boring with me.”

Stifling a laugh, you use your strength to push him off you, and you spar heartily with your husband who seems to be in a good mood, considering the rare influx of compliments leaving his otherwise harsh tongue. It’s no easy feat as he’s skilled even without using his techniques, and the both of you are breathless by the time you’ve delivered and handled the other’s blow by blows, your palms and muscles sore.

Your husband is in no better state.

He’s struggling to catch his breath, his legs bent and his arm drawn over his knee. Naoya chuckles under his breath when you drape your sweaty arms over his back, shameless and wanting as you tap his cheek to urge him in for a kiss.

Albeit grumbling he doesn’t really want to touch you when you’re covered in sweat, he kisses you anyway, smiling before he hitches you onto his lap that you’ve proudly claimed as your throne.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“Sometimes you forget I’m just like you, Naoya,” you rub your nose with his, foreheads pressed while you rock yourself over his groin. His eyes darken in warning, large hands coming up to knead your ass that you know he worships so much, though he makes no move to stop you, and really, he never would. “Just because I’m your precious little wife who would gladly serve you tea, doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate to hand your ass back to you.”

“Oh, will you, now?” he chuckles, “I’d like to see you try.”

“I already did.”

“Only because I let you,” Naoya mumbles on your lips, his once curious kneading now turning more intentional, more heated. “You’re funny if you think I’m letting you win against me.”

“So then why did you?”

“Because if I do, you’ll let me do this.” This refers to tearing your shirt apart, exposing your sports bra to him that is now clinging to your skin from the sweat, droplets of perspiration dripping from the tips of your hair and down to your flushed chest. Gasping from the torn material, you try to slap your husband’s destructive hands away.

“Naoya, that’s my favorite shirt!”

“Because you like the brand or you know because I go crazy every time you wear it?”

“Both, of course,” you scoff, and Naoya silences your protests by capturing your lips for another feverish kiss. A cheater, a huge, immature cheater he was – he knows so well that you get so weak every time he’s like this, and it really isn’t beyond him to exploit other’s weaknesses for his own enjoyment. And as much as you enjoyed this too, you don’t really want to fuck in a room that smells like sweat.

“Naoya,” pulling away from his sweet lips (which is a shame, really, you could’ve made out with him a lot longer), you ignored the throbbing he’d caused deep within your core. “My love, if you want to fuck me, you should take me back to the room.”

“You’re ordering me around now?”

“You will take me to the room,” you repeated firmly, dragging him down by the collar to force him to look at you. “Be mean all you want, but at the end of the day we both know you want to be buried inside me.”

“You’re not any better, wife,” he remarked, and he squeezes your sensitive breasts as if to prove a point. “At the end of the day, we both know you want me deep inside your tight cunt.”

“So then let’s help each other out.”

Ordering him around was one thing, but compromise? Naoya is a man capable of it, he just doesn’t like to show it because he doesn’t want people questioning his power. Your husband who is mostly anger and greed, his mind clouded by the need to always be better than others, shifts a little just for you as he carries you in his arms, your legs wrapping around his slender waist like second nature.

Naoya must’ve been so eager that you’re back in your room in a flash, with your back bouncing on the mattress and him stripping above you.

“No!” you insist and stop him, “Keep the shirt on. Please?”

“What the fuck for? It’s sweaty and sticky.”

“Exactly, and you look sexy like that.”

“Fucking filthy,” he scolds, but keeps the shirt on anyway and lets you roll it back to his waist. His pants, however, they need to be off. Your husband watches with unmasked interest as you push the band of his pants until you’re throwing it somewhere on the room. In return, you shimmy out of your yoga pants that are now uncomfortably pressed to your skin, discarding all forms of clothing that irritated you. Settling down on the bed, you spread your legs right beside his hips, but Naoya only smirks, groping your knee with a chuckle. “What, you think I wanna fuck you like this?”

“How else then?”

“Oh, come on,” he prompts, “You kept staring at my ass the whole time. I think it’s time I return the favor.”

Without another word, he flips you onto your stomach and grabs you by the waist, giving you no time to relax before your head is pushed back down on the pillows. Naoya’s warm cock is throbbing from your backside and he groans, delivering a harsh smack to the skin before it aches under his touch.

“Such a pretty fucking ass that’s begging to be fucked,” in time to his words, you wiggle your hips at him in a silent complaint to get moving already. Naoya simply grips down on your hips to keep you still, spanking you once more as a lesson. “Don’t fucking move.”

“Naoya, please, just fuck me already.”

“Needy little wife, begging to be ruined, huh?” Another smack.

Shutting your eyes tight, you fist the sheets under you as tears come to life. “Yes, ‘em so needy for you, Naoya, want your cock so bad, please-” Your pleading is cut off when he slides into you in one fluid motion, his deep groans resonating around the room once he’s seated comfortably. Mouth falling open at the pleasure of being stretched so open and shocked by the fact you’d already been so wet, you could barely register the pace he’s started.

Naoya keeps fucking deep into you, slapping your ass repeatedly and calling you his dirty little slut – mine and all mine only, he said. You’re left immobile and whining under him, all of your consciousness centered on the burning sensation between your legs.

Beneath you, Naoya’s hands travel to tug your bra downwards. The material remains stuck under your breasts and you moan around his rough, calloused hands that are expertly kneading your breasts. His pace quickens until his hips are roughly slapping against yours, grumbles and garbled moans mixing in with your little gasps of his name in a desperate plea to be brought to your orgasm.

You feel so raw, so dirty, so filthy like he said.

Sweat and arousal is coated on your skins and everything about this position feels so primal, even more so when he begins to rub at your clit just to push you over the edge. “Oh, fuck!” you grasped his bicep with one hand, the soreness of your muscles extreme.

“Yeah? You like that? You’re such a good fucking girl, taking my cock like a bitch in heat,” he spits in your ear with lust dripping from each word, and his words are enough to make you cum around him.

Walls clamping down on his cock, you hear Naoya grunt above you, his chest now pressed onto your back. You’re crying around him but he only goes faster, he’s so close and like the good wife you are, you help your husband by driving your body back to meet him thrust by thrust. Naoya’s chuckles are stuttered and half mixing in with moans when he runs a hand through his hair, those same hands following in gripping your cheeks to face him.

His kisses are sloppy and short-lived; you’re too busy moaning and he’s struggling to breathe with your pussy convulsing around him. “God, so fucking tight!”

“Hmm, come on, baby, come for me,” you encourage by rolling your hips around his cock, ignoring the fact the oversensitivity is making your legs turn to jelly and your arms are seconds away from giving out on you. But you hold strong, this is the duty of his wife, and you look past your shoulders as Naoya digs his nails into your hips to keep you still while he cums inside you.

“Oh, fuuuuckkk,” prolonged groans spill from his mouth the same way his own cum is released in spurts from your pussy lips.

Satisfied and extremely tired, you fall limp on the bed. Naoya dips two fingers to collect the mess you’ve made and you shudder, but then he lets go of you until your lower body is sliding back down on the bed, eyes droopy from that heated fucking. The minute sounds of sucking is enough to let you know your perverted husband is most likely feasting on your cum, but nothing prepares you for when he pushes them back inside your pussy.

“N-Naoya!” you exclaim and stare up at your husband, whose attention is zeroed in on your pussy lips hungrily encasing his fingers and cum. “What’re you doing?”

“You think that’s enough to get you pregnant?”

“What?”

“Don’t answer that,” he narrows his eyes and begins to pump his cock that is half hard again, the sight making anticipation and arousal throb all over you. You’ve seen that look on him before, and it’s the face he makes when he’s dead set on accomplishing something. “I’ll keep fucking you until I’m sure you can grant me an heir.”

In combat, you’ll most definitely spar with your husband without fear of losing, but having Naoya in bed when he’s determined on breeding you is a different thing.

This, without a doubt, is the one thing you can’t beat him on. And not that you wanted to, anyway, having him fuck a baby in you does sound nice.

Locking your eyes with your husband, you willingly spread your legs open for him again.

[hollandsmushroom]

OMG YAY ok so what about tom doing push ups and you are getting super horny watching him, so you ask him to stop just for you to get under him and... you know, suck his dick while he's doing push ups jgbkgbkgbkh if this is too filthy for you let me know

(Mouth)Fucking Pushups

HNNNG!!!!

Word count: 1705

Warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS GO AWAY! blow jobs, sweat and mouth fucking.

Request/Chat with Me

“Tom!” you called out through the seemingly empty house, dropping your keys in the dish on the entryway table, the clatter sounding through the walls as you followed the faint hints of music to the basement, pushing the door open, the sounds getting louder, loud enough that you knew Tom couldn’t hear you but you still thought you would call out again.

“Tom?” you tried again but your voice was drowned out by the beat that was vibrating through the ground beneath your feet as you stepped down the carpeted steps. When you reached the bottom of the stairs you stood on the solid hardwood floor, the beat of the music even more intense against your soles. Though you normally would have been fascinated by how the feeling rose through your body, any curiosity had been replaced with a keen interest in the man in front of you. He was laid out on a yoga mat, the flesh of his belly rolling slightly as he curled his upper body up off the floor, his biceps taught against the short sleeves of his shirt, his hands gripping the opposite shoulders. His brown eyes were squeezed shut in exertion and you knew that you should make yourself known but he looked too dialectable to interrupt, you just wanted to sit and admire as a drop of sweat trickled between his pecs. You sat on the seat of the rowing machine, pressing your feet into the floor so the seat wouldn’t roll down the metal slide and watch. His knees were spread and you could see the way that his shorts had hitched up his hips, accentuating his cock through his basketball shorts, tightening on either side of his balls and it made you gulp. You felt yourself beginning to yearn for him, your mouth was salivating as you watched him, so fixated on the space between his legs and the continuing loosening and tightening of his shorts that you didn’t notice Tom sitting up, breaking open his eyes to find you sitting there watching him.

“JESUS FUCK!” He cried out when he saw you, still having thought that he was alone while he was working out. His words shocked you out of your cock lusted haze and made you jump, nearly falling off of the erg but his hand wrapped itself around yours and pulled you back to a stable position, also using you as a way to hoist himself off the floor so he stood above you, his sweaty brown curls falling in front of his quizzical orbs as he hooked a finger under your chin and brought your eyes to his, tearing your gaze from his glistening abs that were now in front of your face and you just wanted to smear your lips across them.

“Sorry for scaring you, Tommy” you utter, as his thumb brushes your cheek, your words eliciting a small chuck from Tom.

“It’s alright, love, how long were you sitting there?” he queried, wondering just how long you had been silently staring at him, well by the looks of it, admiring him, and he couldn’t help the blush that rose from his chest at the thought of you just tracing every curve of his body with your eyes without him knowing.

“Don’t actually know, but don’t let me interrupt you look like you still have things to do” he furrows his brow at your words, fully prepared to stop working out and spend time with you but you seemed pretty set on letting him continue so he didn’t argue, ducking down and stealing a kiss from your lips before returning to his mat.

His knees met the foam first then catching himself on his hands, pushing his legs back into a push-up position and dipping down. This position gave you a stunning view of his ass, how it squeezed when he bowed down to the floor, the way his grunts made it over the loud music was making your thirst for the man in front of you simply multiply. You couldn’t stop yourself, you had literally just told him to go back to work and there you were opening your mouth to ask him to stop.

“Tommy?” you called out, making him stop his actions and turn to look at you from over his shoulder, his brows scrunched with laughter.

“I thought you told me not to let you interrupt” he chuckled as he held himself in a side plank, his eyes crinkled at the corners with a smile as he watched you stand. “Whatcha doin’ love?” he asked as you laid down so your shoulder was flush with his hand.

“Giving you motivation” you insisted, pulling him pack down into a push up position by tugging on his shoulder, forcing him to fall over you.

“Was doing just fine without it” he laughed as you puckered your lips, inviting him to bow his elbows back and press down to your lips but as soon as he nearly reached them you dodged to the side, pressing a kiss under his ear, licking over the juncture very softly making him gasp. God his noises were gonna be the death of you.

“W-what was that?” he asks when he pushes back above you, elbows locking as he looks at you intently.

“A kiss” you explain, looking at him like he was dumb to cover your devilish desires, and your explanation seemed to be enough to satisfy Tom as he began to lower himself again, and this time you pressed a kiss against his collar bone, sucking lightly until he pulled away.

“Y/n” he groaned, looking down at where your head was but not it was just your hair, having scooted yourself down so you could kiss your way down his chest. His skin was salty against your lips but you didn’t mind, you cared less about his sweat and more about the fact that you could now feel Tom’s hardening cock pressing into you when he lowered down. It was pressing into your belly now as you peppered kisses down from his belly button, tracing your tongue along the waistband of his shorts.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” Tom panted but you ignored him, pulling his shorts down until they were resting part way down his thighs, beneath his ball sack, his cock springing free and hitting you in the chin. You tilted your head down so your chin rested on your chest, letting his cock between your lips and rest on your tongue. You could sense Tom’s apprehension, almost able to hear the worried whimper of your name that was building in his throat but you decided to skip that part, wrapping your arms around his waist and digging your hands into his asscheeks and pulling him down, forcing him to do a push up.

His cock brushed the back of your throat but you managed to contain the gag that it triggered, letting him pull from between his lips as he pushed back up only to have you pull him back down again, removing one hand from his ass cheek and wrapping it in a searing grip around his hardon, positioning it so he would slip eagerly in between your salivating lips.

“Fuck” you heard Tom murmur in pleasure, his ab muscles were twitchin in your view as you opened yoru jaw just a little bit more, taking him in further when his body rises and falls again, he was enraptured by your mouth, focused on the wet friction of his dick against your tongue that he forgot what his arms were doing until he felt like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore.

He sat back on his knees, his cock still nestled in your mouth as he gripped onto your scalp, pulling your head forward as he began to fuck into your mouth, bringing himself closer and closer to the edge with every jerk of his hips, his tip still brushing against the back of your throat with every stroke and it was making you gag, your throat clenching around his length, the constriction a sudden shock that was enough to send him over the edge, his cum shooting down your throat and spreading across the insides of your cheeks as you sucked harder and his cock, draining him for every ounce of cum that you could possibly manage until he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. He was moaning and whining and convulsing on top of you, unable to support himself he feel forward, catching himself on his palms as he pulled out of your mouth, a choked gargle leaving your lips as cum began to drip down your now empty throat, pushing yourself up from between his legs and letting his body fully collapse onto the mat.

“Fuck” He winced, having landed on his overly sensitive cock, crushing the spongy flesh slightly making him roll over onto his back.

You looked over your shoulder to admire your work, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you laid down next to him, resting your head on his chest as you looked up into his hooded and tired eyes. Your fingers traced down his accentuated abs muscles until they reached his cock, tracing very gently over the wet and tired skin earning a couple more twitches from him as you maintained eye contact.

“If I knew that was gonna happen when you watched me work out I would have made you come to every session with me” he laughs, fingers brushing your forehead as you tried to hide your face in his chest.

“Hey, none of that” he ordered, pulling you up so you were now above him, your knees on either side of his hips and lips only centimeters apart, breath hot as your eye contact made your belly erupt into little butterflies.

“I love you” he murmurs, closing the space between the both of you slowly.

“Love you too” you assure, setting your hips down onto his and feeling his cock again. “Love this cock too” you giggle, grinding down slightly, feeling it harden.

“God, you’re gonna kill me” Tom groaned, making you cease your actions and throw your head back in laughter.

Join my sleepover

♡Taglist♡

@capital-koreasofia @marvelhasmyheart235 @iluvdeja @quaksonhehe @lovehollandy12 @thollandneedy @prancerrparkerr @parkerpeter24 @hollandsour @spydeysense @harryhollandsgirlfriend

[subspencer]

Perv! Spencer touching himself while r works out

i didn't know how to end this lol but i also made them roommates for this. felt fun.

wc: 1.3k cw: masturbation, penetration, unprotected sex, perv!spencer, roommates au

-

“Hey, did you come to join me?” you asked while turned upside down in downward facing dog, contorting your body to watch your roommate walk into the living room.

“No, I just needed to read my book…” he waved a copy of Dune with a sheepish smile. “It was getting stuffy in my room.”

“Ah, ok. Well, I’m almost done with my workout, so I’ll be out of your hair in twenty.”

Spencer waved off your concern and took a seat on the couch just a few feet behind you.

“No worries, take your time.”

You smiled and returned to your yoga video, moving into a deep lunge. Looking behind you, just to make sure Spencer was doing fine, you saw him crack open his book and start reading, and were satisfied with that.

The moment you looked away, going back into the first position, his eyes left the page. Your ass was up in the air directly in front of him, barely covered by the tiniest pair of shorts he’s ever seen.

“How’s the book?”

“Hm?” His hand fell from under his chin, mouth agape. “Oh, it’s good. Really good…” his voice trailed as you shifted into a lunge on the opposite leg, stretching your thighs deep.

Pressing the side of your front thigh into the ground, you moved into a pigeon pose and bent forward, letting out a deep groan when the muscles stretched out.

Spencer cleared his throat when he heard it. “Does that - does that hurt?”

“Not really. Feels good, for the most part,” your wince didn’t convince him as you pushed yourself closer to the floor. “You should try it.”

“I think I’m a better observer,” he laughed.

“Well, help me with this next one, at least.” You made him get up and walk over as you laid with your back flat on the mat. “I need you to help me get my leg up.”

“What?” he choked. You brought one leg into the air, twirling your ankle to gesture for him to grab it.

“Yeah, push my leg. I need a good stretch.” Spencer swallowed dryly, wrapping one hand around your ankle as he began pushing your leg closer to your shoulders.

“Ah,” you winced as your knee got closer to your chest, closing your eyes and biting your lip.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“No, keep going!” Your hand shot up to his, holding his grip there as you had him continue. Your knee was almost to your ear when you let out a low groan.

Spencer didn’t know where to look. He was standing over your hips, right above you while you whined below him. If he looked down, he’d see your face contorting as the pain of the stretch turned to satisfaction. And to his side, there was a full-length mirror where he could see the both of you in this compromising position.

He chose the mirror, knowing he could see your face and entire body in it. He scanned the whole picture, from you to him on top, opening you up to him.

“Spencer, you can let go now.”

“Oh.” He quickly let go, and you raised the other one for him to repeat. As he brought the other one equally as far up, he rambled out, “Wow, you’re really flexible.”

You laughed. “Yeah, it takes work but it’s worth it.”

“Why?” His brows quirked, already thinking about doing this to you in more naked terms. You could tell what he was thinking even before that.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you smirked, pulling your leg even closer. Your eyes flicked down to his crotch, just to tease him, but the second you looked at him you saw him twitch in his trousers.

“Okay!” you quickly released your leg bringing it down to the floor, cheeks burning at what you’ve witnessed. “I’m all done!”

Spencer scrambled off of you, clearing his throat and adjusting himself not-so-subtly.

“Thanks for your help.” You avoided his eyes as you got up and rolled the yoga mat up.

“Yeah, anytime,” he muttered.

Your mind raced with that image of him as you quickly ran back to your room, leaving Spencer embarrassed in the living room. You were only trying to mess with him; it was just so unexpected to actually get a rise out of him.

You thought to go back out and try to smooth over that awkward encounter with him, but heard the bathroom door click shut as he went in. It was right between your two bedrooms, sharing an adjoining wall with your bedroom.

Two seconds later, you heard the jingle of his belt and a faint groan. And then a stream of stifled moans. And before you could think, you were storming out of your room and barging into the bathroom, which he didn’t even bother to lock.

Spencer was leaning against the counter, jeans pulled down his thighs while he palmed himself over his boxers. His eyes flew open when he heard you come in, caught red-handed.

“Shit!” he scrambled to pull his jeans up, cheeks turning vermillion. “Fucking knock!”

You were ready to run back out, not knowing why you’d even come in in the first place, but when your hand hit the door handle again, you pushed it closed and locked it. Taking two long strides to Spencer, you put your hands on the counter on either side of him, boxing him in.

“What are you doing,” he croaked, covering himself with one hand and running the other nervously through his hair.

You stared at each other for one long, silent pause before you pushed him back on the counter, tugging his boxers down. Wiggling out of your skin-tight shorts, you placed your hands back on his thighs.

“You wanted to see how flexible I am,” you explained, swiftly raising one leg and placing your foot on the counter behind him, keeping the other one planted to the floor. Spencer’s hips were directly under yours. When you pressed forward just a little, you could feel your pussy graze his cock.

Spencer was speechless. His mouth was wide open as he looked down where your body just nearly met his, cock twitching when he saw your bare body. You followed his line of sight, deciding to take the first move and grab his dick with one hand, running his tip through your folds before lining him up and sinking down on him. His hands flew to your hips, moaning as you buried him inside.

“Fuck me like this and see for yourself.” He quickly did as instructed, thrusting his hips up into the narrow space between you, already so deep in you. He gripped your knee that was bent on the counter, pushing it to open you up even more as he thrusted faster.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails sinking into his skin through his thin t-shirt. He winced as you dug them in, moving his hips impossible fast, knowing he wouldn’t last long. Just as your supporting leg started to wobble, he pushed your knee back and quickly pulled out. Panting as he pulled his shirt up, he gave himself a few short tugs, finally coming all over his bare stomach within seconds.

“Fuck,” he gasped, painting his belly in white. Your throat ran dry at the sight of him.

Before he got up, you turned on the shower and stripped down your shirt and bra. Helping Spencer peel off his shirt, careful to avoid any of his mess. You were still sweaty from the workout, and even more so now.

“Are you gonna show me some other tricks,” he joked, climbing off the ledge. Shaking your head, you stepped into the tub, holding the curtain for him to follow in after you.

“Come in and find out.”

[fruitcoops]

Can I please ask for some protective Cubs and/or Coops. I adore these boys and I love the fics where they always have each other’s backs. It could be a similar situation to Remus and that Stan guy or something different. No pressure or anything and if you don’t vibe with this prompt don’t stess bestie

Yes, I love protective Lions! For the anon whose meds got mixed up: I'm so sorry that happened, and I hope this provides the comfort you were looking for in the form of Cub lovin' <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for panic attacks, forgetting to eat a healthy meal

It was Sirius who noticed first. Then Remus. Then Finn.

He was still kicking himself over that one, to be honest.

Sirius moved like a solid wall, murmuring in quiet French as he led Logan out of the gym and into the hall with Remus hot on their heels. A pang hit Finn right in the heart—I want to understand, he thought, fervent and afraid as he set the jump rope down. I would build the Tower of Babel again to understand how to help.

His pulse picked up; sweat itched at his forehead even after he stopped exercising. “Something’s wrong,” Leo said under his breath as they hurried into the hall.

Obviously, Finn bit back. He should have known since the second Logan started snapping his fingers in a nervous tic, should have seen the fucking signs—

“Everything alright?” James asked cautiously from the weight bench where he laid. “Did someone get hurt?”

“Just—just hang on a second.”

“Respire.” Sirius sat crosslegged across from Logan, whose eyes were squeezed shut as he leaned his head against the wall about ten feet from the door. “Logan, respire.”

A gentle but firm hand moved Finn out of the way by his shoulder; Remus slipped past them with a cup of water. “Drink this,” he ordered as he took Logan’s twitching hand between his own. “Open your eyes if you can.”

“Gonna throw up,” Logan managed, his voice high and reedy.

“Lo?” Finn’s mouth was dry. Logan hadn’t had a panic attack since their last year at Harvard together—he barely remembered what to do.

Logan’s chest caved at the sound of his voice, and one pale green eye cracked open to stare at him in sheer terror. “Finn. Finn, it’s happening, I don’t know what to do—”

“Move.” Finn’s throat hurt, but his brain kicked into autopilot. I can fix this. “Leo, get some damp paper towels from the break room. Cap, give him space.”

Leo disappeared from his stunned place by his side; after a moment’s hesitation, Sirius held his hands up and backed away. Logan was still gripping Remus’ hand with white knuckles. “How do I help?” Remus asked as soon as Finn knelt next to Logan.

“Grab some more water, and granola bars.” Slowly and deliberately, he reached up and cupped the side of Logan’s face. He had never allowed himself to do it at Harvard, but Logan always came back to himself quicker with a grounding touch. “Logan, can you look at me for a second?”

He shook his head. “Gonna throw up.”

“Alright.” With a shaky exhale, Logan leaned into his palm. “There you go, good job. Are you still dizzy?”

“Little bit.”

Past adrenaline rush, past collapsing, moving through dizziness. Finn ran through his mental checklist like it was just yesterday that Logan had crumbled after a bad game in from of scouts. “Cap was right, you need to breathe. I’ll do it with you, okay?”

He watched Logan’s chest move up and down, erratic at first before slowing to match Finn’s steady pace. Something damp and cool brushed against his free hand and he pressed the paper towel to Logan’s forehead, then kissed Leo’s cheek in gratitude as he sat down. “What happened, love?”

Logan swallowed hard and licked his lips, but his eyes were opening. “Dunno. I was almost at the end of my reps. I was fine.”

“Did you eat?” Sirius asked quietly to his left, waiting with his arms crossed. Despite his stance, he didn’t look angry.

“Bagel for breakfast. Coffee.”

His mouth tilted down. “That’s not enough.”

“Desole.”

“We’re not upset,” Finn assured him, sliding the makeshift washcloth to his temple. “Just worried.”

“It’s really warm in here,” Logan panted. His pupils had dilated so far they almost masked the green entirely. Past dizziness, into dehydration. “Is anyone else warm?”

Finn’s sweat was already cooling on his body as he handed him the water glass. “Drink.”

In twenty seconds, half of it was gone. A decent amount spilled over the front of Logan’s shirt from his shaking hands, but that didn’t seem to bother him. Leo’s whole face was lined with concern. “Better?”

“Oui.”

Finn glanced up at the others and gave them a quick nod. We’ve got him. Sirius squeezed his shoulder as he passed, and Remus passed him a couple energy bars before heading back into the gym. Logan’s breaths were coming easier; they waited in silence until the rest of the water was gone and his face regained some of its color. “You can’t skip breakfast on heavy workout days, Lo,” Finn said, folding his legs under himself. “You know that’s how these get triggered.”

“It’s been long enough that I thought I’d be alright.”

“Does this happen a lot with you?” Leo asked. Insecurity flickered over his face and Finn felt a stab of guilt.

Thankfully, Logan shook his head. “Not for a while. They used to, back in school.”

“Then why’d you skip breakfast if you knew it might happen?”

“I slept weird. Didn’t wake up hungry, and by the time I was, we had to go.”

“We can take another five or ten minutes to make sure you eat instead of having a panic attack.” Just to make that extremely clear, he added in his mind. “For future reference.”

Logan’s nose twitched as he looked toward the gym door. “Sorry for interrupting your practice.”

“Health comes first,” Leo said firmly. “Practice won’t ever be more important than your safety.”

“It’s our job—”

Finn held his hands up in a timeout motion. “Panic attacks aren’t something we fuck around with, remember? The guys will understand. Coach will understand. Besides, we’re your boyfriends. It’s our job to take care of you when you’re feeling shitty.”

Logan looked between them, sighed, and leaned forward to rest his forehead on both their shoulders. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Leo said into the soft skin of his neck with a light kiss.

Finn rubbed small circles onto the back of his hand and buried his face Logan’s slightly-sweaty curls. “Love you, three. Ready to head back in?”

“Only if you’re ready for me to kick your ass in squats.”

Leo snorted. “Bold of you to assume Cap’s letting you near anything heavy for the next 24 hours.”

“That assumes he lets you in the gym at all,” Finn amended.

Logan rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“And I’m sure he’ll believe you, after you’ve been cleared by every doctor in a four-mile radius.”

“I’ll make him let me in.”

“Now that I’d pay to see,” Finn laughed. He internally cheered at the rosy splotches of temper that lived a semi-permanent life on Logan’s cheeks.

Leo nodded. “A true battle of wills.”

Logan’s jaw ticked at the side. “You’re the worst boyfriends ever.”

“Nah, we’re just protecting you from your big bad older brother who is fully capable of banning you from the gym if you don’t play your cards right.” They heaved him to his feet by his hands; if Finn spent a little extra time dusting his back and thighs off, that was nobody’s business but their own.

“Are you done?” Logan asked with clear amusement written all over his face.

“I’m protecting the booty,” Finn said solemnly. Next to him, Leo fought a valiant battle against the grin trying to take over his face. “It’s a very important booty, you know.”

“Like you’d know, Pancake O’Hara.” With a playful smack to his—admittedly lacking, in comparison—rear end, Logan strolled back down the hall to the gym and pulled the door open.

“Yoga mats,” Sirius said without preamble. Leo clamped a hand over his mouth and hid his face in Finn’s shoulder.

“But—”

“Yoga mats. If you even breathe on the weights, I swear to god I’ll sit on you.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Love you, too.” Sirius narrowed his eyes down the hall. “You two have absolutely no excuse to chill out here. Congrats, Harzy, your rotation for the bench press just started. Knutty, Bliz is waiting for you by the ice baths.”

“Oh, god,” Leo groaned.

Even Sirius looked sympathetic as he moved aside to let Logan in. “It’s only fifteen minutes. You’ll sur—Logan, put that down!”

[you-did-well-moon]

Werewolf!Yunho meeting his mate

Type: Werewolf au, angst, fluff

Pairing: Werewolf!Yunho x HumanFemale!reader

Word count:  2,994

A/n: I know this took a long time, trust me, it felt like a long time for me too. With how I view Yunho, I expected this to be happier than it is. I was having a hard time while writing this, and it reflected on the story. Anyways please enjoy and stay safe!

TW: toxic relationship, financial struggle, deadlines, stressed reader, emotional and verbal pain, toxic masculinity, if I missed anything please tell me.

You sat at the foot of your bed, still not made, staring at the mirror resting against your dull colored wall with lifeless blank eyes. Your posture slouched as you finished tying the laces of your running shoes huffing and letting your arms flop to the ground. Looking at the mirror, you tried smiling, but it was meak and disappeared as soon as it appeared. 

You hadn’t smiled a real smile in so long, you forgot what it felt like. To smile. To be happy. The forgotten emotion was one you took for granted when it was easy to to bask in the warmth of it. Now it's just cold. Cold and empty. 

You looked away from the mirror with a tight feeling coiling in the base of your chest not being able to bear looking at the stranger staring back at you any longer. Your gaze fell to the laptop, abandoned, due to frustration on your desk in the forgotten corner of the room. The thought of unfinished drafts and incomplete sentences shook violently in your mind. Disappointment in yourself pooling in your gut remembering your editor’s words. 

“If you can’t give us at least a first draft by the end of the month, we’ll have to unfortunately let you and your novel go.”

How pathetic was it that you couldn’t even come up with a simple sentence. A description, dialogue, a metaphor. Nothing. Anytime you sat yourself in front of the desk, your mind went blank. The cursor blinking at the top of the page mocked you with the possibility of millions of words. Not one ever made its way onto the page.  

The end of the month was in two weeks. 

You felt tears of hopelessness stinging the corner of your eyes, and you abruptly stood up grabbing your wireless earbuds, phone, and bag. Making your way into the kitchen you grabbed the water in the fridge and placed it inside your back, nothing but a numb feeling alienating you from reality and its broken expectations. You heard the front door of your little apartment open and slam close shaking the thin walls of the building. 

Your heart lurched as you winced immediately feeling like you were walking on eggshells. You were usually quick enough to leave before he got home from work, but you had been a tad bit late this one time. You gripped the strap of your bag tightly hoping for it to ground you through whatever vile words came from the one person you should have been able to trust with your ugliest feelings. 

Trying to walk past your boyfriend, eyes trained on the chipped wood of the front door did no good when he kissed his teeth and huffed as soon as he caught sight of you.

“You’re never home when I get home from work, and the one time you are here, you run away not even saying hi to me? Not even a “hey honey how was work today” or maybe a “hi love what would you like for dinner?” and never a “you’ve worked hard would you like a massage?” It's the same shit every day. You treat me like nothing when I'm the reason you even have a roof over your head woman.”

You kept your mouth the whole time he rambled on trying to ignore the clear stench of beer being able to reach you even with all the distance separating you, and the feeling of disgust mixed with desperation pooling at the bottom of your gut at yourself for not speaking up for yourself. Opening your mouth instead of letting your voice be taken from you. A long time ago, you would always say you would rather die than be without your voice. In a sense, you had died a long time ago. 

Around three months after you had started dating. That had been two years ago. 

Your English degree really did you no good. Not having enough time to be an intern in college really screwed you over when no job would take a bright eyed girl with the same passion in her heart for writing as a Karen’s passion for business that wasn’t hers, but with no experience. Even if the apartment was under your name, you’d probably be kicked out in weeks time.

You hated all of it. Everything that made up both the small and big parts of your life, you hated it. You hated his greasy hair and beady eyes, the nasty rough stubble covering the lower part of his face as a result of his laziness. You hated the hesitation in leaving him because of the fear of the stack of bills piling up next to the fridge. You hated the editors who couldn’t find it in some part of their greedy selves to extend your deadline. You hated the empty drafts sitting in your laptop collecting what could only be dead dreams and despair. You hated the cold emptiness that was always present in the confines of your chest. 

You recoiled at the way he said “woman” the same way someone would talk about a bug. Small and insignificant. Patronizing and confident in the worst way. You set your mouth in a tight line not even being able to look at him. Shifting your feet, you crossed your arms and looked up to the sky as if calling out to some unknown being to get you out of this pathetic corner you were trapped in. You cursed under your breath looking at the dying flowers on the coffee table with distaste as they wilted towards you mocking you. 

“What was that?” His voice got rougher with the menacing edge of fanned masculinity and control. Something that could put you in a dangerous place in a very fast amount of time. You looked at him with dull eyes poking your cheek with your tongue as a cold feeling settled in your gut. 

Your hands fell limply to your side and you chuckled humorlessly. 

“Fuck you”.

Those two words were enough to set him off as you slowly blinked and looked at the ground feeling your heart falter when he abruptly got up. You tried to stand your ground, but the surge of confidence was quickly withering away with fear taking its place. 

Ethan was bigger than you. Even if he wasn’t that much taller than you, there was a noticeable difference in his frame and yours. Weirdly enough, you didn’t regret your curse at him. The words still burned brilliantly on the tip of your tongue. 

It was bittersweet of course. His nose flared, and his eyes bulged as he took large strides over to you knocking the coffee table over on his path to you.

“What did you say to me you-” his words were said through gritted teeth, brash and loud in the silent apartment.

 Maybe he was bigger and stronger than you, but you were faster.

You inhaled sharply reacting fast as your hand reached behind you, turning the knob and slipping around it slamming the door close. Your bag bumped against your back while you bolted to the door with the word “stairs” painted in big bold letters across it. You were already at the door when you heard your apartment door open and Ethan angrily called your name. Threatening to break your laptop if you didn’t go back right this instant. 

You couldn’t help but snicker at the weak attempt. It’s not like there were much but empty pages anyways. 

A heavy feeling soon settled on your chest as you went down the stairs. Your apartment was on the 4th floor, and the stairs weren’t the most taken care of, but it’s not like you had much of a choice anyways. It seemed these days you were always wanting to run away from something. 

Your heart felt a little lighter when the warm rays of sun met your skin and the fresh air outside flooded your senses. Your walk to the park went as usual. Cars racing to get where they needed to, people chattered about everything and nothing, and your thoughts wandered to a world far away from this one. 

A world that wasn’t as dark as this one. At the same time your mind became your executioner, it became your safe place. The sick contrast making a nasty feeling flood your chest.

You arrived at the park with a small smile. The normalcy of the day bringing a little comfort to your still racing heart. Kids ran around, laughter ringing in the air around them as their parents watched on benches gossiping among themselves. People raced fast either by foot, bicycle, or skateboard, a visible sheen on their necks. You looked for the kind old man who always looked after your bag while you ran. 

He owned a music store a few blocks away, and he always sat on the bench closest to the pond with his cute corgi and habitually feeding the ducks peas and lettuce leaves when finished  with a certain chapter of his book. You walked up to him with a small smile as he looked up and took the sight of you in with fatherly worry.  

“You look a little pale kid, everything alright?” 

You did your best to liven up and gave your best customer service smile which the older man immediately saw through.

“Of course Mr.Jung. Why wouldn’t it be? I’m just a little tired from the editors. They’re on my back more than usual”, you laughed nervously as he hummed in understanding.

“I hope that boy of yours isn’t giving you any problems. Hey kid, have you ever heard of the term “break up?” he looked so serious you had to compose your shocked face. 

You waved your hands rapidly “I promise Mr.Jung everything is fine there is...I...oh my” you took a shaky breath as he simply shrugged his shoulders and pet his smaller companion who was having a very serious stare down with a duck. 

You wiped your sweaty palms on your yoga pants while you looked around at the tacky named paths trying to decide which one to run today. 

“The Pupper Runner path looks particularly nice today,” he suggested. You looked at the path pursing your lips in thought. The path wasn’t one you ran frequently. Since it was one of the wider and flatter paths, there were more people such as families or people walking their dogs. You also didn’t like having run-ins with the cyclists who were grouchier around this time of day for some odd reason.

After contemplating it, you shrugged and decided why not. Getting run over by a ticking time bomb on wheels wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen today. With a small smile sent in Mr.Jungs way, you checked your shoe laces before starting out with a light jog making your way down the specific path.

There was nothing really different about today’s run than others. Just having to dodge the wheel demons and kids happily running ahead of their worried mothers. You were grateful for the distraction. It kept you from straying too far into your head. It was just you running. Running like you always did these days, your shoes slapping on the concrete path and Got7 blaring in your ears. 

The heat of the sun shone on your skin, but oddly you still felt cold. It was always cold these days. A light breeze fresh to your burning skin as desperate eyes caught yours, and you were once again bought out of your stupor. 

A small boy was kneeled down fingers clutching his untied shoelaces not far from his dad who was trying to calm a crying baby. You didn’t really have a strong adoration for kids, but his panicked pinched face compelled you to come to a slow stop in front of him. Your chest heaved as you bent down to his level sitting on your heels and wrapped your arms around your legs.

“Hey bud, you need some help there?”

The kid made a distraught sound as he nodded his face shaking his hair out of his eyes. He looked dumb founded as he stared at his shoe laces in search of answers they would never give.

“Mama said to make a bunny, but this looks more like my aunt Carol’s dog” he sadly told you.

You snorted reaching out gently to tie his laces with a double knot.

With a grin you looked up at him ruffling his hair and giving him a thumbs up which he happily returned with a toothy smile.

“It’s alright kid, you’ll eventually get it. Just keep trying yeah? Don’t settle or you might catch yourself tripping next time you go on a walk. You’ll get hurt. Wouldn’t want that would we”, you said, lips still stretched kindly upwards, but something in your words struck stingingly deep in your chest. 

As the kid nodded happily with a carefree laugh you were about to get up when you heard the air being split and a strained voice yelling “watch out!!”. 

You looked up, panicked, only to see a frisbee racing right in your direction with alarming speed. With the goal of protecting the small child, you quickly turned your body. Your shoes making a rough sound against the concrete as a startled light cry left the younger boy’s mouth.

With your hands ready, you easily caught the frisbee gasping at the shock of the situation. You quickly shook it off as you gripped the frisbee turning back to the child who profusely thanked you, his small hands shaking as they clutched onto the hem of your shirt. 

You simply smiled reassuringly tapping his shoe and ushering him back to his father who has begun to successfully calm the fussing baby down. 

With shaking knees you tried to get up only to wince and slightly waver at the sharp sting that hit your ankle area. You clenched your jaw feeling more than annoyed at the current situation in hand. 

You stood up grumbling under your breath as a tall figure jogged over to you. While he made his way toward you, your narrowed eyes met his wide, apologetic ones. 

You felt the world shift around you as a calming warmth shot through your body melding with the confusion and panic pooling in your gut, and his eyes widened impossibly as he stumbled managing to stabilize himself right in time in front of you. His figure standing just inches away from you as his hands trembled, and his lips slightly parted.

You got a slight whiff of cologne and mint, but more than anything, the weird feeling in your gut was making a way for the dreadful panic clouding around your heart. 

You felt warm. 

After feelings of feeling nothing but the hollow cold licking at your veins, there was a nice warmth settling in your chest. 

You were scared of it. 

With a heavy chest you slightly inched back left somewhat immobile due to the aching pain in your ankle. “What the hell?”, you immediately set off on questioning him leading him to shake his head frantically at you. 

“I’m so sorry, i really am.” He put his hand on his chest as if trying to prove his sincerity to you, but you breathlessly took a step back stunned by the intense feelings taking over your heart and mind. 

You tried shaking it off, but the warmth lingered. 

You weren’t sure you wanted it to go away. 

“There’s kids here”, you were so distracted by all the emotions circling your mind you couldn’t possibly put any effort into arguing with the young man. His lips parted to make way for his lips as he nodded his head in understanding. “I know, I'll be more careful next time. I promise.”

Somehow, you knew he was being truthful. You went to say something, possibly something dangerous, but you shook your head and waved your hand. 

You tried taking a step but lightly hissed at the sharp pain that shot from your ankle up your leg. The man instantly dove forward steadying you with a heavy hand between your shoulder blades, and the other hovering in worry near your collarbone. 

With wide eyes you looked at him as he realized his un-asked for touch and immediately went to back away. 

He couldn’t.  

Your hand was clutching the cloth of his shirt near his shoulder blades. Hands slowly uncurling, you smiled awkwardly, but he kept his hand where it was. At his touch, the warmth licking the insides of your body became all the more distracting. 

“Um, I don’t think you can go all the way back home like this”, he cleared his throat looking at you shily under his bangs. Flustered, you smiled at the ground before looking back up and timidly asking “I can't. Mind helping me out?”.

At your question he let out a beaming grin nodding eagerly. He went to stand in front of you, and he crouched down looking at you over his shoulder with soft brown eyes. You did a small jump, and were caught by his hands slightly gripping under your thighs. 

He gave a low chuckle that somehow was felt from where your chest was pressed up against his shoulder blades. “So...what’s your name?”. You let a light giggle escape, “Y/n, yours?”. You saw his jaw move with the syllables of your name whispering it to himself. 

“Yunho”, you smiled also sounding out the name on your own mouth. You gave a shuddering exhale, and you laid your head on his shoulder letting yourself really rest for what seemed like the first time in forever. 

That night you walked right past Ethan who was quick to begin yelling at you, and you tucked yourself under the safety of your blankets feeling the warmth still encasing your heart, so comforting and alive.  

[melliflovs]

Personal Punching Bag - Gojo x Reader

Word Count: 1,627

Warnings: NSFW 18+, Sweaty!Gojo, Oral, Teacher Student relationship, slight daddy kink, aftercare, Sexual tension whew

Summary: Gojo meets you in the gym for a surprise session, except this one ends a bit differently ;)

A/N: This is part two, part one is on my masterlist! This is my first time writing smut so I hope you enjoy!

My requests are open!

It'd been a week since you'd seen Gojo outside of class. He'd made no mention of your gym session since it happened or any indication that he'd meant to follow up on his empty suggestion of "We should do this again sometime"

Admittedly it'd left you deflated. You'd found yourself distracted in class, daydreaming of his eyes under the blindfold and how they looked even prettier than the blue sky on a clear day. Instead of focusing on your studies, you were zoning out and your time spent in the gym after classes just left you frustrated and yearning for more.

You knew deep down you liked more than just his eyes, Gojo had given you more than enough to think of at night when you were alone in your dorm. The image of him shirtless and glistening in sweat permanently ingrained in your mind. Hormonal schoolgirl fantasies running wild.

It was so unlike you, you hadn't checked but you could tell your grades were slipping and your reflexes weren't as sharp as they used to be. In the event that you were sent on a mission, you didn't know if you'd be able to hold your own or if you'd have to rely on Yuji and Megumi for your safety. The thought of being defenseless against curses frustrated you. You were supposed to be better than that and you felt like you were letting yourself and others down.

Today you walked to the gym by yourself, you'd grown distant to your friends lately. Your head too far up in the clouds to handle any conversation. You opened the door, a glimmer of hope in your eyes before it inevitably faded.

He wasn't there. Again.

With a sigh you took off your shoes, stepping onto the plush mat, and approaching your usual punching bag. The bright red canvas seemed to taunt you as you got into the stance that your sensei taught you not long ago.

You swung and hit the bag weakly, the dull thud reaching your ears and making you groan in annoyance. Abandoning your stance you let hell rain down on the punching bag. Swing after swing battered the equipment.

"You know I'm probably a better sparring partner than that bag."

His voice made your heart sing, your fist pausing mid-air when you heard it. Shaking your head you brushed the stupid feeling off. Internally scolding yourself. You don't have time for this.

"Why are you here, Sensei." You were clearly annoyed, your tone laced with irritation.

Gojo simply didn't care, "I thought we discussed that. Calling me Sensei outside of class." He was teasing, you could tell but you were tired. Your muscles beginning to ache from your pitiful workout.

"Fine," You spit. "What are you doing here, Gojo."

"You're clearly frustrated," He mused "Why don't you take it out on me" Without a second thought you turned and swung at him. Fist flying faster than he'd anticipated. Even though it caught him off guard at first, he recovered quickly and caught your fist, holding it in his own.

For a moment you both stilled, it was the first time you'd made eye contact in a while. His blindfold was already removed and you momentarily felt lost. With a smirk, he snapped you out of your daze by pulling you forward by your hand.

Tripping over your own feet you fell into his chest with a soft thud. He felt warm and smelled like honey and freshly washed laundry. You felt a laugh rumble through him as he spoke, "Don't get too comfortable, we haven't even begun."

Before you had a chance to question what he'd meant he used his other hand to tilt your head up to kiss you. It started off slow at first, lips melting together as it felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. You'd wanted this so badly, but you'd also wanted more.

You became greedy, slipping your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss, and pulling him closer. Gojo bent down to respond to your advances, tearing himself away from you for a moment to trail his lips down your neck.

He began sucking and biting lightly with his mouth, trailing lower as you pressed up against him. The grey sweatpants he wore to the gym left little to the imagination but what you felt against you was no dream.

You reached down to his bulge, clearly growing bigger the farther the two of you went. Your breathing grew heavy as you palmed him through his sweats. "S-Sensei"

"No." He growled out between sloppy kisses, his hands moving to your breasts. "Say my name, (y/n). Say it."

"Gojo" You moaned as his inquisitive fingers slipped under your bra and began to play with your nipples, the action sending small shocks to your core.

"I- I wanna make you feel good, Gojo." You whispered in between small pants as his hands continued to shamelessly roam your body. Your workout had already left you feeling sweaty but his actions were making your blood pressure rise. His hands relented and you took it as you greenlight.

Sinking down to your knees, you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes becoming clouded with lust. In one swift motion, you pulled down his sweats. To your surprise he'd gone commando, the soft look of shock on your face made him smirk. His blue eyes darkening as he watched his cock spring forward towards your beautiful face.

He'd never have admitted it but he'd imagined this very moment multiple times over the past week, hands moving over his own length late at night with your name on his lips.

Slowly you took him in your hand, slowly pumping him as you wet your lips. Your tongue flicked out towards his tip, the smallest of touches made Gojo moan softly, spurring you on. You wrapped your tongue around him. Slowly beginning to inch your way down his impressive length.

His hands found their way into your hair, petting you softly as you worked and keeping it out of your face. Gojo looked down on you with adoration, stroking your cheek softly as held back a moan.

"You're doing so well, baby." He praised, "Making your daddy, feel so good."

The name made your eyes widen and your thighs clench, you looked up at him as you took him all into your mouth. Your hand gripping his leg for stability.

You felt drool escape your mouth as you bobbed your head, listening to breath hitch as you looked up into his eyes. You moaned around him, feeling yourself growing even wetter.

Gojo tapped your cheek lightly, prompting you to stop your movements. You released him with a pop, his cock even harder than before as he pulls you up off the floor. "I want to be inside you, Baby. Wanna feel you come around me."

You moaned softly at the idea, quickly turning into a mess. He picked you up by your waist, wrapping your legs around him. As he walked you could feel him rubbing against your clothed heat, bringing you to the wall. He set you down for a moment, reaching down to drag down your yoga pants and squeezing your ass before lifting you again.

Hoisting you up he buried his face in your neck, your hair sticking to your skin with sweat. You felt like your nerves were on fire. Every little ministration going straight to your bundle of nerves that begged to be touched. Gojo started kissing your neck as his thumb moved your panties to the side, exposing yourself to him.

His fingers toyed with your folds, spreading your wetness up to your clit before slowly circling the bud. He could feel you tense up under him, your thighs tightening around his waist as you involuntarily pulled him closer, his cock rubbing against you.

Slowly he entered you with a hiss. Your warmth enveloping him as he started to thrust at a brutal pace. You were both so pent up, the thought of release taking over as you began rutting against each other. Gojo whispering sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how tight you are and how good you've been for daddy as you moan uncontrollably.

It felt as though as much time had passed but simultaneously not enough. You wanted to be lost in him forever.

You could feel him hitting against your cervix, you felt so full, so fulfilled after yearning for a week of your dreamy-eyed Sensei.

Gojo.

You could scream it from the rooftops until your lungs ached. So you did, the sound filling the gym and no doubt the surrounding hallways, but you didn't care. The feeling of him rutting against you and setting your skin ablaze took away all reason, your chants only making him go deeper and faster. His finger found his way back to your clit as you continued to edge closer to your end. Beginning to lightly shake from the exhaustion and pleasure.

"Let go, (y/n). Come around my cock."

His words set you over the edge, your body tensing again as you moaned his name lewdly. All you could think about was how good you felt stretched around him.

Gojo came shortly after finishing inside you and riding out your highs. Slowly he slipped out of you, his hair covering his face as he pushed yours to the side, giving your forehead a kiss. Carefully he lowered you to the ground, letting you rest as he walked to his gym bag that you'd long forgotten and grabbed a small towel. Carefully he cleaned you up then sat back down beside you.

Wrapping his arm around you he smiled softly "I'll be your personal punching bag anytime."

Temporarily accepting people for a jjk taglist, just comment on this post to be added!

Tag List: @foxerj12

[gaiuswrites]

yoga!din thoughts:

they've been fucking around for awhile, but only in the studio. never beyond the studio doors, not even in the cramped, single-person bathroom across the hall. their relationship is purely physical—probably couldn't even consider it fwb. he likes her, is irritated by her, likes the smoothness of her pussy. she likes him, is fascinated by him, likes the rigidness of his cock. it doesn't go much further than that.

that all changes when they run into each other at the grocery store.

I-

christ on a cracker here we go. I’m ready to die now. Cause of death, yoga!Din oh NO-

This... I have no idea what any of this is, but Jess and I have been having a good ol’ time with it. I also want to give a shout out to Rachel for always being a rock in these unprecedented times and taking interest in this main man and I’ll probably be sending you similar messages for your masseuse au to torture you and im not even a little sorry about it

(warnings: SMUT, spanking, language, so pls minors, politely, go home thanks)

She always does this—why does she always do this? 

She drifts down the aisles with the practiced effort of a trapeze artist, juggling the load of groceries bundled to her chest.

Get a cart. Just get a damn cart—a basket, something.

But no. She doesn’t. It happens every time: she goes in for one item—maybe two—and two turns to three and three turns to four, and suddenly they’ve multiplied like rabbits and she’s got half the store in her arms.

Trail mix from the bulk bins, almond milk, coffee grounds, bananas, spirulina powder, those delicious chickpea chips that were buy-one-get-one—how was she supposed to just walk past that—spinach, tofu, zucchini noodles, salmon fillets—

And she nearly drops it all when she spots him. Dark hair, dark eyes.

She stalls out, puttering to a halt. He’s reaching into the frozen meats section, rifling through the various cold cuts. She’d recognize the yawn of his back anywhere, the slope of that broad plane— his arms too, how his tricep cuts across the tawny gold. The shapes they can make. 

The positions they can bend her into.

Maybe it’s best if she just turns around now, sneaks away, pretends like none of this ever happened—she could do that. That would be easy—the easier of the two options, to be sure, because the alternative sounds terrifying and messy, and maybe if she just backs up nice and slow—

Din wheels his cart forwards and glances up. Shit.

He’s not sure what he’s even looking at at first. His feet slow, and there’s a groove creased into his forehead, brow ticking down. She’s here— right here in front of him. How can she be here? How can she be anywhere but where he knows her best—knows her at all? Inside that room, woven limbs and sweaty skin on glossed wood floors. How can she be here—outside that sacred space—in his fucking grocery store?

They stare at each other. She breaks first.

“Hi,” she mumbles out, beguiling.

“Hey,” Din responds, gruffer than he means.

“Hi,” she says again, pressing her lips together to hide a smile.

A grin tugs at him too, but he tampers it; they let a silent, pregnant beat pass between them and then—

“What are you doing he-“ “Have you been here befo-“

They’re speaking over each other—nervous and out of step—and they share a huffed chuckle. They’ve never been this before. They’ve always been physical and brash and bold and they’ve never needed words—they’ve shown each other exactly what they meant and what they wanted through touch—and now, when they need them most, they’re at a loss.

“Just getting some supplies,” she answers him with a shrug, causing one of her many parcels to slip from the precarious tower she’s constructed, and Din, ever agile, catches it before it strays too far. 

“My hero,” she quips dryly, gratefully, as he carefully places the package of tofu on top of the heap. He makes a face, wrinkling his nose. “Is that stuff any good?”

“It’s an acquired taste,” she smirks.

He’s closer to her now, less than an arm’s length away, and Din’s eyes flit to the fading mark at the swallow of her neck, peeking up from the collar of her shirt— the mark he left there just days prior, when she ground down on him, supple frame speared by his cock, rocking frantic and needy up and down on him, whimpering hushed noises into the empty studio. His hand splayed the width of her back, cradling her to him as she rode Din, stretching around him fucking perfectly. 

“Fuck, this pussy takes me so well,” he seethed through a clenched jaw, her breasts rutting against his chest with each bounce of her hips. He growled. “You’re so - shit - you’re tight-” 

Din gave her ass a sharp smack before pawing at it, grabbing a fistful of the flesh there and she moaned— she fucking moaned, depraved and oaky, and knocked her head back, lips falling open and eyes rolling shut. Din groaned at the sight—this woman, this fucking thorn in his goddamn side—sheathed around him, writhing as he fucked up into her—and she had the audacity to moan like that. 

“You like that?” He slapped her ass again and she whimpered, clawing at him, tangling her fingers into his hair, nails scraping over his scalp. He had to resist the urge to shudder—snapping his mouth tight around a whine.

Normally, she’d meet him with some sort of resistance. She was cheeky and smarmy and they both knew it—it’s a game they played—perfectly balanced, perfectly opposed. But she couldn’t help it—she was too far gone, too fucked out, and the words unspooled from her lips like yarn. 

“Yes-yes—fuck, Din- please.”

That earned her another swift crack, the pillowed flesh prickling red from the sting of his palm, and it tore a guttural sound out of her, wrecking through her pretty throat. “God, you’re a filthy little thing. So f-fucking filthy for me-“ 

He ripped her orgasm out of her, his fingers snaked between their bodies, furiously working at her clit in tight, wet circles. It felt like a punch to his gut, as her pussy clamped down around him and gushed. 

When he finally came, spilling into her slicked cunt, he had to bite down on her neck just to keep from fucking shouting. 

He tears his gaze off the bruise, returning to her face—and it’s hardly any better. The corner of her mouth has turned up, just barely, the whisper of it wry and aching. That look—that infuriating, debilitating glint in her eyes—has settled and it makes his cock twitch against his jeans.

“Having a barbecue?” she asks, nodding to his cart, the beer and buns and patties there.

He clears his throat, “Something like that.”

Fenn insisted on it—’I’m not wasting the perfect weather. We’re all doing something, whether you like it or not’— He could only fight her on it for so long. Lesser men have tried and failed, and he knew it best to quit while he was ahead.

“Sounds fun. It’s supposed to be a beautiful weekend.”

“Yeah, so I hear.” Din has to fight the roll of his eyes.

The spell had been broken. They’d spirited themselves away—lying to each other and themselves—as if their tryst existed above consequence, above ramification—like they weren’t even real people. Just ideas, ideas they’d fuck and then suddenly and conveniently vanish—out of sight, out of mind; would disappear as the sun that set on them, blurring lines into the dark.

But he sees her here, clumsy willow arms and cotton tee and cut-off shorts and those beautiful fucking legs he loves wrapped around him so much, and she’s glowing despite the ugly fluorescent sheen cast up from the linoleum tile and—

It’s different. She’s different. Fuller. He knows her now—like this. And he can’t unknow her.

His throat bobs. Maybe he should ask her if she’s free. If she’s got plans. Maybe—

“I’ll see you on Wednesday then,” she says, something unreadable in her voice.

Din swallows. He nods. “Wednesday.”

Oh fuck, he likes her.

She tips her head to him, grinning something small, and shuffles off towards the register.

He watches her go, eyes following as she rounds a corner and slips away. She can feel them on her, his eyes, boring into her backside—all the way to her car, through the town, up to her driveway, into her kitchen where she cupboards her groceries—she feels him, the heavy heat of him, melting against her spine.

@djarinsbeskar @frannyzooey @pedros-mustache

[hello-everyfandom]

“I’m not very good at flirting, am I?”

Warnings: Cringey attempts at flirting?

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Words: 2k

Summary: Remus is nervous for your first study date, or date? Is it a date? 

You were quite oblivious when it came to people who fancied you. Howard Lewis, from house Ravenclaw, practically had heart eyes for you and attempted to ask you out every Saturday morning whilst you drank your tea. The only response he was given was a hum and a sweet reply back, 

“I’m not planning on doing anything but reading my novel,”  

You frustrated a lot of boys in your year, and even in the year above. You must know, right? You must’ve known that at least half of your house and even more boys from the other houses have tried to flirt with you and received nothing back. But you didn’t. You loved blind. And, not to mention, quite peculiar as you obliviously ignored your suitors. You spent days feeling quite lonely and even longed for a handsome fellow to sweep you off your feet and into the forbidden forest. Remus Lupin thought you were peculiar as well, but not peculiar as in a bizarre fashion, instead, he thought of you strangely amazing. He found himself gifted the seat to the right of yours during Transfigurations and was kept his glances towards you to only a few per minute. He was smitten. And he was speechless when you approached him one Saturday morning, unaware of your rejection to a Mr. Lewis of Ravenclaw, and asked him to study with you.

“Hello Remus,” you said, he greeted you politely and with reddened ears, he knew he would get teased for later, “I was wondering if you were not too busy after lunch if you could help me study a bit of Transfigurations. I find it actually quite difficult and would rather McGonagall not deducted points from my house.”

Remus nodded quickly and stuttered out, “Yes, I. Where should I meet me? You? I mean, you.” he quickly wanted to slam his face into his porridge but you seemed to enjoy his response and giggled.

“There’s a tree near the lake; if you bring your textbook I can bring a blanket for us to sit on?” you offered, “I swear I have the comfiest blankets in my dorm.” Remus sent you an embarrassed smile and watched you longingly as you spun and left the Great Hall, a steaming mug of tea in your hand.

Sirius clapped his hand on Remus’ shoulder rather harshly, he’d say, and let out a bark, “How the hell did you do it?” Remus snapped out of his gaze to look at his three friends who stared at him in wonder.

“Do... what? Exactly?” Remus begged his face to go back to his original pale colour and stirred his breakfast with a spoon.

“I believe you have a date with a Ms. Y/L/N.” Sirius grinned boyishly and hooted, “Remus, how did you do it!” 

“Sirius, get your hand off me before I feed it to the giant squid and leave your body for dessert, and it’s not a date,” Remus grumbled and shifted awkwardly in his seat. 

“No, really, mate, how did you manage to get a date with Y/L/N? How did you get her to ask you on a date?” Peter pushed closer to Remus and jokingly added, “Oh Moony, you know love potions are illegal to give to other students, correct?” Remus shoved Peter aside and looked for James for help.

“It’s not a date! Prongs?” 

James put his hands up in defense, “Not me, Moons, I can’t help you as I think you’ve just scored yourself a date with Y/N. But, what I can help you with is Lewis as I think he’s going to absolutely fuck you up by the looks of it,” James stood up and did the ‘I see you’ motion towards Howard and yelled, “Oi, Leeeeewis, you jealous? Yeah, you better be. Fix your bloody eyes, mate, you’ve got a starin’ problem!” 

This time, Remus actually did slam his head into the breakfast table.

Lunch flew by and Remus couldn’t do anything but fiddle. He had run to and from the common room and dorms, a few times just to ensure he had all the right things. To say he was nervous was an understatement. Was this a date? Did you want to date him? Why him? Remus flopped down on the couch next to Sirius and buried his face in his hands.

“Alright, I give up. I need your help,” he mumbled,

“You? Ask ME for help? The god of dating and sex himself?” Sirius asked dramatically, placing a hand on his chest and inhaling sharply.

“Oh will you just- sod off will you? And just tell me, exactly how you flirt?”

“Moony we only have a few hours, I cannot possibly teach you the essence of the Black seduction in a few hours.”  

“The only thing you’ll be seeing is black unless you-” 

Sirius shot his head back and laughed, “Relax Moony, perhaps we should do some yoga to loosen you up. Are your buttocks in a twist? You can tell me.” Suddenly Remus regretted asking Sirius for help but took notes on his flirting technique anyways.

“Oh hello! Come join me, please!” Remus felt everything he had eaten and all of his organs drop, his tongue swelled up and he began to sweat under his sweater. Seeing you in the fall light made him internally (and externally) swoon but he attempted to take a deep breath. He began to try and mimic the way Sirius walked through the halls, putting swagger in his hips. “Remus, you’re being silly, perhaps you’ve been spending too much time with your silly boys, come sit! Don’t be shy.” You smiled again, making Remus forget the stupid stupid walk he learned from Sirius and just sat down. 

“You were right,” he said in surprise, “this blanket is extremely soft.”

“Would I lie to you, Mr. Lupin? Feel free to lie on it, I’ve taken a few naps on it ‘mself, though I probably should’ve focused on my potions essay instead.” Remus would rather nap on your soft thighs and feel your fingers slide through his hair, but he chuckled and replied,

“If I did, who would study with you?”

You pouted your lip slightly, making Remus clench the book he was taking out, “I suppose you’re right. I couldn’t fathom studying with anyone else.” Were you flirting with him? You seemed to lean closer to Remus, wanting to feel his warmth. But, Remus couldn’t place whether or not you were acting flirtatious due to the immense amount of nerves in his system. The two of you began to study, Remus would provide a word and you a definition. Much to his nervous delight, your conversation ran rather smoothly and no awkward lull of silence was provided. 

Might as well go for it, Remus thought and glanced at the piece of parchment he tucked away in his bag. He cleared his throat and rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants.

“So, Y/N...” he trailed off, almost getting lost again in your gaze, 

“Yes?”

“You’re so cute, I think if, I think if you were, I think if you were a boggart, no,” he fumbled quickly with his words making you furrow your eyebrow. 

Perhaps he is having a stroke? You thought.

“If, I think. If you were a... since you’re so cute, and if, a boggart you were, or I’d have... you’d be a.. cute... one?” If Remus could die, he would’ve. On the spot. If he could be struck by lightning and guided to the pearly gates that muggles seem to dream about, he would. In fact, he would even rather be sent to the fiery pits of hell than listen to what he was saying. His attempt at flirting had gone disastrously as he licked his lips in anticipation of your reply. He watched as you looked at him and began to blink rapidly. A wide smile spread across your lips as you let a small laugh slip out.

“Remus Lupin,” You began, sitting up, “Are you flirting with me?” You continued to giggle, almost shyly. 

“What? No! I mean, yes. Maybe? Because I said, the boggart, and cute and...” 

Remus Lupin, you are an idiot. He thought

“I’m not very good at flirting, am I?” he stared at your smiling face before realizing how mortifying the last minute of his life was. “Excuse me while I jump into the lake now.” You bit your lip to stifle the laughter and held his forearm.

“Remus,” you said softly, “I thought it was quite lovely actually.” 

He sighed and shook his head, “you don’t have to protect my feelings, Y/N, I’m more than happy to die over his embarrassing moment. I feel like a right and foolish prat right about now.”

“I’ll say it again, I thought it was very sweet. I’ve never been flirted before, so it was new for me as well.” Remus’ eyes nearly bulged out of his skull as he became redder and shook his head.

“No no, that’s not true. I know half a dozen Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who are mad for you! And Howard Lewis even asks you out every Saturday!” 

Now it was your turn to be confused, “What are you talking about, Remus?”

“The... the!!” Remus was exasperated, “boys fancy you.”

“No, they don’t?” You began making Remus want to rip his hair out.

“Yes, they do!”

“Remus, no boy has fancied me in the entirety of my life, you must be mad.”

“Well, I fancy you!” He blurted out making you instantly blush,

“Oh.” 

“Yes. And. I’m terribly and dreadfully awful at flirting but I wanted to try and show you that I do actually, um, like you.”

“Oh,” It became quiet, not silent, but quiet. “Well, I,”

“Y/N, you don’t have to say anything, we can forget about it and just study.” You tried to speak again but he cut you off, “Really, it’s okay. It was foolish and stupid and dumb and immature-”

“Don’t I get to say anything, Mr. Flirtatious?” You teased and brushed off your skirt, “I fancy you as well if you didn’t pick that up already, and truthfully, I did find your flirting, while disastrous, to be extremely and utterly adorable.” Remus blinked before an awkward, toothy smile rose. “I’m glad we got that settled then, yeah?” You nodded at Remus before he continued after you, 

“Now, may I at least ask you a few questions?”

You hummed in response.

“So is, is this a date?” 

“Do you want it to be?” you asked,

“Yes.”

“Then it’s a date.”

“Lovely,” Remus felt more and more joyous, “now, did you really not know that every boy in Hogwarts was pining over you?”

You quickly shook your head, “Why would I? I haven’t given a care about any of them until you came ‘round.”

“And the blanket?”

“I brought the blanket so we could read and lay on it,”

Remus was satisfied with his answers and longed to lean in to kiss you. He, and his absolutely dumb-witted nerves, decided to save it for a second date and held your hand instead. Fingers threaded and interlocked, you gave him a reassuring squeeze.

“That reminds me, do you have that extra book in your bag I seemed to have misplaced mine and I-” you reached into Remus’ bag and before he could react, you pulled out the piece of parchment with all the bloody pickup lines Sirius had fed him.

“Is this...?” You asked,

“Yes.” He quickly answered. Your eyes scanned the page in amusement.

“Why didn’t you go with ‘Are you a snitch? Because you’re the greatest catch here,’ I think that one is much better suited than ‘uh, cute, boggart, uh, you, and if I were,” you mocked him jokingly before leaning back comfortably on his chest. He could sing with happiness and leap off the face of the Earth.

“Hey, so maybe flirting isn’t my strong suit.”

“I say this as sweetly as I can, I think you better stick to Transfigurations instead.”       

[pedros-mustache]

Wait... WAIT okay hold on w a I t. Can you just imagine.... I’m back on this yoga!Din shit (who am I kidding, I never left), so imagine this is sometimes after their first, shall we say, interaction. Imagine—

Another man comes into the class for the first time since Din’s started taking it. Some other guy struts in, and of course— because it’s her job— the yoga instructor puts her hands on him and adjusts him and touches him, and Din knows— rationally— he knows he shouldn’t be jealous; it shouldn’t make him angry, but it fucking does. He’s simmering under his skin as she trails her hand across this other man’s wrist, like how she’s done to him—he can almost feel the ache of it on his own— how she coos pretty nothings into his ear. This asshole even has the audacity to make her laugh. He’s rolling up his mat and is saying something that must be goddamn hilarious and makes her laugh— and fuck, what a sound it is— And AND AND can we just imagine... how he fucks her after. The raw possessiveness of it. Fucking her into the mirrored wall and making her beg for him. I just I’m sorry I gotta go bye- can u please elaborate THANKS THANK YOU

anyway, here we go. this is part of the yoga!din world that erikka has dragged me into kicking and screaming. find the other thoughts under the yoga!din tag on both our blogs! we are straying into plot with these so beware of us both

warnings for: slight degradation, jealous!din out the whazoo, slight dom!din too i guess idek (18+ only get out of my house)

he’s slow to approach after class ends. 

he always bides his time, tries to catch a few minutes with her before her next class bustles in, perfectly coiffed and bedecked in pearls like they aren’t about to spend the next hour with their asses in the air. it’s in those few moments—those precious few moments—that he tries, really fucking tries, to make a good impression. since the first time he fucked her on this floor, he’s wanted her—wanted her pussy, yes, but now it’s more.

now, din just wants her.

he thinks the guy hanging back at the front of the classroom is named ralph. maybe rob. din wasn’t really listening when she introduced the new addition to the five-fifteen beginners yoga class. he was too focused on not going crosseyed with a sick, possessive rage. 

the entire class he watched her. like a fucking hawk intent on its prey, he watched her. which, on its face, is not altogether different from any other night. he watches her so he can transition from pose to pose without falling over; he watches her so he can lift or stretch a limb without throwing out his back. she’s his teacher, first and foremost, and the yoga has helped soothe his irritated muscles and the consistent roiling pit of anger in his stomach. 

but he also watches her because she’s glamorous, cheeky, downright fuckable. she know it, too; he’s sure of that now. she knows how good her ass looks in those tights, and she knows that if she bends forward just so he gets a full glimpse down the front of her tank-top. he knows that she hovers her hand over the dip in his spine for a reason. sometimes—most of the time—she doesn’t even touch him, but it’s just the heat of her palm hanging over his body that makes his face screw up tight and his mind falter in concentration. 

three times he’s had her sprawled out beneath him, that effortlessly smug look on her face replaced by the perfect circle of her mouth when she hits her peak. she may be in control for the sixty minutes of class, but the moment she turns, slick water bottle in hand, cocking her head slightly, eyes gleaming with want, he’s the one in charge. she knows that, too.

tonight, din watches from the back of the room while ralph—rob?—new guy takes his time. his fingers make firm indents in the soft, squishiness of his mat. they’re laughing—probably about something stupid, something din doesn’t understand, like seven dollar smoothies that taste like grass. his jaw hardens when she leans in and touches new guy’s elbow. 

there’s part of din that thinks she could simply be urging new guy to the door. her next class starts in fifteen minutes, and the old biddies like to be early. the other irrational, totally consuming side of din thinks she’s doing this on purpose. always playing a fucking game.

he stands from his crouch and shoves the sweaty mat under his arm. he’s not in the mood, not tonight. his bare feet slap on the polished floor, and he watches his shoulders expand in the reflection of the mirror.

“can i talk to you?” 

new guy’s head snaps to the side at the sound of din’s hard, unyielding voice. he’s shorter than din, not by much, but enough that his eyes have to tilt upwards. 

new guy huffs. he glances at her then back at din. he pushes away from the wall where he’s been leaning the last five minutes, nonchalant, greedy. “we were just—”

she glances at the clock hanging over the door, tilting on one foot nearer din. he can smell the sweat clinging to the back of her neck. “actually, chris, i need to freshen up before my next class.” with all the grace of a royal, she touches new guy’s arm, offers him a dazzling smile that leaves din’s lungs struggling for breath. “you understand? i’ll see you next week.”

chris (nowhere near close to rob) nods and hoists his tote bag over his shoulder. his gaze slides to din. his eyes narrow—slightly, but enough for din to notice. din notices everything.

“see you next week, man.” chris slaps din’s shoulder, his bravado clearly failing in the charged energy bouncing between din and her. he tries, though; that has to count for something, and din is never one to snort at resilience in the face of defeat.

chris leaves. the door shuts with a soft click behind him. din turns to her, but she speaks first.

“i wasn’t lying, din. i gotta freshen up.”

“okay, i’ll come with you.”

she arches a brow, bent at the waist to pick up a hand-towel from the floor. “i wasn’t really inviting you.”

“i wasn’t really looking for your invitation.”

her chest lifts on a hard inhale. the curve of her bra—dark blue—peeks out from beneath her gray tank-top. he blinks, holding her stare.

with a hard swallow, she turns on her heel and opens the studio door. it’s cool in the hallway, so unlike the cloistered air of the studio after ten bodies have huffed and puffed in awkward positions for an hour. the air-conditioning almost chills din’s hot blood, but when she turns, gives a wave to chris, hovering by the front desk, he nearly melts on spot, blood gone to lava. 

he grabs her elbow and squeezes. “get in the bathroom.”

down the hall, past the main office, empty now. past the small kitchenette; the light above the sink flickers. the single bathroom at the end of the dark hall. she turns the knob, slowly, slowly, always a fucking game.

impatient, din smacks his fist against the weak door. it swings open on a whine, and she falls inside when he nudges the small of her back with his opposite hand.

“din, my class—” 

he shuts the door, locks it, flicks on the light. god, this place is a wreck. all the court would pay for, considering. cracked coral tile covers the floor and half the walls. the single light fixture barely illuminates the room. a small basket of toiletries on the back of the commode do little to take away from the twenty years of grime clinging to every surface. 

din doesn’t care. this place—it brought him to her.

still, he’s vibrating with something unnameable. he wants her—badly. his cock is hard already, straining against his basketball shorts. but it’s more than that. he doesn’t want her touching new guy or any guy that’s not him. her touches, her smiles, her laughter—it’s his. he wants it to be his.

but he can’t very well tell her that. not with his past.

“i don’t care about your class.” it’s the honest to god truth. he doesn’t care, not tonight. “come ‘ere.” 

taking her elbow in hand once more, he pulls her back from the center of the room and twists. her back thumps against the door, the door itself loose in the frame, and he looks up. that could prove a problem. he might be a jackass, but he knows her: she’s private about this. the old ladies in the hall don’t need to hear how hard she moans when she creams on his cock.

he meets her eyes, sees the ever-present challenge there, and it snaps his resolve in half. always a fucking game. he’s tired of the game tonight.

with one hand grasping her elbow, pinning her to the door, he slides his palm down the front of her leggings with little preamble. his fingers are long. he finds the apex of her cunt with ease, and he slips one finger through her folds. he glances down.

“shit, you’re wet.” he swirls his middle finger through the juices coating her pussy. so fucking sticky. “did he do this to you?”

she lifts her head from the door, eyes hazy with desire now. the challenge is gone. “what?” her breathy voice, so similar to the tone she uses in class, used now because his finger is knuckle-deep in her cunt makes his cock throb.

“i said: did he do this to you? did he make this fucking wet?” withdrawing his finger, there’s a squelch, and she bites the inside of her cheek, chest flushed in shame. din replaces the single finger with two.

“who? ch-chris?” 

din scissors his fingers. she stifles a moan with her bottom lip and grabs his shoulder. “don’t say his name.”

“i—holy shit...” her head drops forward when his thumb circles her clit, his fingers pumping in and out and in and out at a leisurely pace.  

removing the hand clutching her elbow, din frames her face with his palm, thumb on one side of her jaw, pointer finger on the other. he holds firm. “i asked you a question: who made you this wet? you sound like a fucking whore, feel like one too.”

“it wasn’t...” she shakes her head as her hips begin to grind down, down, down against his fingers. “wasn’t him.”

“then who?”

“you,” she gasps. “oh fuck, right there.” 

din stills, drops his hand from her face, straightens his spine. he slides his hand from her warmth and stares at her, dumb, mute, ears ringing. “what?”

it’s her turn to be pissed. she frowns, squirming against the door. “why did you stop? i was gonna—”

“what did you say?”

maybe it’s something in his tone, or something on his face, but her expression clears, and she stops writhing. she tilts her head in earnest then says, “it was you, din. i’m—fuck, i’m always wet around you.”

he blinks.

“you make me so hot and bothered. it’s completely unprofessional, but, shit, you always—” she shakes her head, and a lock of hair falls in front of her her eyes. he resists the urge to tuck it behind her ear. “i can practically feel you stripping me with your eyes all class, and it should piss me off, but it makes me so fucking wet.”

“i thought you—” he snaps his mouth shut, unsure of where the sentence might lead. 

for a simple moment, a long moment, he stares at her. she stares at him. in the hallway, he can hear her next class shuffling about, making tea in the kitchenette, gossiping and chattering like old crows. 

he grabs a fistful of her tank top and yanks her forward. she doesn’t have time to gasp before he’s swallowing her surprise with his mouth. her hands fumble on his shoulders, his hips, the waistband of his shorts.

“don’t have long,” he huffs.

“it’s enough.” she pushes his shorts down as he wiggles the tight band of her leggings over her ass.

his tongue smoothes over hers, gentle and soft, as he lifts from beneath her ass and pushes her back against the wall. he kisses her as deeply as he can, says everything he can with his lips. he hopes she understands.

when she wraps her manicured fingers around his cock, he almost shatters. he mouths over her jaw, down her neck, sucking on her pulse point.

“be quick,” she whispers, lining the leaking head of him at her entrance. 

tonight, he won’t have a problem with that.

face hidden in the crook of her neck, he slides to the hilt of her in one easy thrust. she threads one hand through his hair, grips the thick strap of his own tank with her other hand. her legs lock around his back.

“so fucking tight,” he mutters. 

“fuck, din.” 

he drags his cock out before slamming it back in her pussy. her back thumps against the wall, her cunt gives another wet squelch, din sees stars. 

it’s a quick tumble. din hardly removes his cock after that initial thrust. short, snappy thrusts, his pubic bone brushing against her sensitive clit. she clenches down hard on his length, her breasts bouncing against his chest as she holds onto his shoulders for support. she’s gasping, whining in his ear. he’s talking, unaware of his own words.

“hate when you play that game, girl. your mine. this pussy is mine.” he grinds his cock upwards, and a sliver of a moan falls from behind her lips. “you know that right? say it. say you know it.”

she nods, and when he squeezes her hips, she breathes out a hurried, “i know it.”

“shit fuck, you are tight.”

“for you, baby. just for you.”

din cums. he would be embarrassed, but the orgasm rips through him like a shockwave, quick and devastating. he bites down on her shoulder to keep from crying out. she removes the hand gripping the curls at the base of his neck and finds her clit, rubbing frantic circles over the swollen bud until she too must bite her tongue to hide any evidence of her pleasure. din’s cock stirs when the warmth of her cum gushes around his length.

she laughs at that, smooths sweaty hair away from his forehead. “no time.”

din wants to kiss her, but he doesn’t. he only kisses her when they find another after class, desperate for a quick fuck. his window has closed, but his lips tingle with desire.

they’re quiet as they return their clothes to rights. she runs a paper towel under the sink, smoothes it over the inside of her thighs and the outer-shell of her pussy. she catches him staring in the reflection of the faded mirror.

“they may be old, but i know they know what cum smells like.”

din huffs.

they walk side-by-side to the door of the studio. the clock hanging at the opposite end of the office reads near seven. she’s late, but only just.

at the door of the studio, she turns. her mouth opens; he leans forward, heart hammering in his chest. someone inside calls her name when she cracks the door open, half-inside, half-protected by his bulk, his warmth.

she looks over her shoulder at the sound, and the look on her face—that vulnerable look, the one he’s never seen before—fades. “see you next week?”

din nods. “yeah...” a lump rises in his throat. “next week.”