#deep heat projector

[flawless-imperfections]

“I don’t like Deep Heat Projectors for my reptiles.”

LOOK AT THESE TWO IN PURE BLISS HOW COULD YOU NOT LOVE THAT???

[beetlejuicesgraveyardrevue]

having very high anxiety and a penchant for catastrophizing and then also deciding to own animals with extremely specific temperature needs in a house where i Do Not Have Control Over The Thermostat is… a choice I made.

[agoralgia]

we are getting snake tomorrow 🐍💚 i literally bought 7 different heating elements because i’m so paranoid lol but i think i got the right combo

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Part 2/2

By the time Stanley had realized he wasn't as alone as he believed himself to be entrapped in this ravenous abyss; he had honestly begun to suspect that he was finally starting to properly lose his mind.

In all the ceaseless miles that Stanley had journeyed during his apparent permanent residence within the dark devouring void, not once had he encountered another conscious, walking, talking being similar to himself. Every other formerly living creature that he had crossed paths with had been so... silent. Empty. Dead, in every sense of the word. It was as though the very essence of life itself had been sucked out of their bodies with a straw, their forms slowly falling apart piece by piece under the vicious gluttony of the darkness that surrounded them. They looked like they actually were supposed to be there, unmoving and comatose, unlike him.

So, when Stanley first began to encounter the twins, all of a sudden, he wasn't the only one in the dark.

When meeting the first pair of them, he found himself standing in a lake.

He hadn't even noticed the changes at first. It felt as though he had been walking for weeks on end, his body moving purely on autopilot and his aching legs leading him towards a destination only it knew. A thick fog of forgetfulness and flickering memories had descended upon his brain like a heavy blanket of numbing static as he had traveled. In this absentminded state, he hadn't even realized that the ever-present undulating, buzzing darkness surrounding him had begun to gradually shift and morph to form a horizon line; stretching into tall looming cliffsides that almost seemed to close in on him. Once the nonexistent floor beneath his soles abruptly began to ripple and warp, like the disturbed surface of a shallow puddle; only then did he finally notice his transformed environment.

The transition was seamless, almost dream-like. One moment, he was still surrounded by that filthy, overwhelming abyss; and the next, his boots were suddenly plunged deep into the cold, dark lake water.

The silence didn't leave, however. It still choked and stuffed its way into Stanley's ears to clog up his mind with thick cotton; the eerie quiet not quite matching the calm, almost serene scenery the void seemed to have abruptly transformed itself into. Like a movie with its sound cut off; leaving only the unsettling hum of the projector to fill the empty air.

It was odd. The lake was surely incredibly deep. He could obviously tell from how thin and pathetically small the shores appeared all the way from where he now unceremoniously stood in the middle of the lake. Stan could look down and see the darkness below his feet swallow what meager light that managed to break through the murky waters. The overwhelming black almost seemed to beckon him, gaping and haunting; a bottomless underwater pit of pitch black that never seemed to end.

And yet, he didn't sink. Stanley remained perfectly level, the almost ink like waters stopping just at ankle level, as though he were held up just above the surface by some invisible force. Even the writhing waves seemed small and low, as though the waters were shy to climb up his legs further than that. It was odd, so very odd.

However, it wasn't nowhere near as odd as the sight that greeted him when he finally lifted his eyes from the waters.

Stanley had crossed paths with truly unbelievable sights in this strange somewhere; from bursting, collapsing stars; to the imploding heat death of entire universes, but none of them seemed to hold the candle to what he saw then when he lifted his eyes:

Children.

Two, to be exact. Two, nearly identical looking children stood motionless before him; completely soaked through to the bone as though they had taken a plunge into the frigid water that pooled around their ankles. It was a girl and a boy, both adorned with twin expressions utterly devoid of emotion, their wide eyed stare seeming to burn holes into his thin jacket. Their drenched clothes sagged off of their scrawny frames; thin rivulets of water dirpping off of them and disturbing the glassy surface of the water at their feet. The little girl's hair had messily stuck to her face in thin sodden strands, her cheeks still full and round with youth just like the boy's. They looked young. Too young to be in a place such as this.

Oh, but their eyes; their eyes.

They burned with such anger; such injustice, brighter than any dying star or galaxies he had ever seen. Anger towards the world, to fate, to whatever cruel deity that had deemed them fit to be sent to this wretched place so prematurely. They were too young to be here; to be entrapped like he was amongst this hungry darkness. And yet, here they were, sheer denial against their own untimely deaths being the only thing keeping them awake and conscious amongst the dead and rotting. A show of juvenile defiance to nature itself so vehement even the all-consumign darkness seemed hesitant to devour them whole just yet.

It saddened him. It saddened him to know that they belonged there, that they were supposed to be there. He could see it, he could feel it; they were dead. No amount of determination could deny that universal fact.

When they spoke, Stanley could hear anger:

Stan chuckled in a futile attempt to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush him whole. "A lake monster? You kids and your imagination," he teased, hoping to somehow rid the poor kids of the haunted look that seemed to whirl in their glares. No child should have been burdened with such a knowing look; such eyes that looked like they had seen everything there was to see about the world, the horrid and the good.

Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say, and Stanley's faux pas was rewarded with a scowl from the little boy. A world's worth of sour contempt etched into every contorted groove that his grimace seemed to dig into his much too young face. Stan suddenly felt guilt squeeze at his weary bones for having caused that.

"That's what they all said," the boy spat out, eyes shining with a sheen of wetness Stan wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with.

Stan left that first interaction with the twins with the feeling of guilt and sorrow still clining to him.

He couldn't have known, at the time. He couldn't have known that this wouldn't be anywhere near the last time that he would meet the pair. He hadn't realised just how many of them there were. After that first pair, his endless journeying within the Abyss was hardly be spent alone anymore. Countless more times, he came face to face with the exact same two young and impossibly worn faces; forced to meet one pair of beaten and bruised kids after another.

Not one pair had died the same death as another. Some had gotten lost, prey to whatever threat that had snatched them up out in the open; some had fallen from high up; some had been crushed under an incredible weight; some had burned; some eaten alive; some zombified. Some didn't even seem physically harmed at all, body perfectly intact, and yet that same faraway, distrubed look in their eyes remained.

He thought the worst ones were the ones he found alone. A little girl or a little boy, left all lonesome without their other half there. Twins, he remembered a pair of them telling him once.

Once, he had come across a town full of silent, stone statues. It was a rustic, shabby, almost nostalgic looking town- odd and strangely familiar. The sight of it had tugged at an aged memory that had long since wasted away in the back of his mind. It was serene, almost deceptively so. The sun shone; the air smelled crisp and fresh; numerous waterfalls continued to crash down from the tall cliffsides; and a soft nonexistent breeze whistled through the thicket of pine trees that blanketed the outskirts of the town. None of it seemed to match the gruesome scene of the hundred wailing statues that littered every inch of the town.

He had found the boy's statue on the other side of town, deep within the green forest and toppled over the gnarled roots of a towering tree. Like the rest of the townsfolk, he too, was frozen mid-shriek; his stone face twisted and contorted into a mock impression of a silent scream as his body lay paused in a writhing struggle. He made sure to be gentle when he carried the boy's statue over to place it beside the girl's, whose statue stood far deeper into the forest, sporting the same rictus grimace of terror as her brother's. It somehow felt wrong for them to have been so far apart from one another, even in death.

He had come to dread meeting of the twins. He hated every second he had to confront yet another pair of dead children that did not belong here, but fate had decided they did. He despised having to listen to their tales of woe as they wept about the injustice of the world, of having died young; he despised himself for being unable to do more than weep with them.

"We don't belong here, Grunkle Stan," he would listen to the little girl weep, calling him a title he didn't recognize. He never remembered if they had ever told him their name, but they all seem to know his, without a fail. "If we're dead, then what about you? What about Grunkle Ford? Mom? Dad? What about them? We can't be dead, we can't be," they would say, confusion and frustration written all over their faces. They didn't understand. They didn't understand why they had come to the darkness so early, so unfairly.

He never knew what to say, he'd never been good with words.

All he could do was kneel down to their levels and engulf them in his arms, hoping he could somehow squeeze the pain straight out of their bodies in his embrace. He hugged them, because what else could he do?

[satorusugurugurl]

Feverish

Summary: When preparing for your annual Halloween party, you realize you forgot to take your heat suppressants. Thank god your Alpha boyfriends are always there for you!

Characters Alpha!Gojo Satoru x Omega!AFAB!Reader x Alpha!Geto Suguru

Word Count: 1.9K

Warning: ABO!AU, alpha/omegas, heat, sex unprotected sex, DP in the puss, praise, language, cream pies, Double knots 😏

A/N: Kinktoner Day 28: Omegaverse! This is short because holy shit ive been super busy!

It was hot, which was strange since the autumn air was crisp, causing steam to rise with every breath you took. You grimaced, readjusting the shopping bags in your hands as you hurried down the sidewalk. The last thing you needed was to be getting sick; there was far too much to do still. Seeing as your Halloween party was in the next three hours.

You would just pop some ibuprofen and start working on snacks and decorating. You pushed open the door to your apartment, huffing out a sigh as the smell of mint and clean linen permeated through the small space. The scents of your two best friends and boyfriend drowned out the smell of the autumn candles you had lit, making you feel even hotter.

“I’m back,” you announced in a slightly breathless voice as you hurried into the kitchen, placing the bags on the counter.

“Hey!” Satoru said as he eyed a small carving pumpkin. “Welcome back!” He closed one perfect cerulean eye before humming in thought. “Hey, how does this look?” He turned the pumpkin towards you, a proud smile on his face.

Satoru and Suguru had been tasked with setting up the snacks you had prepared. That included pulling out the chips, candy, and cookies you had made. Satoru had carved a face similar to the vomiting emoji of the small pumpkin and conveniently placed the guacamole in front of its mouth. You smiled, feeling sweat beading on your forehead as you smiled, fanning yourself as you shrugged out of your sweater.

“Looks good, Toru.” You could feel the heat in your cheeks, but you tried to ignore it, washing your hands in the sink. “What’s Suguru up to?”

Earthy music wafts through the kitchen, the smell only making you slightly dizzy. “I just finished setting up the projector; we’re all set.”

“Mmm, thanks, you two.” You whispered, leaning slightly over the sink. “I appreciate it.”

Your stuttering had both men straightening as they shared a look before focusing back on you.

“You good?” Satoru asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Y-Yeah, I’m just feeling a little hot.”

A cool palm pressed against your hand, and you shuddered at the feeling of skin on you. “You feel hot like you have a fever.” Violet and cerulean eyes took you in as you learned against them, taking a deep breath to ease your nerves.

“I’m okay.”

But the smell of you, sweet and tantalizing, overtook both men. They sniffed the air, deep growls vibrating in their chests as they pulled away to eye you. They saw it when they really took the chance to look you up and down. Your cheeks darkened in color, and your chest rose and fell with quick breaths.

“Our poor omega~.” Satoru calmly began, his hands rubbing at your shoulders.

“Someone forgot to take her heat suppressant.” Suguru finished, pressing his lips against your temple, his hands groping your ass.

They were right; you forgot to take your medication this morning. You had been in such a hurry. It was the furthest thing from your mind. There was no going back, though; you had forgotten to take it, and now you would have to live with the consequences of your actions, which sucked royally.

Your boyfriend began moving without being told to. Satoru pulled his phone out and started dialing numbers on the screen. Suguru swooped you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom. Even through the pounding of your heart in your ears, you could hear Satoru apologizing to your friends, telling them that your party would have to be rescheduled. You felt a little bad about it, but the second Suguru tossed a couple of their hoodies at you, you began purring instantly.

“Sweet Princess,” Suguru whispered, watching as you cuddled both their hoodies close to you before it began to construct your nest. “Do you want us to give you some time to yourself?”

“No~ need you, Alpha, I need you both.”

Suguru reached out, pulling your scent patch away from your glands. The sweet, almost sugary he sent flooded the bedroom, overpowering their scents. You purred, watching as Suguru’s jaw clenched as he tried desperately to hold himself back, only for Satoru to come in, tossing the phone onto the bed, completely forgotten. You smelt utterly delectable, and neither wanted to waste any time.

“Mhmm~ you look so sexy.”

“God I want to taste you.”

The Both joined you on the bed, kissing you at the same time their mouse on yours as their hands trained and groped your body which held molten heat making you cry out with every single gentle graze. You purred kissing them both at the same time before they shared the kiss together, making you whimper softly as their hands continued working at you taking off your clothes holding you tight.

And taste you they did. They kissed every inch of your body, making you arch off the bed in your makeshift nest. They took turns licking your tripping pussy, tongues, ding out flicking over the sensitive buds before they alternated between the two of them. Suguru was much more gentle, drawing out the sweetest of cries from you. While Satoru was addicted to taste his tongue swirling over you, laughing at your inner walls until you were shaking withering mess. Then to make matters even better they would kiss each other all for your entertainment and their enjoyment.

But they didn’t stop there.

No kisses moved all over your body up the dips of your hips over your tummy that they absolutely adored before they both took one of your breasts and hand, squeezing massaging it before taking your nipple into their mouths. They grazed over the sensitive stiff peak with their tongues, and their sharp elongated canines scraped over it. The Sensation had you arching your back off, the mattress, your hands gripping the shirts that Suguru had tossed to you.

God You were so fucking lucky. Not only were you blessed with two of the strongest alphas you had ever known, but also spoiled rotten. They Saw you as an equal, and didn’t use you just for their pleasure. They got off on you getting off. So even though you had forgotten to take your heat suppressant this morning, they were going to make the most of this very rare opportunity.

“It’s my turn to grind, Satoru, you can go first.”

Your head was hot as you watched your boyfriends intently. “You sure?” Satoru asked as they both got into position laying you on the side so Suguru could lay down behind you spooning you, while Satoru took the front.

“Yes.”

You sighed softly as you looked between the two of them as Satoru slowly began sliding inside of your dripping cunt. Hearing them share you, making your amazing relationship work made you so wet. "Holy fuck~ why the fuck are you both so hot." You questioned before you wrapped your arms around Satoru's neck. "You noth feel so good~ so warm and thick."

Satoru groaned softly, gripping you tight to his body before kissing you deeply. While Suguru was suddenly pressed behind you, his thick cock teasing your entrance before continuing to rub against your ass.

"You're so pretty, Princess, you're so fucking hot."

You shivered under all of the kisses the duo plated on you. Feel Satoru pushing further inside your pussy. While Suguru rubbed up against you. Longing to be inside your pussy, too, god, it sent you into a frenzy of whimpers as you tried grinding back against Suguru in an almost encouraging way. Deciding you didn't just want one of them inside of you.

You wanted both.

"M-Nnngh~" you finally pulled away from Satoru, panting for air. "Fuck me too, Sugu~ please!!" Satoru showered, pausing his hips for a second so you could talk to Suguru over your bite-ridden skin.

"You want me to fuck you too?" He hummed against your sensitive skin. “Where?”

You reached around, pressing the head of hiscock right against Satoru’s slicked-up cock. "Here." Both your boyfriends shuddered as Suguru groaned deep in your ear. He didn't question what you wanted, he just slowly slid into your pussy. It was so unbelievably tight, but you were so wet, it made it easier for him to rub his cock up and down over Satoru's with a hiss.

“Oh my fuck!” Satoru barked out, his cock rubbing against Suguru inside the amazing woman between them. "Sh-Shit—!! S-Suguru-Sweetheart!” Your eyes were wide as the two men filled your cunt up with their cocks. It felt so good to have both of them inside of your cunt. The sensation was so good it left you whining, looking at Satoru while your hand reached around and gripped the back of Suguru's head. "Fuck me, Alphas! Please fuck me like you mean it, please."

They both hurriedly agreed before thrusting into you, both of them moaning around you, filling your room with sounds of sex. After hours of countless orgasms and sex, the room now reeked of sex, which was making your heat all that more enjoyable. Their scents the pleasure; all of it had you screaming out in pleasure as they both fucked you. You had lost count of how many times you had cummed. Your eyes flickered between blue and lilac. It wasn't until the tenth orgasm crept up on you that you got

"Alphas~ I-I want you to cum inside me." your breasts pressed against Satoru's chest as you leaned your head back on Suguru, why attempting to close your legs. They were both panting against your skin, their cocks throbbing from overuse but ready to burst.

"Omega, yes fuck--" Satoru growled before biting down on your neck, piercing your scent glands, Just as Suguru followed Satoru’s lead biting down on your other scent gland with a predatory growl

“Sweet Omega, cum with us~!” Suguru gripped your hips, his hips speeding back up.

Their sweet words, desperation, and the need to feel your come undone had you cunning hard. "C-Cumming!" You shouted, your eyes rolled back into your skull as you squirted and convulsed around the two of them.

"Nnngh-fuck!"

“Ooh fuck!! Good girl!!

Satoru and Suguru both barked out grunts of pleasure. Before, they were biting purr scent, glad and complex as Suguru had. Both of them force their cum and their knots into you while kissing and sucking on your neck.

"F-Fuck-Never cum that hard-" Suguru whispered in your ear, his hands moving down to massage your surely aching thighs.

“Me neither~” Satoru hummed, resting his head against the pillow.

You didn't respond; you were too busy shaking. “Princess? You okay?” Suguru questioned with a slight quirk of his brow. “Or did we give you a real treat?” They both listened closely as you whispered something.

“What was that, Sweetheart?”

“Again.”

Your single word had both your boyfriends stiffening in shock. They shared a look before Satoru scoffed and laughed softly. Suguru joined him, nuzzling your neck.

“That was cute—”

“Yeah, you had us for—nngh!” both men hissed as you rolled your hips.

“Again.” You repeated in a more severe and stern voice.

They laughed and gulped down their nervous laugh. “Yes, Omega~,” They said, voices shaky as they continued to give you what you wanted, and when you finally were satisfied, they both lay there next to you, panting heavily. A sight that would make anyone wonder who got the trick and who got the treat!

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918

Kinktober Tag List:

@candy-s72

[romugh]

TEACHER'S PET? NO, STUDENT'S PET!- NR

ROMUGH’S KINKTOBER

october 9th — classroom sex

DAY SIX || kinktober masterlist || 2024.

pairing- prof!natasha romanoff x gp!student!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, legal age gap (23, 29 - not specified), oral (n & r rcv), handie (r rcv), blowie (r rcv), slight exhibitionism (?), praise kink, unprotected sex, soft & rough emotional sex, classroom sex, breeding!!, creampie (i'm a slut)

wc- 9.424k :) enjoy!

a/n- wrote this within the universe of suddenly, the star i studied was you, but it isn't the official second part i have in mind! could be read as a standalone, but i'm incredibly proud of that fic, so go give it some love :D i don't really know if this keeps up with the personalities i had written in that fic though, apologies :')

synopsis- it's been a few weeks since your 'confrontation'. what has changed? what will change?

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel ♥︎, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches - comment or dm to be added :)

The classroom felt quieter than usual, the soft hum of the projector echoing in the background as Natasha’s voice droned on about particle physics. But even the intricate equations and complex theories weren’t enough to distract you from the tension that had settled between the two of you. It had been weeks since that night—the night when your worlds collided in a haze of heat and emotion, and despite your best efforts, neither of you had been able to forget it.

Natasha’s demeanour had been mostly collected—calm, composed, the epitome of professionalism. But there were cracks in her carefully constructed facade. You noticed it in the way her hand occasionally trembled when she picked up the chalk, the slight hesitation in her voice when her eyes accidentally found yours in the sea of students. It was subtle, but you could feel it, the way her walls were crumbling bit by bit.

Your own mind wasn’t much better. Each time you saw her standing at the front of the room, dressed in that form-fitting blazer or the sleek black dress she wore today, her glasses perched delicately on her nose, it took every ounce of self-control to stay composed. Every word she uttered, every gesture she made, sent your mind racing back to that night—the feel of her body pressed against yours, the way she had whispered your name as if it were the only word that mattered.

But now, all you could do was sit there, waiting, watching her, trying to keep the memories at bay as she continued her lecture.

As the hours drew to a close, Natasha cleared her throat, her eyes darting around the room as if to avoid yours altogether. "That's all for today," she said, her voice clipped, too formal. "We'll continue this discussion next class. Don’t forget your assignments."

The students began to pack up their things, the usual chatter filling the air, but you stayed seated, watching her carefully. Your heart beat a little faster when you saw her glance at you out of the corner of her eye, her posture stiffening ever so slightly. She was trying to ignore it, pretending everything was fine, but the tension between you was undeniable.

As the last student left the room, silence descended, and Natasha stood at the front of the room, her back to you as she gathered her things. It was now or never. You took a deep breath and stood, making your way toward her desk.

“Professor Romanoff,” you began, your voice steady yet low, the sound echoing in the empty classroom. The name felt bitter on your tongue, a reminder of the professionalism that hung heavily between you. You longed to call her something softer, something that reflected the intimacy you had shared—and wanted to share—rather than the formality that now seemed to stretch endlessly in the air around you.

Natasha froze for a moment before turning to face you. Her green eyes met yours, that mask of professionalism slipping for just a second. You could see it—the flicker of uncertainty, the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks.

"Yes?" she replied, her tone betraying the calm she tried so hard to project. Her fingers fidgeted with a stack of papers, her usual confidence wavering.

"I was hoping we could talk," you said, taking a step closer. "About… the last few weeks."

Her gaze hardened for a moment, the formality snapping back into place. "I don’t think that’s appropriate. We should keep things professional between us."

Her words were sharp, meant to create distance, but there was a tremor in her voice that betrayed her. You weren’t deterred.

“I agree,” you said, voice smooth. “But that has still been impossible, hasn’t it? Has anything changed since that night?  What are your true feelings for me, Nata– Professor? Not the ones you’re pretending to have.””

She blinked at you, her breath catching in her throat, though she tried to remain unfazed. But you saw it—the way her chest rose and fell just a little quicker, the way her gaze flickered to your lips for just a split second before she could stop herself.

The silence between you grew heavier, the air thick with the weight of unsaid words, of unacknowledged yet shared emotions. And then, without another word, you took another step forward, close enough now that the heat of her body radiated into yours.

"Natasha," you said, completely dropping the formal title, your voice a little softer, but still firm. "I’m not asking for much. Just… an honest conversation.”

She swallowed hard, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. You could see the internal battle waging inside her—the part of her that clung desperately to control, to keep everything professional, and the part of her that couldn’t deny the connection between you, the one that had begun to blossom hours before she saw you in class that day. The tension was palpable, her defences cracking, and in that moment, you knew she was struggling just as much as you were.

Her eyes flickered with hesitation, like she was testing the weight of the silence between you, trying to find a way to speak without losing herself. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she sighed, her shoulders slumping just the tiniest bit as she let the tension leave her body.

“Fine,” she whispered, her gaze still locked on yours. “Talk.”

You waited for your words to come, expecting the flood of emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface. But instead, you stood frozen in the quiet, your lips parting and closing again, as if the truth you wanted to say was too heavy to let out. The silence pressed between you, thick and unyielding.

Her hands moved instinctively, adjusting the papers in her grasp, shuffling them just to give herself something to hold on to. You noticed how she avoided your eyes, her usual confidence in the classroom slipping, replaced by an uncertainty that hung in the air.

Without thinking, you stepped forward again, regaining control over your swirling thoughts. The tension between you felt alive, buzzing in the air that now seemed far too small for both of you. The need to reach out, to touch her, was almost unbearable, but you held back, grounding yourself in the moment. Your eyes never left the constellations of freckles on her skin, the silent pull between you growing stronger, as if even the smallest movement could shatter the fragile restraint she was trying so hard to keep.

"What’s wrong, Nat?” Your voice cut through the silence, low and wavering. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks."

Her breath hitched at the sound of her name on your lips. It was a simple thing, just the use of her usual nickname, but it shattered the fragile boundary she had been trying so hard to maintain.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” she said, but her words felt weak. You could tell she didn’t believe them herself.

“Really?” you challenged, a faint smirk tugging at your lips as you reached out to brush a piece of chalk dust from her shoulder. The touch was innocent enough, but the way her breath caught in her throat told you all you needed to know. She was unravelling, bit by bit.

“Maybe I should leave,” she murmured, her voice shaky, as she tried to step back. But there was no conviction behind the words. Her eyes were still locked on yours, her pupils wide and dark.

“You could,” you said softly, not moving an inch. “But we both know you won’t.”

Natasha blinked, déjà vu coursing through her veins, her chest rising and falling more rapidly now. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and you couldn’t help but follow the motion, drawn in by the subtle, unconscious act. She was trying so hard to keep herself together, but you could see it—the way her bravado was cracking, the controlled exterior fraying at the edges. The tension between you wasn’t just palpable; it was suffocating. You could almost hear the moment it all started to slip from her grasp, the walls she built slowly crumbling under the weight of what you both refused to say.

You took one more step, now standing right in front of her, close enough that you could feel the heat of her body. Slowly, you raised your hand, letting your fingers brush her chin, tilting her head up slightly. Natasha’s breath stuttered at the contact, her eyes fluttering shut for just a moment as she leaned into the touch.

“We shouldn’t…” she started, her voice barely a whisper, but the protest sounded weak, almost as if she was trying to convince herself rather than you.

“Tell me to stop,” you murmured, your thumb brushing across her bottom lip, testing the limits of her restraint. “If that’s really what you want.”

She didn’t answer, her lips parting as if to respond, but before you could register what was happening, Natasha took a step back.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. The abrupt movement left you standing there, frozen, watching as she distanced herself from you, her gaze flickering towards the door. For a split second, dread hit you like a shockwave, the weight of misunderstanding settling like a boulder in your chest. Had you pushed too far? Misread everything?

Panic surged through you, wild and untethered. The idea of losing her—Natasha—before you even had the chance to really feel her, to care for her, to love her sent a crushing ache through your chest. You felt the bottom drop out from beneath you, the gravity between you threatening to tear the moment apart. Already, your heart was breaking at the thought.

“I—” you began, voice unsteady, but she was already moving. Her back was to you, and the sound of the door clicking shut was loud in the suddenly suffocating room. Then, a heavier sound followed—the door locking.

When she turned back around, the hesitation was gone. Natasha crossed the space between you with slow, deliberate steps, her eyes fixed on yours. The intensity in her gaze made your breath catch again, but this time for a different reason entirely.

Without a word, Natasha’s hands came up to cradle your face, her fingers curling gently but firmly along your jaw. Her touch was warm, steady, grounding you, and it sent a ripple of relief through you so strong it almost left you breathless.

“Now you know how I felt when you did the exact same thing,” she whispered, her voice soft, but the amusement in it unmistakable.

The smile that tugged at your lips was involuntary, but it was there nonetheless, breaking through the storm of emotion you had been drowning in. Natasha’s lips quirked up too, her thumb brushing over your cheekbone as she leaned in. The atmosphere shifted again—less tense, but still thick with unspoken want.

She tilted her head and pulled you into her. The kiss was slow at first, almost tentative, as if she was savouring every second of it. Her lips fit against yours like two celestial bodies coming into alignment, each touch sending sparks through you, igniting something deep in your chest. You could feel her, soft but determined, as if she had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had.

The air around you felt electric, the pull between you undeniable. It was like gravity—impossible to fight, binding you both in a force neither of you could resist. Natasha's lips parted slightly as the kiss deepened, her fingers tightening around your jaw as her body pressed against yours, the space between you collapsing entirely.

It felt like the universe itself had shifted, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The room, the locked door, the rules, all dissolved into nothing. It was just you and Natasha, caught in this perfect, inevitable collision. The weight of reality slipped from your shoulders, leaving behind only the two of you—two strangers in a bar who had been destined to meet, destined to cross paths in ways you couldn’t have predicted. 

Destined to be.

Her mouth was warm, her breath soft and shaky as it mingled with yours, and you couldn’t help but revel in the taste of her. She tasted like infinity, like the moment right before the stars explode into life.

When she finally pulled back, her lips were swollen, her green eyes wide and filled with something raw and vulnerable. She looked at you like you were the only thing in the room, like every molecule of her being was drawn to you, unable to resist.

"You could’ve told me," you murmured, still slightly breathless, a smile curling at the corners of your lips.

Natasha’s hand remained cradling your face, her thumb stroking lightly over your skin. "And miss seeing the look on your face?" she replied, a quiet laugh escaping her lips. But her eyes, despite the teasing tone, were filled with a soft intensity that made your heart swell.

Her other hand came to rest on your chest, right over your heart. "You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability in it palpable. "How long I’ve thought about it."

Your breath caught in your throat at her words, and before you could respond, Natasha’s lips were on yours again, more insistent this time. The kiss was rougher, more desperate, her need bleeding into the way her body moved against yours. You could feel her pulse quickening, matching the wild rhythm of your own heart.

Her hands slid down to grip your hips, pulling you closer until there was nothing left between you but blossoming love. The universe outside may have been vast and cold, but here, in this moment, all the stars burned just for the two of you.

The heat between you was palpable, an unspoken gravity pulling you toward each other, and you let it take you. There was no need to resist. Not now. Not when she felt so close, so real, as if every point in space had led to this singular, inevitable moment.

Her lips trailed down the curve of your jaw, sending shivers through you, as her hands slipped under your shirt, the cool air hitting your skin for just a moment before her warmth replaced it.

With a slow, deliberate motion, your hand traced down her side, coming to rest on the hem of her black dress. You didn’t rush, savouring the sensation of her skin beneath your fingertips, the way her breath hitched when you tugged her dress up, revealing the soft red lace of her underwear.

Your fingers grazed her thighs, and Natasha shivered at the touch, her breath coming quicker. Her hands were on your neck now, but her grip tightened as your fingers found the edge of her panties, tugging them gently to the side. The sight of her, so open and vulnerable in front of you, sent a surge of warmth through your chest.

You glanced up at her, silently asking for permission, and she gave a small nod, biting her lip as she leaned back slightly on her hands, her legs parting just a little more.

Lowering yourself to your knees, you settled between her legs, your hands resting on her thighs as you pressed a soft kiss just above her knee. You could feel Natasha’s breath falter as you kissed your way up her leg, your lips leaving a trail of warmth against her skin. The closer you got to her core, the more her body responded—her chest rising and falling, her lips slightly parted, and her hands gripping the edge of the desk as if she needed something to anchor her.

When your lips finally reached her centre, you didn’t rush. You kissed her softly at first, savouring the taste of her, keeping her panties pushed to the side. Natasha let out a quiet gasp, her body tensing for a moment before relaxing under your touch. The warmth of her against your lips was intoxicating, and you felt the gentle tremble of her thighs as you began to explore her with slow, deliberate movements.

You took your time, tracing your tongue along the delicate folds of her, each flick and swirl eliciting a soft whimper from her lips. Her fingers tangled in your hair, urging you closer as if she wanted to pull you into her very being. You could feel her heartbeat quickening, the way her breath hitched as you lavished attention on her most sensitive spots.

You could feel how much she wanted this, how much she needed it. Her breathing became shallow, her body arching slightly toward you as you continued your slow, rhythmic motions. Every time your tongue flicked against her, her hips lifted just a little, as if chasing the feeling, as if trying to get closer to the pleasure she had denied herself for so long.

The classroom was filled with the sound of her quiet gasps and the soft, wet sounds of your mouth moving against her. Your hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as she lost herself to the sensation, her body trembling with each flick of your tongue.

Natasha's head tipped back, her mouth falling open as the pleasure built inside her. You could feel her body tightening, her thighs trembling against your cheeks as she got closer to the edge. There was something so raw, so incredibly real about seeing her like this again—vulnerable, open, completely consumed by the moment.

You quickened your pace, your tongue swirling in a way that made Natasha’s hips jerk upward, a louder moan slipping from her lips. She was close now, her breaths coming in short, desperate bursts. Her hands found the back of your head, her fingers threading through your hair, holding you in place as she rode the waves of pleasure.

Her body tensed, and for a brief moment, everything seemed to stop—the air between you still, her breath caught in her throat. And then, with a shuddering gasp, Natasha fell apart above you, her body convulsing as the orgasm washed over her in waves. Her legs tightened around your head, her hips bucking as she rode out the pleasure, her hands gripping your hair so tightly it almost hurt.

You didn’t stop, not until you had wrung every last bit of pleasure from her, not until Natasha collapsed back onto the desk, her chest heaving, her body trembling from the aftershocks. You slowly pulled away, pressing a final soft kiss to her inner thigh before standing, wiping your mouth as you looked at her.

She was a vision—her hair dishevelled, her skin flushed, and her eyes glassy with the aftermath of her release. And yet, even in her most vulnerable moment, she looked at you with such intensity, such unspoken emotion, that it took your breath away.

Still catching her breath, Natasha reached for you, pulling herself up toward you. You could see the hunger in her eyes, the unspoken need for more. And without a word, she slid off the desk and onto her knees in front of you, her hands making quick work of your belt as her eyes never left yours.

Natasha’s hands moved with a newfound urgency, trembling slightly as she worked the buckle of your belt. Her breath was still ragged, her cheeks flushed from the intensity of her orgasm, but there was no hesitation in her movements—just raw need. As soon as she freed you, her eyes flickered up to meet yours, a fire igniting behind them that sent a shiver down your spine.

Her lips parted, soft and full, as she leaned forward, brushing them against the tip of your length in a delicate, almost reverent kiss. The gentleness of it was a sharp contrast to the storm of emotions swirling between you. You could feel the warmth of her breath ghosting over your skin, and it made every inch of your body hum with anticipation.

Without breaking eye contact, Natasha opened her mouth wider, her tongue flicking out to taste you, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity straight through you. She started slow, her lips wrapping around you with a softness that had your knees nearly buckling. Her tongue worked gently, teasing the sensitive skin as she took you deeper into her mouth, inch by inch. The wet heat of her mouth surrounded you, and the quiet sound of her sucking softly filled the air.

You let out a quiet groan, your hands instinctively finding purchase in her hair, gripping gently as Natasha began to move her head, establishing a rhythm that was both slow and deliberate. Each bob of her head sent a surge of pleasure through you, and you could feel the tightness in your chest building, the way your body responded to the way she worked her mouth over you.

Natasha’s hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as she continued, her lips gliding over you with memorised precision. She hollowed her cheeks, the suction pulling you deeper, and every time she pulled back, her tongue swirled around the head in a way that made you gasp, the pressure mounting in your core.

But she wasn’t content with keeping it soft for long.

Her hands slid to the base of your shaft, gripping you with just the right amount of pressure as she took you deeper. The first time she tried to swallow you whole, she gagged slightly, her throat constricting around you. The lewd, wet sound that followed made your head spin. But instead of pulling away, Natasha pushed herself further, determined to take all of you.

You could feel her struggling for control, her throat spasming around you as she worked to accommodate your size. The sensation was overwhelming—her warm, tight throat constricting as she swallowed around you, her lips stretched tight around your length. The sounds she made were filthy, the wet slurp of her mouth working over you mingling with her occasional gagging, and each one sent a jolt of pleasure straight through your body.

The more she struggled, the harder you felt yourself throbbing in her mouth. Natasha was relentless now, her pace quickening as she took you deeper with every pass. You could feel the tip of your cock brushing the back of her throat, the wet gagging sounds becoming more frequent as she pushed herself further, determined to take all of you, no matter the effort it took.

You groaned deeply, your grip on her hair tightening as your hips started to move on their own, thrusting into her mouth in time with her motions. Natasha didn’t pull back. If anything, she welcomed it, her hands gripping your thighs harder as she let you guide her, her eyes fluttering closed as she focused on the pleasure she was giving you.

It wasn’t long before you felt the telltale signs of your climax building—the tight coil in your core, the way your muscles tensed with each thrust into her eager mouth. Natasha must have felt it too, because she moaned around you, the vibration sending you spiralling closer to the edge.

"Natasha—" you gasped, trying to warn her, but she didn’t stop. If anything, she only became more determined, her pace quickening, her mouth working harder as she sucked you off with reckless abandon. Her throat constricted around you again, the lewd, obscene sounds she made echoing in your ears as your climax loomed just seconds away.

You felt the first wave hit you hard, your body tensing as your release surged through you. Natasha moaned as you came, her mouth still wrapped tightly around you as she swallowed greedily, not missing a single drop. The sensation of her throat working to swallow everything only heightened the intensity of your orgasm, and your hips bucked against her mouth as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

She didn’t pull away until you were spent, her lips and tongue still gently teasing you as she coaxed every last bit from you, ensuring there wasn’t a trace left. When she finally pulled back, her lips glistened with saliva, and her cheeks were flushed. She looked up at you with a satisfied gleam in her eyes, licking her lips as if savouring the taste of you.

For a moment, all you could do was stand there, chest heaving, completely undone by the sight of her on her knees, her breath heavy and uneven as she gazed up at you, her lips still swollen from the effort. The look she gave you was nothing short of triumphant, like she had conquered something within herself, and the sight made your heart race all over again.

Natasha rose from her knees, her body still trembling with the aftermath of the intensity between you. Her lips parted as she stood before you, her breath coming in soft, uneven gasps. You could see the raw emotion in her eyes—desire, need, something deeper that neither of you could yet name. Her hands reached for you, delicate fingers brushing against your jaw as she leaned in, pressing her forehead gently against yours.

For a moment, everything was quiet. The world outside faded to a dull hum, and all that remained was the warmth of Natasha’s body so close to yours, the lingering taste of her still on your lips. Her breath mingled with yours as she hovered just a breath away, her eyes searching your face like she was trying to memorise every detail. Then, with a soft sigh, she closed the distance, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle it almost brought tears to your eyes.

It was soft at first—tender, vulnerable, as if she was offering a part of herself that she had kept secluded for too long. You could feel the warmth of her lips, the way they trembled slightly against yours, like she was scared to give in completely but couldn’t hold back anymore. Her hands cupped your face, her fingers threading into your hair as she deepened the kiss, her need growing more insistent.

The softness of her lips pressed against yours sent waves of heat through you, but it wasn’t just desire—it was something more profound. You could feel the emotion behind every touch, the vulnerability in the way her lips moved against yours, as if she was pouring every unsaid word, every hidden feeling, into that kiss. It was a surrender, a trust that left your heart racing and your hands instinctively wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space between you.

Natasha melted into you, her body pressing into yours as the kiss deepened. Her breath hitched as your hands slid up her back, your fingers tracing the curve of her spine, drawing her even closer. Her lips parted, and she let out a soft, needy moan that sent a shiver down your spine. The tenderness between you was starting to unravel, replaced by something more desperate, more consuming.

The kiss grew rougher, more urgent, and Natasha seemed to lose herself in it. Her hands gripped your shoulders for balance as her body pressed hard against yours. You could feel the way her chest heaved against you, her pulse quickening as her need overtook her. The softness of the moment shattered into something raw, and Natasha almost fell into you, pushing you backward until the chair behind you caught you off guard.

You fell back into the chair, the force of her body against yours making your breath catch. Natasha hovered above you for a heartbeat, her eyes dark with lust, her lips swollen and wet from both the kiss and your release. Her hands moved quickly, efficiently, as she straddled your lap, one leg on either side of you, her thighs pressing against your hips. She was wild now, driven by pure need, and you could feel it in every hurried movement, every rough kiss she pressed to your mouth.

With a low, needy moan, Natasha reached down, her fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties. She didn’t waste any time—didn’t hesitate—before taking them off quickly, exposing herself to you. The sight of her, ready, desperate, and completely bare, had your heart pounding in your chest. The slick heat of her pressed against you, the warmth of her thighs enveloping your hips as she positioned herself above you, sent a jolt of electricity straight through your core.

You could feel her trembling against you, her body so close, so needy, as she slowly moved over your shaft. Her wetness coated you as she aligned herself, the tip of your length brushing against her entrance, and you both let out a sharp gasp at the contact. Natasha’s hands clutched at your shoulders, nails digging into your skin as she bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut for just a moment as she adjusted to the sensation.

The heat between your bodies was overwhelming, the tension thick in the air as Natasha lowered herself onto you. Inch by inch, she took you, the tight heat of her enveloping you as she slid down, her thighs pressing tighter against your hips. The sensation of her, so warm and wet and ready for you, had your breath stuttering in your throat. You could feel every tremor of her body, every shaky exhale she let out as she took all of you.

Natasha paused when you were fully seated inside her, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as she adjusted to the fullness of you. Her hands moved from your shoulders to your face, cupping your cheeks as she leaned in, pressing her forehead against yours again. Her eyes were half-lidded, dark with desire, but there was still that hint of vulnerability, that moment of quiet between the storm as she let herself feel everything.

The connection between you was palpable, electric, as Natasha began to move. Slowly at first, her hips rolled in gentle, deliberate motions, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through both of you. You could feel the heat of her skin against yours, the slick slide of her body as she rode you, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. Her breath was ragged, her moans quiet but full of need as she moved against you, her thighs tightening around your hips with every motion.

Your hands found her waist, guiding her as she moved, feeling the way her body responded to you with every thrust. The heat between you grew unbearable, the way she moved—slow at first, savouring every inch of you—driving you both mad with need. Each roll of her hips sent you deeper inside her, and you could feel the tight clench of her body around you, pulling you deeper with each movement.

But it wasn’t enough for her. Natasha’s need overtook her, and her pace quickened, her hips slamming down harder, rougher, as she lost herself in the pleasure. Her moans grew louder, her breath hitching every time you filled her. The lewd, wet sounds of her body moving against yours filled the air, mingling with the sharp gasps and moans that escaped her lips.

She was wild now, her movements frantic as she chased her release, her fingers gripping your shoulders so tightly you were sure they’d leave marks. But you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the overwhelming sensation of her, the way she moved against you, the heat and tightness of her surrounding you as she rode you harder, faster.

You could feel the tension building again, the coil of pleasure tightening in your core as Natasha moved against you, her moans growing louder, more desperate with every second. You could feel her body trembling, the way her thighs quivered as she rode you, her need for release overtaking everything else.

Natasha’s pace quickened, the rhythm of her hips growing more urgent, her body seeking yours with a desperate need that matched your own. The way she moved, the way her body clenched around you—it was raw, electric, and yet there was still an underlying softness to her, a vulnerability that made the moment even more intense.

Her moans filled the air, breathless and ragged, each one sending waves of heat straight to your core. You could feel her hands gripping your shoulders tighter, her nails digging into your skin as she rode you harder, faster, her need consuming her. Her thighs pressed tight against your sides, her body moving with an almost instinctual hunger, and yet each roll of her hips was accompanied by a shuddering breath, a whisper of something deeper than just lust.

Your hands slid down to her hips, gripping her tightly as you guided her movements, feeling the slick heat of her skin under your palms. The connection between you was electric, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through every nerve in your body. Each thrust brought her closer, her body trembling against you as she pushed herself closer to the edge.

The sound of her—the obscene, wet sounds of her body moving against yours, the breathless moans that escaped her lips—drove you wild. Every gasp, every tremor of her body, pulled you deeper into her, and you could feel the tension building in your own body, the tight coil of pleasure winding tighter with every thrust.

Natasha’s head tilted back, her eyes fluttering shut as her lips parted in a silent cry of pleasure. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body shivering against yours as she rode the waves of sensation, her movements growing more frantic. You could feel the way her body tightened around you, the way she clenched with every thrust, pulling you deeper, harder.

You leaned up, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her moans as your hands slid up her back, pulling her flush against you. Natasha responded with a desperate, needy whine, her body arching into yours as she gave in completely to the moment. Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as she kissed you like she couldn’t get enough, her lips moving with a hunger that mirrored the wild rhythm of her hips.

The room was thick with the sounds of your bodies moving together, the wet slide of her against you, the ragged breaths and moans filling the air as the tension between you built to a fever pitch. You could feel her trembling, the way her body shuddered with every thrust, her nails digging into your skin as she lost herself in the pleasure.

But it still wasn’t enough.

With a growl of frustration, Natasha broke the kiss, her breath coming in harsh gasps as she pulled back, her eyes wild with need. Her hands gripped your shoulders, her body shaking with the force of her desire, and before you could react, she pushed herself off of you, standing on trembling legs as she backed away.

Her chest heaved with every breath, her lips swollen from your kiss, her eyes dark with lust as she stared at you, her body glistening with sweat. She didn’t say a word, didn’t need to—her intentions were clear in the way she moved, the way her hands reached out for you.

You barely had time to register her next movement before she was on you again, grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you up from the chair. The force of it sent you stumbling, but Natasha was relentless, her fingers gripping your arm with surprising strength as she pulled you toward the nearest wall. Her back slammed against it with a rough thud, but she didn’t seem to care. She was too far gone, too consumed by the raw, animalistic need that had overtaken her.

Her hands were on you again, pulling you closer, her body arching into yours as she pressed her hips against you, grinding in desperate, wild movements. The friction between your bodies sent jolts of pleasure through you, and you could feel the heat of her, slick and ready, as she ground herself against you.

"More," she gasped, her voice raw, barely more than a whisper as her lips brushed against your ear. "I want more."

Her demand was primal, almost a growl, and it sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You didn’t hesitate. Your hands were on her in an instant, rough and demanding as you grabbed her hips, lifting her with ease and pinning her to the wall. Natasha let out a sharp gasp, her legs wrapping around your waist as she clung to you, her nails raking down your back as she bucked against you, desperate for the release you both craved.

The world outside faded into nothing as you slammed into her, hard and fast, your hips driving into her with a force that sent her head tilting back against the wall. The sounds that tore from her throat were obscene—loud, lewd moans that echoed in the room, mingling with the wet slap of skin against skin as you fucked her with a raw, primal intensity.

Natasha’s body arched off the wall, her chest pressing against yours as she moaned your name, her voice breaking with every thrust. She was wild, lost in the moment, her legs tightening around your waist as she rocked against you, meeting every thrust with an equal fervour. The feel of her, so tight and hot around you, was almost overwhelming, and it took everything in you to keep your pace steady, rough, giving her everything she wanted—everything she needed.

Her hands found your face, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you into a bruising kiss, her lips moving desperately against yours. Her tongue slid against yours, hungry, needy, as if she couldn’t get enough of you. Every kiss was like fire, every touch igniting something deep within you.

Your bodies moved in perfect sync, a wild, chaotic rhythm that sent you both hurtling toward the edge. Natasha’s breath came in sharp gasps, her moans filling the air as her body tightened around you, her thighs trembling as she clung to you, her nails biting into your shoulders. You could feel her close, so close, and the thought of her unravelling in your arms only spurred you on, pushing harder, faster, until neither of you could take it anymore.

Natasha cried out, her head falling back against the wall as her body shuddered around you, her release hitting her like a tidal wave. The tight, slick heat of her pulsed around you, pulling you under as you followed her over the edge, your own release tearing through you with an intensity that left you breathless.

With a final thrust, you felt yourself spilling into Natasha, the sensation of warmth flooding her as you lost yourself in the pleasure of release. The world around you blurred, eclipsed by the intensity of the moment—her body pulsing around you, squeezing you tight as she milked every drop from you, her own breathless gasps mingling with yours.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her head tilting back against the wall as she surrendered to the overwhelming sensation. The heat of you filling her was unlike anything she’d felt before—a hot wave crashing over her as pleasure washed through her, leaving her breathless. She could feel every drop, the warmth spreading inside her, a tingling aftershock that made her pulse quicken even further. “God, yes,” she whispered, lost in the moment, her voice thick with desire and something deeper—something that had been brewing between you for so long.

Your own sensations were intoxicating, the feel of her surrounding you, the way her body reacted to every movement, every pulse of pleasure. You could hardly contain yourself, the mixture of euphoria and satisfaction consuming you as you revelled in the intimate connection you shared. There was something breathtaking about finishing inside her, about the trust, the intimacy, and the undeniable bond that felt more tangible than ever before.

As the waves of pleasure began to ebb, you cradled Natasha in your arms, her body trembling slightly as you pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. The intimacy of the moment lingered between you, and you both took a moment to breathe, hearts racing in sync. But soon, the practicality of the classroom flooded back in, and you gently guided Natasha back to the desk.

With a quick motion, you pushed aside her papers and markers, sending them tumbling to the floor with a soft thud. The suddenness of it all made Natasha scowl at you, though her eyes still held a spark of ecstasy. “Those were my actual papers, you know. Students’ exams, assignments,” she said, her voice mockingly stern but the flush in her cheeks betraying her arousal.

You shrugged, a playful smirk creeping onto your lips. “I promise I’ll clean up for you later.” Then, without hesitation, you slowly ground yourself into her, drawing a low, needy moan from her lips.

Her expression shifted, that scowl faltering as pleasure flickered in her eyes, but she quickly regained her composure, some of her confidence returning. She shook her head, grabbing you by your tie with a firm grip. “Clean up now.”

“Alright, alright!” you laughed, pulling out of her with a reluctant groan, the sensation of leaving her tight warmth making your body ache for her again. You hurriedly gathered the scattered papers and markers, your heart racing not just from the lingering pleasure, but from the silly urgency of the moment.

Once everything was piled neatly on the other side of her desk, you turned back to find Natasha waiting for you, her legs spread wide and her gaze sultry, yet commanding. There was a newfound softness to her submission, a flicker of vulnerability beneath that confident exterior.

“Look at what you’ve done,” she teased, her voice low and laced with satisfaction. She shifted slightly, showcasing the aftermath of your union—a glistening creampie that had pooled at her entrance. The sight sent a rush of heat straight to your core, desire rekindling in an instant.

The sight of her, flushed and beautiful, a mixture of confidence and submission, made your breath hitch. You took a step closer, captivated by her, by the warmth of the moment and the spark of something new blooming between you. The playful tension hung thick in the air, a sweet promise of what was to come.

You couldn’t help but be captivated by the sight of Natasha sprawled out before you, her body a beautiful mess of satisfaction and desire. With a mix of awe and urgency, you knelt down and gently lifted her legs, holding them up to give yourself a better view. The sight of your shared release oozing from her made your breath catch—an intoxicating mix of both of you, a physical testament to what you had just shared.

It kept coming, slow and steady, and you felt a surge of possessiveness wash over you. Mesmerised, you simply looked, taking in every detail—the way her slickness glistened against her soft skin, the way her breathing still quivered with remnants of pleasure. Natasha chuckled gently, her eyes sparkling as she took in your reaction, the rough moments from before fading into a sweet memory. “Come here, Дорога́я [Darling],” she murmured, caressing your cheek with her delicate fingers.

Before you could fully respond, she pulled you back in with a gentle tug on your tie, a smirk playing at her lips. The heat of her touch made your cheeks flush deeper, and you made a mental note to wear a tie more often, just for her. As her legs shifted, wrapping around your waist, the connection between you deepened, the weight of her body pressing against you in the most inviting way.

You gently pushed back inside her, entering her again with a deliberate slowness that drew a soft sigh from her lips. The warmth enveloped you, a beautiful contrast to the cool air of the room, and you could feel the shared release mixing with the sensation of her body welcoming you back in. It felt like coming home. The trust between you was palpable, an unspoken agreement that only strengthened the shared bond.

Natasha’s gaze locked onto yours, and in that moment, you could see the love blooming beneath the layers of your physical connection. There was a softness in her eyes, an openness that melted the remnants of your earlier roughness. You felt possessive, yet tender, wanting to cherish this moment, to worship her as she surrendered beneath you. Each thrust was deliberate, coaxing soft whimpers from her lips, and the way she arched into you only fueled your desire to give her everything.

“Look at you,” you breathed, your voice thick with emotion as you watched her face, her expression a mix of vulnerability and trust. She smiled back, a small, knowing grin that sent a thrill down your spine. In her gaze, you saw a world of possibilities, a future that began right here, right now. And you couldn't wait to explore it with her.

With each movement, you found yourself lost in her, in the way she surrendered, in the way she filled your heart with warmth. The trust was unbreakable, and as you held her close, cradling her like the treasure she was, you knew you’d do anything to keep her safe—body and soul.

You couldn’t get enough of Natasha—her warmth, her softness, the way she surrendered to you completely. As you pound into her, the desk creaked beneath you, a quiet reminder of the chaos you had just created. Your body hovered over hers, and you allowed yourself to drink in the sight of her in this exact moment—hair splayed across the desk, cheeks flushed, and those captivating eyes shimmering with a mixture of desire and trust.

With a tender touch, you lowered yourself to her, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both soft and passionate. It felt like an unspoken promise, a reminder of the connection that bound you two together. Natasha melted beneath you, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer, deepening the kiss with a fervour that ignited your own desire.

The world around you seemed to fade once again, leaving only the two of you in this intimate bubble, but as the kiss deepened, a fire ignited within you. You began to move faster, harder against her, your body fitting against hers in the most delicious way, feeling every inch of her against you. The warmth of her skin beneath your fingertips sent shivers down your spine, a stark contrast to the cool wood of the desk beneath her.

You settled into a rhythm, wanting to savour the moment, the way she responded to you. Her breath hitched, a soft moan escaping her lips as you hit that perfect spot, drawing forth more of those loving, yet utterly pornographic sounds that filled the room.

“Just like that,” she breathed, her voice thick with pleasure. “Please, don’t stop.”

Her encouragement was like a spark, igniting something primal within you. You pushed deeper, your pace quickening as the need to feel her completely enveloped you. As you pressed into her, you could feel her pulling you closer by your tie, the connection between you becoming more electrifying with each tug.

But as the intensity built, so did the chaos of the moment. Your movements became slightly rougher, the desk creaking more beneath the force of your passion, and you felt the neatly stacked papers you had just organised go flying in a flurry, scattering across the floor like fallen leaves. A soft gasp escaped Natasha as she looked at the mess, her expression a mixture of amusement and desire.

“Oops,” you murmured, a grin breaking across your face as you continued your relentless pace, not willing to let the interruption slow you down. The laughter that bubbled up from Natasha turned into a series of moans as she found her rhythm with you again, her pleasure rising higher.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she gasped, her legs wrapping tighter around your waist, urging you deeper.

You couldn’t help but comply, your desire morphing into something more intense, more commanding. You felt powerful, her submission only fueling your fire, and as you took charge, you could see her surrendering completely.

“Tell me how it feels,” you demanded softly, your breath ghosting over her ear, and you felt her shudder beneath you.

“More,” she moaned, shaking her head, her voice thick with need. “I need more.”

That simple command ignited your desire further. You focused your thrusts, pulling back just enough to thrust back in harder, the sound of your bodies meeting filling the air. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through both of you, and as her moans grew louder, you felt her body tightening around you, drawing you in deeper.

With every thrust, you pushed her closer to the edge, feeling her body respond so eagerly to yours, the world outside fading into nothingness. The connection between you was raw, electric, and as Natasha’s fingers tightened in your hair, you felt a rush of pride wash over you. She could be yours—this beautiful woman beneath you, completely yours to love and cherish.

With every thrust, the tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core, a delicious pressure building that threatened to overwhelm you. You could feel the heat radiating between your bodies, the raw intimacy wrapping around you both like a warm blanket. Natasha's body responded eagerly, urging you on with every moan and whimper, her legs still tightly wrapped around your waist as if she never wanted to let you go.

“Please,” she gasped, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. “Inside. W’na feel you, please.”

Those words sent a bolt of electricity through you, pushing you closer to the edge. The way she begged for you only heightened your desire, your body moving in a desperate rhythm, driven by an instinctual need to fill her. The universe stood still as you surrendered to the moment, pouring every ounce of yourself into her.

As you felt the wave building, your heart raced in tandem with your body, anticipation igniting every nerve ending. “Natasha…” you gasped, feeling the overwhelming pull of pleasure.

“Да [Yes], yes! Please!” she urged, her voice a desperate whisper as the connection between you ignited. 

With a final, deep thrust, you felt the wave crash over you—an overwhelming rush of pleasure that sent you spiralling into ecstasy. You released inside her, warmth flooding both your bodies as the sheer amount of your orgasm spilled into her. It felt electric, each pulse of your release sending shockwaves through Natasha’s body. 

Her moans turned into gasps, the sound rising from deep within her, a symphony of pleasure that reverberated against your chest. The sensation was overwhelming—her walls clenching around you, tighter and tighter, as if trying to draw every last drop deeper inside her. “Oh m– s’too much!” Natasha gasped, her breath hitching as her eyes widened, a mix of pleasure and surprise washing over her features. “Cлишком много, пожалуйста, слишком много, ещё— [Too much, please, too much, more]” The urgency in her voice sent a thrill through you, igniting a possessive fire as you felt her body shudder in response to your release. The warmth of your orgasm mixed with the slickness of her arousal created a heady sensation, drawing you closer together, deeper into this moment of blissful intimacy. You could feel her heartbeat, wild and frantic, echoing in time with yours, as her body quivered beneath you, a perfect melding of desire and urgency.

The kiss that followed was frantic, filled with the taste of each other’s desperation, but in the frenzy, you didn’t notice as a final spurt escaped, landing directly on her dress.

As the intensity faded, reality rushed back. You pulled away slightly, breathless and flushed, and that’s when you noticed the mess you’d made. Natasha’s laughter filled the air, bright and melodic, breaking the tension of the moment. “You’ve really done it this time,” she teased, the playful scowl back on her lips, even as her body betrayed her with soft, lingering shivers and twitches of pleasure. “Those were my students’ papers, you know! One of those is yours!”

You chuckled sheepishly, a small hint of embarrassment creeping in as you glanced at the scattered papers across the floor, remnants of your earlier chaos. “It was calculated,” you said, trying to sound earnest as you began to gather the papers back into a pile.

But just as you focused on tidying up, Natasha gasped, her eyes wide as she looked down at her dress, spotting the evidence of your earlier mistake. “Oh my god,” she said, shock mingling with delight. “You did NOT just—”

You couldn’t help but grin, your cheeks warming as the reality of your clumsiness hit you. “I didn’t mean to—”

Her gaze softened, and that familiar spark lit up her eyes again. “You’re lucky I’m so turned on right now,” she quipped, her lips curling into a playful smile. “But you might have to make it up to me.”

Once the papers were neatly stacked, you turned back to her, noticing her legs still slightly parted, a lingering invitation. But her gaze was focused on you, amusement dancing in her eyes, and you couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.

“I can’t believe I’m falling for my clumsy student I met in a bar,” she said aloud, shaking her head in disbelief, even as a smile crept onto her lips. “They’re incredible at this—and at maths and physics—but my god, she’s such a mess.”

And in that moment, you felt a warmth swell in your chest, knowing that amidst the chaos, something beautiful was blooming between you both.

–

The soft hum of the engine filled the space between you, and as you glanced over at Natasha, you noticed the way her gaze lingered on you—like you were the entire universe contained within her eyes, the very centre of her galaxy. It made your heart swell with warmth and a sense of intimacy that felt brand new.

“So, what do you call this?” you asked, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “I mean, since I’m not really your pet.” You furrowed your brow, feigning deep contemplation. “Teacher’s pet seems a bit off…”

Natasha couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head at your antics, her laughter bubbling up like sunlight piercing through clouds. “You’re a special case, you know that?” she replied, her eyes sparkling with delight. The confidence you wore so easily now intertwined beautifully with a vulnerability that both of you had shed in that classroom, revealing the deeper parts of your personalities that you’d kept hidden.

“So, are you a student’s pet, then?” you shot back, a teasing grin spreading across your face.

That made Natasha snort, a sound that was both unexpected and delightful. You couldn’t help but join in her laughter, the sound echoing through the car as you interlaced your fingers, feeling that shared warmth enveloping you both.

–

Once you were nestled together in her bed, the world outside faded into insignificance. The room felt like its own universe, wrapped in the glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. Your head rested on Natasha’s chest, her steady heartbeat beneath your ear like a soothing rhythm that kept you grounded. Your fingers traced the soft strands of her hair, twirling them gently, while her fingers danced across your back, tracing patterns that felt like constellations only the two of you could understand.

In the quiet, you could feel the depth of your connection, the vulnerability between you. After a moment, you looked up at her, heart fluttering with the memory of her earlier words. “You know,” you whispered, your voice soft and filled with affection, “your Russian was really attractive.”

Natasha chuckled, her fingers still tracing stars on your skin, her eyes filled with a warmth that seemed to encompass you entirely. She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Is that so?” she murmured, her tone playful but tender, her affection unmistakable as she continued to hold you close. Natasha's smile widened, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks as she looked at you with an expression that held both playfulness and sincerity, but mostly love.

[scoriarose]

Sakura is most comfortable sleeping on a memory foam bed while holding her baby toy.

Comfort and security <3

... And also warmth from her deep heat projector.

(Always use a thermostat and a heat gun to maintain proper temps!)

[kkami-writes]

waiting for us — chapter twenty six. howls moving castle wc. 625 + 4SS

The apartment was not as bad as Jisung had made it out to seem. It definitely looked lived in, especially by four boys but it wasn’t quite the fire hazard you thought it was going to be. The apartment next door to the right contained the other four, he told you that they got pretty lucky with two places opening up at the same time.

The two of you had decided on Chinese, eating directly from the little takeout boxes. When Jisung said it would be a casual date he had really meant it.

You were sat next to him, food already been inhaled and promptly discarded to the little side table he had next to his bed. Both of you were too engrossed in Howl’s Moving Castle at the moment, having already watched Spirited Away while you ate. The movie was set up on a projector that displayed directly against the wall. Jisung had explained that movie nights were taken very seriously in their relationship, the boys taking turns picking each week. He would not disclose how many times he had already made his soulmates watch this particular movie.

The silence between the two of you is comfortable and you feel a sense of contentment just sitting next to him. You’re unsure if it’s the soulmate link that makes you feel this way, or if Jisung is simply a calming presence. He’s close enough that you can practically feel his body heat but he leaves enough space for you to close the distance yourself if you choose to. Still, it’s nerve wracking, heart hammering against your ribcage and it’s making it hard to focus on anything but the boy next to you. Not even the glorious Howl Pendragon could captured your attention as effortlessly as Han Jisung is right now.

He’s dressed in a black and white stripped sweater and jeans, a signature beanie covering his hair. Yet he looks so effortlessly handsome and it makes your mouth a little dry. You have to take a sip of water.

When you put your hand back, you’re placing it in between the spaces of your bodies, itching for a little bit of contact. You don’t think he’ll notice but of course Jisung does. Despite his eyes never leaving the movie, he’s so acutely aware of everything you’re doing. Are you ok? Are you having fun? You’re not too overwhelmed are you? These questions practically bounce around in his head. He doesn’t want to read too much into the small movement of your hand but fuck, does he really want to intertwine his fingers with yours.

So he puts his hand almost dangerously close to yours, giving you once again the option to take the plunge if you wish. You’re chewing on the inside of your cheek, fingers twitching to get just a little closer. You let out a quiet shaky exhale before sliding your hand to brush against his own. The touch sends a shiver down your spine and you suddenly feel like a school girl with a crush, butterflies swarming annoyingly in your stomach.

Jisung can’t hide the smile on his face as he connects your pinkies together. You’re not surprised when your hands end up wrapped together later, him holding your hand in his lap.

You already knew that you were well and truly fucked. These boys would 100% be the death of you (in the best way possible). Yet, you can’t find it in yourself to really care. You were tired of being scared, letting people decide how you should feel - the results of the shitty family fate had dealt you.

But you were more than ready to jump into the deep end for these boys. If you drowned, so be it.

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[lunememes]

🌙 * ― 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 ( a collection of various settings for drabbles or prompts, or both! )

001. a tattoo parlour, buzzing with machinery and walls lined with artwork . 002. a shopping mall, crowded and loud . 003. a cabin in the mountains, taking shelter from the snow storm. 004. an abandoned tea party, occupied with broken dolls . 005. the shooting range, empty casings clinking on the floor and sulphur in the air . 006. a music room, filled with melodies of an instrument . 007. an empty auto shop, hood of a car left open and quiet music coming through speakers . 008. a bright arcade, coins falling from machines and claws grabbing at soft toys . 009. the kennels, filled with barking dogs and excited companions . 010. a restaurant, where everyone is eerily quiet and staff are overly friendly . 011. a riding arena, with trained riders atop proud horses . 012. a mini golf course, sails of a windmill obscuring the path ahead . 013. a zoo, filled with an array of unique animals . 014. the docks of a bay, boats lining the decks . 015. a pond with ducks, seeking food . 016. a museum, displaying ancient bones and pottery of a history long ago . 017. a closed down prison, ghosts of violent history echoing in empty cells . 018. a quiet train station, lights overhead flickering and announcement board displaying errors . 019. the vast desert, scorching heat baring down at high noon . 020. the dark woods, filled with strange hanging symbols made of sticks . 021. a deep hole in the ground, covered by leaves and sticks . 022. a wishing fountain, base lined with copper coins of past wishes . 023. an abandoned picnic in an empty field, flask still warm with coffee . 024. a barn filled with hay and tools, old wood creaking in the wind . 025. a graveyard in the dead of night, wind howling through the trees . 026. a crumbling bridge above a raging river . 027. the refreshing waters of a lake, away from prying eyes . 028. the crossroads, in the middle of nowhere . 029. a cosy bonfire at summer camp, marshmallows roasting on the fire . 030. the top of a radio tower, with the perfect view of the surrounding area . 031. a lone phone box on a street corner . 032. a large elaborate temple dedicated to a deity, offerings still intact . 033. a drive-in movie theatre, cars empty and projector casting only light onto the screen . 034. a strange trail of breadcrumbs on a woodland path . 035. a haunted mansion, ancient paintings watching every footstep . 036. a decrepit mine located out in the hills, believed by locals to have a powerful curse cast upon it . 037. the edge of a cliff, overlooking the rough waves and distant sounds of approaching danger . 038. a road trip across country, music blaring through speakers . 039. a flower shop, filled with bouquets and a sweet aroma . 040. an airport in the early hours of the morning, deprived of sleep . 041. a train on its way to its destination, a sleeping passenger resting on a shoulder . 042. an abandoned shack filled with strange books of the occult and something mysterious bubbling on the stove . 043. an empty throne room, moonlight glimmering through tall windows . 044. an underwater tunnel in an aquarium, fish swimming overhead and sharks looming in the distance . 045. deep within unmarked cave located in the side of a mountain, lit only by a flare . 046. the dusty streets of a western town, watched by wary residents . 047. the back of a vast library, surrounded by books, when a black book falls from the highest shelf . 048. a room of an asylum, an abandoned camcorder left in the middle of the room . 049. the shores of an unknown beach, washed up from the ocean . 050. the deck of an unsteady ship, waves crashing against the haul and rain lashing down from dark clouds .

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Floorboards and Astroturf

Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: T•Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Jake has a surprise for you on a rainy day.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Short and sweet <3 (I hope)

Warnings: fluff, reader being a little grumpy, Jake Jumpscare, Jake calling reader 'amor', typos - my head is really not in the game atm, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 643

You were a little bummed out as you made your way home from work on Friday. 

Not because the traffic was bad (it was) or that the bus was late (as normal) and full to the brim (you did manage to find some space towards the back doors), but because it raining. 

And was going to continue to do so for the rest of the weekend. 

On Wednesday the weather forecast had said the weekend ahead would have clear skies. On Thursday it predicted sunshine. 

And now here you were with a full year's worth of rain over two days. Excellent. 

Not that weather patterns that changed at the flip of a coin wasn’t unusual. It was just that you’d planned to go on a picnic on Saturday with Steven, Marc, and Jake to Greenwich park. And now that definitely wasn’t going to happen. Unless you want wanted to swim there and back. 

So you were in a little bit of a bad mood when you got back to the flat. Shutting the door a little too hard, stamping your feet as you took off your shoes and sighing. 

You didn’t expect Jake to be grinning like the Cheshire cat right in front of you when you turned around. 

“Fuck!” You visually jump and Jake can’t stop a small chuckle. 

“Sorry amor, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Could have fooled me.” You said a little harsher than normal, but Jake didn’t seem to mind. 

He holds up his hands and smiles. 

“What are you doing there anyway, just… standing there?” 

“Waiting for you.”

You give him a look. 

“I heard your footsteps in the hall.” He shrugs as if it’s not a big deal, and you decide to let his uncanny ability to differentiate individuals slip for now. “I have a surprise for you.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him as he steps forward and helps you out of your coat before handing it on the stand. 

“Thank you.” You mumble, starting to smile at how purposefully over the top he is acting, putting on a playful performance for you.

He takes you by the hand and leads you further into the flat. Once your field of vision isn’t blocked by Steven’s bookshelf you laugh quietly. A large grin spreads itself over your face, your shoulders relaxing. 

Jake smiles wider. 

He’s moved the furniture out of the way so that there’s a large space on the floor. There’s a large patch of floorboards that are covered with fake grass and topped with a tartan blanket. He’s also set up the mini projector with his phone, an image of a sunny park projected onto the bedsheet he’s draped over one of the bookshelves. 

By the blanket is a selection of food and drink, some that you purposefully bought for the weekend yesterday, and some that he’s obviously made today. 

“You like it?” He asks, eyes sparkling even though he knows the answer.

“I love it.” You say softly before you turn and hug him tightly. 

“I know you were disappointed about the weather…” he kisses your cheek. “I don’t deserve all the credit, Marc and Steven helped.” 

“Not true!” Steven suddenly chimes in.

“Came up with the idea and did it all himself!” Marc adds proudly. 

A touch of heat builds in Jake’s cheeks. “Yeah… well, you guys helped.” 

You giggle and kiss him lightly. “You’re the sweetest person in the world, Jake Lockley.” 

He grins, giving you another little squeeze and puffing his chest out a little. “I’m okay.” 

“The best.” 

He presses his lips to yours, soft and sweet, but deep and longing. Slowly taking you apart with his tongue. “Does the best person get whatever he wants?” He teases. 

“I don’t know…” You pretend to think. “What does he want?” 

He nuzzles your cheek. “I think you have a rough idea.”

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[reveuse-de-minuit-writer]

Knockout (Toji x Sukuna x AFAB Reader)

Summary:

Reader is invited to an underground fighting ring and manages to catch the attention of the two most dangerous men there. Theirs is a world of brutality and carnage, and all the reader wants is to explore how deep the darkness goes.

CW: 18+, Violence, blood and gore, explicit rough sex, m/m/f, breath play, overstimulation, BDSM elements, edging, face-fucking, double penetration, squirting, alcohol, weed.

Full tags and complete work on AO3 here: x

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CH. 1

Two fighters dance in the makeshift ring. The big one, a veritable mountain of a man with a curling top-knot and vicious scar slashing through his left eye, is the first to break their stalemate. 

Instead of rushing his opponent, or doing literally anything that would have made sense in an underground fighting ring, the mountain man begins dancing to the music. His opponent hesitates as they watch him in confusion, before narrowing his eyes in contempt. It’s clear the smaller fighter takes his opponent's interpretive dancing as an insult to his capabilities. 

The smaller fighter charges forward, rushing in close to cut off the mountain man’s odd thrusting and grinding as he dances to a beat in his head. As the smaller fighter raises his fist to swing, the mountainous fighter twirls into a powerful roundhouse kick that sends the other man flying across the ring.

The collision is impactful enough that it leaves a crater in the cement where the smaller fighter's body makes contact. He flops against the cement, and his head bounces with a splattering thud.  

His body goes still. 

The countdown to ten begins, but the only thing that moves is the pool of blood as it grows around the impact zone from the fighter’s head. 

Before the countdown even hits zero, the mountainous fighter is doing a victory dance. He wildly thrusts his hips and twirls around with a genuinely surprising grace given his sheer size. The announcer interrupts the fighter’s dance by grabbing around his thick wrist, and hoists his hand high in the air.

“And the winner is AOIII TODOOO!” The announcer declares into the microphone.

The roar of the crowd is deafening in my ears as they cheer at the mountain-man’s victory. 

“Well that was quite the spectacle,” I say to my friend Shogo to my right. 

He snickers, “Well I can’t say I wasn’t entertained. Twinkle-toes certainly knows how to put on a show.”

“Is he dead?” I ask with a grimace. 

Shogo polishes off the last of his drink before exhaling obnoxiously, “Nah, he’s just out cold. Todo doesn’t fight like that. Dude’s a monster, but he’s too soft to straight up fight someone to the death.”

“Ah, that's good then.”

I take a sip of my cold margarita, and it’s the cooling balm I need against the heat of the arena. The space is small but densely packed, and I can feel the humidity clinging atop my body like a second skin. 

The music that plays is the winner’s choice, and I can’t stop myself from smirking as idol music pours from the speakers into the underground arena.

To call the space an arena at all is generous. It’s really just a basement warehouse, but it serves its purpose well enough. The seats are a mix of metal folding chairs and benches stolen from abandoned stadiums that somehow managed to avoid demolition. There are shipping containers surrounding the walls which people use to sit and watch the fight. Shogo and I have done the same, sprawling out on top of a picnic blanket to cushion us from the cold, corrugated metal. The ring itself is just an empty expanse of concrete indicated only by the ropes outlining its circumference. 

Despite how ramshackle everything looks, two projectors display a live feed of the ring on the wall. They function like the screens in a legitimate arena, and I’ve found myself grateful for them many times already, since the tighter grapples and quick jabs can sometimes be hard to see. The instant replays and fight tracking from the dedicated staff are genuinely very well done for what they have to work with. 

Overall, the arena is not much, but it’s also more than good enough. 

Considering the cash that’s pulled in from each fight, I had expected more. But this is a place people pay to watch fighters get brutalized, not sip their overpriced drinks from their box seats. There are a couple hundred people watching, but the livestreams online rack up views in the tens of thousands easily. That’s where the real money is.

As my eyes scan the arena, I can't help but notice the contrast between Shogo and I and the rest of the spectators. The two six-packs of canned margaritas we share atop our bright pastel blanket stand out amongst the beer cans and cigarette butts. Shogo’s dedication to maximalist street fashion paints a vivid pink contrast to the black cargo pants and combat boots of the male-dominated crowd. 

I’m not much better in my own tight white crop top and black tennis skirt, both of which seem like they would better suit a frat bar than an underground fight club. I brought an oversized leather jacket with me to help me blend in more, but I took it off shortly after the second fight from the sheer heat of the arena. Even without it, humidity clings to my skin like a film.

“Having fun so far?” Shogo turns to me and asks. 

I nod my head while taking another sip of my margarita. The alcohol has me pleasantly buzzed. I’m just floating on a happy cloud, as I sit back and wait for the next fight. 

“Yeah, a lot of fun. You’re right, this is way better than the pay-per-view,” I answer. 

“Right? Like you’d never get to see a guy kick someone so hard they fucked up the concrete. That was crazy,” Shogo says. 

I hum in agreement. 

“That was pretty gnarly. I didn’t even think it was physically possible to do that. The Todo guy must be like one of the strongest men alive,” I say. 

Shogo snorts. He opens up his phone and opens up the arena’s private discord. His feed is a frenzy of jokes and commentary, most of which are memeing on Todo’s eccentric dance moves.

“Nah, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Just you wait,” he says. 

“Who’s up next?” 

“Toji Fushiguro versus Mahito. That’s the fight I wanted you to come here to see,” Shogo says. 

I recall how he even sold the experience to me in the first place. I had just started taking up boxing classes, and it exposed me to martial arts and fighting in a light I’d never considered before. I had fallen down into the rabbit hole of a new obsession, watching videos of fights, both professional and amateur, until it took up most of my free time. 

I knew Shogo shared the interest. When he offered to take me to see a fight in person, I couldn’t turn him down. He had warned me that this would be different. That it would be more violent, and more ruthless than any legal fight I’d watched. If anything, that warning just made me more intrigued. 

So far, the fights were intense, but not any more so than what I can find on YouTube. While Todo possesses a strength unlike anything I’ve ever seen before or thought possible, he didn’t do anything with it that would have broken the rules of a UFC fight. 

Still, I find myself wondering just what kind of monstrous power the next two fighters must have, in order to make a mountain like Todo seem like fodder. Shogo doesn’t make claims like that for the sake of it, and my mind races with the intrigue of it all. 

“Anything I should keep an eye out for, or know ahead of time about their fight?” I ask Shogo. 

“Oh my god yeah, where do I even begin?” He says animatedly. 

“Give me a quick rundown from the start. Go,” I snap my fingers into a finger gun, and take an expectant sip of my margarita. 

“Okay so basically, Toji is one of the most powerful fighters in the game right now. Like I’m talking top three easy. He’s been fighting professionally for like fifteen years and has been undefeated for all those years except for once. Like I’m talking thousands of wins against one singular loss. Which is an insane feat in of itself, right? The dude is basically a legend around here. Everyone either wants to fight him, or wants to fight like him.

“But Mahito is new to the scene. He just kinda popped up outta nowhere about a year ago, but he’s been making big waves ever since. Like, the dude is certifiably crazy. On some real psycho shit. But he’s also insanely creative when it comes to his fighting style, which makes him unpredictable to fight and fun to watch. While his record isn’t as impressive as Toji’s, he’s still stupid powerful. He’s risen up the rank of fighters faster than anyone has ever seen before. He fought Todo, the guy who just won, about six months ago, and wrecked him so bad that Todo had to take four months off to recover.”

I process all of the information Shogo gives me. The thought of someone not just winning against Todo, but forcing him to take that much time off to recover, is nearly unthinkable to me.

“So basically it’s the veteran versus the newcomer, huh?” 

“Yeah exactly,” Shogo affirms, “but that’s not all. About two weeks ago a video got leaked on twitter of Mahito essentially talking mad shit about Toji, calling him washed up, a has been, too predictable, shit like that, you know? Basically said that everything Toji can do has already been seen and done before, and that he can take him no problem.”

“How did Toji take that?”

“Toji doesn’t normally do the petty drama thing. He just shows up, fights, gets paid, and leaves. So after a week went by and he didn’t say anything, everyone assumed he was just gonna ignore it. But then, outta nowhere, a video pops up on twitter like three days ago, and it’s Toji at a shooting range with a picture of Mahito’s face on the target. He said some cold shit like ‘a bad dog is better off dead’ or something like that.”

Shogo’s excitement as he explains the drama is infectious, and I’m already invested. I also appreciate how closely he’s followed everything, since it makes the anticipation for the upcoming fight that much sweeter. 

“Well shit. So this fight is going to be intense, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be crazy.”

“Who do you think will win?”

“I put three hundred on Toji, so he better win. He’s got 7:3 odds right now, so I’m not that worried.”

Shogo slurps messily on his drink as he drains it dry. His thumbs idly scroll through the discord, before he tilts his phone towards me. 

“Here’s the video if you wanna see it. The guy with the silver hair is Mahito. The rest are all members of his team. The dude with the dark hair, Geto, is his manager. There’s a shit ton of drama involving him too, but I can tell you all that after the video.”

Mahito surprises me. He doesn’t look how I imagined the man who won against Todo would look. He’s lanky, despite his obvious musculature, and has an almost childishness about him. Though the arena is loud, I can just barely hear the sounds of the video. Mahito’s crass remarks are intercut with sadistic giggles, and it makes my stomach turn sour. Scars lacerate his body in a patchwork fashion, making his skin look like it’s been sewn onto him. He looks like he belongs in a Tim Burton movie more than a fighting ring. 

But there’s also something decidedly off about Mahito. His cheeks spread wide in a child-like grin as he talks about how he’s going to kill Toji. His mis-matched eyes glitter in excitement as he shares his murderous fantasies of dismembering him and studying the inner workings of his organs. I can’t help but wrinkle my nose in disgust.

The video ends abruptly, and Shogo takes his phone back. 

“I was debating rooting for him because I love a good underdog story, but after watching that,  I think I’m team Toji,” I say. 

Shogo snickers, and continues to scroll with his thumb through his feed. 

“Yeah, no kidding. The guy has a super punchable face.”

“Maybe that’s why he got into fighting in the first place,” I quip, before my curiosity gets the better of me, “What was the drama with the other guy?”

“Okay so the full backstory begins with Toji and this guy named Gojo. Gojo is, without a doubt, the strongest fighter in the world, no cap. Like legit or otherwise, professional or amateur, it doesn’t matter. If you put him in the ring, he will win every single time. Only one other guy is on his level, Sukuna. He’s not called the King of Fighters for no reason. But he’s not relevant to the story, so put a pin in that for now. 

“So about ten years ago, Toji challenged Gojo. At the time, Gojo was just a teenager, and had only been on the scene for a year, but he was sweeping everyone he came across, kinda like Mahito. Even still, everyone bet on Toji to win, since at the time he was about five years deep and undefeated. And the first time they fought, Toji did win. He beat Gojo so bad the kid nearly died. But like a week later, Gojo pops up out of nowhere and challenges Toji to a rematch. Everyone thought he was insane, since he hadn’t fully recovered from his injuries yet, but Toji agreed to it. In the rematch Gojo clapped his ass so hard it was devastating. Like Toji got beat so bad he was declared legally dead before they were able to revive him. To this day, it’s still the only time Toji has ever suffered a loss. 

“So obviously he didn’t take it well. He lost out on millions in bets, and nearly lost his life. He’s had a grudge against Gojo and anything even remotely related to him ever since. 

“The reason why this is all relevant, is because Geto, Mahito’s manager, was best friends with Gojo at the time. So because the two were besties, Toji fucking hates him. Even though the two aren’t friends anymore, it doesn’t matter. Since Mahito is being represented by Geto, and the circumstances are kinda similar, it’s safe to say that Toji was out for blood before the video of Mahito talking shit ever leaked in the first place.”

My head buzzes with this rush of new information. There’s so much lore to process, and it gives me a deeper appreciation for what will certainly be a monumental fight. The tension and electricity in the air suddenly makes a lot more sense. 

“Wow, who knew there was so much drama in the fighting community?” I say. 

Shogo slurps on his drink and nods. 

“Tell me about it.”

“So have Toji and Gojo ever talked about a rematch?” I ask. 

“Honestly I don’t know. It’s just kind of low-key understood that a match between Toji and Gojo would just end up in Toji losing again, since Gojo became an absolute monster after that. That fight is where he got the nickname the ‘Strongest Fighter’ from. Also, Gojo doesn’t fight much anymore, since there’s no one on his level good enough to challenge him and keep him interested.”

“What about Sukuna? Didn’t you say they were equals?”

“Yeah. Sukuna and Gojo have been talking about fighting each other forever, but no one knows if or when it’ll actually happen. Sukuna still fights occasionally, if he thinks it’ll be worth his time, but he’s good friends with Toji so it’s unlikely a fight between them will ever happen.”

I sip on my drink and think everything over. I had no idea there could be so much history in the scene like this. 

“Next up, Toji Fushiguro versus Mahito! The fight will begin in five minutes!” The announcer calls.

His voice booms around the empty warehouse, and not for the first time I find myself wishing I had brought some earplugs. 

Shogo mutters a brief ‘aha’ before tilting his phone towards me.

“Here, this is Toji’s response video that I mentioned earlier,” Shogo says, before handing his phone to me entirely. 

I press play. Toji’s back is towards the camera, and the immense sprawl of his muscles which strain through the clingy black t-shirt he wears makes my pulse pound. He might as well not be wearing it at all, for how little it hides. It wraps and contorts around every single well-defined muscle in the man’s torso.  

He’s enormous, with impossibly broad shoulders made to look wider by the narrowness of his waist. His sweatpants are baggy and sling low on his slim hips, but they still can’t hide the firm swell of his ass. 

His shaggy black hair covers his face from view. His stance is casual. He leans forward into his hip, which draws attention to the dramatic s-curve of his spine. One thick arm relaxes behind his back, with his fingers splayed wide. His hands are enormous, and serve to make the glock he’s holding look like little more than a child’s toy. 

The man had a body made for sin. Holy shit. Even without seeing his face, I’d let that man rail me into next Tuesday if he so much as asked. 

“What d’you do to a rabid dog?” Toji asks over his shoulder to the camera man. 

His voice is low and resonant. Even despite the low volume, the sound of it sends a shiver down my spine.

Six shots fire off in rapid succession, and Toji doesn’t even budge from the recoil. His gun smokes as the clip goes empty. The camera pans from Toji to his target at the end of the range, before zooming in. 

A picture of Mahito’s face covers the target’s head. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t seeing the bullet holes carve out a perfectly punctured ’T’ into the picture. 

The camera pans back to Toji, who keeps his back to the camera. He raises the gun to his mouth, and blows out the smoke still coiling from the barrel of the gun. I can just barely see the sharp cut of his jaw and the scar that bisects the side of his mouth. 

“You put it down,” he smirks. His voice is deep and husky, and the sound makes my skin shiver. 

Just as Toji starts to turn towards the camera, the video cuts off. 

“Holy shit,” I say. 

It’s all I can say. Because my pulse is racing, and my head is spinning, and my face flushes hot when I realize I’m dripping wet. 

“What’d you think of that?” Shogo asks, and plucks his phone from my hands. 

My fingers tremble slightly now that I no longer have anything to hold onto, so I reach for a new can of my margarita to still them. 

“I think he’s so hot it’s stupid,” I say shamelessly. 

Shogo laughs hard enough that a few of the other spectators turn towards us in mild interest. My face flushes hotter at the attention, and I gulp down a few sips of my drink. 

“I figured you’d be into him. Bad boys with more muscles than sense have always been your type,” Shogo giggles. 

I open my mouth to defend myself, but a string of my previous partners comes to mind, and I close it once more. I really can’t argue with that. 

“Like you’re one to talk,” I sneer at him instead. 

I cross my arms across my chest and pout. 

“Yeah, but I also like the good girls, so it all balances out to neutral. You’re just a freak,” Shogo laughs. 

My glare at him is venomous, but it just makes him laugh all the more. Eventually he raises his hand in a sign of surrender. 

“Simmer down, girl. There’s nothing wrong with bein’ a lil freaky,” he snickers. 

I throw an empty margarita can at his head, which he slaps away with a snicker. It falls to the ground beneath the shipping container we sit on. 

I think nothing of it, until I hear a loud, angry “What the fuck!” cry out from beneath us. 

I freeze, and my eyes go wide with panic. Swallowing past the lump of nerves in my throat, I tentatively crawl forwards to peer over the side of the shipping container. 

Right below us is the makeshift VIP section, with couches, bottles, powders, and more strewn about everywhere. There’s about ten people sitting around in total, all watching as a person with a short blonde bob angrily wipes down their shoulder. 

The can must not have been as empty as I thought. 

Mortification burns through me alongside an immediate pulsing fear. 

I’m so never getting invited back. 

If there’s any kind of crowd I don’t want to piss off, it’s this one. 

“Sorry,” I meekly call out to them down below. 

A few heads look up in my direction at the sound of my voice, and my face flushes hot under their scrutiny. 

But I can feel the weight of a gaze settle heavy over my skin, prickling it into goosebumps. My eyes sweep over everyone, trying to find the source of it.

“Fuck you, asshole!” The person shouts back. 

I ignore them.

One figure in particular, a large man with his hood pulled low, stares upwards at me. Him. I can feel him watching me, and I shiver where I kneel, and my hands grip tight onto the edge of the shipping container below me. 

I can just barely make out the sharp cut of his jaw, and the strange tattoos that frame it. He says something to the crowd around him. Everyone else laughs, except for the unfortunate victim of my drink who stomps their foot in frustration. I can see just enough of his jaw to watch the cruel smirk that forms on his lips.

Despite his joke to the crowd, I feel that his eyes never leave me. 

The sounds of the arena seem to go quiet as all of my focus narrows down to the stranger below. 

My instincts scream at me that I need to run, and I need to hide, because I’ve caught the attention of a predator, and I don’t want to give him the chance to pounce. My blood rushes in my ears, and sweat beads atop my body.

But the weight of his stare holds me captive. I’m helpless to do anything other than watch as his tongue traces along the lush swell of his bottom lip, before he flashes his sharp canines in a menacing grin.

I flush red hot, and a corresponding throb pulses deep in my core. 

The arousal I felt watching Toji’s video is a catalyst for my body now getting overtaken with lust. Molten heat liquifies my veins, and the headiness of the alcohol buzzes through me in a lethal combination. 

Mortified by my body’s reaction, I crawl quickly back to the blanket next to Shogo, breaking the stalemate between the stranger and I. As I collapse beside him, I shiver at the adrenaline that courses through me. The primal, instinctual part of my brain screams that I’ve just barely managed to escape, and that I’m not safe yet.

Shogo, oblivious to my inner turmoil, just snickers at me as I flop onto my back next to him and bury my face in my hands. Without opening my eyes to look, I lash out and smack him on the arm.

“Nice one,” he snickers. 

“Fuck you,” I grumble. 

My threat is muffled by my hands over my face, but I don’t care. I’m too busy focusing on breathing like a normal person and commanding my body to calm down from the sudden, roaring height of its arousal. 

Any response Shogo says is lost on me as all of the lights in the arena go dark. Loud bass pumps through the speakers, and I can feel it vibrate and rattle in my chest. 

Pushing aside my feelings, I allow myself to get caught up in the mania. The crowd around us roars in anticipation, and I join in, cupping my hands around my mouth and shouting into the blackened air. An electric tingle of anticipation starts to brew in my blood. I feel breathless, and I smile into the darkness.

This is so much fun. 

The music cuts out. A singular beat of silence, suspended in the darkness, rings out across the arena. 

The music blares back in with the full power and sound of the song. The lights turn on, and the ring is illuminated in bright, harsh spotlights. A man towers tall in the center of the ring, with his identity obscured by the black hood pulled low over his head.The crowd goes absolutely feral, but I freeze.

Oh fuck me sideways.

It’s him. The same guy from below who made my pussy drip from the force of his stare alone. 

The microphone he holds in his hand looks tiny, and I am surprised to see that his nails are painted black. He just stands there, basking in the attention and suspense of the crowd. 

My eyes trail up and down his body. Now that I can see him more clearly, my walls clench fruitlessly around nothing. The black hoodie he wears is strained tight against his broad torso. His dark jeans cling to his muscular thighs like a second skin. He must be another fighter, with a physique like that.

After a beat, he raises a painted hand to his hood. Instead of pulling it back like I assumed he would, his hand continues to rise until it grabs ahold of the fabric on the back of his neck. In a singular fluid motion, he yanks the hoodie off entirely. 

“Holy fucking shit!” Shogo yells next to me. 

Holy shit indeed. 

The man that stands in the center of the ring exudes power and confidence. He looks lethal, with his tight, rippled abdomen, full pecs, and broad shoulders corded with thick, deadly muscles. The tattoos that decorate his skin are thick, black, tribal lines that seem to carve out a path that accentuates the lines of his body. His messy hair is a bright pink, with a dark brown undercut. He smoothes his hair back with a painted hand and a sharp grin.

The tattoos continue to outline his face, curving along the harsh cut of his jaw, slashing across the bridge of his nose, and inking his forehead between his dark brows. His eyes glint with a dark promise, and the smile that broadens the man’s mouth is nothing short of sadistic.

The guys in the arena are obviously not good men. It takes a certain kind of person to want to fight so extremely, and to be so entertained by it. But as I watch this man raise his thick arms high into the air around him, basking in the feral cry of the crowd as it screams for him, it is obvious that he’s different. 

He’s even worse. 

After a minute of taking it all in, he raises the microphone to his sharp mouth. The dark chuckle that fills the air makes me shiver and my nipples tighten. I feel a throb deep in my core, and I squirm atop the firm ridges of the shipping container below. 

At the sound of his dark laughter, and before he even gets the chance to speak, the crowd is roaring again, showering him with even more praise and adoration. The man’s grin grows wider, and his sharp teeth glint malevolently beneath the harsh spotlights. 

“Alright, shut up you brats,” he growls into the microphone. 

I’ll be damned if the dark sound of his voice doesn’t make me quiver. The crowd dies down, obeying the command of the dark god before them. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He jokes.

The crowd goes wild again, and this time a masculine chant booms in the air.

Su-ku-na! Su-ku-na! Su-ku-na!

So this is Sukuna. 

The King of Fighters himself. 

He raises one hand high, effectively calling for silence. Immediately, everyone goes quiet. The man’s command over the room is absolute.

“I was worried that it’s been so long that I might have to introduce myself, but I see now that’s no longer a problem,” Sukuna smirks. 

There’s a cold mockery in his tone that betrays just how much he revels in the crowd’s adoration. His dark eyes scan across the crowd as he basks in the wild roars that fall around him.

“I have a surprise for you brats,” he taunts in a sing-song voice. 

I can feel the exact moment that his eyes make contact with mine.

I’m flung from my body. The air freezes in my lungs. The sounds of the crowd go quiet except for the ringing in my ears. My vision narrows down to just the outline of his body. That same force keeps me still, and my instincts are once again screaming at me to hide. His gaze is unwavering, and I am exposed before him.

“Are you ready for me?” Sukuna purrs into the microphone.

Shivers sweep down my spine, and I flash hot. I bite my lip hard, genuinely afraid that if I don’t, I might moan.

Holy shit.

The crowd roars around him, but it's lost on me entirely. I can’t see or hear anything outside of the tension that sizzles between us like a live wire. 

“Tut, tut, tut. I asked you a question, brats,” Sukuna snarls, and his eyes darken as they glare at mine.

While I know he says it for the crowd’s benefit, my arousal drips out of me at the sound of his scolding. His piercing eyes flash with a dark promise, and the look he levels towards me is nothing short of commanding. 

His threat is clear. 

“Let’s try this again,” he purrs, before pulling the microphone in closer to his mouth than before.

“Are you ready for me?” Sukuna roars. 

The sound of his voice is monstrous, and tinged with something entirely animalistic. If I thought the roar of the crowd was loud before, then it is absolutely nothing compared to the fervor of it now. 

Those same prey instincts are going haywire in my blood, and I can scarcely breathe for how tight of a grip my adrenaline has over my body.

I lick my suddenly dry lips, and burn in the heat of his stare, as I whisper, “Yes.”

Sukuna’s eyes grow dark with heat and triumph. 

My core throbs low, and the persistent ache of emptiness sweeps through me. 

“That’s what I fucking thought,” he snarls. 

His dark eyes finally leave mine, and it’s like I collide back into my body with a visceral force. Sensations flood in from all around me at once, from the sheer volume of the crowd, the stifling heat of the room, and the absolutely drenched state of my underwear. 

Immediately, heat flushes my cheeks. I’ve never reacted like this before. Though I don’t smoke anymore, I find myself itching for a cigarette. And another margarita.

“The lovely event organizers and I decided we wanted to make things a bit interesting,” he begins, a sadistic enjoyment sugaring his dark tone, “so to shake things up a bit, whoever wins this next fight, either Toji Fushiguro or Mahito, will get the honor of fighting me in two months.” 

“Oh my fucking god!” Shogo cries out. 

Based on what Shogo had told me earlier, I now know that this is a big fucking deal. The crowd absolutely loses it. 

“So with that out of the way, let’s get this thing fucking started, yeah?” Sukuna says, rallying the cry of the crowd once more. “May the best fighter win.”

With that, Sukuna passes off the microphone to the announcer, and prowls back out of the ring. My eyes are glued to him as he ducks beneath the rope of the VIP section. He stands a clear two heads taller than the crowd of people parading around him and clapping him on the back. Even surrounded by other fighters, he finds a way to make them look small. He takes a seat back on the couch, and reclines back like a king in his throne. 

The announcer picks up Sukuna’s hoodie, and tosses it over to him. Sukuna catches it with a one-handed grip, and my eyes dance over every ripple of muscle that flexes and pulls from the simple display of athleticism. 

Good fucking god, I need to get a grip.

“Let’s give it up one more time for the King of Fighters himself, Ryomen Sukuna!” The announcer cheers. 

The crowd roars again, and my eyes remained fixed on the man as he flashes yet another sharp grin at the never-ending adoration. 

He doesn’t demure from the praise, he basks in it.

“This headlining match is sure to be exciting folks. But first, what does every good fight need? The fighters themselves!

“First up, we have a prodigy in the making. Standing at five feet and ten inches tall, and weighing one-hundred-and-forty-five pounds, we have the scrappy underdog from hell itself, MAHITOOOOOO!” 

The crowd cheers as Mahito appears from the right-hand side of the ring. He all but skips to the ring itself, and the camera man tracking him stumbles after him. 

His team is standing just off to the side of the ring, and I recognize them from the video that Shogo showed to me. Mahito is as energetic as a kid with a sugar rush, as he bounces restlessly on the balls of his feet. 

Once more I’m surprised by what Shogo said earlier. Looking down at him, it’s hard to imagine him beating Todo so easily. His body is long and lean, and while muscular, he’s nothing compared to the solid mountain of the other fighter. But clearly his looks are deceiving.

“Next we have the legend himself, undefeated to all but one over the span of his decade-and-a-half long career. Standing at six feet and three inches, and weighing two-hundred-and-eighteen pounds, we have the fighter killer himself, TOJIIII FUSHIIGUUROO!” 

Whatever adoration rained down on Mahito, it pales in comparison to the roar of the crowd for Toji. I have half a mind to cover my ears to spare them from taking further damage. It’s clear who is the crowd’s favorite. 

Toji Fushiguro stalks towards the ring from the left with a predatory grace. He looks even more monstrous than in the video, and it’s clear that it didn’t do him justice. He wears a white hoodie that’s unzipped down the middle, baring his taut, cut abdomen for all to see. His white athletic shorts strain tight against his thick thighs, and curve along the swell of his ass. The tension in his muscles is coiled tight. With his unwavering focus narrowing down to Mahito across the ring, I can all but taste his lethal hostility in the air. 

When he reaches the ring, he pulls off his hoodie with short, aggressive pulls. He is every bit as impressive as his stats make him out to be. The breadth of his shoulders and narrowness of his waist are nothing less than superhuman in their proportions. His arms pull and flex as he balls his hoodie up and tosses it carelessly to the side. There’s a massive scar that carves a jagged arc into his left side, and it spans nearly the entirety his torso. It’s a gruesome scar, and I wonder what gave it to him. 

His messy ink-stained hair falls sharply into his eyes, but I can see the animosity burn in them all the same. His sharp jaw is clenched tight with tension, and the veins in his throat pulse visibly. His own team is speaking to him, but I can tell he’s not listening. His glare hasn’t moved once from Mahito, not even as the other fighter begins to prance around his side of the ring, hyping up the crowd even more. 

The projectors display closeups of the fighters faces, and the contrast couldn’t be more clear. While Mahito performs, Toji waits. There’s something about the dynamic that makes my blood race. Blown up large against the wall, the burning hatred glinting savagely in Toji’s dark green eyes is blistering.

My instincts scream that Toji is lethal and dangerous and absolutely terrifying. I almost feel sorry for Mahito, for having incurred the wrath of this god amongst men so completely. 

My pussy is screaming too, but for a different reason entirely.

The two fighters are called to meet together in the middle of the ring. Seeing them stand opposite one another makes the fight seem simply unfair. Toji glares down at Mahito like a lion staring down an ant. Mahito remains unintimidated, and smiles up at Toji with a wicked gleam in his mis-matched eyes. I try to remind myself that despite appearances, the fight is more evenly matched than it seems. 

The hatred that flows between the two sparks and crackles in the air. The tension is thick enough to make my breath catch. Almost absently, I crawl to the edge of the shipping container and sit there instead. I hear Shogo shuffle to copy me, equally as entranced by the anticipatory hostility brewing between the two fighters as I am. 

I can’t fucking wait to see it snap. 

The announcer claps both men on the shoulder, before stepping back to the edge of the ring. 

“No rules, no limits. First fighter to score a knockout wins!” The announcer declares.

The two fighters step back and slip into their fighting stances. 

Mahito stands unusually, with one arm ahead of him like he’s reaching out towards Toji, while his other hand balls into a fist low by his hip. His legs are bent low and spread wide, and he looks very much like a coil, ready to spring. 

Toji’s stance is also unusual. His legs spread wide, but he doesn’t squat as low as Mahito. His torso curls forward, with his arms wide around him, fists ready for the fight. There’s a confidence in the way that he stands that borders on arrogance, and the sight of it makes me fucking leak. 

“Begin!”

The two fighters are a blur of movement as they dash towards one another with tremendous speed. Mahito is the first to swing, but Toji is faster, and counters the swing with one of his own. His fist lands solidly in the center of Mahito’s chest, and the fighter goes flying backwards from the force of his punch. Mahito lands hard into the concrete below, and blood sputters from his mouth, drooling onto his chin.

Mahito is only down for half a second, before he staggers to his feet. A grin splits his cheeks, and the sight of his blood-stained teeth is chilling. He giggles, and bounces on his feet, before springing towards Toji. 

Toji lets Mahito dash in close. As soon as Mahito goes to throw a punch, Toji moves in a dizzying blur of speed around the other fighter, pivots quick on his heel, and sends a powerful kick to the back of Mahito’s skull. 

Mahito stumbles forward onto his hands and knees, and blood immediately begins to darken his silver hair. Still, Mahito giggles at the impact, and shakes his head back and forth. Blood splatter flies everywhere around them. Toji interrupts by rushing up behind Mahito’s exposed back, wraps a thick arm around his neck, and pulls Mahito back into a tight headlock. 

Mahito’s face turns red, as his hands claw and scrape at the thick muscle of Toji’s arm. Toji’s other hand curls into a tight fist and pummels blow after blow into Mahito’s ribs and kidneys. 

Blood sprays from Mahito’s mouth, but he keeps grinning, regardless. The pain he’s in must be tremendous, but he takes all of Toji’s blows with a smile. 

Mahito drops his body, deadening his weight against Toji’s chokehold. Toji leans down lower to compensate for the sudden increase in weight. Mahito uses this to his advantage, and springs backwards, sending both Toji and Mahito falling hard to the floor. Toji ducks his head inwards to prevent his skull from being shattered in the cement, and pulls Mahito in tight by the hold he has on his neck. 

With a sly smile, Mahito reaches into the pocket of his shorts.

My blood runs cold. 

In a flash, he pulls out a pocket knife, flips it open, and thrusts it upwards, stabbing into the arm wrapped around his neck. 

Toji’s eyes widen, and he reflexively releases his hold just enough for Mahito to squirm free. Toji’s hand grabs ahold of the handle of the knife and pulls it out of his arm, while Mahito flips over and moves to straddle Toji, pinning him to the ground. 

Toji just laughs, and dexterously twirls the knife in his hand. Mahito swings down hard at Toji, who manages to duck his head out of the way by a millimeter. 

A sickening crack echoes though the arena. I wait for Mahito’s bloodied hand to emerge, destroyed by the impact of his fist on the concrete floor. But Toji rolls the two of them over fast.

My jaw drops.

A fist-sized crater shatters the concrete at the site of the impact. 

What the fuck?

Did Mahito just punch a hole into the concrete? 

I don’t have the time to process the tremendous power I just saw. Instead, my eyes are glued to Toji straddling a squirming Mahito, with the knife trapped between his teeth. He storms down a rain of powerful blows directly into Mahito’s face. The first punch shatters bone, and blood spurts all over his knuckles. Toji’s smile at the sight is carnal. The second impact is more devastating than the first, and teeth fly from Mahito’s mouth.

It goes on like this. Hit after savage hit. Blood paints Toji’s hands crimson. His inky hair clumps down over his manic eyes. There is no thought behind them except for the predatory gleam of bloodlust. A sharp grin twists his scarred lips around the blade of the knife, and there is not a single doubt for how much Toji is enjoying himself. 

Mahito has finally stopped laughing. His head lolls back into the concrete, and his body goes limp. Toji grabs ahold of Mahito’s hair, and yanks his head up, continuing his assault on the unconscious man’s head. 

“Time!” 

Toji’s fist crashes down into Mahito’s face one last time before he leans back. His large chest heaves from a mixture of exertion and bloodlust. Sweat shines on his skin, and the blood splatter trickles in rivers down the contours of his body. He shakes his wet hair like a dog, and the sweat and blood fly around them. 

My thighs clench, and I want to lick it off of his skin. 

Toji spits the knife out onto the floor beside him. He leans his head back, and his triumphant smile into the air above is nothing short of beastly. 

With Toji’s head leaned back, he doesn’t see as Mahito’s fingers twitch towards the knife beside them. Once his fingers wrap around the handle, he flies forward in a sudden vicious arc that slashes upwards at Toji’s torso. 

“Gotcha!” Mahito giggles. 

Toji reacts quickly, to the sudden motion of Mahito below him, but still manages to get caught along the top of his right pec. He wraps a thick hand around Mahito’s wrist, stopping the knife from doing any further damage. With his other hand, he fixes a firm grip around mahito’s shoulder, and with a savage twist and brutal cry, he tears his arm back. 

Blood spurts like a fountain, painting everything in a sea of red. 

In Toji’s hand, he holds the severed remains of Mahito’s arm, torn completely free from his body. 

Mahito’s screams echo in the cavernous room. He squirms from beneath the bulk of Toji’s body, flailing his remaining arm against Toji’s thick thighs in an effort to get free. 

It reminds me of the dying throes a rabbit caught between the teeth of a lion. It’s a last, desperate attempt at life when he knows it’s coming to an end. 

Toji grabs the knife from Mahito’s severed hand, then tosses the limb carelessly to the side. He twirls it around once more, before viciously plunging it down into Mahito’s torso. With a ferocious smile, he licks his lips, then starts carving into Mahito’s chest.

Mahito’s screams cut off abruptly. The absence of it echoes just as loudly. 

When he’s done, Toji leans back onto his hips, and appraises his work with a sadistic grin. He raises the knife to his mouth, and his tongue licks along the side of the blade. He smiles at the taste, before plunging it down into Mahito’s head, right between his brows. 

Toji rises to his feet. He towers over Mahito’s dead body. Power and aggression pour off of him in waves. His grin is absolutely feral, and his eyes gleam with satisfaction. He wears the other man’s blood like war paint. 

He picks up Mahito’s head, and with one hand, he dangles his body upwards for all to see. 

What remains of Mahito’s torso is mutilated by a crudely carved letter ’T’. The roar of the crowd is animalistic. Men holler and cry out into the air, pounding their fists to their chest and stomping their feet on the ground. Toji holds the body aloft for a few more moments, before throwing it carelessly back to the ground. 

He steps back to the center of the ring. The announcer trembles forward. He stares at Toji with wide fearful eyes, before gingerly grabbing ahold of the fighter’s thick wrist. After a moment’s hesitation, he raises Toji’s arm high in the air. 

“And the winner is TOJIII FUSHIGUROO!”

My blood rushes in my ears, and my lungs constrict. Any alcohol in my system has all but evaporated, and I’m stone-cold sober. The primal energy storms around me, and my body tingles with the electricity and the adrenaline. My instincts are quiet, and I fear its silence more than I feared when it was screaming at me earlier. My mind is blank, but my body burns. 

I just watched a man die. 

I just watched Toji Fushiguro kill a man. 

And yet. For reasons that defy logic. For reasons that make me want the earth to split open beneath me and swallow me whole.

I am undeniably, irrrefutably, achingly aroused. 

I’m trembling from the force of the heat that burns inside of me. Absently, I grab my drink and chug it all down in one go. It dribbles down my chin and into my shirt, but I don’t care. I wipe carelessly at my mouth with the back of my hand and take in deep, greedy gulps of air when it’s done.

Toji’s team wipes him down, cleaning off the other man’s blood. I can’t process it. Mahito’s team walks away, with Geto yawning as he exits the ring. I watch as some of the event staff approach Mahito’s body, pick him up, and carry him out. Two others immediately start wiping down the area, scouring the concrete for every drop of blood. 

After a moment or two, it’s like there was never any blood at all. 

I watch as Sukuna saunters up to Toji and claps him on the back. The two men standing together look like giants surrounded by ants. I watch idly as they converse, and my heart stutters at the wide, sharp grin on Toji’s scarred lips.

I need to calm down. Now. 

My skin prickles, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My breathing stops, and my blood sings. 

I can feel them looking at me. 

I know it like I know my own name. 

I drag my unfocused eyes from the fist-sized crater in the ring, over to where the two men stand speaking. 

Heat burns in my veins, as my eyes lock on to Sukuna’s. 

Adrenaline pumps my blood fast, and all at once my instincts are screaming at me again. 

Run. Hide. Escape.

But I’m frozen. I can do nothing more than return his stare. Sukuna nods his chin in my direction while he says something to Toji. The fighter turns to look over his shoulder, and his sharp green eyes seek out mine. 

Oh fuck me. Fuck me sideways to hell and back.

The combined weight of their stares makes me tremble. Toji’s eyes light a path of fire as they dip to my legs and trail upwards along my body. His look is like a physical touch along my skin and it makes me shiver. My arousal drips out of me, and I press my thighs together tight. Sweat tickles my spine as it runs down my back. Toji turns back to Sukuna. He says something which makes Sukuna laugh, and my cheeks flush with heat and shame. 

They’re laughing at me. I’m certain of it.

What pricks.

My anger breaks me out of my trance, and I jolt back to life atop the shipping container. Shogo has begun packing up our things and stuffing it into his backpack, all while feverishly scrolling through the discord. 

I’m sure the live chat was going crazy after watching Toji Fushiguro brutally murder a man. 

I spring into action in a dull haze, helping Shogo pack the last of our things, before scaling down the ladder to the ground below. My body moves on autopilot.

“That was fucking insane,” Shogo says.

His thumbs are furiously flying across his keyboard, and I know his attention will be preoccupied for a while. 

“Yeah, that was crazy,” I agree. 

I’m surprised I can even speak, and that my voice sounds this strong.

“That wasn’t even a fight, that was a massacre,” Shogo continues, his voice filled with awe.

I hum in agreement. 

I was wrong before. Very wrong. Toji and Mahito were never evenly matched to begin with. 

“I don’t know about you, but I think I need a drink. Actually, scratch that. I know I need a drink. Several. You game?” 

I let out a hollow laugh. 

“Yeah, lead the way.”

“Yo, Shogo!” A voice calls out. 

We both turn towards a man jogging towards us. He has a shaved head and ink covering every visible inch of his dark skin. The piercings in his lip shine as he smiles at my friend. 

“Oh shit, Rocco! Good to see you, man. I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” Shogo smiles back. 

The two embrace, before Shogo turns back towards me. 

“This is my best friend y/n,” he introduces. 

Rocco nods his head in greeting, and his smile is warm and inviting. 

“Nice to meet you,” I say, while extending my hand out for him to shake. 

He takes it with a grip as warm as his smile. 

“Rocco. It’s a pleasure. Any friend of Shogo’s is a friend of mine,” he says before he turns back to Shogo. “Say, we’re all gonna go over to The Alley Cat. It’s a bar about two doors down that way. You tryin’ to grab drinks?” 

Shogo looks at me for approval, and I shrug. 

We were planning on getting drinks either way, and it didn’t matter to me who or where we got them from as long as they were strong.

“Yeah, sure, why not. We’re were just talking about it anyway,” Shogo agrees for the both of us. 

“Cool. If you wanna give me a second to grab my stuff, we can walk over there together,” Rocco says. 

We follow Rocco as he leads us to his things, and I can’t help but watch as the two boys animatedly talk over the details of the fight. I don’t mind stepping back from their conversation, as my brain still feels like it’s only operating at half-speed.

I blame that for the reason why I don’t realize he’s leading us back over to the VIP section until he’s stepping over the ropes. 

My heart pounds as the realization sets in, and my eyes frantically scan the crowd inside to look for that signature pink hair. 

I try everything in my power to ignore the sting of disappointment I feel when I realize he isn’t there.

[hunnysnoops]

₊˚｡⋆❆ 𝔹𝕦𝕣𝕟 𝔸𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖 ❆⋆｡˚₊

Chapter Two: Vanilla Baby

Kenny McCormick x fem reader

Pages after pages I write for me and no one else. Standing tall, no brick in the wall, I take care of myself. Fickle is as fickle does as solitary links. My, oh my, it's hard because she says just what she thinks

Also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Premise: Family dinner diverts a bit from what you’re used to.

Warnings: crude language and humour / EDNOS alluded

MASTERLIST

⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You reluctantly step out of the car into the crisp winter evening, your breath visible in the cold air. The restaurant in front of you is grand, its large windows glowing warmly against the dark night. You pull your coat tighter around you, wishing you could just stay in the comfort of your room with your dog and a nice playlist. But Todd had been pushing both you and your mother to come to the restaurant he frequented with his buddies from work.

As you walk through the heavy wooden doors, you're immediately greeted by a wave of warmth and the sound of clinking glasses and murmured conversations. The noise swallows you, making you feel even smaller and more out of place. Your mom gives you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder and leaves her hand to rest there.

Todd was already rambling, deep into a story about his day at work. "So, there I was, in the middle of this big presentation, and wouldn't you know it, the projector decided to quit on me!" he says, chuckling. "Had to wing it with just a whiteboard and a marker. Felt like I was back in school, you know? But hey, I think I nailed it!"

"I'm sure you did," Your mother smiles in return. The restaurant is beautiful, with chandeliers sparkling above and elegant decorations adding to the festive atmosphere. But all you can think about is how overwhelming it all feels, the lights dimmed to the point it could've been a nightclub.

Todd is still talking, his voice rising above the din of the restaurant. "And then, Jim, y'know, Nancy's husband- oh man, that guy's a character, he-" Todd cracks up in a laugh before even finishing his story "He said-" He tries to speak between his muffled giggles "He said 'did you hear about the guy who dipped his balls in glitter?' and I'm like 'no, what the heck, that's weird,' and then Jim says 'pretty nuts, right?'"

You weren't sure how your mom ever came about liking Todd, she was standoffish, albeit not as quiet as you. She always wrinkled her nose in distaste at loud and obnoxious people, and then she married one and was happier than she had ever been.

A hostess with a sleek black dress and a bright smile approaches, Todd breaks apart from you and your mother for a moment to speak to her, he's still stifling giggles as he does so. The hostess your group to a table near the center of the dining room. You cringe internally at the spot, feeling far too exposed for your liking.

You sit down and try to focus on the menu, though the unfamiliar dishes and elaborate descriptions only add to your stiffness. The menu is printed on heavy, cream-coloured paper, the kind that speaks of luxury and refinement. As you scan the options, your eyes widen at the prices. Everything is so expensive. The entrees are listed with descriptions that go on for several lines, each word seeming to add another dollar to the price.

"Jeez, enough about me," Todd finally caps off yet another story, turning his attention to you "How was your day, kiddo?"

"Good," you reply, glancing down at the menu.

"How was skating?" He asks and then lowers his voice, a little smile on his face while he raises a brow "How's Craig?"

"Oh, Craigs gay," Your mom gives him a little swat on the arm.

"Really? That's awesome," Todd does a little fist pump under the table "He's way nicer than that guy you were dating. What's his name? Y'know the one with the horse teeth."

"Spencer," Your mom fills in the blank and you feel the heat rise to your face, sinking deeper into your chair, lips pressed in a thin line.

"Yeah, Spencer. What an asshole." Todd mutters as he surveys the drink menu. "He was very ratty."

"Wouldn't be surprised if he was in that kitchen under a chef's hat."

Todd huffs a loud boisterous laugh, slapping his knee and wiping tears away from his eyes. With a shaky breath, he steadies himself and looks up at you through his brows "You're driving tonight."

"What?" Your heart picks up. Driving never came easy to you, it made you nervous. You had to go through driving school twice and take your N test three times before you were finally given a license, you thought that they let you pass out of pity.

"I'm drinking, your mom's drinking. Everyone's drinking except you,"

You don't say anything, eyes going wide as you look to your mom for confirmation.

"Yup, I'm getting wasted," She says, looking down at the wine selection "That's why we brought you."

"Not quite," Todd holds out a finger "Speak for yourself, I brought you for some quality family time and some thick juicy cuts of steak."

"Honey, you should get the tomahawk," Your mom murmurs leaning into Todd on their side of the table and pointing at her menu. "What are you getting?" Your mom asks to which you shrug.

"Did you paint your nails?" Todd looks up from his menu, you nod in return. He reaches across the table and grabs your hand, holding it up and inspecting your nail art skills, "Wow, pretty, right?"

"Very," Your mom smiles at the pair of you.

"Should I get this colour?" He asks your mom, comparing your hand to his own. He turns his attention to the waiter who now hovers by the table, Todd holds your hand up "What do you think?"

"Great colour," Kenny says with a smile, his voice smooth and professional, but with a hint of friendliness. Your face drops at the sight of him, eyes going wide like your roadkill caught in headlights. He's wearing a white button-up rolled up to his elbows, a black apron tied around his waist, and you can see the tattoo on his forearm that you never even knew existed. At first, you thought it to be a butterfly but on a second glance, you can see it's a moth with stars on the wings where spots should be. "Good to see you again, Todd."

"Likewise, Ken," He smiles, slinging an arm over your mom's shoulder "This is my gorgeous wife and my beautiful daughter, well step-daughter, same difference. They're pretty quiet but it's okay, I talk enough for the three of us." That statement was surely ringing true as he grinned brightly at Kenny. His voice is loud, and confident, and carries across the room, contrasting sharply with the quieter murmur of the surrounding conversations.

"You must have beat men off with a stick," Kenny grins at Todd, casting a brief glance at you.

"You'd think, right?" He laughs "She doesn't leave the house long enough for the boys to even see her!" Silently, you curse him. Your mom pinches her nose bridge, gently tapping Todd on the thigh as a signal to reel it in. "Anyways," Todd clears his throat "This is Kenny, best guy around."

It was moments like these you wished you wished that Todd wasn't so extroverted. While you thought it was sweet he and your mom balanced each other out and he always had good intentions, his mouth moved faster than his thoughts and he was never able to stop himself from talking at a mile a minute. "Thank you, thank you," Kenny tilts his head in the slightest "Can I start you off with something to drink?"

"Red wine please, malbec, if you don't have that then the merlot," Your mom gives him a thin-lipped smile.

"We do indeed have Malbec," Kenny jots it down onto his notepad and looks to Todd "Let me guess, soma?"

Just when you think it isn't possible for Todd to smile anymore, he does "What did I tell you?" His gaze flicks between you and your mom "Best guy around, he knows me."

"I try," Then, Kenny turns to you, and you can feel your cheeks heating up. "And for you?" he asks, his eyes meeting yours.

You look down at the menu, your mind racing. "Um, water, please," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kenny nods, scribbling it down. "Alright, I'll get those right out for you."

When Kenny retreats back to the server station by the bar to fill in your orders your mom nudges Todd "Can you calm down a bit? you're embarrassing her."

"Me?" Todd asks, looking at you with a hand pressed flat over his heart. Todd chuckles. "Kenny doesn't care! he's a good kid. Plays hockey, works hard. And he's cute, right?" Clearly, you had underestimated how close Todd was to the staff here. You would've thought he had known Kenny for years but in reality, he was just an overly friendly regular.

You bury your face in your hands, wishing you could disappear. "Please, stop."

"Someone's blushing," Todd leans over and pokes your shoulder. "You got a crush?" You quickly shake your head, no. Todd waves you off "You go to the same rink, y'know?" He sits up like a brilliant idea just brushed his mind "You should be friends with him!"

Just as a deer might freeze at the slightest rustle of leaves, you tense at the unexpected words as the conversation turns toward you. Your eyes, wide and panicked, dart around nervously, searching for an escape route or a safe place to retreat and silently pleading that he doesn't push the conversation further.

"Honey, you know she doesn't make friends easily, she can't just become buddies with the waiter," Your mom says. It seemed like every word that came from their mouths was worse than the last. If you were loud enough you might scream from frustration.

"I know but it doesn't hurt to try," He says "How did the brownies go at school? Did everyone like them?"

"Todd, she's almost an adult, not a child." Your mom answers for you "Brownies don't make friendships in high school."

"Why not?" He asks "Everyone loves brownies, if someone gave me a brownie, we would be friends right away. Make twenty brownies and you have twenty new friends."

"She has Craig, and I'm happy with that. Just be glad she isn't crawling the streets with junkies and shooting up heroin."

"Okay," Todd raises his hands in defence "I'm glad."

Kenny comes back to the table, placing your drinks down in front of each of you. Your mom wastes no time in reaching for her glass and taking a sip. "So, how's figure skating going?" he asks casually, surprising you as he places your father's beer down.

Your heart skips a beat. "Fine," You mumble. Your parents look at you expectantly "Uh, how's hockey?"

"Pretty good," he says with a smile. "Got a tournament coming up so there's extra practice on the table."

Your mom and Todd exchange amused glances, clearly noticing the exchange. Todd grins. "Ah, so you two know each other from the rink, huh? Small world."

"Yeah," Kenny says, still looking at you. "She gave me some pointers the other day, she's really good."

"Why didn't I hear about this?" Your mom asks with a smile though there's something brewing in her eyes that tells you that you'll be discussing this later. You answer her with a brief shrug.

"Are we ready to order dinner?" Kenny breaks the unspoken tension between you and your mom.

"I'll have the grilled salmon with lemon butter sauce," she says, handing her menu back to Kenny. "And could I get a side of roasted vegetables with that, please?"

"Absolutely," Kenny replies, jotting down the order. "And for you, sir?" he asks, turning to Todd.

Todd grins, clearly enjoying the interaction. "I think I'll go for the tomahawk steak, medium rare," he says. "With a side of garlic mashed potatoes and sautéed spinach."

"Great choice," Kenny says, his pen moving swiftly across the notepad. "And for you?" He looks at you, his smile softening as he meets your eyes.

Frantically, you scan the menu again, searching for the cheapest thing. You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just the garden salad, please."

"Any protein in that?" He asks "We've got chicken, salmon, kidney beans, goat cheese, edamame, tofu, prosciutto, mozzarella, tuna, shrimp."

"No, thank-

"Yes," Todd cuts you off "You need to eat more, you're an athlete. Do you remember what I told you about lean proteins?" He says "Can you throw some chicken in there?"

Kenny looks to you for confirmation "Do you want chicken in your salad."

"Sure," You press your lips into a thin line and hand him your menu.

"That's my girl," Todd nods, taking a swig of his beer. Todd decides to take his teasing to a new level. "You know, Kenny," he starts, leaning back in his chair with a grin and motions for Kenny to come closer. Kenny leans down slightly to hear Todd "My daughter thinks you are SO cute."

You freeze, eyes shooting to avoid making contact with anyone at the table face carefully blank and growing hot. Kenny looks momentarily surprised, but then a wide, amused grin spreads across his face. "Is that so?" he asks, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief as he looks at you.

Your mom chuckles, trying to smooth things over but clearly enjoying the moment. "Todd, that's enough."

You sink lower in your seat, wishing you had faked an illness and were curled up under your duvet. Kenny, however, seems to be enjoying every second of your embarrassment. He leans slightly closer, his grin never faltering. "Well, I'm flattered," he says softly. "I'll go get your orders in," he says, though his eyes linger on you a moment longer. "But I'll be around if you need anything else."

"Why did you say that?" You exasperate, keeping your voice hushed "You were the only one who called him cute and you're a fifty-year-old man."

"You need to face these things head-on sometimes," Todd says, his tone light-hearted though you felt heavier than you had ever been "You can't just put your headphones in and run off to hide somewhere-

"I'm going to the bathroom," you say abruptly, pushing yourself from the chair and begin navigating your way through the tables. As the initial embarrassment from Todd's comment hits you like a wave, you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. The friendly chatter around you fades into the background, and your heart starts to race.

"Oh," Todd raises his eyebrows in slight surprise "I stand corrected."

You catch Kenny's eyes while fleeing the scene, he looks at you and opens his mouth to speak but for once you beat him to it "Imsosososososorrypleaseignoremyparentshesmakingthingsupthanks." You say so fast that he doesn't even process the words and in the blink of an eye you're gone.

Once inside, you lock the door behind you and lean against the cool tile wall, taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself. The soft hum of the restaurant is muffled here, giving you a brief respite from the chaos of your thoughts. You start to pace back and forth, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

Why did Todd have to say that? You run your hands through your hair, feeling the frustration and embarrassment bubbling up.

You replay the moment in your mind, cringing at the memory of Todd's teasing and Kenny's amused grin. Pacing around the small bathroom, you try to calm your racing thoughts. You focus on your breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, willing your heart to slow down. Despite your best efforts, the blush remains stubbornly on your cheeks.

It's not that you don't like Kenny. In fact, the opposite is true, and that's what makes it all the more overwhelming. His clear advances in days prior- it's all too much to handle at once.

You stop pacing and lean against the sink, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks are still flushed, your eyes wide and uncertain. You splash some cold water on your face, hoping it will help cool you down both physically and emotionally.

Had you been on your own, you wouldn't be worked up. That's how you liked it. Everything was easier when you were able to cut out what you didn't want but Todd's boisterous laughter was ringing through your head like a fork shoved into a blender.

Everything was embarrassing; Todd's rushed and unthoughtful comments, your mom's reminders to quiet down, and your reaction to all of it were only making it worse. You compose yourself the way you would a song or a speech, trying to remember who you were away from all of this humiliation.

You had been hiding in the bathroom far longer than you would've liked, to the point your mom was texting you to see if you were okay. You look back up at yourself in the mirror, giving a little thumbs up before pushing the door open and navigating back to your table.

As you return to the table, you find Kenny already there, the food has been dropped off and he's chatting easily with your mom and Todd. He's standing with a confident, relaxed posture, his smile bright and engaging. It's clear that your parents are thoroughly charmed by him.

"-and that's how I managed to get the puck into the net at the last second," Kenny is saying, finishing up a story. "It was a wild game."

Your mom laughs, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "That sounds amazing, Kenny. You must be a great hockey player."

Kenny chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck modestly. "I try my best."

Todd nods appreciatively. "That's the spirit. Teamwork makes all the difference. So, how do you balance hockey with school and work? That must be a lot to handle."

Kenny shrugs with a smile. "It keeps me busy, but I like it that way. Plus, it teaches me discipline and time management. And honestly, I enjoy all of it."As you take your seat, Kenny's eyes flicker to you, and he gives you a subtle, knowing smile. "Welcome back," he says warmly.

Todd, not missing a beat, leans forward with a grin. "You know, Kenny here was just telling us about his plans after high school. Sounds like he's got a bright future ahead."

"Oh?" you say, trying to sound casual "What are your plans?"

Kenny's smile widens as he looks at you. "I'm hoping to get a hockey scholarship. I've been talking to a few colleges, and things are looking promising."

Your mom claps her hands together, delighted. "That's incredible, you must be so excited."

"I am," Kenny admits, his gaze steady on yours. "But it's also a bit nerve-wracking. There's a lot of pressure, you know?" Kenny then shifts the conversation smoothly, including your parents again. "But enough about me. How about you all? Do you have any holiday plans?"

Todd laughs. "Just the usual family gatherings. Lots of food, lots of noise. You know how it is."

"Sounds like fun," Kenny says genuinely. "Family time is the best, especially during the holidays."

"Do you have a big family?"

"I do but I don't see them much, my older brother moved out and my sister lives in another city."

"That's too bad," Todd frowns exaggeratedly "Well, I hope you visit them."

"Yeah, as much as I can," He says, glancing around the restaurant "I really should check on my other tables but I will be around if you need anything at all."

You tune out of the conversation entirely, picking at your salad while Todd asks you questions before he answers them himself. "Why do you think it's called New Zealand? Was there an old Zealand or just Zealand?" He laughs "I'm just being silly."

The anxiety from earlier lingers at the edges of your mind, making it hard to fully enjoy the evening that you weren't fond of from the beginning. Your parents are engrossed in their conversation, Todd animatedly discussing a recent project at work while your mom listens attentively. You stay quiet, letting their voices wash over you as you try to push through the discomfort.

As you spear a leaf of crisp lettuce with your fork, your appetite feels as elusive as a whisper in the wind. Each bite is a struggle, the vegetables seeming to lose their crispness and flavour as soon as they touch your tongue. Your appetite had been curved by everything around you.

You try to force yourself to eat, pushing the fork through the salad. But each bite feels like a chore, the act of chewing becoming laborious and unenjoyable. Swallowing becomes a challenge, the food seeming to stick in your throat despite your efforts to wash it down with sips of water between each bite.

Your mom casts you a long glance, her eyebrows drawn in and lips downturned as she watches you place your fork down and push the remainder of your meal away, she bookmarks this little moment and decides to table it for another time.

Todd absolutely ravages his steak, tearing into the meat like a wild animal devouring what it could without knowing when it would eat again. You fought the urge to gag, instead turning your attention to your mom who elegantly sliced off bits of her salmon.

Just as you think the meal is winding down, Todd claps his hands together with a grin. "Alright, what do you say we order some dessert for the table? Can't leave this place without trying something sweet!"

Todd signals Kenny over, who arrives promptly with that ever-present smile. "Sounds like you're ready for dessert."

You immediately shake your head "No-

"You need to eat more," Todd says "Eat, eat, eat," He tries to create a little chant which your mom thankfully doesn't join in on. After silence falls over the table at his failed attempt to start a rally he clears his throat "Two chocolate lava cames and one tiramisu for the wife. This one bakes all the freaking time so she's a bit of a dessert connoisseur," He points at you and tilts his head.

A few minutes later, he returns with the desserts. The rich and enticing chocolate lava cake appears to have a molten centre just waiting to be found. The tiramisu is exquisitely layered, featuring creamy mascarpone and delicate ladyfingers dipped in espresso.

Kenny places the desserts on the table, but when he sets down the chocolate lava cake in front of you, you notice something extra. Right next to your dessert, on the edge of the plate, is a dollop of whipped cream shaped into a smiley face. You couldn't keep a straight face, your lips curved just the slightest though it doesn't go unnoticed by Kenny.

[intheshadows2000s]

Oh! Darling

Co workers? More? Who knows…

WARNINGS: 18+, smut

Part ONE

You walked through the halls with a pep in your step and a warm, steaming coffee in your hand. You loved it after the autumn half term, when you'd come back to bare trees on campus and a certain chill in the air that contradicted the bright sun. You loved winter mornings and this one was particularly sensational, the leaves had crunched beneath your feet as you'd walked in, the cold had bitten at your red raw cheeks, the scarf around your neck felt cosy and undeniably warm. The corridor smelt musty from the radiators that were on their first shift of the year, and damp shoes squeaked against varnished wood floors. Something about this time of year just felt so....joyous. The period before Christmas, when everybody was looking forward to something, everybody was letting a little looser, getting a little softer around their bellies. It felt so wholesome, it nearly made you cry.

But you couldn't cry in this setting.

It was your first semester on the job. So far you'd been doing exceptionally well and as far as you knew, your students liked and trusted you enough. You'd worked for years to master your craft, enough to be here and responsible for helping younger, inspired students to do the same. Maybe that's what made you so joyous or maybe you just romanticised life. But either way, you were happy.

The lecture hall was empty. You were the first there, hoping to get everything set up in time for the students arriving. You pulled your laptop out and switched the projector on, bringing up your carefully conducted PowerPoint. You found joy in the little things, like perfection, organisation. Having your notes before you made your head feel less stuffy despite how early it was, and how your nerves had kept you up all night. You set up a list of names so you wouldn't forget any of the students, despite there being over fifty of them in this class. Everything had to be done perfectly, or you'd have a meltdown.

The door creaked open just as you'd finished your ritual and picked up your coffee. You peered over in intrigue, wondering what eager beaver has arrived fifteen minutes in advance. But when a familiar face pops around the door, you feel your own cheeks heat.

Professor Turner is much more established than you, not just in the university but also in your specific subject. He's only a few years your senior, but with his cashmere jumpers and fluffy, plump hair, you'd think he'd been curated specifically to be a middle-aged literature professor. His brown eyes matched the colour of his jumper today, a white shirt peeking out the top of it stark against his slightly tanned skin. Usually, he was pale as translucent paper. He must of gone on holiday during the break, you thought. In one hand he held his briefcase, cracked brown leather that looked decades old even though he could've only been in this job for a few years at most. In his other hand a steaming mug of coffee and the door wedging into his knuckles as he tried to push it open. His pointed black boots were partially hidden by his long flared trousers and also fighting with the door for it to remain open. No matter how good he was at his job, he always seemed to be in a rush, unorganised and dismayed at any time of day. You watched as he eventually won his battle with the door, managing to open it enough to slide in fully, a small sigh of relief escaping his lips before his gaze settled on you and he stalled entirely.

It was almost comical. He resembled a deer in headlights as he looked at you, but the shock soon faded and replaced it was inquisitiveness.

"Oh hello," he said, his deep voice echoing off the walls. You both winced as if it was too early for such a bold sound. He sounded gruff and hard done by, as always. And if you were honest....he scared you a little.

Everyone else in the faculty had been so welcoming, it was only him that held back, reserved and unforgiving. You tried to talk to him in your first week at a mixer and he might as well have told you to do one with how little he engaged. You decided then that he kept to himself and you wouldn't be one to disturb his peace, and you'd avoided him ever since.

"Do you have this room booked?"

"Yes," you squeaked and winced and blushed, the whole thing resembling some bad nineties caricature. The mug in your hands scalded your skin, but you were too cautious to move.

"Shit - sorry," he groaned, the briefcase hand coming up to bat away a falling piece of bouncy brown hair, "I thought I had it. Still....recovering from the break."

"It's fine," you smiled. Civil and polite was okay. Anything beyond that and you'd be buffering like a bad internet connection. You shuffled a sheet, pretending to look busy even as he remained at the door.

His stress was palpable, you could feel the tension and inner turmoil rolling off of him in waves of discomfort. The beautiful, dewy morning vibe you'd carried in from the outside melted away like snow under a boiling hot summer sun with each and every moment he stood there.

You sneaked another peek at him, looking puzzled and lost in thought - his brown eyes were wide and dark as he gazed into the ground like it might magically swallow him and spit him out where he needs to be.

"I saw on the Sharepoint that you're in room 23," you called out. He jolted like your tongue was lightening and it had struck him from across the room. Even his hair bounced with the motion, and you felt laughter bubbling in your chest at how away with the fairies he seemed.

"Ah right," he smiles, regaining his sense, he shifts again and prepares to leave. You watch him turn, the muscles in his back flexing from how much he's carrying and trying to balance. But before he can start another battle with the door, he suddenly turns. You look away quickly, but not quick enough that he wouldn't have noticed your stare. If your cheeks heat anymore, you might just burn to ashes right before him.

"That's really....it's good that you check the schedule. I always forget," his breathy voice sounds out and imitates one of awe. But surely something that simple shouldn't be that mesmerising....right?

"Seems like you're doing well here."

"Thank you," you grin. If there's one way to loosen you up, it's praise for your work. Your only passion. Your only hobby. Your only....anything.

He nods, lips thinning into one of those classically awkward British smiles before he turns again and leaves the room. The vibe settles back to how it was before; quiet, mundane in that beautiful early morning kind of way. You felt at ease then but now you just feel a little dull. But the students will be here soon, and that will all be amended.

The first week is far more harrowing than you'd anticipated. The beautiful frosty mornings you'd been so pleased about had crossed the boundary and turned into snow, which was rather inconvenient to drive in, and meant half or more of the students didn't even bother to come in. The sun has barely made an appearance and your coffee machine is broken, so you've been tired all week. But this....has to be the worst of it all.

"Fuck," you mutter, turning the key again, your foot pressed hard on the gas. You don't know what you aim to achieve, if the car won't even ignite, you doubt it will start speeding based on the pressure of your foot alone - but you try nonetheless.

Your hands lay on the wheel, the frost has bitten into your skin enough to turn them that weird blend of red and blue but not quite purple. You can barely feel them but you grip as if your life depends on it.

It's past six and you'd stayed until it had stopped snowing, but that was maybe a bad idea. Now it was pitch black and only one other car remained in the car park, and you had no idea whose it could be. Your apartment was a ten minute drive that stretched into a harrowing thirty minute walk and you didn't have gloves, or a hat to keep you warm. The inches thick snow was bad enough without car trouble to top it all off.

You sat back into the leather seat with a hefty sight, looking up to the felt ceiling like God himself would be plastered across it waiting to comply to your commands.

You were so immersed in the dream that something, anything good would happen - that you didn't register the person approaching your car. As they knocked on the window, you jolted in your seat with a silent scream that had your mouth open wide. You turned almost defensively, only to see that it was Mr. Turner peering through the window. You relaxed, though your quickened breaths were embarrassingly more apparent in the cool air, coming out smoky and obvious to your fear. Nonetheless, you rolled down your window.

"You okay? I saw you were revving out here," he pointed towards the car, the smoke pooling out of the cracks of the bumper indication enough that there was some sort of malfunction.

"Yeah I think the snow has messed it up," you roll your eyes, "but I'll just call AA. Thank you for the concern though."

"It's really cold out here you know," he trembled as if to emphasise that fact, dressed in a red woolly scarf and a matching hat, he almost looked cute if you dare say, "if it's not starting your heating won't work."

"Right....I'll be okay, I'm sure they won't take long!" you were trying to maintain some positivity but if he continued standing there stating the obvious, it wouldn't last very long. The irritation bubbling in your chest kept rising higher and higher, at some point it was going to come spitting out.

"They'll probably be ages," he said, and your lips grew tight, the smile quickly turning into something sinister as you bit your tongue and he continued, "loads of cars will have issues, what with the snow...."

"Thanks Mr. Turner, I'll be fine."

You start to do up your window but he refuses to move his fingers, covered in blood red coloured gloves that differ slightly to the tone of his scarf and hat. You briefly wonder how he could stand something so imperfect. It wouldn't be hard to just...get the same colour, would it? Distracted enough, you miss his next comment. When you come back to as he softly calls your name, you catch his downturned warm-toned eyes that mean to make you melt.

"Come and get in my car while you wait."

"Oh....no it's fine," you wave off, "like you said, they'll be ages so I wouldn't....it wouldn't be right for you to be, you know, waiting around for ages."

He smiled, tiny lines forming with the crinkle of his skin from the motion. You try to ignore the warmth in it, the way your heart pounds beneath your ribcage. It's ridiculous really, you don't even really like him. Or know him, even. But despite that, he's attractive. You're just a woman, after all.

"It's fine love," he says, his northern accent somehow amplifying the cosiness of the scene, you suddenly feel like you're in some rom-com and he's the sexy hunk to save the day. Or this could be a horror movie and he's the weird virgin who murders you in his car. Either way.

"Promise I have nowhere to be. Don't want you freezing up out here."

"I can order a taxi-"

"Miss Richards," he cuts you off, his voice parallel to a whine of some sort, making your lips upturn and your heart palpitate, "it really is no bother. Even if you order a taxi, please do it in my car. It's bloody freezing arguing with you out here!"

You laugh, finally agreeing. He waits for you at the passenger side while you grab your phone and keys. When you reach him, you note how prepared he's come for the occasion. He almost looks like some Slovenian war hero, with his fluffy hat and thick velvet coat, the neckline big and furry, swallowing his small figure whole. But despite how lean he is, he still stands a few inches taller than you. The biggest thing about him has to be his presence alone, the way you feel your knees weaken and your ankles wobble just being near him and that criminally watchful gaze.

"Just that one...." he points to the only car and you bite back a sarcastic comment. He is being nice after all, and you wouldn't want to push your luck. A week ago you wouldn't have put it past him to leave you shivering out here in nothing but a g-string. But maybe his first impression wasn't all he was. Maybe you should give him a chance to redeem himself as a good colleague.

His car is vintage and smells like leather and old spice. Unlike your car where you have gum, old pennies and hairbands in your cup holder area, Alex's is bare of anything. The car is spotless to the point you don't even want to put your shoes on the mat of the passenger seat, just in case a flicker of dirt comes off and ruins the otherwise perfect suede. You even debate asking him if he'd like you to take them off entirely but decide against it when you remember the pink polka dot coloured socks you'd hastily shoved on this morning. Definitely not the best look.

The only thing that alluded to any personality was a little monkey hanging on the rear view mirror. It was caramel brown and swung with every small movement that was made in the car. The label still clung to its ear, stating its rather cheap price. You had the urge to poke it, catching sight of its smiling stitched face, but you felt his eyes on you and refrained from such a childish act.

"By the way my name is Alex," he said, fiddling with the heating. The sound blares through the car, loud and obnoxious to the conversation he'd clearly been trying to create. You giggle and he blushed, hiding his own smile as he turns it down a little. It still buzzes in the background but at least now you can hear yourself think and you're warm.

"Samantha," you hold your hand out, he takes it. His own are warm, not that you can feel his skin directly as he still has them stupidly thick, offensively red gloves on. He pulls them off swiftly after you drop hands.

A tension fills the car soon after. Alex looks before him rather than at you, while you try to sort out a car service on your phone. But the website alone says they're overridden with requests and unless it's urgent, they likely won't get to it till tomorrow. You sigh, your head rolling back against the rest. This is not how you wanted to spend Friday night.

"I'm going to book an Uber, seems as if they won't be able to prioritise this until tomorrow morning."

"Right...." Alex swallows, watching you open the app and search for an Uber. They don't come frequently around these parts despite it being a university. The town you live in is small, more of a village and the outskirts are where the university sits. The taxi drivers would've booked off the night and Ubers could take hours. You're clearly worried about that, the prominent frown on your brow and your lip caught between your teeth would say so, but your eyes remain reassured when you glance at him.

"I could drive you home."

"Oh no....its okay," you wave off.

"Right," Alex puts his key in the ignition, not giving you another moment to protest, another word to bounce back. He's not leaving you out here in the cold, alone just so some weirdo can drive you home for triple the usual price, when his car is perfectly fine and you're much safer with him. It's logical in both of your minds, yet he never feels the need to express it and you don't argue.

"What were you doing around so late anyway?" Alex sparks up a conversation a minute into the drive. You'd been pondering out of the window about the cost of service and your probably damaged car. Upon hearing his voice you glance to him, his eyes darting to yours and back to the road quickly, as if he's embarrassed to even be talking.

"Trying to ignore the worst of it," you admit, "but that seems to be useless. Never again."

He chuckles, "you're from the south right?"

"Right...."

"Probably not that used to the snow are you?"

"Not really. I'm from London, so....just grey....rain....you know."

"Mhm."

"What about you?" your question comes after a few moments of silence, where his observation creates a space to overthink in your brain. Of course, your accent is very southern, unlike his and the rest of the people around you who are all northern. It's not like he's found out some top secret piece of information and yet your brain....your built in romanticism, finds something endearing about him noticing.

"Pretty used to it these days, always snows in here so...."

"No I mean what were you doing here?" you chuckle, his mouth falls open in a little laugh at the misunderstanding and for the first time in his presence, you relax.

"Oh right....well I like working in peace. When no one is there. Helps me focus."

"You do it often?" you're intrigued. You've only ever seen him rushing around, his hair messy, papers in his hands, expression conveying nothing but panic. You can't imagine him in peace....not at all.

"Mhm."

He makes it clear that's the most you're getting out of him. As you pull up to your road, you breathe a sigh of relief. The apartment building that usually makes you squirm in the daylight, in all its grey, blocky glory - has never looked so inviting. You can practically feel the warmth of the shower, the soft linen of your sheets, the feathers caressing your head in your pillow.

"Thank you Alex," you say when he pulls over, the car coming to an abrupt halt. The streets are empty and the sky is jet black, yet the world looks bright and wonderful with the pristine white snow covering the usually cracked and dull pavements. Even if you can't stand the snow sometimes, you have to admit that it's beautiful.

"Okay."

You smile, feeling your skin prickle from the awkwardness. A beat passes before you even move and you even ponder asking him in for a tea to warm him up. But his agitated expression suggests he's ready to leave and you fear the suggestion of your words might lead him to get ideas. So instead you thank him again before leaving the car, your bags a burden to bear as you try to navigate through the snow in high heeled boots without making an utter fool of yourself.

The snow clears up by Monday but your car, unfortunately, is still in the garage. The technician had waffled on about something being wrong with the oil, and you'd all but waved it off and told him to call you when it was done.

That meant this morning you had to get the bus to the university. You felt like some adolescent stood at the bus stop, your bags heavy on your tired shoulders, your heels hurting despite it only being minutes into the day. The sky was grey and the drizzle of rain that consistently fell fooled you into thinking you wouldn't need a coat. But it was that annoying rain that dampened your body quickly without you even noticing. Before long you were shivering, wet and feeling sorry for yourself as you awaited the only bus of the hour - running twenty minutes late, might you add.

You're near enough ready to cry when a car pulls up to the bus stop. It's familiar but you don't recognise it at first. It had been dark the last time, you'd not taken any notice of the tanned colour of it. But it seemed fitting nonetheless, that when the window would roll down, behind it would be Alex.

"I'm guessing your car isn't fixed?"

"Nope," you smile at him, crossing your arms over your chest to hide the outline of your bra. Because yes, you wore a white shirt and the rain had made it transparent. It had been so long since you'd had to walk anyway, or stand in the rain voluntarily, that you hadn't even thought about the repercussions.

"Jump in," he nodded to the passenger seat. You couldn't help but wonder if this was his usual route. You'd never seen his car before, one you'd surely remember for its uniqueness. But you shook away those thoughts at the same time as shaking your head in response.

"Oh no, don't worry I'm sure-"

A heavy sigh left his lips, his eyes growing dull with boredom as he thinned them at you, "are we going to do this every time? Just get in Samantha."

It was the first time you'd heard your name roll off his tongue, in that slurred northern accent. You nearly shivered, this time not from the damp staining your veins, but from the bass of it reverberating through you. The way it rolled off his tongue seemed precise, practised, as if he'd been saying it, regarding you, his whole life. It was such a silly thing to get het up over and yet you felt the bulbs of your cheeks grow hot, the tips of your fingers tingle. And if it weren't for his words, you'd probably rush to the passenger side anyway, just to hide the blush you were sure would be forming.

"I promise I'm not usually this unorganised," you reassured him as if you owed it to him, pulling the seatbelt over your frame and wrapping your coat further around you to avoid flashing him the pretty lingerie you had on beneath the now useless shirt.

"Mhm."

He said that a lot.

It was starting to grate on you. What did it mean? Did he just not want to speak to you? Or was it something else? Something teasing? If he didn't want to speak to you, surely you must seem pathetic enough to pick up on the side of the road and then not even bother having a conversation with. The thought made you cringe, you didn't bother saying another word.

He pulled up to the university and you crawled out of the car, trying to regain some semblance of order to what had quickly become a mess of your morning. You thanked him with nothing more than a civil smile before proceeding ahead, looking at the same trees on the way that you'd been in awe of the other day - but they just looked thin and dull now. The students that you'd been excited to see buzzing around the corridors with unmatched ambition now just got in your way and made you huff all the more. Your hands remained cold without your coffee warming them up. And the slippery varnish wood of the floor seemed more like a hazard than something to appreciate. It was hard to keep positive when everything seemed to be going wrong, and you couldn't get anything right. Not even a conversation.

Your car was fixed by Tuesday morning, which you were extremely grateful for. You'd practically ran to get the bus on time the evening prior, if only to avoid another tense silence with Alex, who clearly hated you. You'd seen him in the hallway twice yesterday and tried to offer a smile but he merely looked through you like you didn't exist, like all he could see before him was a blank canvas, no substance, nothing valuable.

It annoyed you to no end, but today was an open day and you wouldn't let it dampen your spirit enough to put the possible future students off. It was you and Alex representing your course. Him the classical literature, you the modern. You stood on different tables with the programmes laid before you. You'd added some cakes and university themed badges to your table, and the cloth you'd put underneath represented the colours of the school. Alex just had the programmes and forgot to even get a cloth. But meticulously placed beside the programmes, was one singular book.

Pride & Prejudice.

Maybe that's why he was so....pretentious. He reads pretentious literature. You should have known. You secretly love that book but who flaunts it like it's some kind of success to be aware of such a classic. You scoff internally, leaning back in your seat ready to welcome the students.

They pile in and take their interests, you can't help but wonder how Alex could possibly be any good at representing something. And yet....he gets far more attention than you. You get a few stragglers, more interested in the cookies than your pitch and their eyes growing glassy with each and every word that left your lips. Alex got lingering students with bright eyes, all ears and all he had to offer were passages from a depressing novel. What the fuck!

You were fuming. Had you of been a cartoon, smoke probably would've been pouring from your ears as you packed your things away, a mere few programmes from your pile of twenty gone. You slammed one on top of the other with a loud smack sounding out across the otherwise silent room. Everybody else had left bar the two of you, you remained ignorant to his gaze even if it lingered for several moments.

"The problem...."

You jolt again. He loves to do that when you least expect it. When you're finally finding some peace, or even just wallowing in self pity like now - he just needs to fill the space with something unwarranted. Your expression sours as you continue your movements, but he seems intent on having you listen, moving over to the edge of the table, close enough that you can smell that familiar scent of old spice, mixed with something unique....some sort of fruity washing powder and a hint of smoke. It was him. The same scent his car had, he carried around. It wasn't unpleasant but in light of your annoyance it felt suffocating, it felt like a point to be proven and you weren't in the mindset to deal with self-righteousness or broken conversations.

"The problem is that you're too enthusiastic," he sighs, his hand sprawling out over the programme to halt your pace. You look up at him through thick, black coated lashes with a glint in your eye that he ignores for now, "these are kids. They're seventeen. They know that their lectures aren't going to be jam packed with fun. It's best to be real with them, tell them it will be hard but it also will be worth it."

"I didn't-"

"It's not fun Samantha. No one finds school fun. They aren't stupid," the disappointment blending with condescension, makes your skin crawl and your head thump. You're going red for an entirely different reason now, your knuckles turning white from how hard you're gripping the thick card of the programmes, ready to tear it up, ready to start a fight.

"I found school fun," you weakly protest, anything else coming up short when your eyes meet and his swirl with something you can't decipher. Maybe it's sorrow. Maybe he really does think you're stupidly naive and far too happy for realness in this world. Regardless, it rids you of your own ability to speak.

Alex scoffs, "yes well, that doesn't surprise me. You seem like a good girl."

You don't know whether he intends for it to sound so....suggestive but the silence that follows makes it appear that way and yet he never tries to fill it. Instead, he continues staring into you, gauging your reaction to the cheekiness behind that sentence.

"Why don't you like me?"

You splutter it out before you can stop yourself. The teasing glint in Alex's eyes disappears and his hand drops from the table, where the tip of his finger had been dancing just seconds prior. You want him to be playful again, but you can't waste time chatting to someone who constantly makes you feel like a nuisance.

"Sure I like you," his voice runs an octave higher, the classic signs of a lie. He avoids your eye, his hair hiding his own as he bows his head, fiddling with his hands like a toddler in trouble. You raise your eyebrows and cross your arms with a newfound confidence you know won't last long.

"It doesn't seem like it."

"Well....I don't know what to....what do you want me to say?" he stumbles over his words, his usual persona of a hard done by, socially awkward professor coming back into play before you've even drawn a breath.

"I just....you always say 'mhm', like you don't care what I'm saying. And at the mixer you didn't want to talk to me. And at the-"

"I think you're pretty."

"What?"

You gawped at him, your jaw practically on the floor. It was such a sudden, rushed bunch of words that it took you about a minute to comprehend they'd left his mouth. He stood, staring at you, his cheeks a rosy pink and his eyes shifty. You could tell he hadn't really expected to say it either, his chest that had been rising and falling steadily, now was heaving quickly. His eyes were as wide as ever but filled with fear, the fear that he'd overstepped, clearly.

"I....er....yeah...."

"You think that I'm pretty?" you repeat, more so to yourself. Alex grimaces, his head falling into his open palms with a groan that feels realer than anything he's ever done.

"Alex...."

"Yeah...." he lifts his head up, now glowing a deep red. You feel bad for him but a little part of you, okay, a huge part of you, is also flattered by his admission. The brashness of it somehow makes it feel more valuable, as if he couldn't help but say those words. As if he was willing to embarrass himself in order to prove that he liked you, because he didn't know how else to do so.

"Yeah....I'm sorry," he shook his head, his eyebrows fading into his eyes as he frowned, one big brown blob of annoyance, you assume at himself, "that was....I probably shouldn't have...."

You remain silent. In some ways you want to watch him squirm, it's doing wonders for your ego seeing him be the one fumbling for words. In other ways, you simply don't know what to say. Should you say you think he's pretty too? Or would that seem inauthentic now that he's just admitted it? Should you kiss him? Does it even mean he wants that or is it just an observation?

"Fuck," he hissed to himself, "I'm gonna go."

"Wait - Alex!"

But he was already gone, scurrying out of the room in a blur of black and white and brown. The door slammed shut behind him and amplified the silence, it bounced off the walls and made your ears ring, but you were now entirely in your head. You glanced around as if you'd been floating in space throughout the whole interaction, realising now that there were still things to do around here. He'd left behind some programmes and a few papers, but nothing that looked important. Still, if it gave you a reason to speak to him tomorrow, it was worth taking. With a sigh, you packed everything away, knowing full well you'd barely sleep with that admission so prominent in your mind.

The next day, you can tell he's avoiding you. Even if he doesn't speak to you usually, you see him in the corridors frequently. You work in the same sector. Sometimes you'll be making a coffee and he'll be at the table, mindlessly crunching on cereal. Other times you'll brush past him when you're both rushing to classes. Sometimes you catch him taking out books in the library when you are. But today....no sign of him at all. And you know he's in, because you would be his cover if he wasn't.

By lunchtime, you can't hold back any longer. You'd spent all night thinking about his words, just like you'd anticipated. You thought he was good looking too, but he barely spoke to you and this wasn't primary school. Either he just thought it and it ended there, or he should make more effort. But either way, you refuse to tread on eggshells around him just because he spluttered something out like a pimply, awkward teenager.

You hear the faint sound of him calling you in from behind his office door, and as your hand caresses the doorknob, you take a deep breath.

You find him hunched over his desk, one hand scribbling furiously, the other caught in his thick brown waves atop his head, fingers twined with the strands. You couldn't see his gaze but you could already tell by his posture alone that he was tense, and maybe it had nothing to do with you. But you wanted to help nonetheless.

"Alex."

He looked up, your voice raising alarm bells in his mind. He maintained his composure this time, his expression giving nothing away - just a placid, blank canvas that you would have to paint on to get anything valuable out of.

"I think you're fit too."

It wasn't what you had planned to say. You were supposed to sit down, lay down the laws and admit you weren't even sure if this was appropriate at work. But in light of his honey coloured eyes darkening by the second, in light of the cramped space and how you could smell him, how he invaded your senses without even touching you, even looking at you. They had just slipped.

"Right."

"And I guess....maybe you should kiss me."

"Here?"

"Yeah. Here."

Alex nodded and stood. His movements were slow, languid and drawn out. You felt on edge, still pinned to the door like it was your only lifeline. He made his way over to you and it seemed every step he took, his eyes grew darker and his hands became shakier. You backed yourself away from him as if you hadn't just asked for exactly this until there was no further steps to take and he was right in front of you.

"I don't think this is the sexiest way to go about a kiss," Alex muttered, his hand coming out to rest on your jaw. His touch felt sensual, but rough all the same. His thumb was calloused, you wondered why very briefly before your mind short circuited back to the moment. He swiped it over your bottom lip, dragging the supple flesh with it and let it bounce back into place. That sight alone made his own eyes flash with desire. He was getting closer but you were barely noticing it, completely hypnotised by his gaze and how it held yours the whole time.

"We barely know each other," he continued, and yet as your eyes fluttered closed at the start of his words, you felt his voice get closer by the end of them. You could feel his breath, surprisingly steady and warm against your skin, it raised goosebumps along your arms, still hanging uselessly by your side, heavy and uncertain but by no means uncomfortable.

His lips brushed over yours, stealing your breath. You gasped slightly before they became firm, warm against your own and surprisingly soft for a man. At first it was just a peck, a little teaser, a little question of whether this was okay. When you remained still, Alex kissed you again, this time firmer, more demanding.

Your stomach flipped as the desire grew deeper with each passing moment. The kiss intensified quickly, he became more demanding and you succumbed to him, answering him wordlessly. You couldn't match his fervour, but you didn't mind letting him show you the ropes, you hummed into the kiss when he opened up your mouth, his tongue soft and dominant against your own as he pressed against you, your body pinned to the door.

Your senses are overwhelmed by him, your brain clouded of anything but the sensation of him kissing you and the warmth of his taut body against your own. Your hands move on their own accord, fingers trembling to feel him as you let them slide up his sharp shoulder blades and into his hair, thick and soft beneath your fingertips. You bunch it up in your hands, pulling at it softly, eliciting small gasps from him as you tug harder as the kiss grows more heated.

You feel like the room is exploding and you couldn't care less, too engrossed in this moment, the one you hadn't anticipated but revelled in, to care for anything beyond it. At this specific time, the past and the future seemed irrelevant. You only cared about the present, about the feel of him, the weight and warmth of his skin pressing against your own.

His hands found your hips, pulling you further into him, his thumbs pressing hard enough into your midriff to leave bruises. The pleasure far outweighed the pain and you found yourself sighing into his mouth, completely surrendering to him and the moment he'd so effortlessly created. You're lost in him, floating in some blissful haven where nothing really matters. Where he's not your moody co worker, not the short spoken man who drove you home a few times - but this sultry being, completely enticing you into something mind blowing despite it being a mere kiss.

His palms slid up, squeezing your waist and without really thinking, you lifted your leg up over his hip. Even in all the bliss, all the lost judgement - you still felt nervous, your thigh hovering awkwardly at his side until his roughly grabbed it, pulling it so it properly rested on him. His palms slid to over your bum, suddenly propelling you up and against the door and from this angle you could feel the heat of him so much better. Your pin skirt struggled to accommodate him, nearly splitting at the seams.

All his shyness had dissipated as he tugged the skirt up,  letting it rest on your hips so he could feel you better. You could feel his eagerness in his grip, in the intense pressure of his lips on yours.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and thrust your upper body towards his, making him gasp into your open mouth before he caught your bottom lip between his teeth, the subtle pain of them digging into your soft flesh making your eyes disappear into the back of your head.

At some point he'd started walking backwards and you'd landed on the edge of his desk. He had to lean down, it was an awkward angle but you were both too het up to care. His palms slid down the length of your thighs, groping the flesh, his touch determined, his control unwavering. But you wouldn't fight for it anyway and something told you he knew that.

His kisses moved from your lips to your jawline, to your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your collarbone, your soft, explicit gasps filling the space. It felt like you were the only two people on the planet, the consideration of consequence lost in your mind through the haze of pleasure, of attraction, of need.

He nuzzled his face into your chest, your shirt had pulled down slightly from the hastiness of this all, revealing a slither of cleavage that Alex dipped his tongue into, moaning at the taste of perspiration on your skin. The hand on your thigh started inching inwards, his fingertips dancing up the inside, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You felt like you were reaching feverish temperatures as he lightly scratched his nails against your sensitive inner thigh. Without even realise it, you were bucking your hips, paper caught beneath your bum tearing from your movement but even the sharp sound didn't break the spell between you both.

Your arm caressed the back of him, your face now caught between his shoulder and his neck, lips puckering to leave useless little kisses, little moments of appreciation against his skin. You could taste the saltiness of his sweat, his build up - but you didn't mind. It felt dirty, raw, intimate. Spontaneous. All things that you weren't, and yet, anyone would think you were the expert.

Alex's fingers brushed over your panties, dampened with your arousal. The bottom of your heels dug into his back, leaving indents in his white shirt, another problem for later. Right now, he was too concerned with the feel of you, sticky and warm against his fingertips - to care about something so trivial.

"You're so wet," he spoke, gruff, full of arousal and your head tipped back, catching his eyes. A swirl of brown met a swirl of black, like chocolate and black treacle twining into one sweet, sweet sight.

"Can I?"

You nodded and with a satisfied smirk, Alex moved your lace panties aside, his fingertips finding you wet, sticky, desperate. You couldn't contain the moan that slipped when he pressed into your clit, a little fumbling at first but you were so swollen that he couldn't miss it.

"Shhh," he kissed your neck, his reminder not meant to be stern, you could see that it was enthralling him - your gasps and moans and mutters, it was feeding an ego you didn't realise was there and yet you were more than happy to do so.

Your head tipped back further, neck elongated and gaze fixed to the ceiling when he plunged two fingers into you, using that same, rough calloused thumb to catch on your swollen nerves. His fingers worked in tandem, setting up a steady, unrelenting pace that made you squirm and moan all the same. He started off slow, twisting his knuckles until the heel of his hand grinded into your clit and then he started to move faster.

"Fuck....oh fuck...." Your eyes rolled back and your hands fell behind you with a thump on the desk to steady yourself. There was nothing to grab so you settled with paper, scrunching it up in your hands as the pleasure intensified.

Alex watched you with a curious expression, aware to what you liked within a matter of seconds. He watched your expression carefully, moving into the right spots by the accord of your moans. When he found that special spot, you cried out, a frown forming on your brow and tears piercing the corner of your eyes.

His other hand moved to your mouth, fingertips rubbing against your lips for permission and when you parted them in another moan, he slipped them in. You opened your eyes, meeting his with glaze as you swirled your tongue over his fingertips. His mouth parted in a heavy sigh, fingers moving faster, harder, hitting the spot at a pace your body could barely keep up with.

You were aware of the pleasure and yet lost in it. Usually you had to focus to get there but today he was ripping all your sense away from you and yet the knot grew tighter.

Your legs started to shake, his dark eyes growing wicked as he overwhelmed you.

"Come on darling," he coaxed you on, "come for me."

"Oh....Alex...."

"Mhm...." he teased, a glint in his eyes. You couldn't even be mad, just a small huff of a laugh before he sent you to space again, your vision blurring as he hit that spot, over and over again until it went black.

"Mm that's it....fuck, look at you," he groaned as your clenched around him, growing impossibly tight before you gushed, your body convulsing. The pleasure felt unbearable, you had no control over your muscles twitching or your bones liquifying beneath him.

Alex didn't stop moving until you were spent, breathless and still only just gaining your vision back. You fell back onto your elbows, your face representing the internal bliss. Your orgasm had ceased but you had turned to mush, catching your breath with your eyes glazed over.

"Good?"

You opened your mouth to reply but before you could, a knock sounded out at the door. Your eyes widened, Alex's matched yours and within seconds you had gathered all the papers, ripped or not into your hands while he adjusted himself.

The heat in the room was unmatched, anyone would be able to figure out what had gone on but there was no proof in the matter. Thank God for the invention of waterproof mascara or you would be fucked.

"One moment!" Alex called, before checking around,  clearly alarmed. His nutty professor act switched back on in an instant, no sign of the man who had just given you the best orgasm of your life, no sign of the non verbal moody guy who'd driven you home. No, this was the Alex you knew and loved to hate - panicking, unprepared and disorganised. But you wouldn't complain - not now that you knew he could finger you like that.

He looked to you once everything was in place, and with a sigh of relief and a heart full of content, you nodded.

"Thank you Miss. Richards for your time," he opened the door, the person on the other side a teacher for another faculty stood there with a polite smile and some forms for Alex.

"Thank you Mr. Turner. I'll take these into account."

You winked at him and he suppressed a smile as he welcomed the other person in before shutting the door behind you. You'd dream of his figure behind that door for months to come - you were sure of it.

[a-noodle-named-daemon]

Deep cleaned daemon’s terrarium and attempted to set up his heating upgraded.

I say attempted because I fucked up and used two faulty converters, and burned the UVB and the halogen 😭 and I can’t afford to order new ones so I’ll have to wait till summer most likely.

But at least I did save the DPH projector, and that is still an upgrade from the CHE he was on. It’ll be just fine for winter heating and now his basking temps are reaching what they’re supposed to 😊

Last pic is him finally being let out of the travel box and being very happy to explore the enclosure. (I took like 4 hours to get it done, oof)

[bambisspeckles]

Sweater Weather ✿ Flufftober Day Four -- Kyle

Summary: Kyle takes you on a date to a drive in and it gets a little chilly! WC: 850 <3 Song of the day: Video Games ❁ Lana Del Rey

Your stomach feels like it's churning and for a moment you vaguely think this is what being gutted feels like. It's a gross mix of nervousness and excitement, you try to give yourself some grace though. It's your first date in an embarrassingly long time and you're going on a date with a man so perfect he rivals prince charming.

A few weeks ago your friend and her boyfriend, Johnny, moved into a new place and they threw a little house warming party with a couple of close friends. Your date, Kyle, is a close friend and teammate of Johnny's so he was also there. When he arrived to the party your friend was quick to introduce you two.

"I think you guys will get along great! Why don't you two chat while I grab another beer!" Then, she promptly left you guys alone (not without sending a cheeky wink your way first).

To her credit, she was right. Despite the rough start to your conversation, you found that you guys had a lot in common. He listened to you attentively, and showed genuine interest in the things you talked about, honestly you were smitten from the start. At one point during the conversation, you had mentioned how you really like drive in movies and were hoping you could find an area near you that projected a couple of classics.

"I actually know a place just outside of town that does drive ins. I could take you! That is, if you want to?"

You grimace whenever you think about how eagerly you said yes.

Now you're here, sitting in Kyle's suspiciously spacious trunk, with your bodies so close together you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. Normally, you wouldn't like going to the movies on a first date, but this was vastly different. Kyle took the time to find the perfect parking spot, he made sure you guys were close enough to the screen that you could see and hear, but also parked far enough away that you two could chat without disturbing other viewers.

Not to mention you're close to all the food stalls.

It was like the best date you've had, honestly, probably ever. Not that you have many others to compare it too, but it definitely takes the cake.

"Do you want me to grab you another drink?" Kyle's soft voice pulls your attention from the projector screen.

You turn to him, a shy smile gracing your lips as his stupidly warm brown eyes meet yours.

"No I'm okay! Honestly if I drink anything else that's cold I might freeze my insides." He chuckles quietly at your words, his little smile causing your face to warm.

" You sure? I can go see if there's some more hot chocolate, can't have your insides freezing now can we love?" There's a teasing lilt in his voice that sends electricity down your spine, and if things keep going at this rate your insides might melt.

"Kyle…" The way you drag out his name has a cheeky smirk growing on his face. "I promise I'm fine! You've already done so much for me…"

He suddenly scoots his body closer to yours and you inhale softly, your body continuing to heat up under his gaze. Kyle reaches behind you, his face (and lips), just mere inches from yours. You hear the sound of rustling behind you before suddenly feeling fabric drape over your shoulders.

"Then… this is the least I can do for you." His smirk grows a bit wider as you begin to nervously chew on your bottom lip.

You take a deep breath, an abrupt surge of confidence shooting through your veins.

"I think you just wanna see me in your jacket…" He laughs at that, shaking his head softly at your attempted teasing.

"Yeah, well there's quite a few things I'm interested in seeing you in.." You let out an surprised gasp at his words.

"Kyle!" You scold him gently, a soft 'thwap' sound as your hand playfully hits his shoulder.

The chorus of your quiet, shared laughter fills the space between you. When it eventually fades, you and Kyle make eye contact, the tension between you filling the air.

"I'd really like to kiss you." His words make you exclaim softly, your mouth hanging slightly agape.

"I'd really like to kiss you," He repeats. "Can I?"

You nod your head stupidly, and he smiles at you sweetly before closing the gap between you. His lips are warm and he kisses you like it's the only thing he's ever wanted to do. When the kiss ends, it feels like it's over much too soon. You have to remind yourself to not be greedy.

After a few moments, you glance over to the projector screen only to see the ending scenes.

"We missed the end of the movie!" You say between giggles.

"Oh… Oops?" He gives you a crooked smile and you lean in to press a soft kiss to his nose.

"It's okay, I'll let you make it up to me on our next date."

[aliypop]

My Babe

Word Count: 2,123

Writers Note: My first hardcore smut fic y'all! Thank @sissylittlefeather and my Graceland Trip for this masterpiece! I hope you all like it!

Warning: SMUT MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis

Plot: It's 1971 and the Memphis Mob are hanging out in the TV room indulging in some delights of films until Mrs. Presley shows up.

Taglist

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@sissylittlefeather

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

@your-nanas-house

@zayurir

@60svintage

@sillybookmarks

Graceland 1971

The movie room had been a well-missed room. With Elvis on tour and his wife Cecelia home tending to Jesse and Elaine, he needed some time to hang out with his boys, the Memphis Mafia. Well, some of them, sitting in the mirror-tiled ceiling room, there was Joe, Jerry, Red, and Elvis, who was puffing on a cigarillo, the smell filling up the room burying itself deep into the carpet. But there was something else that the men were buried deep into the picture show on the projector. It was a porno that was lying around if you'd asked Elvis about it. It was just on the table when he'd gotten there. Usually, he'd hidden those things so the kids and his wife wouldn't find it.

"You ever do anything like that with C," Jerry asked as Joe and Red egged Elvis on for an answer, 

"It looks uncomfortable," Red commented, looking as the actors went on to do one of many positions 

"It is." He winked back, taking a long drag. 

"You're kidding?" Red questioned, but Elvis had that sly smile on his face that said everything without his lips moving, 

"E, you mean you've done that?!" Joe laughed as Elvis nodded,

"Pleasurable for her, though," Elvis smirked,

"Cece is a loud one..." Jerry mumbled as Red agreed.

"Listenin in gets you off or something?" Elvis glanced at Jerry,

"I've been on the plane with you two." Jerry smirked, "Not to mention. My God Niece and Nephew are what seven now?"

"You make a good point." Elvis rolled his eyes as his friends laughed at him. 

Coming down the stairs in her pink nightgown and heeled slippers were Cecelia. Though she'd never admit it, she always loved the mirrored ceiling staircase. Because it reminded her of the day they had first installed them and their "test" run view with them. Inching around the corner, Cecelia could hear the sounds of laughter and moans coming from the TV room. As she finally arrived, Cecelia tried not to hold in her laughter from the sight she saw. Cecelia tried to hold in her laughter as she heard Elvis and the boys had been in a heated debate.

"What'cha watching, boys?" 

Joe, Red, Jerry, and Elvis got quiet like little boys caught with their mother's lingerie magazines. 

"Mrs. Presley, We were uh!" Joe started out,

"How'd that even get up there?" Red laughed bashfully,

Jerry just stared at her as if he knew there was a setup of some kind. 

"B-Baby, you shouldn't be watchin this crap!" Elvis tried to find the remote to stop the movie. 

"Right, a lady like you shouldn't-"

"Well, of course not. After all, it's not like I wasn't the one who purchased it." Cecelia smirked as Elvis' eyes went wide, "Who'd you think bought it, surely not Red?" she smirked as Elvis glanced at her. The robe over her shoulders and the feverish hue on her tawny skin was she sending him a message.

"You're one dirty girl, C," Jerry commented,

"You just now figured that out." She chuckled as she sat on her husband's lap to watch the rest. Elvis could feel his pants getting tight and the blood rushing to his cock as her straps fell from her shoulders. 

"You should tell 'em to go," Cecelia whispered in his ear, her fingers in his sideburns. 

"But honey..."

"Elvis, I'm not wearing any panties... And not to mention, I've had to touch myself lately." 

"Mmm, is that so..." Cecelia nodded,

"Mhmm, dripping wet right now," her voice had a whimper in it. Elvis trailed his hand up her dress and in between her legs as he brushed a finger against her lips, slowly pulling his finger back from under. He had a boyish grin that was devilish.

"You know this was a great time, but-"

"E, you're not kicking us out!" Joe asked, "Jerry, it's getting good he's not kicking us out!"

"No, but I am, Joe, Red Jerry out!" Cecelia projected as they got up and scattered out,

"Bit rude, don't you think..." Elvis joked as she straddled him,

"Elvis Aaron Presley, I'm hot and bothered, and I need you to fuck me. None of that soft shit tonight, just pure grade-A sex." she pointed to the projector. Elvis touched her skin as it was feverish with lust, her body grinding on his thigh to get some friction. "

 Fuck baby, tell me what you need, baby."

"Uh- uh, you've... Ah~ been so bad, which means..." her body still grinding in a rhythm that was driving her on edge,

"Means what..." He shivered, feeling her wet slick through his pants

"You can't touch me til I say so." her breathing was getting thin, and her eyes were fluttering, 

" You ain't gonna last long, darlin." He whispered, bouncing his knee against her clit as she moaned louder, her hands on her breast as if she were trying to rip her own clothes off, 

"Elvis! Fa! Fa!Fa!" slipping the dress off her, he plunged his fingers deep inside her, massaging her G-spot as his other hand was around her breast, massaging and sucking on her nipple, giving it a bit of a nibble and tug as she erupted in a pleasurable scream. 

"What was that about til you say so?" Elvis smirked as he looked up at the ceiling. Her face was even more heavenly in its reflection. Lying her down on the couch, Elvis was between her thighs as he lapped at the bud of nerves with his tongue like a kitten needing milk. He wouldn't lie and say that this wasn't his favorite fruit he couldn't get from any store, but with his fingers and tongue deep in her pussy, he couldn't help but fall more in love with his wife, 

"ELVIS FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME!!!" was all he could hear in between her pulling his hair, glancing up she could see the sight that she'd forever have in her brain, Elvis between her thighs, eating like a man on death row, devouring her wet waters like a man who'd been thirsty for years, her legs squeezed around his head. But he didn't care. Elvis knew Cecelia was close to the light at the end of the tunnel. Watching as her eyes rolled back and legs shook, he'd begun to rub her lips and speed up his fingering and eating as she had soon squirted all over the couch.

"You okay, baby?'

"Mhmm."

"Good, cause I ain't done with you." zipping his pants, he took his cock out, stroking it some more to get it ready for Cecelia, who was now between his legs kissing his thighs as she focused all her attention on his pretty blue eyes. There was already loads of pre-cum on the tip, but Cecelia didn't mind. Her pretty lips were wrapped around the base as she bobbed her head to a steady rhythm. His head fell back on the couch as he looked up, almost finishing just from the sight of her on her knees, 

"Think you take it all down. baby." 

Cecelia nodded as she took a deep breath and deep throathed him. Her nose brushed against his balls as she massaged them with her free hand, 

"Fuck baby, you're doing so good." his hips sputtered as he got closer, "Mngh!" was the noise he made when he felt her swirling, her tongue in between his tip. It was as if she were sucking his soul from out of his cock. 

"Oh God!" his eyes rolled as he pumped thick streams of his cum down her throat, coating her tongue with a heavy amount of the nearly translucent fluid. 

"Open wide, baby." He commanded as she did so. "Good girl." he pulled her up, kissing her swollen lips. The two exchange their separate tastes with each other. 

Picking her up, he walked over to the bar. He had her facing forward toward the mirrors, "Look at yourself, baby. Is this what you want." He asked as she nodded, "Baby, I don't read head nods."

"Yes~" She moaned, feeling him slide his cock inside her slippery wet cavern. 

"Hold on tight." He ordered as he began a steady pace, her breast knocking into the yellow leather as his balls were knocking into her skin. Cecelia looked up, and she saw the fucked out look on her face. Mascara smudged, her eyes rolling back, and her curls ruffled up. 

"Look how sexed up you look, baby." he pulled her hair as he kept going, his pace faster, 

"Deeper! Harder, faster!" That was what she commanded until he pulled out and carried her to the wall towards the Jukebox, her legs straddled him as she was up against the wall, 

"Put me in darlin?" He asked as she did so, his hips driving into her as her nails dug into his back and her curses began to sound like sinful prayers. 

"OH GOD, ELVIS FUCK ME!"

"SHIT, you feel so good," he began to rut in her until he carried her back to the couch, 

"Ride me?"

"Like your name was Charro." She smirked as Elvis reached for his Cigarillo again, taking another drag from it as she slowly began to bounce herself on his cock, his hand giving her a nice smack on the ass, telling her to go faster, blowing the smoke away from her face. Elvis put it back in his mouth until he felt it missing. Cecelia was bouncing faster, and his cock was brushing up on that familiar spot she loved so much. Hanging from her mouth was his beloved Cigarillo taking a big drag from it she sat it down inside the astray as she kissed him passing the smoke to him as her tongue wrapped around his. Pulling away slowly Cecelia felt his hands on her cheeks as he pulled her into another kiss, when she pulled away she was then leaning back almost into the position of the bridge as he began to ram himself inside her, 

"Baby you're so... Fuck! Sexy!" 

"Does this turn you on?" her fingers fiddling with her sensitive clit as she kept riding him, he had begun to lick his thumb placing it there to give her more pleasure, 

"Yes oh God yes," he groaned as he kissed her neck and bit down. Changing the position Elvis was lying down as she was still going, her breast bouncing in his face, reaching to grab them he squeezed and pulled on them, 

"You know these are mine right?"

"All of me is baby."

"Good." He said both of them were breathing harder as the coil in her stomach was getting near, she could feel the hot sensation of his cum shoot inside her "as she collapsed on his, a grin on his face, 

"Come on Angel I know you got one more in you."

"El..." her eyes were glossy, but there she was on her knees his cock between her breast as she began to rub him down with them, with the tip would hit near her mouth she'd open and lick the pre-cum off him as she'd nearly slurped him down. 

"Baby more." his eyes caught sight of hers. The way the curve of her breasts simply drove him insane. He couldn't help but believe that he was the most blessed man to have his own pornstar hidden in his wife, 

"Can't get this kind of lovin from those movies, can you?" she smirked as Elvis shook his head,

"I can't read head nods, darlin." 

"N-N Oh fuck faster!" he growled as she blushed hard,

"Good boy," She smirked, peppering his cock with kisses and love bites, 

"Getting closer, sugar?"

"C-C- Cece!" he began to shake as ropes of cum decorated her perky breast, a laugh escaping her lips as Elvis blushed,

"Baby, I'm sorry I didn't mean to,"

"Shush... It was sexy..." taking her fingers as she licked some of it off, like frosting from a cake. 

"You give me fever doll. a hot blistering fever." he laughed. Walking down the hall he grabbed a towel and cleaned them both off as they were lying on the couch now watching the news. Elvis was buried deep inside her his hands on her waist as she took a nice big sigh,

"Hey, can I get my jacket..."

"Jerry, you're still here!" Cecelia blushed, popping up from behind the couch."

"I'll come back tomorrow." Jerry sighed,

"That makes two of us," Elvis smirked, kissing Cecelia.

"Elvis..."

"Yeah Jerry."

"Shut the hell up." He sighed. "And put some clothes on Cece!"Elvis and Cecelia laughed.

"Sheesh guess someone's been getting railed by life lately..." Cecelia mumbled.

"I heard that!"