#flex your writing muscles challenge

[mrpenguinpants]

Just the weight I needed.

— You ask to sit on his back while he does push-ups.

— Phainon, Mydei + Jing Yuan

[Masterlist]

After that monster of a Lighter fic, I just wanted to write something nice and silly. I'm serious, the next fic I write might actually be 20k words. The title is from BSD btw, love and kisses to whoever gets it.

Phainon

Realistically, if you brought the idea up to Phainon, it could go one of two ways. One possibility is that he’d be fully on board—no hesitation, no questions asked, as if he’d been waiting for this moment his entire life. He’d immediately drop to the ground in one fluid motion, presenting his back like a beautifully adorned, living throne, every muscle flexing with anticipation. His arms would be poised, elbows bent just enough to secure the perfect balance, ready to support you as he began his impromptu strength training. His determined blue eyes would gleam with unshakable resolve, like a knight pledging his undying loyalty to his sovereign. To him, carrying you wouldn’t just be an exercise—it would be a calling, an honor, a challenge to conquer.

The other possibility? A completely different reaction. Phainon, with a rare, grave expression—one that only emerged in times of true distress—would place his hands firmly on your shoulders, his grip unwavering, grounding you in place. His normally vibrant demeanor would dim, his brows drawing together in deep concern as he searched your face for any sign of distress. And then, with a devastated choke, his voice thick with unfiltered worry, he’d ask, “Are you being blackmailed?”

It's not like your request is so out there that Phainon needs to find you a scapegoat for why you're asking. This isn't even the first time he's bent far stricter rules with actual consequences slightly to fulfill your requests! The man has an impressive track record of brushing the laws of common decency and practicality under the rug when it comes to helping you out. Take that one time in the baths for instance—when you were trying to get some peace and quiet, hiding under a sea of bubbles to avoid your duties. Phainon, ever the loyal accomplice, had simply closed his eyes, zipped his mouth shut with a soft snap of his fingers, and let you lie in blissful, responsibility-free silence. No questions asked. No protest. Just remarking about how difficult it was to find you before walking away.

Or the most recent example, when you decided to spy on the newest esteemed guests. It was a delicate situation, and you knew there was no way you’d be able to sneak a peek without drawing attention. So, of course, you enlisted Phainon’s help. He positioned himself like a human shield, blocking any unwanted gazes as you peered from behind him, hidden by his imposing figure. All the while, you stayed as quiet as possible, watching the guests converse with Aglaea while Phainon pretended to be entirely uninterested, despite his complete awareness of what you were up to. The point is, this request? It’s nothing compared to the stunts he’s pulled for you in the past. It wouldn't even include anyone outside you two!

Suggestion: Inflection baby! Sound just as enthusiastic as him! (It's not like he would ever say no)

Delighted squeals and giggles echo off the marbled walls as your view of the giant sphere in the sky—situated at the center of Okhema—bobs up and down, like a real ball you used to play with as a kid. In fact, everything about this moment feels like you've been transported back in time, swept up in a childish sort of joy that you haven't felt in years. Even though it's undeniably a silly sight—you, perched sideways on Phainon's back, your toes just barely hovering above the ground—you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t at least a tiny bit fun. It took a bit of hassle to convince Phainon that no, you weren’t being blackmailed, bribed, or coerced into this request. There were no hidden motives, no dark secrets behind it—just a plain, simple, and entirely ridiculous desire to see if he could do it.

"Don't forget that you're supposed to keep count," Phainon chastises lightly, though the effect is entirely ruined by the bright, boyish grin tugging at his lips. His tone is more playful than scolding, his usual boundless energy making it impossible to take him seriously. It's weird seeing him from this angle, half of his face turned over his shoulder as your neck cranes down for once. Seriously, what were they feeding this man?

"Oops, sorry!" you manage between muffled laughter, barely able to catch your breath, "I guess I lost track... maybe we should start over?"

"If that's what Your Highness wants, then it shall be done," Phainon says as easily as breathing, bending his elbows to push up again.

Mydei

Haha. No. Just no.

First of all, you wouldn’t even be a significant weight for Mydei—he could take you on as resistance training in the same way a bodybuilder might consider lifting a single book. If anything, he’d have to stack at least five more of you just to make it remotely challenging. Secondly, why on Amphoreus would you think he’d let you sit on his back? Best-case scenario, he’d stare at you with a long, exhausted sigh before asking if you’d recently taken a tumble down the stairs and cracked your head open. It’s not like he’s even being that mean when he says it anyway. Well, for Mydei standards at least. The fact that he hasn't bashed your head into the floor is, quite frankly, a miracle. The fact he hasn't bashed your head into the concrete itself is a wild understatement that you've lowered any respect he has for you over the days you've been acquainted with him.

Your first meeting was when you had misjudged how many steps there were and slipped forward. The inviting concrete was ready with open arms to split your head open, but Mydei, ever the observant type, had caught you just in time. There you were, suspended in mid-air, not even sure how you ended up there. Your limbs flailed like a ragdoll as he pulled on the back of your shirt with one arm, effortlessly lifting you with little more than the ease of a casual stretch. You'd been too stunned to even form words at the time—only managing a stammered thank-you as he set you back down as if saving you from an embarrassing death by stairs was just another casual Tuesday for him. In retrospect, it was a miracle you hadn’t cracked your skull open on the concrete. And of course, he’d said something entirely deadpan in response, like, "Pay attention next time," before turning back to his blue-haired companion. And he wonders why you're so obsessed with wanting to sit on his back.

Mydei has a short fuse and a quick temper, and as much as you'd really like to put your hand on his chest just to see his reaction, you also enjoy breathing a little too much to risk it. Not to mention, you can’t exactly take him in a fight. If you could, staking a bet that if you won, he’d have to fulfill your request would be a piece of cake. But alas, he's built like a wall, and your ability to land a punch would probably be a joke in comparison. So instead, you're left with the very real, very sensible option of begging and wearing him down with your charm—or at least hoping he’ll eventually tire of saying no. The risk? Well, it's still there, but that’s what makes it fun, right?

Suggestion: Beggars can't be choosers and living is pretty cool. Better to ask Phainon instead.

You've barely uttered the first syllable of your question before you're unceremoniously scooped up by the back of your clothing, lifted from the ground like a disgruntled cub being dragged away by its mother. Except, in this case, it's more like being hoisted over someone's firm shoulder, your limbs dangling helplessly as you're treated like a sack of potatoes. The bewilderment on your face is a new look as Phainon's figure grows smaller and smaller in the distance, the sound of your protests muffled by the unexpected shift. Amid your confusion, you catch sight of the blue bastard waving gleefully, a cheery smile plastered across his face as if he’s just won some kind of victory.

"Um, not that I'm complaining, but... where exactly are you taking me?" you ask, your voice tentative as you try to adjust yourself on his shoulder. On one hand, you're living the dream, able to feel those muscles effortlessly hoisting you up like you're nothing more than a feather. But on the other, his shoulder is starting to dig uncomfortably into your stomach, and it's quickly turning into a rather awkward ride. You shift slightly, trying to find a less painful position, but all you accomplish is further squishing yourself against his back.

"Training room." is all Mydei says. There's no snark, no extra words, just that one brief statement that leaves you quite literally and metaphorically hanging.

"Ah. Training room, huh?" you say back lamely, even though you're internally screaming in elation, your arms up in the air as you bow toward whatever Aeon is looking out for you.

You can totally tell by the way Mydei drops you in the middle of the pathway that he knows exactly what you're thinking.

Jing Yuan

Contrary to popular belief, you aren't blind. Even if the General is a bit too old to still be in his "bachelor" years—do those even truly exist for long-life species?—Jing Yuan is... well, let’s just say he’s easy on the eyes. Super easy. A five-star resort easy on the eyes. Is this what they call a silver foxian? He was the one who off-handedly mentioned it when your traitorous eyes had decided to linger a tad bit too long on the shape of his back during a meeting. Of course, you had to act all professional about it, clearing your throat and giving him a strict reprimand about how inappropriate it was to bring such things up in a work environment. You almost nailed the tone too, until you rounded the corner and crumbled into a puddle of embarrassment. What the hell just happened? How did he do that to you with just one little comment? That was so... unfair. It didn’t help that the image of sitting on his back while he did push-ups kept playing in your mind—every chiseled angle, every movement, the way he had to flex those back muscles with each rep. Seriously, how were you supposed to function with that lingering in your thoughts?

It takes several days for neither of you to address the elephant in the room. The tension lingers in the air, thick and unspoken, but it doesn't quite impede your duties. You carry on with your work, he continues to be as "lax" as ever—his presence still an odd mix of effortless command and lazy confidence. But there's something there, a shift, subtle yet undeniable. Every time you glance at him, there's the tiniest degree of something different in his smile, a sharpness to it that grows more cat-like with each passing moment. His expression seems to hold a quiet, menacing amusement as he sits across from you, still and patient, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that feels almost predatory. He reminds you of his pet lion in those moments, the way she watches her prey with those intense, knowing eyes. Her demeanor is calm, almost gentle, until the moment she pounces, and you can’t help but imagine the way the small, frail necks of her dinner break so easily between the crushing strength of her jaws. Yet, her owner, Jing Yuan, still calls her the sweetest, most docile creature, even with blood still staining her paws. A crazy man.

Patience is a virtue, they say. And eventually, with enough time, water will wear down the hardest stone. You’ve tried to avoid it, to ignore the inevitable, but today feels different. The morning is quiet, bathed in the soft light of the rising sun—a golden hour where the world feels still as if it’s holding its breath for what’s to come. It’s just you and Jing Yuan, silently preparing for the events ahead, the hum of the day yet to begin. There are meetings lined up, one in particular that has been pushed back so many times due to Jing Yuan’s absences that it's now on the verge of becoming a disaster. The final meeting needs to happen tonight, or his white mane might end up skewered on the end of a spear. The weight of it lingers in the air, but for now, it’s just the two of you, and the calm chirping of his precious finches acts as the only soundtrack to the morning’s preparations. As you glance at him—his calm, unflappable demeanor, his steady hands—something shifts inside you. It’s not immediate, but it’s undeniable. You finally allow yourself to acknowledge what’s been sitting in the back of your mind, simmering beneath the surface: you’re no better than your General.

Suggestion: Life is too short for things like dignity and shame, go for the throat!

"General, I apologize for my lapse in judgment, but I seriously cannot do this, or I might suffer a stroke."

Your words come out in a strangled rush, your face contorting into a myriad of expressions—none of them quite fitting for the situation. You're staring down at Jing Yuan, sprawled out on his stomach, looking entirely unbothered as he waits for you to—well, do exactly what he’d asked. Sit on his back. You have to remind yourself that it was technically his suggestion, his agreement when you’d tentatively raised the question, and yet here you are, mentally spiraling into a moral crisis. Every fiber of your being screams that this is just... wrong. This can't possibly be something that should happen in a professional setting, in a place of authority, with a man who is the very definition of your superior.

But no, there’s Jing Yuan, lying there with that serene look in his eyes, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips as if this were just another ordinary task in his day. You swallow thickly, still battling with your internal conflict, even though the situation is slowly spinning out of your control. How did this become a thing?

"Ah, well. I will not force you to do something you're so against," Jing Yuan says with a light chuckle, standing up smoothly as if your entire dilemma was merely a fleeting thought. He pats his pants as if brushing away any invisible dust, his movements deliberate and calm. Then, with a casual grace, he crosses his arms behind his back, his posture exuding the confidence and composure only someone of his status could command. "But it is a warrior's shame to go back on their words, don't you agree?"

You blink rapidly, momentarily taken aback by his smoothness, but the weight of his words presses on you. You can almost feel the invisible pressure of your promise tightening around you. You stammer a bit, trying to regain some semblance of control, but you can only manage a meek response.

"Ah— I... yes, General."

Before you can fully process the situation, his large, warm hand lands heavily on your shoulder. It's not the usual friendly gesture, though. No, this time it feels more like a reminder—one that makes you shrink into yourself involuntarily. His hand is firm and for the briefest moment, you feel like you're pinned in place by the sheer force of his presence. You’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, but now, in the face of his unwavering authority, you can’t help but feel small.

"So, I can count on you to fill in my stead for today's meeting then?" Jing Yuan's voice is light, but there's an unmistakable gleam in his eyes. A satisfied lion getting away with murder, "Excellent, I knew I could count on you!"

[goldfades]

joe burrow pro bowl weekend sneaking into his hotel room at night

aaaaa yes... pro bowl weekend joe has lived in my rent free and im so glad u requested this. hope you enjoy!

warnings: NSFW, minors pls dni! oral (fem. receiving), overstim if you squint, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it!!), rushed writing... sorry yall im trying a new style, lmk if yall like it 😌

The hallway is quiet, save for the soft hum of the ice machine down the corridor and the faint click of your heels against the plush hotel carpet. You’ve timed it perfectly—late enough that most of the players are either asleep or too busy nursing overpriced cocktails in dimly lit lounges, and early enough that the night shift staff haven’t started their rounds. The key card burns in your palm, a flimsy piece of plastic holding the weight of your impulsive decisions.

You hesitate for a beat outside his door, heart thumping like it’s trying to escape your chest. The gold numbers gleam under the flickering sconce light, mocking you with their simplicity. It’s just a door. Just Joe. But there’s nothing simple about the way your stomach flips when you think of him, or the way his voice has been echoing in your head all day, low and lazy, threaded with that soft drawl.

The lock clicks with an almost conspiratorial softness as you swipe the card. You slip inside like a shadow, the door snicking shut behind you with a whisper of finality. The room is dark, lit only by the faint glow of the city seeping through the crack in the heavy curtains. You can make out the broad outline of him, sprawled across the bed, one arm flung over his head, the sheets tangled around his waist.

He stirs when you kick off your shoes, the faint rustle drawing his attention. His voice is rough with sleep when he speaks, low and familiar in a way that makes your skin prickle.

“Took you long enough.”

His words are lazy, but there’s an edge to them—a sharpness tucked beneath the warmth. You don’t bother with an excuse. Just step closer, letting the distance between you shrink until it’s nothing at all.

You can feel the heat emanating from his body as you stand over him, the dim light casting shadows that dance across his features. The room is charged with an electric tension, palpable in the air between you. Joe's eyes, half-lidded and sleepy, focus on you with an intensity that feels like a physical touch. He shifts slightly, the muscles in his chest and arms flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt that clings to him from the heat of sleep.

"Couldn't stay away, huh?" His voice is a husky murmur that sends shivers down your spine. Despite the casual tone, there's a question in his gaze, a probing, searching inquiry that seeks your deepest intentions. It's an invitation and a challenge all at once.

You respond not with words but with action, crawling onto the bed with a grace that belies your pounding heart. The mattress dips under your weight, and Joe watches your every move, his gaze tracking the sway of your hips as if mesmerized. You straddle him, feeling the solid strength of his thighs beneath you, and for a moment, you just sit there, drinking in his presence, the reality of him.

His hands come up to rest on your hips, his thumbs tracing small, slow circles through the fabric of your dress. There's a tenderness in his touch that contrasts with the iron strength of his fingers, and it's this duality that fascinates you, draws you in.

"I... needed to see you," you confess, the words tumbling out in a breathy rush. The truth feels like a liberation, freeing something tight and coiled within your chest.

Joe's smile is slow and warm, spreading across his face like dawn breaking. "Well, then," he murmurs, his hands tightening on your hips, "Let's make it worth your while."

He flips you beneath him with a swift, practiced move that leaves you breathless. His body pins yours to the bed, his weight a comforting pressure that envelops you completely. His lips find yours in the darkness, the kiss deep and consuming, tasting of sleep and desire. The world narrows down to the feel of him against you, around you, the sound of your mingled breaths the only music in the silent room.

--

Joe's relentless pursuit of your pleasure leaves you gasping, teetering on the edge of coherence. His tongue is masterful, delving with precision yet infused with an artistry that makes each touch feel like the first. His fingers grip your thighs, holding you open, exposed to his hungry gaze and insatiable mouth. The dichotomy of tender in his actions drives you insane, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through your veins.

The room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing and the slick, wet noises of his tongue lavishly exploring, tasting you with a ravenous need that belies his earlier laziness. You're overwhelmed by the intensity the relentless pleasure, your hands tangle in his hair, pressing him closer, silently pleading for more, for that sweet release that hovers just out of reach.

"Joey," you moan, your voice breaking with desperation. "Please."

He responds not with words but with a deep hum that vibrates against your clit, his tongue brushing over the sensitive. It's the final stroke of your arousal, and it sends you spiraling over the edge into blissful oblivion as the knot in your stomach snaps for the second time that night, all from his tongue.

Your body arches off the bed, a silent scream etched across your features as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you shattered in the most exquisite way.

But Joe isn't done.

As you flutter back down to Earth, spent and panting, he rises up, his lips glistening with the evidence of your climax. When you open your eyes, meeting his gaze, he's settled in between your thighs, his hands on your hips.

His eyes burn with an insatiable fire, his own desire palpable as he positions himself at the crux of your thighs. "You taste incredible, baby," he murmurs, voice low and husky, "but I'm nowhere near done with you."

With that, his cock slides into you, filling you in one smooth, deep stroke because of your soaked cunt. The sensation is intense, a delicious stretch that reignites your desire. His movements are deliberate, powerful thrusts that drive you both toward a precipice as Joe's hands move everywhere, his touches igniting flames wherever they land.

Joe's movements become fervent, almost frenzied as he plunges deeper into the warm, welcoming depths of your cunt. His pace is relentless, each thrust deeper than the last, driven by a raw hunger that seems to consume him entirely. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, along with his slurred, lust-laden words.

"God, so good... so perfect for me, baby," he groans, his voice thick with desire as he leans over you, his breath hot against your ear. The words are barely coherent, a string of adoration and pleasure mumbled as he loses himself in the sensation of you enveloping him. His hands roam over your body with wild abandon, tracing the curves of your hips, squeezing your tits.

"Feel so good," Joe murmurs against your ear, his voice a husky drawl that sends a shiver down your spine. "Can't get enough of your pussy... so wet for me." His words are a mantra, spoken between labored breaths and deep thrusts.

His rhythm staggers as he starts to feel his impending orgasm, his thrusts uneven but no less potent. Each movement sends ripples of pleasure through your body, pushing you both closer to the brink again. The mattress creaks under the force of his movements, as Joe's praises continue to spill from his lips.

His fingers find your clit, thumb circling with a rhythm that matches his thrusts. The dual assault on your senses is overwhelming, and you can feel another climax building within you, the coil in your stomach tightening like a spring.

"Fuck, I’m gonna—" Joe's words cut off as his control snaps, his body tensing as he reaches his own climax. He buries himself deep inside you as he comes, his eyes locked on yours, pupils blown wide with the raw intensity of his release. The sight of him, so utterly undone, so vulnerable and yet so powerful, pulls you over the edge with him.

Your orgasm washes over you in a tidal wave of bliss, crashing through you with such strength that you cling to Joe, your nails digging into his sculpted back, as if anchoring yourself. Together, you ride the waves of pleasure, each pulse and throb of his cock inside you extending your climax, intertwining it with his.

Joe's body shudders above you, each tremor mirroring the aftershocks that ripple through your own form. His breath, hot and ragged, brushes against your neck as he struggles to catch his breath, his chest heaving against yours.

As the final waves of pleasure ebb, Joe collapses beside you, his arm instinctively pulling you close. In the dim light of the hotel room, his face is painted with satisfaction and a touch of awe. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, a stark contrast to the fervor of moments before.

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 13

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes, alcohol. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 16 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

When your boyfriend is an ice hockey player, finding time for a date can be tough. Sure, you and Sukuna always spend lunch breaks together, meet in the library, or tumble into bed together in between practice or assignments. But planning something that goes beyond those everyday things is quite the challenge.

Sukuna's days are filled with a busy schedule. Hockey training, team meetings, morning runs, daily gym sessions, and seemingly endless hours of watching and analyzing his opponents' games. Sukuna doesn't just give 100% but 200%. It's a trait you find incredibly hot, but it also makes it hard to find time for a date.

Sukuna says he would skip practice for you. But you don't want that. It would make you feel guilty. You know how important hockey is to him, and you love how invested he is. But you certainly can't say no when he stands in front of you with his sexy, boyish grin and tells you,

"If you don't want me to skip practice for a date, then join me at the gym or on my morning runs."

So yes, you blame Sukuna's charming personality and your own foolishness for getting yourself into this situation: jogging down the dark road long before the rest of the campus comes alive, panting loudly and coughing as you run as fast as you can, in your desperate attempt of trying to keep up with your super athletic boyfriend, who jogs several meters before you at a, for his standards, very leisurely pace.

You know he is holding back for you. It makes your own poor attempt even more pathetic. Sukuna doesn't even break a sweat. When he turns to smirk at you, he looks perfect, as always, winking at you and making flirty teasing comments as if he is chilling on the couch with you and not jogging across the campus at an ungodly hour in the morning.

Sukuna looks mouth-watering. As if he is grinning at you from the cover of a Men's Health magazine. Sleeveless black compression shirt and red shorts that give you the best view of Sukuna's firm ass and those tantalizing thigh tattoos that still make you lose your mind every time you see them. His buff muscles flex attractively with every move. His lopsided boyish grin only adds to his overall handsome features. Sukuna looks sexy as hell.

Something you don't think can be said about you at this moment. You were skeptical from the moment Sukuna suggested joining him on his morning runs so you could spend more time together. You are fully aware of how unathletic you are and how super athletic Sukuna is. But it touches you that he asked you to join him, obviously wanting to spend more time with you. And so you agreed.

But right now, you regret saying yes. It's six in the morning, you have had no breakfast yet, and you feel nauseous from all the physical activity. You are panting and sweating heavily, but no matter how fast you run, you can't keep up with your hockey boyfriend.

Sukuna looks over his broad shoulder as he slows down even more, a playful smirk on his face, as he calls out to you,

"Come on, princess, catch me!"

"I.. ah...ah, I can't..."

Sukuna just laughs and turns around fully, running backwards now so he can look at you. You feel embarrassment creeping over you, knowing full well that you must look like a mess. Sweating and out of breath. Completely at your limit.

"Don't look at me, Kuna!"

But your boyfriend just smirks even broader, his maroon eyes filled with amusement, as he teases you,

"Why? I thought you like to get my attention?"

But the teasing playfulness vanishes from his face a second later when you suddenly stumble over your own feet, overcome by a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea. You gasp loudly, but before you can fall, Sukuna is already in front of you. Catching you once again before you hit the ground.

"Careful, princess. Are you okay?"

His strong arms hold you up, his low voice that was so teasing a second ago now filled with genuine worry.

You hum weakly, seeing black spots dancing before your eyes as you practically slump into Sukuna's muscular arms, unable to stay upright by yourself.

"I... hate... running. Especially in the mornings. I don't think my blood circulation is made for this."

You turn your head, burying your face in Sukuna's broad chest, clinging tightly to him, hiding your face in his chest. You feel his strong arms tightening reassuringly around you, and you slump bonelessly against his tall, firm body.

Sukuna laughs softly, a low rumbling in his chest that you don't just hear but also feel against your cheek,

"Why didn't you tell me you don't like morning runs? I would have never asked you to join me if I knew."

"Because I thought it was really sweet of you to ask. And I wanted to spend more time with you."

Sukuna laughs again, hugging you even tighter to him as he rests his chin on your head.

"Yeah, well, I only want to take you on dates you actually can enjoy. Not ones that make you pass out."

You shake your head, laughing into Sukuna's chest,

"I guess this date failed. Sorry!"

"Don't be sorry, sweetheart. I will find a better idea. Hey, if I let go of you for a second, can you stand, or will you fall over?"

You lift your head, looking up at Sukuna's tattooed face, nodding slowly as you loosen your tight grip on his tanktop,

"Yeah... I can stand."

Sukuna watches you for a long moment as if he needs to make sure, but then he carefully takes a step back, slowly letting go of you. But only to turn around and bend down and point a long tattooed finger at his muscular back.

"Come on, princess, hop on. I'll carry you."

You don't even try to turn down his offer. You are too exhausted and too wobbly on your legs to even think about walking home by yourself. And, after all, Sukuna is strong.

You climb onto his broad back, grateful for his strong, large hands that wrap around your calves, helping you and giving you a feeling of safety as Sukuna straightens up to his proud 6'3" height.

You let out a relieved breath as he starts walking, carrying you piggyback seemingly without any problems. You slump against Sukuna's muscular back, hugging him tightly and wrapping your legs around him, feeling like some koala with the way you cling to him.

"Thank you, baby."

Sukuna snorts, followed by a low chuckle,

"You're welcome, princess. Just don't puke over my hair!"

You groan loudly, but it turns into a laugh when you reach out to ruffle Sukuna's pink hair playfully,

"Wouldn't that be a cute date?"

Sukuna carries you all the way back to his dorm and into his apartment, past his brother, who stands in the kitchen and grins at the two of you as he lifts a coffee mug in greeting.

"Interesting new morning workout, bro."

"Shut up, brat. The real workout will happen in the shower, so you better fuck off and give us some privacy."

Making you hide your face in Sukuna's broad back while the twins bicker with each other about their sex lives or lack of.

Sukuna really carries you into the bathroom and slams the door shut behind you, finally letting you carefully slide off his back. Only to corner you against the door with a flirty smirk on his handsome face and his large tattooed hands pulling your t-shirt up.

"I wasn't joking, you know. Be my workout partner in the shower."

His lips find yours, kissing you heatedly while you both tear at each other's workout clothes. And only a short moment later, you get swooped up again and carried into the shower, where Sukuna has you pushed up against the shower wall in no time at all, swallowing your moans with his lips while he fucks you with fast, deep thrusts.

Twenty minutes later, you stand next to Sukuna in front of the bathroom mirror, applying your skincare while stealing slightly flustered glances at your boyfriend, who just fucked your brains out even after carrying you across campus.

Sukuna doesn't look flustered at all but instead grins at you when he catches you staring in the mirror,

"I guess I made up for our failed morning-run-date, huh?"

You splutter helplessly, but Sukuna's grin just turns bigger. He grabs his cherry-scented hair gel, applying it meticulously, while he tells you in a much more serious voice,

"I promise you, I will take you on the best date, princess."

But before the two of you find time for a date, Saturday rolls around, which means ice hockey. The Tigers play at home, and so you and Nobara stroll to the arena to watch Sukuna's game. Of course, Nobara complains on the whole way, but you just grin to yourself, knowing that she would never let you down and will always drag her pretty ass off the couch to keep you company at your boyfriend's games.

She is in the middle of a rant about how stupid she finds hockey players when you receive a text message from one of said players. A smile spreads over your face as you read it. You jerk your chin towards Nobara and stop her monologue by telling her,

"Sukuna arranged for us to have special seats."

Nobara's eyes widen, and she lunges towards you, grabbing your hand to yank your phone towards her before you can stop her. Her eyebrows shoot to the sky as she reads Sukuna's message with the casual "Love you, baby" and your reply, which is equally lovey-dovey.

"The two of you are so disgustingly cute. It makes me want to puke!"

You huff, feeling your face get hot even as you start to argue with her, but Nobara shuts you down by laughing and linking her arm with yours, pulling you along into the already super crowded arena. She grins at you, yelling over the loud noises in the arena,

"At least your Kirby boy got us better seats! I hope we also get free drinks and snacks!"

"I don't think that's how it works, Nobara!"

But you can't stop smiling broadly as you make your way through the crowd. The new seats are really amazing. They are probably the best in the whole arena, with a perfect view of the rink and the snack stand only a few rows away.

The players enter the ice a few minutes later, and you feel the familiar adrenaline fill your veins. You have come to absolutely love the atmosphere in the hockey arena. The excitement, the loud cheers, the sound of the metal blades on the ice, and the hockey sticks meeting each other.

Sukuna enters the ice, and your eyes are instantly glued to him. His helmet is casually tugged under one arm as he lifts his head proudly. He looks so hot. Tall and broad with that sexy conviction written all over his tattooed face. Everyone can see how intent on winning he is. Ambitious and confident.

The whole arena chants his name, but his gaze immediately strays to you. A lazy, sexy smirk spreads over Sukuna's tattooed face as he lifts a large hand in greeting.

You draw in a sharp breath, Sukuna's intense, deep gaze hitting you so hard somehow, making everything even more real at that moment. This is Sukuna's first game, that you watch since the two of you became a couple. This sexy guy on the ice isn't just your fuckbuddy anymore, not just the hot hockey player who somehow decided you are his lucky charm. Sukuna is your boyfriend!

A stupid smile lifts your lips. You feel light-headed all of a sudden as Sukuna's smirk softens into a smile, too. He winks at you, making a kissy face in your direction, completely unashamed about this very public display of affection.

A happy giggle escapes your broadly smiling lips as you beam at Sukuna. You mouth the words "Good luck!" and Sukuna smiles broadly at you, mouthing something back while pointing at you, and you think it means, "I will score a goal for you, baby."

You blow him a kiss, hearing Nobara next to you make a retching noise.

But you don't care about the groaning coming from Nobara as you sit down on your seat again, getting ready to watch your boyfriend's ice hockey game.

Sukuna is marvelous as always, leaving you starstruck with his fast and brutal play style. He's skating across the rink at neck-break speed, skilled and confident, like the King that he is. Yuuji and Todo are on his left and right, body-checking their opponents to keep them away from Sukuna. And Sukuna takes on the rest of the players who dare get in his way, slamming them into the boards or onto the ice with his full body weight, not letting anyone or anything stop him on his way to the goal.

When Sukuna scores the first time, the puck hits the net so hard it almost seems to tear, and the whole arena is on their feet, screaming and cheering, celebrating their star player. Sukuna pushes one hand in the air in a victorious gesture, his brother jumping onto his back, yanking Sukuna's helmet off to ruffle his pink hair, making Sukuna laugh, looking so genuinely happy that it makes your heart thump wildly.

You are in the stands clapping and cheering, smiling from ear to ear, when Sukuna's maroon gaze finds you, and he grins proudly at you. He says something again, and this time, you can read it unmistakenly off his lips,

"For you."

It sends the butterflies in your stomach fluttering crazily, and you laugh and lift your hands in a big heart, laughing even louder when Nobara elbows you,

"Oh, stop it! You are so embarrassing! I swear he looks so fucking stupid like that! And now you also join in. I cannot do this! I will get a sugar shock from all the disgusting sweetness!"

But you keep laughing and feel your heart race when Sukuna grins and winks at you, making another kissy face in your direction. He doesn't mind that the whole hockey arena sees what he is doing. Everyone can know that you are his, and he is yours. And you know 100% that anyone who dares make a rude comment about Sukuna being so soft for his girl will receive a brutal body check that sends them facefirst onto the ice or into the boards.

It's a thought that makes you smile even more broadly. You are Sukuna's official girlfriend. His number-one fan. His lucky charm. His girl.

You get your cute date a week later. The perfect date.

Sukuna sends you a text message while you are in class on Monday morning, casually informing you about his plans.

Sukuna 🏒👑❤️: Make sure to be free this Friday at 8 pm, princess. I'm taking you on a date. And I promise it doesn't involve running this time ;)

You: Where are we going?

Sukuna 🏒👑❤️: It's a surprise. But wear your best dress.

When you ask Sukuna later on about the location, he just smirks smugly at you and ruffles your hair, making you squeal and pat this hand away while he says,

"Don't even bother, baby. My lips are sealed. You'll find out on Friday."

So, on Friday evening, you pace up and down the living area of your apartment impatiently, wearing your best dress after spending an hour on your makeup, which Nobara even helped you with.

Sukuna's taking you to a restaurant, you are pretty sure about that. But you are low-key worried that you will be overdressed with the pastel pink cocktail dress with the chiffon sleeves and the glittery flowers sewn on the waistline. It's a dress you bought a few years ago for a wedding party.

But then Sukuna knocks on your door, and you yank it open impatiently, only to gasp when you see him. You were definitely right to wear your most fancy dress. Because your boyfriend is also dressed to the nines. And he looks hellishly attractive!

Sukuna is wearing a black suit that sits snugly on his tall and muscular body, accentuating his athletic figure perfectly. Combined with a dark red dress shirt that brings out his maroon eyes, a black tie, and some really nice black shoes. In his hands is a huge bouquet of red, pastel pink, and white roses that he pushes into your arms as he leans down to kiss your cheek.

You automatically take the flowers but are too busy staring at Sukuna. He looks so handsome that you can't stop yourself from letting your gaze slowly travel over his body. When you finally reach his tattooed face, you are greeted by Sukuna's broad grin.

"Like what you see, princess?"

"Yeah, you look really good, baby."

He grins broadly at you, raising an eyebrow cockingly as he shrugs,

"I always do."

"Oh, Kuna!"

You roll your eyes, smacking his broad shoulders playfully, and groan dramatically, which turns into a happy chuckle when you feel Sukuna sneak his strong arms around your waist and pull you to him.

You wrap one hand around Sukuna's tie to lightly tug on it as you get on your tiptoes to kiss him. You can feel his lips lift in a smile when he kisses you back, slow and teasingly, licking into your mouth in a way that makes you a bit dizzy.

But Sukuna pulls away again after a moment, only his large hand stays on the small of your back, caressing you lightly. His low voice is a velvety murmur,

"You look absolutely beautiful, princess. Clearly stealing the spotlight from me, and that is not something I say lightly."

He winks at you, making you burst out laughing happily as you finally take time to look at the flowers in your hand, bringing them to your nose to inhale their scent.

"The flowers are so pretty. Thank you so much!"

And as smug as Sukuna usually acts, you see his face turn into an almost flustered expression. To your surprise, your bad boy makes a gesture that you only knew from his twin brother so far. He averts his gaze, lifts his large hand, and scratches his neck, staring at a space slightly left to your face while he informs you,

"I wasn't satisfied with the bouquets that woman at the flower shop showed me, so I had her make one exactly how I wanted it for you. Pink is you, and red is me... and the white is for my Tigers hoodie that I wore when you slammed into me at our first meeting."

You are sure your heart just melted into a puddle. A little squeaky noise escapes your lips as you lunge at Sukuna, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly. And he chuckles and asks,

"What?"

"Oh, nothing... I just think you are the best."

And you know he can feel your smile against his chest just like you can feel his smile when he leans down to breathe a kiss on your forehead.

"Did you win the lottery?"

You look incredulously at Sukuna as you stand in front of the fanciest restaurant in the whole region. Sukuna just grins at you, lifting one eyebrow playfully,

"Only the best is good enough for my girl."

"But..."

"Shhh. This is a special occasion, so let me spend a little money. I swear it's okay. I know someone who works here. He used to play hockey with me, and he gives me a discount."

You are sure that even with a discount, the meal is still too expensive for a college student, but you don't say it and instead just smile at Sukuna and thank him as you bump into his side.

The guy at the reception desk waves over a waiter, who leads you to your table for two. You feel your pulse race as you walk on Sukuna's arm, feeling as if you got teleported into a romance novel where the main character gets introduced to the fancy life at some Mafia prince's side or something.

The thought makes you laugh softly under your breath, and Sukuna only adds to that little fantasy, acting like a true gentleman. He pulls out your chair, helps you sit down, and then holds your hand atop the table, occasionally bringing it to his lips and kissing your fingers, giving you crazy butterflies with everything he does.

The food is incredible, and Sukuna is a charming conversation partner, who is funny and smart, just like you know him from your lunch breaks in the dining hall. But tonight feels different. Special. Almost magical. Both of you are dressed in your fanciest clothes, sitting in this exclusive restaurant, surrounded by an elegant and luxurious atmosphere, while your table is filled with the fanciest meal you have ever seen.

Sukuna really went all out. He truly meant it when he promised to take you on the best date.

The four-course meal he booked is delicious, and the wine that goes with it tastes amazing, even though you doubt you have the exquisite taste buds for actually being able to tell which wine is good and which isn't. You eat the delicious food, drink your wine, and toast to your newly updated relationship status, joking around and flirting playfully the whole time.

By the time your dessert arrives, you feel completely happy and satisfied, exhilarated by the luxurious meal and Sukuna's company. The waiter places a huge plate with various desserts in front of each of you, making you go, "Ooooh!" which brings a super pleased grin to Sukuna's face.

You both dig into your desserts, but you realize that Sukuna doesn't touch one of the variations at all. The one which you like the most. A knowing smile plays around his lips when he scoops some of it onto his spoon and offers it to you wordlessly.

You smile at Sukuna, whispering a thank you when he brings the spoon to your lips, and feeds you your favorite dessert. It's cute, loving, and even sexy, given how sensual the act of it is. Your heart beats even faster, making you feel so light-headed and happy that you can't stop smiling.

Sukuna looks happy, too, and it makes your heart flutter. He must have really wanted to excel at this whole date thing and make this evening special. Because you are special to him.

You watch him eat, soon finding out which dessert is his fave, and safe it up for him, too, which leads to both of you playfully reaching across the table to feed each other the other's favorite dessert, laughing and joking around until both of your plates are empty.

Sukuna's large hand wraps lightly around your wrist, holding it as he lets you feed him the last spoon of the cherry chocolate pudding he liked the most. A small grin plays around his lips as he takes the spoon carefully into his mouth, and his maroon eyes look deeply into yours.

It makes you flustered somehow, feeling like a teenager on her first date, and you giggle nervously as you feel your face get hot. But you don't look away, too transfixed by how good Sukuna looks and by the warmth in his eyes when he looks at you.

"This is the best date I've ever had, Kuna."

His smirk is smug as hell when he replies with a,

"That was my goal."

At the same moment as you add,

"But you really didn't have to spend so much money on me! I would have also been happy with eating your home-cooked dinner."

Sukuna laughs softly, that low rumble that makes the hairs on your arms stand up and makes that delicious tingling feeling flow through your veins. His maroon eyes gaze deeply into yours, so serious despite his cocky attitude,

"This is our first real date, princess. I want it to be one you will never forget. Not my everyday cooking in my kitchen, not a stupid hockey party or a mediocre restaurant that you can just visit every day. I want it to be special."

You are sure Sukuna can see the little hearts in your eyes because that's how you feel. Overflowing with affection and love. No one ever put that much effort into being with you.

Just when you are about to get too emotional, Sukuna adds with a little smirk,

"And I definitely had to find something better than a morning run that almost made you puke."

You look into his eyes for a long moment, trying to control yourself, but you can't hold back and snort loudly, bursting out with laughter. Too loud for this solemn atmosphere. You press a hand over your mouth, but you can't stop, tears welling up in your eyes from how hard you are laughing. And Sukuna joins in, laughing the kind of laugh that he only allows you and his twin to see.

It earns the two of you some scandalized stares. The tables around you seem to be so calm and collected, so professional and restrained even at a private dinner, and your loud laughter is so completely opposite to that and carries through the whole room, making everyone look at you. But it makes you laugh even more, unable to stop, while you still look at Sukuna.

The guy at the table next to yours clears his throat loudly, catching Sukuna's attention, who cocks his head at the man while raising an eyebrow slowly,

"What? Are you allergic to fun?"

The man and his wife both inhale sharply, eyes widening, both opening their mouths but then closing them again without saying anything after taking a good look at Sukuna's tattooed face. And you hide your face in your hands as more loud laughter bubbles out of your mouth.

You feel exhilarated when you walk to Sukuna's car, a bubbly feeling in your chest and a smile on your face even as the chilly nightair hits your naked shoulders and makes you shiver. But Sukuna is perceptive as always, immediately taking off his suit jacket to drape it over your shoulders before he wraps his arm around you and pulls you against his side to keep you warm.

You are sure anyone who walks past you can see how smitten you are. It's a wonderful feeling, the kind that makes you smile nonstop. Even more so when you reach Sukuna's car, and he holds open the door for you and closes it carefully behind you before he jogs casually around the car and gets into the driver seat with a dazzling smile on his tattooed face.

The drive back to campus takes about an hour. You spend most of it in comfortable silence and the occasional laugh when you remember the way the other guests reacted to your laughing fit. Sukuna lights a cigarette, smiling as he takes a deep drag and slowly exhales the smoke. He quickly turns up the heat, making sure you stay warm despite the open car window.

And you sigh happily as you snuggle into Sukuna's jacket and lean back in the comfy leather seat, reaching out to put one hand on Sukuna's muscular thigh, where it stays the whole drive home.

Sukuna parks in front of your dorm and walks you to your door, still the perfect gentleman. But before you can remark on it, he kisses you. A sweet, deep French kiss, where both of his tattooed hands cup your cheeks, and he tilts your head back to kiss you even deeper.

You feel weak in the knees, grateful for Sukuna's tall, strong body to lean against, sighing softly into the kiss, wishing it will never end.

When Sukuna pulls away, you reach out immediately and grab his tie, smiling at him as you let your gaze trail over him again. He really looks fine as hell. You tug on his tie, pulling him closer again, and tilt your head to grin up at him,

"Hey, where do you think you're going? Stay the night, baby. I want this date to last the whole rest of the day."

And Sukuna's eyes twinkle playfully as he grabs your chin and slowly leans down,

"I'm going nowhere. As long as you'll have me, I will always stay the night, princess."

SIGHHHHHHH 💗💗 That date with him would make me melt, too. I hope you enjoyed it!! The thought of Sukuna dressing super nice in a suit and tie is always very delicious to me.

Thank you so much for reading and for all the love! I hope you liked the new chapter. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

In Chapter 14, we will see our dear dormmate Nobara maybe becoming a bit softer for our hockey boyfie lol + Reader taking care of a pissed-off Sukuna, who lost a game ;) He needs us so bad 😘

[sceletaflores]

couldn't help it, i had to kiss the teacher!

pair: professor!logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 3.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, age gap (reader is mid twenties...logan is...his age), gratuitous nickname usage, public sex (classroom), oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), an impromptu clitoral anatomy lesson, scent kink, hair pulling, light traces of a foot fetish (i'm literally not even sorry), nat probably blatantly ignoring canon, nat trying to sound smart, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

a/n: based off of me going to my a&p lab today and getting super bored which somehow led to thoughts about professor logan who teaches a&p…that then spiraled into this very quickly. p.s this is like a t.a!reader not a student lol

professor logan has a special way of helping you retain information...

You've been huffing and puffing for the last twenty minutes.

Logan has been blatantly ignoring you for the last twenty minutes, because that's the only way a man with enhanced hearing can ignore someone.

Blatantly.

He's been at the chalkboard since you came in a little after his last class ended, busy mapping out his lesson plan for tomorrow.

The chalk squeaks rhythmically as he writes, you tap your foot in time with it.

You're perched on top of his desk, different stacks of papers messily scattered all around you like a tornado of ungraded essays and homework assignments tore across the glossy cherry wood of it.

You glare at Logan's back harder, forcing yourself to ignore the way his muscles glide and flex beneath the thin fabric of his flannel with every move. You've got your chin resting on the palm of your hand that's propped against your knee, the other holding a red pen down by your shoe.

You sigh, long and overdramatic, for what feels like the millionth time.

Logan doesn't turn around, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move at all. His hand hardly even slows, jotting down different tissue structures with infuriating disinterest.

You shift on his desk with a huff, dragging your eyes back to the paper in front of you. You scan over the messy handwriting and tiny diagrams littered over the page as you tap the pen in your hand against the toe of your shoe absentmindedly.

"Knock it off," Logan mutters from across the room, not looking at you as he does. It's the first thing he's said to you since you showed up.

You instantly perk up at the attention, flicking your eyes back to him.

“Knock what off?” you ask innocently, tapping the pen on your shoe harder than before. The tiny 'clack' sound it makes is sharp in the quiet of the room.

Logan finally turns, fixing you with a look that’s equal parts annoyance and amusement. “The sighin’, the tappin’, the huffin’ like you’re a broken radiator. You’ve been makin’ noise since you sat down.”

You narrow your eyes at him, unrepentant. "I’m bored."

He lets out a dry chuckle, turning back towards to board with a amused shake of his head. “Not my problem, sweetheart.”

You frown, dropping the pen and sitting up straighter, as if you’ve just been handed a challenge. "You could try and help me," you suggest, gesturing to the scattered pile with a wave of your hand. "You know? Like a good professor would."

"I don't grade papers, kid. That's what you're here for." Logan shoots over his shoulder, seamlessly picking up where he left off. “Besides, I’m good with the chalkboard for now. Better company.”

“Chalk doesn’t talk back,” you grumble under your breath.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, so now you can hear me?"

Logan doesn’t bother replying, but you can see the barely there smirk turning up the corners of his mouth.

You scoot forward on his desk, pushing papers out of the way so your legs can dangle over the edge. You swing your feet back and forth, just enough to disturb another pile of papers sitting nearby, watching them slide closer to the edge.

One more swing and the corner of a stack teeters precariously. You bite your lip, considering whether or not to send it tumbling just to see if that would get him to turn around again.

Logan, of course, somehow knows exactly what you’re thinking without even glancing towards you. “Don’t,” he grumbles lowly, a warning.

You freeze mid-swing, but the urge to push his buttons is too tempting. "What?" you say, all wide-eyed innocence, nudging the pile ever so slightly with your knee.

Logan lets out a deep sigh, giving you a sideways glance over his shoulder. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth sometimes, you know that? I doubt Hank's help nags him half as much.”

You grin, taking that as a small victory.

"I was recommended," you remind him, tone overly cheery and saccharine.

"Must've been desperate," he mutters, finally stepping away from the board and dusting chalk from his hands. Logan turns, crossing his arms as he leans back against the chalkboard, giving you a look that says he’s just on the edge of being amused

You raise an eyebrow, fixing him with a blank stare. "I’ll be sure to pass that along to Professor Xavier."

Logan shakes his head, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to smile. “Yeah? Be my guest. Make sure you tell him you’re spendin’ your time testin' my patience instead of your job.”

You slump back on the desk with a groan, head tilted towards the ceiling. "It's been forever since I've taken this class," you whine, rolling your head to the left lazily. "I hardly remember any of this, how am I supposed to grade it?"

"Barely remember any of this?" he repeats back to you, brow raised in disapproval. He pushes off the chalkboard and starts to make his way towards you. His steps are slow, deliberate, like he’s sizing you up—though you know it’s mostly for show. 

Mostly.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes, still splayed back on your palms and kicking your feet languidly. There’s chalk dust littered over his chest and the front of his thighs, coating them in a thin layer white. Your gaze trails the path of his steps, a slow smile tugging at your lips the closer he gets.

Logan stops in front of you, his towering frame almost filling your view entirely. You’re able to look him in the eyes perched on his desk like this, the green of them is darker than normal.

He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes glint with a teasing challenge as he tilts his head slightly, like he’s daring you to keep going.

“You got cotton in your ears when I’m up there talking or what?” he asks, voice dipping lower than before.

Your smile widens, and you shrug, trying to keep your cool under his heavy gaze. “You know I can’t listen to you when you wear jeans that tight.”

His eyes lock onto yours, their usual sharpness softened by something more dangerous, something that sends a thrill down your spine. "Maybe if you paid a little more attention," he says, voice a low rumble, "you wouldn’t need to whine so much."

You roll your eyes, even as the heat between you starts to curl in your chest. "Or maybe," you counter, leaning back a touch more and tilting your head up to meet his gaze better, "you could actually help me instead of being a complete pain in the—"

Before you can finish, Logan’s hands slam down on either side of you, caging you in. His face is inches from yours now, that barely-there smirk playing on his lips again.

You can feel the warmth radiating off him, the sharp edge of his stare cutting through your casual defiance.

“—ass,” you finally finish, voice slightly more breathless than before.

Logan just stares at you, the intense and unwavering attention you were itching for earlier makes you want to squirm in place now. His gaze is almost predatory, as if he’s taking in every flutter of your eyelashes and the quickening pace of your breath. 

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t back down.

You lean forward a little, tilting your head. "So, what’s it gonna take to get you to grade just one of these?" You pick up a paper from the pile and wave it in front of him teasingly. “I really need your help, professor.” 

The word drips from your lips like a challenge, a taunt.

Logan’s eyes flicker with something dangerous, a flash of heat that tells you he’s not as unaffected as he pretends to be. His fingers brush against the desk right beside your thigh, close enough to feel the warmth of him but it’s still too far.

He leans down slightly, inches away from your lips. His breath mingles with yours, warm and inviting, as the tension in the air thickens.

The scent of him—woodsy and masculine—invades your senses, and you can’t help but feel exhilarated. Your pulse starts to race, a mix of excitement and a hint of challenge flashing between you. 

You let out a soft breath, eyes fluttering shut as you lean forward almost involuntarily.

Just as you’re about to close the gap, he pulls back, straightening up with a smug grin.

“Tell you what,” he starts, voice gone casual like he isn’t testing the very limits of your sanity. “I’ll help you.”

You open your mouth, cocky victory speech on the tip of your tongue, but Logan cuts you off.

“Not with grading,” he clarifies with a shake of his head. “It’s more like a," he takes a slow pause, like he's trying to find the right words, "personalized lesson.”

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse thunders in your ears. "What kind of lesson are we talking about?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady but it still comes out breathless.

His hands move from the desk, gliding up your legs until they rest just above your knees, the warmth of his touch igniting every nerve ending in your body. 

“Logan—”

Anything you were going to say dissolves into a breathy gasp when he drops to his knees in front of you.

Your thighs clench together, arousal pooling in your panties sticky and wet. Logan's nose twitches, eyes darkening as he scents the headiness of your essence in the air.

His mouth twitches into a slow, deliberate grin as he catches the shift in your scent, the change in your body language betraying your desire. 

His hands, firm yet careful, slide higher along your thighs, fingers brushing the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of your skirt. The fabric rucks up ever so slightly under his touch, exposing just a little more of you to the cool air of the room and the heat of his gaze.

"Real quiet now," he teases darkly, voice husky and thick with tension, his thumbs tracing small, maddening circles against your skin. "Not so mouthy anymore, huh?"

Your breath hitches, a low heat sparking in the pit of your stomach and spreading outward.

Logan's grip tightens slightly, as though he’s testing the weight of your response, the way your thighs tense beneath his hands. He looks up at you, eyes dark and gleaming with an intensity that makes it impossible to think straight.

“You talk a lot of game, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice sending a thrill down your spine, “but I think it’s time to show me you can learn something."

You tilt your head back, trying to steady yourself, but it’s no use. Your body’s betraying you, hips shifting slightly forward, your legs spreading just so, inviting more of his touch—inviting him to make good on that unspoken promise that hangs between you.

Logan’s smirk deepens, dangerously close to devouring the last of your composure. "All you gotta do," he drawls, his breath hot against the inside of your thigh, "is ask for it."

His hands slide up a little more, his fingers catching on the edge of your panties. You can't help the sharp inhale that escapes you.

His challenge hangs in the air, thick and heavy, but you're past the point of hesitation. The words leave your lips before you even realize it.

"Teach me."

Logan’s grin spreads like wildfire, the kind that sparks and sets everything in its path ablaze. His eyes never leave yours, holding you captive as he flips your skirt up.

Something low and gritty tears its way from his chest at the sight of your panties, soaked fabric melded against the shape of your aching pussy. The sound echoes in the quiet room, low and primal, stirring a deep thrum of excitement in the pit of your stomach.

He shoves his way between your thighs, spreading them even further to make enough room for the width of his shoulders.

"You're a smart girl," Logan says easily, leaning down to trail kisses along the skin of your inner thigh, just inches from where you really need his mouth. "You should be able to tell me what tissue this is made of."

He dips his head, trailing his nose along the soaked fabric of your cotton panties until it nudges against your clit.

"Logan, I– ah!”

A sharp slap to your thigh cuts you off, pinpricks of pleasure making you cry out as they bloom red across your skin.

“Is that what you call me?”

It takes a second to click in the haze of your mind, what he’s asking for. When it finally does, you're whole body shivers, a broken moan falling from your lips as you take in the expectant look in Logan's eyes.

Your mind whirls, but the answer tumbles from your lips like a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

"Professor," you gasp, voice soft and laced with need.

Logan's grin is devilish, hands gripping your hips tight enough that you can feel the strength behind them.

"Good girl," he growls, voice thick with approval, the heat in his gaze burning you from the inside out. 

You let out a soft whimper, hips instinctively tilting toward him, silently begging for more. But he doesn’t move. Instead, his grip on your thighs tightens, holding you firmly in place.

“Uh-uh," he rumbles, his mouth inches from you, but not close enough to touch. "You know how this works. You haven’t answered my question."

You can’t respond, silent as you stare down at Logan, wide-eyed as your mind races for anything to say that’ll get him to keep going.

"Come on, baby," he urges, thumbs rubbing slow circles over your skin. "Just tell me somethin' smart, I'll give you what you want."

You try to focus, try to remember something—anything—about what he taught in class. But all you can think about is the way his hands feel on your thighs, the heat of his breath, the maddening nearness of his mouth.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing the edge of your panties, just shy of where you need him most, and you can't help the frustrated groan that escapes you.

“What's sweet thing made of?" He nudges the soaked fabric against your clit again, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

"Fuck...erectile tissue," you manage to breathe out, mind fogged as you claw for the right answer. "But it's—it's surface is covered in epithelial tissue."

Extra credit.

Logan hums, the sound low and approving. 

"Very good," he murmurs, his hands slipping beneath your panties, pushing the fabric aside. The first touch of his fingers against your bare skin sends a shiver of pure pleasure through you, your body arching off the desk in response.

His fingers tease along your slit, and you bite your lip to stifle the whimper threatening to spill out. Logan watches you closely, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he spreads you open with his fingers, exposing the slick heat between your legs.

Your back arches off the desk with a loud moan, hands gripping the edge hard enough that your knuckles turn white with it. 

“Fuck, look at that,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, sliding his index finger through the wetness gathering at your entrance. “This is all for me? This pretty pussy all wet for your professor?

He presses a finger against your entrance, teasingly pushing just the tip inside before pulling back, relishing the way your body instinctively arches toward him.

You shake your head, peering down at him with glassy eyes. “You were never my professor,” you shoot back breathlessly, unable to keep from pushing against him even now.

Logan hums absentmindedly, eyes glued to the space between your legs. “Lucky you,” he drawls, sinking two fingers inside you without warning.

Your head falls back with a cry, thighs tightening around his shoulders as sparks go off at the base of your spine. 

“Now, tell me how you feel,” Logan prompts, his voice gravelly and filled with that dark, teasing edge. His fingers glide up, slick as they draw tantalizing circles over your clit that set your nerves ablaze.

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, embarrassment mixing with arousal as you wrestle with the overwhelming sensations. “I—uh,” you stammer, trying to organize your thoughts, but they slip away like sand through your fingers. “I feel–ah!…good.”

Logan lets out a chuckle. “Good, huh? Just good? You can do better than that. Don't get shy now, baby.”

His hand speeds up, the lewd noise of your slick pussy fills the room with each thrust. “What’s it feel like when I’ve got my fingers in you, hm?”

The dam breaks inside of you, all the embarrassment leaving your body as your hips start rocking down against him lightly.

“Feels so good,” you slur, head lolling to the side to watch him through half-lidded eyes. “Your fingers feel so good in me, professor.”

You’re playing with fire and you know it, but when your eyes slip down his body to find the hard imprint of his cock more than visible through his jeans, you can’t help yourself.

You slide your foot up his toned thigh until the chunky sole brushes against the tented denim.

Logan’s eyes flutter shut for just a second, his grin turning almost feral as he feels the pressure of your foot against him. His hips rock forward slightly, just enough to acknowledge your touch.

“You’re pushin’ your luck, kid,” he bites out, voice rough as gravel, but there's a thread of amusement running through it—like he’s enjoying this game just as much as you are.

You give him a slow, languid smile. "Maybe I like pushing," you breathe, dragging your foot up and down the length of him slowly.

Logan groans darkly, sliding his fingers out of you in one slick motion that makes you whine in protest. His hand moves to grip your ankle, firm but not painful, keeping you pressed against his cock. 

“God, you smell so fuckin’ good,” he says quietly, the words passing through his lips like he couldn’t hold them in anymore. He brings his soaked fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a groan. 

"Taste even better." His voice is rough, filled with desire that matches your own. You can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your lips, your hips bucking involuntarily, begging for more.

His grin widens, and finally, after what feels like an eternity of teasing, he gives in. Logan lowers his head, his mouth pressing against your clit in a slow, deliberate kiss that has your back arching off the desk, a strangled cry ripping from your throat.

Your hands find his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands as you guide him closer, urging him on. His tongue flicks against your clit expertly, his stubble scratching deliciously against your skin with every drag of his head.

Your body feels like it’s been set on fire. The heat builds in your core, faster than you can control, a coil winding tighter and tighter until you feel like you’re about to snap. 

“I—I think I’m going to—” you stammer, overwhelmed by the pleasure as he picks up the pace, fingers moving faster.

“Tell me,” he growls, the rumble of it vibrating against your clit as he holds your gaze, plunging his fingers back inside of you. “I want to hear you say it.”

“God, Professor! Fuck, Logan, I’m gonna—” you cry out, your body trembling, ready to explode. Your pussy weeps around the stretch of his thick fingers, soaking his hand and his wrist with your wetness.

"Atta' girl," he growls, pressing his thumb over your clit to send a jolt of ecstasy through your core. "Makin' a fuckin’ mess all over my desk, just like that.”

He leans in, wrapping his mouth around your clit and sucking while his fingers keep up their relentless pace. With barely any pressure, he drags the harsh edge of his teeth over your clit and sends you tumbling over the edge, your body arching into his mouth as you come. 

The sheer force of it has your whole body tensing, your foot pressing on the clothed length of his cock harder than before. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes screwing shut as his hips buck up against the heel of your shoe. 

As you ride the waves of ecstasy, Logan’s eyes stay locked on yours, watching. Greedy eyes taking in every detail of your face, every moan and whimper that falls from your slick lips, every tremor of your body.

He doesn’t relent, his fingers working you through the aftershocks, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from you until you’re left breathless, heart racing, and utterly spent. 

As you come down from the high, you glance at him, chest heaving with exertion. 

Logan’s already looking at you, his gaze has a little more softness mixed in with the heat still simmering. He drops one last kiss to the slick skin of your thigh before pushing your foot off his lap and standing. His lips and chin glistening with your release, that cocky smirk still firmly in place as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Your eyes fall to where he’s still hard and tenting the denim of his jeans, pre-come leaking from the tip to stain the fabric darker.

“Ready for another one,” he whispers, leaning in close. His lips brush over yours, hips slotting between your thighs to grind the hard length of his cock along your sensitive pussy.

You can’t help the smug smile that takes over your face, your arms raising up to circle around his neck. Your eyes trail along the boards forgotten lesson plan over his shoulder, to the papers that were sitting on his desk scattered on the hardwood. 

Your legs circle his waist, dragging him closer. "I think so."

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[fear-is-truth]

Jason Todd with ballet!reader? Omg I love your writing on him!

jason todd x ballerina!reader | MDNI 18+

JASON TODD likes to pretend he’s above it. that it doesn’t absolutely ruin him when you stretch—when you press your leg up against the barre, your spine curving in a beautiful arch. he likes to pretend he’s not watching the way your body moves, the way your muscles flex and extend with years of discipline behind every motion.

but he is.

god, he is.

it starts as a joke. him teasing you about your ‘fancy ballet tricks,’ as he watches you lace up your pointe shoes, calling you a showoff when you pirouette across the apartment floor just to grab your water bottle.

but then, one night, his hands are gripping your hips, dragging you onto his lap, and you hook your leg up over his shoulder without even thinking.

his teasing stops real quick after that.

“jesus christ,” he mutters, voice strained, hands flexing against your thighs. “you—fuck—” he trails off, just staring at the way you move, the way you roll your hips slowly and teasingly, like you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

the next time, he tests you.

“can you—” he hesitates, but you already know what he’s asking. so you just smirk and lift both legs with ease, ankles crossing behind his head.

jason actually groans.

“holy shit.”

after that, it becomes a thing. him finding excuses to test your flexibility in increasingly creative ways.

he’s shameless about it, too.

“bet you can’t bend like that here,” he challenges, pushing you back against the mattress, watching with greedy eyes as you stretch, arch, move to accommodate him. never has he seen someone who could fold like you do, who could let him bend you in ways he’d never even thought about.

“fuck,” he mutters, hands holding your waist as he pulls your legs up—higher, higher—until your ankles are pinned beside your ears.

“you always this bendy, ballerina?”

the first time he had you against the mirror, leg hooked over his shoulder, your toes pointed prettily behind his back, and the way you look—flushed and breathless, lip caught between your teeth, your hair a mess against the mirror—jesus fucking christ he had to physically stop himself from cumming in seconds. rolling his hips forward, jason pushes himself even deeper, and you let out a punched-out gasp, fingers tightening in his hair.

“too much?” his voice is rough, but there’s an edge of concern beneath it. you shake your head no, but your lower belly aches from how deep he is, the stretch making your thighs quiver.

“no,” you breathe. “just—s-so deep.”

jason groans, relishing in the delicious sensation of you pulsing around him.

the time you sank into a perfect split while riding him, thighs flexing as you rolled your hips? yeah, that had him gripping your asscheeks so hard he was surprised he didn’t leave handprints.

the time you let him lift you—your ankles by your ears, his arms under your knees, holding you midair—his brain almost short-circuited.

he was fucking obsessed.

but it’s not just that.

he shows up to your recitals. sits in the back, hood pulled up, arms crossed like he’s just there for support. after the show, you find him waiting at you by the exit. in his hand, a bottle of water—cold, condensation slick against his fingers. he presses the bottle into your hand.

“you’re so unreal up there,” he tells you. he means it.

later, back home, jason kneels at the foot of the couch, tugs your legs into his lap, and starts kneading slow circles into the arches of your aching feet.

“should be illegal to move like that,” he mutters without glancing up at you. his thumbs dig in a little harder, and you let out a soft, relieved sigh.

“y’know, if you’re tired of all that ballet practice…”

you arch a brow, amused. “yeah?”

he smirks, pressing a kiss to your ankle.

“i do have a few other uses for that flexibility.”

[shuenkio]

HIS DARK SIDE | ❤️‍🔥

Paring: Dom!Hoon X m!reader

Genre:Heavy Smut. [MDNI 18+]

CW: Gym sex, sweatpants, belly bulge, friends with benefits, cumming inside, nsfw.

Summary: Your eyes are stuck on Sunghoon grey sweatpants.

A/N: This was my first time writing explicit scenes so please bare with me >< (update note on 080824)

Sunghoon being a college student who also engages in skating as a hobby, and takes great pride in his job, asks you to come along and support him at competitions. Despite your lack of direct contribution, your presence is more than enough for him.

On a regular day, Sunghoon requests your presence at the gym, where he has rented the entire facility just for the two of you. The fact that he is wealthy and somewhat famous contributes to this arrangement.

As you open the door to your dorm room, Sunghoon stands before you, towering over you in his gym attire and a gym bag hanging from his shoulder. He appears particularly appealing in his gray sweatpants, immediately catching your attention. Embarrassed and feeling your face heat up, you can't help but silently gulp, anticipating the inevitable outcome of this sight. Sunghoon, noticing your stunned silence, inquires about your reaction.

When Sunghoon questions your silence, wondering if his outfit is unattractive, you quickly reassure him that it's not the case. He explains that he sent a message the night before, but you didn't see it. He then shows you the message as proof. Despite your busy college schedule and reliance on a computer for work, Sunghoon offers you $50 for attending the gym with him.

"Take it or not" hearing the word money, you agree without hesitation and rush to change into your gym clothes.

As you enter the rented gym alongside Sunghoon, he begins his workout routine, leaving you to explore on your own. Being new to the gym experience, you looking for a relatively less strenuous activity like a treadmill and low-weight dumbbells.

Initially, it proves challenging, but eventually, you find yourself adjusting to the routine and breaking a sweat. Wearing a black top, you're fortunate that it doesn't reveal the sweat as much. Meanwhile, Sunghoon efficiently goes through half the gym's equipment, revealing his toned biceps and visible veins. Despite his slim build, his unique physique captivates your attention.

You take a break from your workout, feeling exhausted and with sweat soaking your head. You approach Sunghoon, who's lifting weights in a lying position. The sight of his muscles flexing under his tight compression tank top captivates you. However, feeling self-conscious about being a "creep," you try to look away. Unbeknownst to you, Sunghoon is well aware of your gaze, even with his headphones on, making your attempt to look away a bit pointless.

Watching Sunghoon exercise, you noticed his crotch area becoming more obvious under the tight grey sweatpants.

His growing erection strained against the fabric, clearly visible as he lifted weights.

The sight stirred feelings of excitement and nervousness within you.

"Did he get... Hard by just lifting weights?" You couldn't believe it, but the evidence was right in front of you.

His erection strained against the tight fabric, causing a throbbing sensation within your own body.

Despite the discomfort, you knew this was a rare opportunity - something his fans would kill for. So, you sat still and endured the pain, determined not to miss a single second of the show.

Once Sunghoon completed his workout, you attempted to nonchalantly divert your gaze, feigning that you hadn't been intently observing him the entire time. He took off his headphones, catching his breath as he chugged down the water.

"Enjoy the view?" A smirk played on his lips, indicating that he knew exactly what had caught your attention.

"Shut up", you protested half-heartedly, folding your arms across your chest. It was just once!

"Just admit it, you want me" he murmured seductively into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he is leaning down. Not only was his body radiating heat, but the raw sexual energy he exuded made you dizzy with desire.

"But..." you hesitated, unsure how to respond to this new side of Sunghoon. You always thought of him as a friendly guy who occasionally asked for favors and invited you to his skating competitions. Yet here he was, dominating and undeniably horny.

"Explore as you please m/n or I'll make you instead" Sunghoon urged with a mischievous smile

Taking advantage of the situation, you hesitantly reached out and felt his size through his pants. The shape of his impressive length sent a thrill coursing through your fingers. He responded with a soft moan, evidently relishing your touch. As you continued stroking him, he couldn't hold back any longer and lowered his pants, revealing his long, pale cock - already wet with pre-cum. Watching it stand tall ignited an intense desire within you to push him over the edge completely. Without warning, Sunghoon's darker side surfaced suddenly.

Unable to resist any longer, Sunghoon picked you up and placed you on his abs, wrapping your legs around his waist while holding onto his shoulder. In a flash, he asked for permission to enter you. His eyes were half lidded and needy, revealing just how much he desired you. You nodded enthusiastically in agreement.He grinned wickedly and lowered you onto his hardness, causing your body to shake as soon as the tip touched you. Both of you found yourselves lost in the moment - not in a private room but among the gym's equipment.

With a casual smirk, Sunghoon began thrusting into you with increasing force, mimicking the rhythm of his workout. The combination of exercise and sex proved to be exhilarating, belly bulge on you. You cried out in ecstasy as he continued to drive himself deeper inside you, while Sunghoon threw his head back, thoroughly enjoying every moment.

As Sunghoon continued to thrust into you with increasing pushing, the sensation of his hardness filling you sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Shi-shit i feel it coming m/n"

The sound of skin meeting skin echoed throughout the gym. His grip on your hips tightened as he drove himself deeper inside you, eliciting soft gasps from your lips that mingled with his own ragged breaths. You could feel every inch of him within you, stretching and claiming you in equal measure.

You were too embarrassed to say anything, all you do was moaning and cried in this sensitive moment. Your nails digging on his back, your dick began to feel the sensation, feeling like soon to be coming.

"It's coming m/n l- let's cum together oo?"

As the climax approached, Sunghoon felt a surge of pleasure coursing through their veins, his cock grow hard as a rock. With one final push, both of you released the intense orgasm together.

He trembled slightly, as Sunghoon filled you with warmth and intimacy. Breathing heavily like puppies. Your hole is now stretching wide open, then he pull his throbbing out of you.

"It's feel like heaven like they said m/n,i- i want more!"

Usually man's glans get very sensitive after cumming but Sunghoon didn't care. His tip is still dripping with orgasm, however he drive inside you once again!

"FUCK NO! MY HOLE"

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to dividers!

🗣️ I KNOW THIS IS NOT HOW SH ACT BUT IMAGINE HE'S WILD LIKE THIS?

[kxsagi]

Hey hey hey Okay okay wait just read thru your two fics one of iasagi’s thigh obsession and your obsession with his biceps. So what if what if, he has his arms wrapped around your thighs… holding you in place and you can just SEE his biceps flexing to hold you down… best of both worlds for the both of us 🥰🥰 anyways thank you love you love your writing <33

“𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮”

a/n: thank you!!! i love writing about possessive isagi (i can be his soccer field)

isagi has a thigh obsession. no, seriously. man is down catastrophic. the kind of down bad that makes him stare when you’re sitting on the couch, legs crossed over each other, just there. like you’re not even doing anything remotely suggestive, just existing. wearing those casual, loose shorts that always ride up a little when you sit. your skin peeks out and suddenly he’s gripping his phone tighter like he’s about to crush it. 

but here’s the thing. you’re no better. your bicep obsession has you downright feral. the man could be stretching after a nap, arms lifting over his head with a sleepy groan, and the second his shirt rides up slightly, your eyes are locked. when he crosses his arms? it’s game over. and if he dares to adjust his wristband mid-game, flexing just enough to make the muscles stand out? you’re ready to risk it all, no questions asked. 

so when isagi’s arms are currently wrapped around your thighs, holding you in place, it’s like both of you have won the lottery. 

he’s got you straddling his lap on the couch, and you swear it wasn’t even your idea. one minute you were teasing him, draping your legs over his lap just to mess with him. next thing you know, he growled something low about you “testing him” before dragging you into his lap with a grip that made you gasp. 

his large hands are warm, thumbs pressing into the soft skin of your inner thighs, holding you there as if you’ll disappear if he loosens his hold. you feel his fingers flex against you, palms possessive. and god, it’s not even the way he’s gripping you that makes your head spin. it’s the biceps. 

those stupidly perfect biceps. 

his arms are caging you in, flexed with the sheer strength it takes to keep you still. veins slightly prominent beneath his skin, tendons taut from the pressure, making his muscles stand out more. your eyes stay glued to them, practically drooling. you even reach out without thinking, fingers brushing over the solid muscle, feeling how warm and firm he is. 

“you’re not slick, you know,” he mutters, voice low and amused, catching the way you’re blatantly admiring him. his lips curl into a slow, wicked smirk. “you’ve been eyeing my arms for the past five minutes.” 

“yeah? well, you’ve been staring at my thighs for five months,” you shoot back, your voice just as teasing, but he just narrows his eyes slightly, his grip on your thighs tightening ever so slightly. 

“that supposed to be a complaint?” his voice drops lower, like a challenge, eyes flickering down to the way your thighs look pressed between his hands. his thumbs stroke circles over the skin there, slow and deliberate, like he’s taking his time, savoring the feeling. 

and when you squirm a little, testing the strength of his grip, you feel his biceps tighten, flexing even harder to keep you down. your eyes immediately snap back to them, and you can’t help it, you run your fingers along the muscle again, deliberately tracing the curve of his arm just to watch him flex harder. 

“oh, you like that?” he murmurs with a cocky grin, noticing exactly what you’re doing. he leans in a little closer, voice dropping lower, teasing against your ear. “feeling a little weak for me, huh?” 

you roll your eyes, but it’s a weak attempt at playing it cool, especially when your fingers shamelessly trace his arms again. your legs twitch slightly under his grip, and his hands instantly tighten, fingers digging in with a possessive sort of desperation. you know it’s probably driving him insane, the way your thighs clench in his hands, giving him the slightest resistance only to have him hold you down tighter. 

“mm, cute,” he mutters, watching you squirm slightly. his voice is thick with satisfaction, and you hate how much you love it. “go ahead. try to move again.” 

the dare is all you need. you shift your weight slightly, just enough to test him, and it earns you an immediate, almost feral reaction. his arms flex with more force, biceps bulging slightly with the effort, holding you right where he wants you. 

the sight makes your breath catch. your fingers instinctively curl around his upper arms, squeezing slightly just to feel how solid they are. and you swear he flexes harder, just to drive you mad. 

“show-off,” you mutter, but you’re already leaning down, brushing your lips along the ridge of his bicep. you press slow, deliberate kisses there, and you feel his grip falter ever so slightly as he exhales sharply, his breath heavy. 

“nah,” he rasps, voice lower than before, hoarse with need. his grip on your thighs tightens again, enough to make you gasp slightly. his eyes meet yours, dark with hunger. “i’m just giving you what you want.” 

and as his arms tighten around you, locking you into place with a smug smirk and a barely restrained groan, you realize you could live like this forever. caught in the crossfire of each other’s obsessions, perfectly trapped. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[aspenmissing]

Hiiiii!!! I requested the muscular girlfriend with arcane characters, and omg, I love it SO MUCH! Thank you so much for writing my request! Honestly, I was so nervous about submitting it that I considered not submitting it at all, but I'm so glad I did. I was wondering if I could make another request with all the same arcane characters with their muscular girlfriend again where she's just doing something she already does pretty regularly and doesn't think twice about it, but the characters find it like super attractive or they do something stupid and get hurt/get attacked or something and she protects/helps them even if they can do it themselves? I'm sorry if this is long, I got really amped up after reading the last post lol. I can't wait to read more of your work! 💜

ꜱᴛᴇᴇʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴜꜱᴄʟᴇ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ꜱᴘɪᴄᴇ-ɪꜱʜ || 5536 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛᴇᴅ ᴀꜱꜱᴀꜱꜱɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ) ꜱᴘɪᴄᴇ/ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ?/ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ/ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ (ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ!! ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ! ꜱᴏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴡᴇʟʟ! ɪ ᴀᴍ ꜱᴏ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴇᴅ ɪᴛ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ᴍᴜᴄʜ!! ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ, ɪꜰ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴀꜱ ɪᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ɪ ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ! <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ

JAYCE

The rhythmic clang of metal against wood echoed through the workshop as you swung your hammer down with practiced ease. Each strike drove thick iron nails deep into the beams, securing the frame of the latest project you were working on. The scent of sawdust mixed with the faint burn of heated steel, and the cool Piltover air brushed against your exposed arms, sending a shiver down your spine.

Jayce had come in with the excuse of checking on your work, but in reality, he hadn't taken his eyes off you since he'd arrived.

His arms were crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned against the workbench. He was supposed to be handling some council affairs, but watching you in action was far more entertaining. The way your muscles flexed with every swing, the way your shoulders rolled, the sheer strength behind every movement—it had his full attention. Every precise motion sent a ripple of power through your frame, and Jayce found himself utterly captivated.

"You're staring," you said without looking up, setting another nail in place.

"Can you blame me?" Jayce’s voice was warm, tinged with admiration. "You make wielding that hammer look effortless."

With a snort, you lifted the hammer again, bringing it down in a powerful arc. The nail sank into the beam with one precise hit. Jayce had seen many strong workers in the forges, but there was something about watching you—his partner—that made his breath hitch every time.

"You always get this distracted when I'm working?" You straightened up, rolling your shoulders, and Jayce couldn't help but let his gaze trail down your arms, lingering on the way your veins subtly traced over taut muscle.

"Only when you look that good doing it," he teased, stepping closer. "I mean, come on, those arms? I think you might be stronger than me."

You huffed out a laugh, grabbing another nail and setting it in place. "Think? I know I am."

Jayce raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. "Oh yeah? Care to prove it?"

You paused, turning to face him fully. Your expression was equal parts amusement and challenge. Then, without a word, you flexed—just enough to make a point. The way your biceps tensed, the way your forearms corded with power—it was unfair, really. You knew exactly what you were doing to him.

Jayce let out a low whistle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Damn," he muttered. "You really know how to make a guy feel weak in the knees."

You leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "I thought you liked it."

Jayce chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, I love it."

Before you could react, he slid an arm around your waist, pulling you close. His lips brushed against your ear, voice dropping to a husky murmur. "But I think I need to test that strength firsthand."

You smirked, pressing a palm against his chest. "After I finish my work, golden boy."

Jayce groaned dramatically, but he didn't let go. "Fine, fine. But I'm cashing in on that test later."

"Hope you're ready to lose," you teased, but there was an undeniable glint in your eyes, a flicker of mischief.

Jayce let out a slow breath, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. "You have no idea what you're doing to me right now."

You gave him an innocent shrug before turning back to your work, picking up your hammer once more. The next few swings were deliberately slower, controlled—giving him plenty of time to admire the way your muscles flexed and moved. Jayce swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the workbench as if grounding himself.

"You sure I can't distract you just a little?" He tried, stepping closer, voice taking on that smooth, persuasive tone.

You barely spared him a glance. "Jayce."

"What?" He grinned. "Just saying, if I had half the definition you do, I’d be walking around sleeveless all the time."

You sighed, rolling your eyes, but you couldn't fight the smirk creeping onto your lips. "You already do."

"Yeah, but it doesn't hit the same," he admitted, letting his fingers ghost over your forearm, marveling at the way the muscle shifted beneath his touch. "You're incredible, you know that?"

You exhaled through your nose, amused, before setting down your hammer and finally turning to face him again. "You just love stroking my ego, don’t you?"

Jayce tilted his head, looking you over with something unreadable—something warm and hungry all at once. "Among other things."

A spark of heat passed between you two, and for a brief moment, the workshop, the nails, and the hammer all faded into the background. It was just you and him, standing inches apart, the scent of metal and sawdust mingling with the charged air between you.

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "You keep distracting me like this, and I’m going to make you hold the beams while I work."

Jayce held up his hands in surrender, chuckling. "Okay, okay. I’ll behave... for now."

He stepped back, but his smirk lingered, eyes raking over you one last time before he finally—reluctantly—turned away.

But as he left, you had the distinct feeling that later, when you were done, Jayce would be very eager to put your strength to the test.

VIKTOR

The afternoon light spilled lazily over Piltover’s streets, casting long golden shadows on the cobblestone roads. The air was crisp but not too cold, the kind of weather that made walks through the city especially pleasant—at least, if one wasn’t relying on a cane that had seen better days.

Viktor had been walking beside you, his usual steady rhythm only slightly uneven, a sign that his leg was giving him more trouble than usual. His hand gripped the head of his cane firmly, but you noticed the way his fingers occasionally tensed, the slightest hitch in his step that he always tried to mask.

You had been mid-sentence—something about how the baker on the corner had finally agreed to stop skimping on the cinnamon in your favourite pastries—when the sharp sound of wood snapping made you freeze.

Viktor’s cane gave out beneath him.

His balance wavered for half a second before he caught himself, though his weight landed heavily on his bad leg. His face twisted, just slightly, as he muttered something in Czech under his breath, eyes flicking down to the now-useless piece of wood in his grasp.

“Ah,” he huffed out a breath. “It seems my faithful companion has abandoned me.”

You didn’t hesitate. Before he could attempt another step, you turned to him, already reaching for him with an ease that came naturally. “You’re not walking around without it.”

He tilted his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And what do you suggest, love? That I simply hover?”

You scoffed, already lowering yourself slightly to grab at his waist. “No, I’m carrying you.”

His amber eyes widened just slightly, that expression of quiet amusement laced with disbelief. “You can’t be serious—”

“Oh, I’m very serious.” You bent down fully, slipping an arm beneath his knees and another behind his back before he could even think of protesting. With practiced strength, you lifted him with ease, his weight settling against your chest as you adjusted your hold.

Viktor, stunned into momentary silence, blinked up at you. Then, a slow grin spread across his face.

“Hmm,” he mused, one arm looping around your shoulders as if testing the feeling of it. His fingers lightly traced over your upper arm, his touch lingering in a way that made you very aware of how he was admiring the definition of your muscles. “I must say, I should have broken that cane sooner.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the way warmth crept up your neck at the way he was quite literally making himself comfortable in your hold.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, adjusting him slightly as you continued walking as if carrying him weighed nothing. Because, to you, it really didn’t.

Viktor, however, just hummed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. His fingers gently ran along your collarbone before trailing down to your bicep, squeezing lightly as he let out an appreciative sigh.

“Ridiculous, perhaps,” he murmured, his voice a touch lower now, his breath warm against your skin, “but I do have exceptional taste.”

You groaned. “Viktor.”

“I’m merely appreciating the situation,” he continued, tilting his head slightly to look up at you. “Which, I might add, is quite pleasant from this vantage point.”

You huffed, adjusting your grip on him, but the truth was that you were trying very hard to ignore the way his words sent a flutter through your chest. You were used to Viktor’s teasing, but there was something in the way he was looking at you now—warm, content, utterly unbothered by the idea of being carried through Piltover—that made it clear he was enjoying this far too much.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” you muttered, but you didn’t put him down. In truth, you didn’t mind carrying him. You never minded. If it kept him from straining himself, if it kept him from pushing through pain just to keep up with everyone else, you’d carry him a thousand times over.

Viktor must have sensed the thought behind your silence, because his fingers found yours where they rested against his side. He gave them a small squeeze.

“I am lucky,” he murmured, softer this time.

You glanced down at him, your expression gentler now. “I’d say we both are.”

He smiled then, and for a moment, everything else—the broken cane, the stares from passers-by, the rest of the world—faded into the background.

And so, with Viktor securely in your arms, you kept walking, knowing that as long as he was with you, you’d gladly carry him anywhere.

JAYVIK

The workshop was a mess. Again.

Y/N exhaled through her nose, arms crossed over her chest as she took in the absolute disaster Jayce and Viktor had made of their shared lab. Gears scattered across the floor, blueprint papers pinned to the walls at odd angles, and—was that a scorch mark on the ceiling? What in the hell had they been doing?

She stepped over a pile of scrap metal, boots thudding against the floor with an authority neither of them could ignore. Jayce, the brilliant dumbass that he was, at least had the decency to look sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. Viktor, on the other hand, merely arched a brow, his cane resting against his leg as he leaned against the worktable.

“I don’t suppose this is part of some new revolutionary discovery?” Y/N asked, gesturing at the chaos with a pointed look.

“Well, in theory, it was,” Jayce started, voice full of forced optimism.

Viktor snorted. “If by ‘revolutionary,’ you mean an explosion, then yes.”

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. “You two are going to give me grey hairs.”

“Oh, come now, miláček,” Viktor drawled, pushing himself upright with his cane. “I am certain you find our antics endearing.” (Darling)

Jayce sidled up to her, resting an arm on her shoulder. “Besides, don’t pretend you don’t like playing the protective one.”

She could feel the heat of his body against hers, the sharp contrast to Viktor’s ever-calculating, playful smirk. They were trouble—two brilliant minds too stubborn for their own good. And unfortunately, she was helplessly in love with both of them.

“You mean I like making sure you don’t blow yourselves up,” she corrected, but the affection in her tone was obvious.

Viktor’s gaze flickered, following the roll of muscle in her arms as she reached up and easily plucked a heavy piece of metal from the top shelf—something he and Jayce usually struggled to grab together. The sight of her, effortlessly handling what would take both of them effort, made something flicker in his eyes. Something interested. Jayce, too, let out a low whistle, watching the way her biceps flexed with interest.

Y/N raised a brow as she turned, holding the metal in one hand. “Why are you two looking at me like that?”

Jayce grinned. “I don’t know, maybe because that was kinda hot?”

Viktor hummed in agreement. “Very hot.”

She huffed, amused. “You two are ridiculous.”

Jayce nudged her side. “Yeah, but you love us anyway.”

Viktor smirked. “And we love watching you do that.”

With an exaggerated groan, Y/N shook her head, but she couldn’t hide the way the corner of her lips quirked up. “You two are incorrigible.”

“And yet,” Viktor murmured, stepping just close enough to brush a hand against hers, his touch deliberate and slow, “you still choose to be with us.”

Jayce leaned in, his warmth pressing against her other side. “Lucky us.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head as she gave Jayce’s shoulder a playful shove and Viktor a warning glance he entirely ignored. These two were impossible. But, truth be told, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jayce chuckled, catching her wrist before she could move away. His grip was firm, but warm, grounding in a way that sent a pleasant hum through her veins. “We do appreciate you, you know,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles.

Viktor tilted his head, amber eyes gleaming with something softer beneath the teasing edge. “Yes, it seems we have a rather strong guardian angel watching over us.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Guardian angel? More like your glorified babysitter.”

Jayce grinned. “I mean, if our babysitter looks like you, I’m not complaining.”

Viktor sighed dramatically. “Yes, such a tragic fate to be under the watchful eye of someone so devastatingly beautiful and terrifyingly strong. How ever shall we survive?”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hand. “You two are impossible.”

Jayce leaned in to press a quick kiss to her temple, murmuring against her skin, “And yet, you adore us.”

Viktor followed suit, his lips ghosting over the back of her hand, his voice rich with amusement. “It is quite mutual, I assure you.”

She exhaled, shaking her head but smiling nonetheless. The workshop may have been a disaster, and her lovers may have been ridiculous, but in the end, they were hers. And that, at least, made everything worth it.

As if reading her thoughts, Viktor smirked. “Perhaps next time, we let you take charge of the experiment. After all, you do seem to enjoy keeping us in check.”

Jayce shot her a playful wink. “And we both know you love taking control.”

Y/N let out a dramatic sigh, but before either of them could react, she grabbed Jayce’s collar, pulling him down into a firm kiss that stole the breath from his lungs. His hands instinctively came to rest on her waist, gripping as if he needed to ground himself.

The moment she pulled away, Viktor was already chuckling, cane tapping lightly against the floor. “Mm, I do believe that was well-earned.”

She turned to him next, capturing his chin between her fingers as she leaned in, her lips brushing just barely over his. Viktor’s breath hitched, but he recovered quickly, tilting his head to close the space between them.

When she finally pulled back, she let her fingers trail over Viktor’s jaw and Jayce’s chest before stepping back entirely. “You two behave, or else I’ll have to find a better use for that cane of yours, Vik.”

Viktor’s brows lifted with interest, while Jayce let out a groan, raking a hand through his hair. “You can’t just say things like that and walk away.”

Y/N grinned, turning on her heel and heading for the door. “Watch me.”

The two men exchanged a glance, Jayce shaking his head with a smile, Viktor simply smirking to himself.

They were completely, utterly doomed. And they loved every second of it.

VANDER

The Last Drop was alive with its usual nightly chaos—mugs clinking, dice rolling, and a smoky haze curling above the crowd. Y/N wiped down the bar with ease, her muscular arms flexing with each pass, though most of the patrons were far too drunk to appreciate the sheer power in her frame.

Vander, leaning against the counter, watched her with that familiar smirk, the one he reserved just for her. "You keep cleaning that spot any harder, love, and you’re gonna wear the bar thin."

She shot him a grin. "Maybe if your regulars didn’t spill their drinks like children, I wouldn’t have to."

Vander chuckled, but before he could respond, the heavy doors of the bar slammed open.

A group of kids burst inside, wide-eyed and breathless—Powder, Mylo, and Claggor, their faces smudged with dust and panic.

"Vander! Y/N!" Powder's voice was shrill with fear. "We—we were exploring that old warehouse near the docks, and Vi—she got trapped! The whole place caved in!"

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her body tensing like a bowstring. Vander’s face darkened with concern, but before he could move, Y/N was already vaulting over the bar, the wood creaking under her weight.

"Where?" she demanded, her voice like steel.

"By the docks! Near the old factory!" Mylo stammered, pointing wildly.

That was all Y/N needed. She was out the door in an instant, her powerful legs propelling her forward in a full sprint.

=

The air was thick with smoke and dust as she reached the ruins of the collapsed warehouse, her pulse hammering in her ears.

"Vi!" she called, voice strong despite the panic clawing at her chest.

A faint, muffled cough answered her. "H-here!" Vi’s voice was strained, weak, and it sent a chill down Y/N’s spine.

Y/N's keen eyes locked onto the pile of broken beams and shattered stone. Vi was trapped underneath, one leg pinned, barely able to move. Her fingers dug into the dirt, trembling as she tried and failed to pull herself free. The debris shifted slightly, and she let out a sharp cry of pain.

Y/N dropped to her knees, fingers gripping the largest chunk of debris. It was heavy—far heavier than anything she’d lifted before. For a moment, it didn’t budge, the sheer weight of it resisting her strength. A growl of frustration ripped from her throat as she pushed harder, her arms and back straining.

"I-I can’t—" Vi’s voice wavered, panic creeping in. "Y/N, I’m scared!"

Y/N’s heart clenched painfully. "I got you, kid," she reassured, but the slab wouldn’t move, her fingers burning as she struggled against it.

Vi whimpered, a rare sound of helplessness from her. "Mom…!" she gasped in desperation, barely audible, but Y/N heard it. It was raw, instinctive—Vi’s mind reaching for the one person she believed could save her.

Something inside Y/N snapped.

A deep, primal force surged through her, burning through every ounce of fatigue. With a guttural roar, she pushed through the pain, muscles screaming as she lifted the debris just enough for Vi to scramble out, dragging herself across the ground before collapsing into Y/N’s arms.

The moment Vi was free, Y/N let the slab crash back down, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Without hesitation, she pulled Vi into a crushing embrace, her arms wrapped tightly around the girl’s small frame. Vi stiffened for only a moment before melting into the hug, clinging onto Y/N like a lifeline.

"You're safe," Y/N murmured into her hair, holding her close. "Thank god, you're safe."

Vi, still dazed and covered in dust, looked up at Y/N like she was some kind of deity. "You... you lifted that? Just like that?"

Y/N finally loosened her grip just enough to cup Vi’s face, checking her over with keen eyes. "What, think I’m just muscle for show?" she teased, though her voice was still thick with concern.

Vi let out a breathless laugh. "That was... so cool."

Before Y/N could respond, Vander arrived, skidding to a halt. His eyes darted over Vi first, concern etched deep into his features. He crouched beside her, hands hovering uncertainly before finally settling on her shoulders.

"Vi, you alright?" His voice was rough, but undeniably gentle as he checked her over.

Vi blinked up at him, still dazed. "Yeah... Y/N got me out."

Vander exhaled sharply, pulling Vi into a firm, protective embrace. "Scared the hell outta me, kid. You can't go getting yourself crushed, you hear me?"

Vi let out a tired chuckle, gripping the fabric of his vest. "I'll try."

Only after making sure Vi was steady did Vander turn to Y/N, his expression shifting from worry to something softer—something full of gratitude and admiration. He reached for her, cupping her face with rough, calloused hands.

"You alright?" he asked, voice quieter now.

Y/N huffed out a tired laugh, leaning slightly into his touch. "Yeah. Just another night at the Last Drop, huh?"

Vander let out a relieved chuckle, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. "I dunno what I’d do without you, love."

Vi, still looking up at Y/N with something akin to hero worship, nodded. "Me neither."

Y/N smirked, but then her eyes fell to Vi’s leg, still half-covered in dust and looking slightly twisted. Without a second thought, she scooped Vi up into her arms like she weighed nothing, earning a startled yelp from the girl.

"Hey! I can walk—"

"Not on that leg, you can’t," Y/N shot back, tightening her grip and adjusting Vi against her chest. "You're hurt, and I’m not about to let you limp your way back."

Vi, clearly flustered but secretly enjoying being carried, crossed her arms with a grumble but didn't protest further. Powder and the others ran ahead, leading the way back to the Last Drop while Vander kept pace beside Y/N, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.

"You know," he murmured, glancing at Vi, who had started to nod off in Y/N’s arms. "I think she just found herself a new role model."

Y/N smirked, shifting Vi slightly so the girl’s head rested against her shoulder. "Guess that makes two of us, then."

Vander let out a low chuckle, draping an arm around Y/N’s back as they walked. "Yeah. Seems like we’re stuck with you, huh?"

Y/N just smiled, cradling Vi a little closer. "Wouldn’t have it any other way."

SILCO

Silco’s office was dimly lit, the glow of his cigar casting long shadows across the mahogany desk. The scent of smoke and whiskey hung in the air, clinging to the fabric of his vest. Papers were scattered before him, numbers and names written in careful ink, but his focus was elsewhere.

Across from him sat a man—a supplier, a nervous one. His fingers twitched against the worn wood, his knee bouncing in barely contained anxiety. He was lying. Y/N could see it in the way his eyes flicked from side to side, in the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips every few sentences.

She leaned against the armrest of Silco’s chair, her posture deceptively relaxed. To the untrained eye, she looked like nothing more than a lounging companion, a woman draped in dark fabric with an air of confidence that bordered on lazy.

But those who knew her—truly knew her—understood the reality beneath the surface.

Silco did.

That’s why she was here. His queen. His shield.

The conversation dragged on, words filling the space between them like smoke curling in the air. The supplier spoke in rushed assurances, promising shipments, promising loyalty, promising things he could not possibly deliver. Silco remained impassive, letting the man weave his own noose with every poorly chosen word.

And then Y/N caught it. The tell.

A slight shift. A twitch of the fingers. The careful way his hand dipped toward his pocket, as if he were merely adjusting his coat. But Y/N wasn’t fooled.

A glint of steel.

He was fast.

She was faster.

The knife had barely left his pocket before Y/N caught his wrist mid-air, fingers locking around it with effortless ease. The blade hovered inches from Silco’s chest, trembling. The supplier’s breath hitched, his eyes wide in disbelief.

Silco, not even looking up, exhaled a long plume of smoke. "Hmph. I see you’ve made a poor decision."

Y/N’s grip remained steady, her expression unreadable as she squeezed just enough for the man’s knuckles to turn white. She could feel his pulse pounding beneath her fingertips, the rush of panic setting in.

She stood fluidly, the motion smooth as silk, and with an effortless twist, she wrenched his arm behind his back. The movement was clinical, precise—like handling a fragile object she didn’t particularly care for. The man gasped, his cheek slamming against the desk as his knuckles scraped the rough wood. The knife clattered uselessly from his grip.

"Fuck—!" His voice broke as she applied a touch more pressure, testing. He groaned in pain, his free hand clawing at the surface. "W-Wait—!"

Y/N leaned down, her lips close to his ear, voice softer than it had any right to be. "You thought you could kill him?" A pause, letting the weight of his failure sink in. "In front of me?"

She flexed her fingers just slightly, and the man howled.

Silco finally glanced up, his mismatched eyes flicking from the trembling fool to Y/N. Amusement curled at the corner of his lips. "You’re enjoying yourself."

"Maybe." Y/N tilted her head, rolling her shoulders as if the whole thing was barely worth the effort. "You want him dead?"

Silco sighed, tapping ash from his cigar into the tray beside him. "Not just yet. He still owes me."

"Shame." Her voice was velvet-soft, but the glint in her eyes was sharp. She leaned in further, her lips ghosting over the man’s ear. "You’re lucky he’s feeling generous."

With a final shove, she released him. He crumpled to the floor in a pathetic heap, cradling his arm as he gasped for breath.

Silco regarded him like one would a stain on their boot. "Crawl out of my office," he said, voice smooth, calm. "Don’t make me rethink my mercy."

The man scrambled to his feet, stumbling over himself in his desperate need to escape. He clutched his injured arm, his face twisted in pain as he all but bolted for the door. It slammed shut behind him.

Silco exhaled, leaning back in his chair as he studied Y/N. She flexed her fingers absently, like she’d just brushed dust from her hands. As if the entire thing had been a mild inconvenience.

His lips quirked. "I do love it when you make a mess of my furniture."

Y/N smirked, rolling out the tension in her shoulders. "You knew he had a knife."

"Of course." He swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the dim light. "But I do prefer watching you handle things."

She chuckled, stepping behind his chair and resting her hands on his shoulders. Her fingers pressed into the fabric of his vest, kneading the tension there with slow, deliberate movements.

"And here I thought you kept me around for my charm," she mused.

Silco reached up, catching her hand in his. He turned it over, brushing his lips against her knuckles, the touch lingering. "That too, my dear," he murmured, smirking against her skin. "That too."

SEVIKA

The Last Drop was alive tonight. The air was thick with smoke, the scent of alcohol and sweat mingling with the dim lighting of the bar. Laughter and curses filled the space, the usual rowdy chaos of a Zaunite evening.

Sevika sat at her usual spot, a thick glass of whiskey in hand. Her mechanical arm rested against the table, fingers tapping absentmindedly against the wood as she smirked at the woman beside her.

Y/N leaned back against the booth, arms crossed, muscles flexing subtly beneath the fabric of her sleeveless top. She was just another soul carved from the rough edges of Zaun. Strong, confident, a presence that turned heads without her even trying. But tonight? She was here to drink, unwind, and enjoy Sevika’s company.

"You keep lookin’ at me like that," Y/N muttered, lifting her own drink to her lips, "I might think you want somethin’."

Sevika exhaled a slow stream of smoke from the cigar perched between her lips. "What, can't admire my woman?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips. "You can. Just don’t get distracted. We’re still in Zaun, after all."

Sevika snorted, about to retort—when the telltale sound of a bottle shattering against the floor cut through the noise.

The bar fell into a brief, tense silence before everything erupted.

Some idiot had thrown the first punch. Another shoved a table over. A fight broke out like wildfire—fists flying, bottles smashing, chairs crashing against bodies.

Y/N sighed and knocked back the rest of her drink. "Godsdammit. I liked this shirt."

"Then don’t get blood on it," Sevika quipped, already rising to her feet as a burly man lunged toward her.

She sidestepped, slamming her metal fist into his jaw with a sickening crack before turning to Y/N, who had already caught another thug’s punch in her palm.

Y/N grinned, her biceps flexing as she yanked the poor bastard closer, driving her knee into his stomach before tossing him over the bar like a ragdoll.

Sevika whistled, impressed. "Shit, I love it when you do that."

"You love everything I do," Y/N shot back, already ducking under a wild swing before landing an uppercut that sent another man stumbling back.

"Can you blame me?" Sevika smirked, knocking a chair out of her way before elbowing a man in the ribs hard enough to make him wheeze.

Y/N’s attention was pulled elsewhere when a particularly massive thug—built like a Shimmer-pumped brute—charged at her, arms raised to crush her. She met him head-on, stepping into his swing and catching his arm midair before twisting it behind his back.

"Damn, you’re strong," Sevika murmured, watching Y/N handle him with ease.

Y/N winked. "Jealous?"

"Nah," Sevika grunted, dodging a wild swing from another brawler. "Just turned on."

Y/N laughed, sweeping her opponent’s legs out from under him before slamming her boot into his stomach to keep him down.

=

A knife-wielding thug tried his luck, slashing at Y/N’s arm and drawing a thin line of blood. She barely spared it a glance before grabbing his wrist, twisting it until the knife clattered to the ground.

"That all you got?" she taunted before throwing him headfirst into a broken chair.

Sevika chuckled, sending another man flying with a well-placed punch. "You’re so fucking hot when you fight."

Y/N smirked. "So are you, babe. That thing with the chair just now?" She whistled. "Real sexy."

Sevika snorted, wiping blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. "You keep talkin’ like that, I might just have to take you home early."

=

A bottle came flying toward Sevika’s back, but Y/N caught it midair, flipping it once before smashing it over the head of the poor bastard who threw it.

Sevika turned, brows raised in approval. "Nice reflexes."

Y/N blew her a kiss. "I’ve been told I’m pretty quick with my hands."

Sevika smirked, her gaze dropping just briefly. "Oh, I know you are."

Y/N laughed before sending a roundhouse kick into the last standing thug, knocking him flat onto the floor.

The fight didn’t last much longer. One by one, their attackers groaned on the ground, battered and bruised, some unconscious.

Sevika wiped blood from her split lip, looking over at Y/N, who had a fresh bruise blooming across her jaw and a few cuts decorating her arms.

"Not bad," Sevika murmured, eyeing the damage they’d both taken.

Y/N rolled her shoulder, cracking her neck with a wince. "I could say the same for you."

Sevika took a step closer, lifting her chin to get a better look at the bruises on Y/N’s jaw. Her fingers—warm, rough, and teasingly gentle—traced the fresh mark. "Shame," she mused, "you’ve got such a pretty face."

Y/N smirked. "You should see the other guy."

Sevika chuckled, pulling her hand back, though not before giving Y/N’s bicep an appreciative squeeze. "I do love these arms, though."

"You say that every time I fight," Y/N said, tilting her head.

Sevika shrugged. "And I’ll keep sayin’ it."

Silco’s men started clearing the mess, dragging out the unfortunate souls who had picked the wrong bar to cause trouble in.

With the dust settled, Sevika let out a satisfied exhale and reached for her cigar again. "So, you still mad about your shirt?"

Y/N looked down at the blood and dirt staining the fabric before shaking her head with a chuckle. "Nah, you’ll just owe me a new one."

Sevika smirked. "Fine. But you’ll have to take this one off first."

Y/N arched a brow, lips curling into a smirk. "You really can’t help yourself, can you?"

Sevika shrugged, lighting her cigar. "Nope."

Y/N laughed, throwing an arm around Sevika’s shoulders as they made their way back to the bar, ready for another round. Just another night in Zaun.

[aurorawritestoescape]

IN HIS ARMS || QZ!Joel Miller x f!reader || 5,2k

Summary: You meet a smuggler in the QZ and can't resist your attraction to him.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, a bit of fluff, unspecified age gap, Fedra soldier!reader, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, mirror sex, degradation, rough sex, praise kink, size kink, reader really loves Joel’s arms (who doesn’t), manhandling, alcohol consumption, use of a morning after pill, mention of guns, mention of canon-typical violence. Reader has hair. Joel can pick her up. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no other specific physical descriptions.

A/n: this is written for PPCU Body Worship writing challenge, created by talented, sweet and beautiful @joelmillerisapunk 💖 I got ‘Arms’ and immediately thought of meaty, beefy QZ Joel. Smooches to my lovely beta @milla-frenchy 😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 Love y’all! Hope you will like the story!❤️

MASTERLIST

“Let’s go.”

“Sure you need me there? It’s your deal, Ronnie. And you know you’re armed, right? Why do I always have to hold your hand?” you complain, while your eyes are scanning the crowd at a public hanging for any sign of disturbance. It’s not your favorite task but Fedra sends enough soldiers here to keep things under control so it usually goes smoothly. That’s probably why your friend Ronnie arranged a deal right in the middle of your shift.

“I’m nervous, ok,” he admits, glancing at you, “The dude’s fucking scary. Never worked with him before. But I’ve heard stuff. You’re just gonna stand there, that’s all. Don’t need to talk.”

You’ve known Ronnie since you were teens in a Fedra camp. Now both officers, you are still inseparable, though at this moment you’d prefer to be as far away from him as you could because in case you two get caught, you both will be a spectacle of the next hanging. Ronnie’s pleading eyes always work on you and the little weasel knows it well so you curse and follow him to the place of the meetup.

As soon as you see the smuggler, standing in a secluded spot far away from the prying eye, your heart starts beating faster. And not because he scares you. Yes, he’s huge and looks very unfriendly, thanks to his furrowed brows and the closed off stance which actually happens to be the culprit of your unexpected reaction. His pose accentuates the beauty of his arms as he’s crossing them in front of his chest. It’s a threatening sight, same as his gaze, but like a moth to a flame, you’re pulled to the man immediately. All thoughts in your head are replaced with only one - he’s fucking hot.

Ronnie slowly comes up to the man, feigning confidence.

“Who the fuck is this?” the smuggler asks, nodding at you with his chin.

“Just a friend. Don’t worry, Joel.”

“I ain’t the one to worry here, kid,” he gruffs, uncrossing his arms as his fists clench in a threatening gesture and you can sense the waves of panic, coming from your friend. “I prefer to do these things one on one. Don’t need an audience. Ya got me?”

“Yeah, ‘k. Next time I’ll be alone.”

“Hope so.”

Joel looks you up and down and you suddenly feel too hot. Standing a step further from him than Ronnie and not saying anything, you’re ogling the man with hungry eyes. Joel seems to relax and the men finally exchange the goods— pills for your friend and ration cards for the smuggler. They’re talking about the product, scheduling the next deal, and you should be on the lookout, should be attentive to the surroundings, like you always are, but your mind, as well as other parts, is fully focused on the stranger.

Joel’s hairy forearms are thick and strong and every little move makes his muscles flex and bulge out of his rolled up sleeves of the denim shirt. His shoulders are broad and the fabric, containing them, is strained to the limit. You’ve never been a biter in bed but suddenly you want to sink your teeth into his arms, lick them all over, glide your hands over the vast expense of his skin, grab them and feel them tighten around your body, encompassing you fully, while his cock stretches…

“Hey!” Ronnie exclaims, interrupting your horny daydreams, pulling on your sleeve and you blink at him, trying to shake away the visions of the man, doing filthy things to you.

“Let’s go!” he says for what appears not the first time, and you smile awkwardly, noticing Joel’s smirk. His arms are crossed again, but now he’s looking at you with a twinkle of curiosity in his piercing eyes, his heavy gaze lightened up.

You take a step away, following your friend, but Joel stops you.

“Sweetheart, wait!”

The pet name hits you right in the pussy and you pause and turn back, confused by why he’s calling you.

“C’mere,” the man motions for you to return to him with a shake of his head, his bear hands shoved in the jeans pockets.

“We’re in a hurry, man,” Ronnie frowns, thinking he’s coming to your rescue, but you turn to him and say,

“It’s ok. Wait for me over there.”

You have no idea what Joel wants from you, but you’re eager to find out. Not hiding his anxiety, your friend takes a few steps away from you and stands at the gate, glancing in your direction from time to time while his hand is resting on his gun.

“Yes? Joel, right?” You ask, coming up to the smuggler and using every last drop of your will not to leer at his mighty arms again.

“Yeah. What’s your name?”

You reply with a little smile and see a smirk tug at his plush lips when he asks, “Like what you see?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been starin' at me like at a piece of meat. No use denyin' it."

You avert your eyes, chewing on your lip. You probably should be embarrassed to be caught ogling the man, but life in this miserable world taught you to take what you want whenever you can. Especially if it's being handed to you.

"I'm not." You look back at Joel with defiance in your gaze. "I think you're hot."

Joel’s chest expands when he takes a deep breath, the shirt’s buttons hanging for dear life. His piercing eyes turn a shade darker as he asks,

"Wanna do somethin' about it?"

Your heart rate increases and the warmth of arousal between your thighs makes you shift on your feet.

"What are you suggesting?"

"Come over to my place tonight. Around 8. Ask your friend for the address. He knows."

You don't reply for a few seconds, making it seem like you're thinking about your answer, although your pussy has been aching since the moment you saw the smuggler so there's no way you're going to reject his invitation.

"'K", you reply, feigning nonchalance, while excitement is twisting your stomach.

“What?! Are you out of your mind? You're gonna see him?” Ronnie hisses at you, as you two are walking back to the square. “He’s dangerous! Do you realize that? He’s huge! Have you seen his arms?”

“Oh, I’ve seen his arms alright,” you reply with a dreamy smile, sensing butterflies in your belly.

“Fuck, you’re so stupid when you’re horny. If I find you tomorrow dead in a ditch, I’ll tell your lifeless face ‘I told you so!’”

“Jesus, man,” You giggle, playfully punching Ronnie’s shoulder. “I’ll be ok. I promise.”

The night can’t come soon enough. Still wearing your uniform, you rush to meet the man who's been occupying your mind all day. When Joel opens the door to you, you swallow loudly seeing him in the same denim shirt and dark blue jeans. You’ve been dreaming of his huge arms around your body, so your panties are completely soaked, and having had no time to change after your shift, you hope to slide them off as fast as possible.

“Hi,” you greet the man, stepping into his apartment.

“Howdy.”Joel closes the door and stands next to you, while his gaze is sliding up and down your body. You look around the apartment, getting a whiff of his scent— sweat with a subtle trace of whiskey.

“Are you from Texas originally?” You ask, glancing up at him, slightly intoxicated by his closeness.

“Yeah. Want a drink?”

He walks to the living area and you follow before leaving your guns at the door.

“What do you have?”

“Whiskey, vodka…water.”

“Vodka’s fine,” you reply, stepping up to a worn out couch and sitting down.

“Oh, are you a vodka girl?”

“I’m a ‘whatever burns’ girl, but vodka works faster on me,” you smile and Joel smirks, crossing his arms again. You swallow loudly, seeing his sexy tan forearms in the golden light of the setting sun. Fuck, you wanna touch them.

“Why d’ya need it to work fast? Doesn’t seem like you need any liquid courage.”

“Really?”

Joel goes to the kitchen and in a few seconds returns with a half empty Smirnoff bottle and two shot glasses. He plops next to you on the couch with a grunt and pours out the alcohol.

You drink yours in one go and Joel follows. The vodka burns and calms you down a little. Joel clears his throat before he speaks,

“This morning your friend was shaking like a leaf. And you… You were practically undressing me with your eyes, sweetheart.”

You smile and drop your gaze down to your lap.

“Well, Ronnie is a nervous guy and I’m …”

“A needy little slut?”

You shoot your eyes up at him and see a smug smile, tugging at his lips, as he awaits your reaction. You should probably feel offended or angry, but instead your core burns brighter at his degrading comment and your pussy flutters, as if proving him right.

He reads your reaction immediately.

“Oh you like that, huh?”

“What?”

“When I call you a slut.”

“I don’t mind,” you mumble while your mind is shutting down with every dirty word he throws at you.

“Yeah, you looked like a thirsty whore this morning. And I see that nothing’s changed.”

You’re barely breathing at this point, as waves of arousal ripple through your body, making you squirm in your seat.

“I…I just really like your arms.” Your gaze shamelessly slides over his body, so big and powerful.

“My arms?” Joel’s brows shoot up and he turns his head to look at his arm, resting on the back of the couch, as if trying to understand your attraction.

“Yeah,” you nod slowly, ogling the muscles straining his sleeve.

“Wanna touch ‘em, baby?”

“Yes, please”.

“So polite. Wanna call you a good girl but we already know that you prefer ‘a slut’.”

Joel chuckles and narrows his eyes, watching you for a few seconds, while you’re melting under his lustful gaze, sinking in the sticky pit of desire. Through the fog in your head you hear his voice, low but still powerful.

“How about we skip the pleasantries then and get to the thing you came for.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m gonna fuck you. And let you touch my arms.”

Your breath hitches and your body tingles all over. You can’t agree fast enough.

“Yeah, ok.”

“Do you always say ‘yes’ to everything, little slut?” he smirks, playing with you like a cat with a mouse.

You try to come up with a witty response but your mind is clouded with lust so you just shake your head with probably the dumbest look ever.

“Can I use your bathroom?” You mumble and when he points you in its direction, swiftly walk there.

You close the door in the little room and check your face in the mirror. It’s the same as every day except for your glossy eyes. You rinse your face, trying to come to your senses, look a little less horny but it’s all in vain. The desire overtook your body completely so you dry yourself and leave the room.

When you return to Joel, you find him on the couch in the same spot and in the same position. Only now he’s completely naked.

A shiver goes down your spine from a new surge of arousal, tightening your core.

You barely hear him, your mind is fully occupied by the image of this gorgeous, huge man, waiting to fuck you. Everything about him makes your pussy beat with the rhythm of your heart - his soft belly, his long, girthy, slightly curved semi hard cock, resting on his thick thigh, his broad hairy chest and muscular arms. Seeing them without the confines of the clothes completely shuts off your brain and you take a step towards him, mesmerized by his muscles, wishing to feel them already.

“Take your clothes off, baby.”

You hardly hear him, taking in every inch of his body.

“Girl! Undress. Fuckin’ hell,” Joel groans and you shake your head, waking up from a horny trance, and start discarding your clothes hastily, piece by piece while his dark gaze is set on you. You should be more graceful and seductive taking them off, but your aching pussy makes your movements rushed and determined. When you’re completely naked, except for your panties, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of the last piece of clothing, but Joel stops you.

He gets up and walks to you, his big cock in his veiny hand.

“Wanna do it myself,” he mumbles and stands next to you, at your side, so close that you feel his warm breath on your cheek and breasts, his naked chest brushing against your shoulder, his manhood poking your thigh.

“Pretty little thing,” he whispers, taking in your body, while his hand slides down your back, leaving chills in its wake. You raise your big eyes at him, your lips parted. “Pity you get so dumb though,” he chuckles and lightly squeezes your asscheek. His hand stays there while the other one cups your breast and grazes your nipple with his calloused thumb, making it stiff. You moan and he groans.

Joel’s palm on your ass moves lower, and reaches your pussy, covered by the wet panties. He slips his finger between your asscheeks and rubs your drippping hole over the gusset. You softly whimper and he plants a light kiss on your cheek, stroking your folds over the fabric.

“She’s been crying for me all day, huh?” he mumbles, placing his large warm hand on your belly, the other one still caressing your cunt. “Pussy so needy she shut down your whole little brain. Yeah, baby?”

All you can do is nod, your senses fully focused on the way his thick fingers are rubbing your aching cunt over the underwear.

“She must be cold, sweetheart, being in a pair of wet panties all day like that?” He coos at you.

“Yeah”, you reply, barely breathing, already feeling your orgasm build because of his light touches. “Didn’t have time to change. I have a sexy pair at home.”

Joel breathes out a chuckle, “I bet you do, little slut. Would love to see ‘em too one day.”

The only response you can give is a mewl.

He steps in front of you, his hand leaving your pussy, and you whine. Joel tsks at you and pinches your chin with his fingers to lift your face to his.

“Oh, my pretty bimbo, already cock drunk,” he laughs, locking eyes with you.

Joel’s so huge, you should probably be scared, but all you feel is a pathetic need to be completely destroyed by him.

“Lights are on but…fuck, you’re gone,” he mocks you, looking into your hazy blown out eyes.

“Listen to me,” he commands, as his fingers slightly shake your head, getting your attention. “How do you want it? Gentle or rough, sweetheart?”

“Rough,” you croak back without any hesitation.

“Good. Then do what I say and we gonna have a great time, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good little slut.”

Your breaths are short and fast as you’re blinking, starting at him like a mindless fuck doll. Suddenly, you gasp when he grabs the back of your thighs with his massive hands and lifts you, throwing your legs around his waist. You grab onto his broad shoulders and he carries you away from the couch and to the bedroom.

He drops you on the bed, old and stiff, but you don’t care. You have no time or ability to think about anything, because as soon as you’re on your back, Joel pins you to the lumpy mattress with his heavy torso and kisses you. He’s not asking for a kiss, he’s taking it but you willingly open your mouth, welcoming his hot tongue. A happy moan escapes your mouth, when you finally glide your palms over his huge arms. He slides your panties off and cups your pussy with his huge warm palm.

“Messy whore,” he mumbles against your mouth.

Joel’s assertive, passionate and as horny as you are, and you smile against his lips, enjoying his desire for you.

He begins peppering kisses along your jaw, your neck, leaving hickeys on his way to your breasts.

You whimper when his mouth finds your nipple and gasp when he nips at it. He licks the pain away and starts sucking on it while his hands are roaming your heated body.

You grab onto his shoulders and shift your hips under his arm. Joel’s slurping and growling, caressing your breast with his lips and tongue, but you crave more so you start grinding your wet pulsating pussy against his arm. Your movements immediately send you to the precipice of your climax. His muscles flex as you rub your clit against them, smearing your slick over his tan skin, and Joel parts from your tit for a few seconds to watch you use his arm to get yourself off.

“Look at this sloppy little pussy. Gonna need a shower after this. Or…,” he smirks and gets back to suckling your other breast.

Each motion of his muscles is helping you to come as you’re dragging your pussy up and down his heavy limb. Soon you throw your head back, dipping it into the pillow when a hard climax hits you and your cunt contracts around nothing, as euphoria is coursing through your veins, taking away the last of your clear thinking.

“That’s it— take it, slut— come for me — jus’ like that,” Joel mumbles against your trembling chest but you hardly hear him, so deep in the ocean of desire, all sounds around you are muffled.

The next thing you feel is his hands grabbing your shoulders and lifting you. Joel makes you sit up and wraps his heavy hand around the back of your neck.

“Look what you’ve done, messy girl.”

He nods at his arm, glistening with your cum and slick and then growls, “Lick it clean.”

With a hazy smile you sit on your heels, getting comfortable. Then you take his arm between your hands and reach for it. Your tongue slides over his hot wet skin and you flutter your eyes shut, reveling in the sensations of his firm muscles under your tongue and the earthy taste of your juices.

“Attagirl,” Joel praises you and slightly squeezes the back of your neck to make you move your head lower and lap up all the mess you’ve left on his skin.

When you finish, Joel lifts your head and sees you staring at his throbbing cock with empty but hungry eyes. It’s leaking precum generously and you almost drool looking at it. You should probably be nervous to take his huge length but all you feel is feral lust.

Placing his palm under your jaw, Joel tilts your head up and searches for your eyes.

“Damn, lookin’ so dumb right now. Lucky you remember how to breathe, little whore.”

He laughs at you and grabs your face, as his fingers dig into your cheeks, making your lips pout.

You whine and he pulls you into his chest. You hug him as if afraid to float away and he gives you a few moments of rest while you are panting, snuggling into his embrace after the shuddering orgasm.

Then he lifts your chin and locks eyes with you. Your breath hitches as you’re struck by his handsome face, which leans down and he kisses you again, gently and slowly, wrapping you tighter in his embrace. Then he asks,

“Why do you like my arms so much?”

You blink a few times, trying really hard to understand the question, drunk on his taste and the way he’s holding you, but when the meaning finally reaches your brain, you stumble over your words.

“I… they… jus’ so big. And … fuck, very hot.”

You feel his broad chest shake with a quiet laugh. “Ready for my cock, baby?” You nod your head with a soft mewl.

“Wanna watch my arms when I’m railing you?”

“Yeah, yes, please.”

Joel hums and gets up before manhandling you off the bed and leading you to a wardrobe. He’s holding you under your arms, noticing that your weak legs are barely able to move, still tingling after your orgasm. He places you like a fuck doll in front the wardrobe door with a mirror and stands behind you. He’s so big and broad that you can see his shoulders and arms perfectly in the reflection. Your gaze glides over your own naked body, and you notice a path of hickeys along your neck and breasts and your core ignites again at the sight of his passion. Then you look at Joel, his eyes are obsidian, the expression is carnal and hungry, and you moan, feeling his cock slap your lower back.

His gaze drops down before he pushes your legs aside with his knee, his thick fingers dig into your hips and he pulls your ass, making you stick it out. Trying to steady yourself, you brace your hands on the mirror in front of you, but he grumbles,

“Not the mirror, stupid. You’ll break it, cut yourself.”

You swiftly move your hands further apart onto the wooden surface.

“Sexy but so dumb,” he mumbles as his eyes return to your ass and his cock. You watch his face, serious and concentrated, and sense his tip prod your sopping hole.

“Fuck,” he curses and pushes his cock deeper, slightly bending his knees to insert it into your tight pussy easier.

You push your ass out more for him, already whimpering like a whore, as you feel your walls slowly part to accommodate his stiff cock. It stings but you welcome the sensation of his manhood spreading your pussy until he bottoms out and you both moan at the sensation.

“Ahh— she feels amazing, baby,” he grunts and you smile dumbly at his reflection in the mirror.

“Such a sloppy cunt,” he murmurs, starting to plunge his length in and out of you with a fast rhythm, “oh, yeah — yeah — yeah—.”

His fat cock is massaging your walls deliciously, kissing your cervix with every deep thrust and you mewl with pleasure and scratch the wooden surface of the wardrobe with your nails.

“Naughty kitten. Tess will kill you if you leave marks on her furniture,” Joel chuckles through heavy panting, squeezing your hips and watching your cunt swallow his glistening cock.

“Who’s Tess?” You ask, not really giving a fuck and he doesn’t reply.

Instead he grants you your biggest wish - he pulls you flush to his chest and wraps his arms around your torso from behind. Your hands immediately fly to grab onto his strong limbs. Joel’s right arm is under your breasts, slightly pushing them up. The other one is keeping you in place, pressed to your chest, between your tits, his giant hand on your throat. His thick fingers curl around your neck but he doesn’t squeeze it, just holds you close against his broad torso.

The sensation and the vision of his powerful muscular arms bonding you to him like that, make your pussy contract and Joel growls in your ear, his breath hot and wet,

“Squeezing me already? Fuck, you’re easy.”

You whine and Joel nibbles on your ear lobe and rasps,

“Hold tight, baby, it’s gonna be a wild ride.”

As soon as the words reach your ear, he begins rolling his hips and dragging his cock in and out of your tight pussy, hard and fast.

You grab onto his bulging muscles better, and as he’s increasing the pace, you’re scratching him with your nails, leaving white marks on his golden skin and whimpering.

“Yeah, take it, dumb little whore. Gonna fuck the last of your brain out of your pretty head.”

Your breasts bounce while he’s fucking you and you bite your puffy lips, trying to muffle your moans, but Joel commands against yout ear,

“Want you to be loud, baby. C’mon. Let them all hear how good im fuckin’ ya.”

You would do anything he told you this moment so your lips part and you let your pleasured noises out, as they mix with the sound of skin rhythmically slapping against skin and his animalistic groans.

Reveling in the sensation of Joel, pounding your crying cunt, you let your hands wander all over his forearms and shoulders, squeezing and scratching them slightly, wishing to memorize the feeling of their strength under your hungry touch. Your vision is shaking with every mighty thrust of his hips but you’re watching the reflection of you two closely, drowning in the image of this tall broad man using you like a mindless fuck doll, caging you in his powerful arms and tears well up in your eyes at how amazing it feels. Your mind and body are focused on this pleasure, suffering and worries of the reality are gone and the drops of pure happiness spill and fall on his arms.

Joel notices you crying and stops fucking you, swiftly pulling out and turning you around.

“What is it, baby? Did I hurt ya?”

His dark eyes, a second ago filled with carnal desire now worried and concerned, dart all over your face and body, searching for the reason of your tears.

You grab onto him and shake your head,

“No, no, i’m fine — feels so good - you feel so good, Joel.”

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he breathes out, pulling you into his bear hug and rubbing your back with his warm hands.

“Please keep fucking me,” you mumble against his hairy chest and he barks a laugh before throwing you back on the bed, making you squeal with excitement.

Joel lies down and manhandles you to straddle him.

“Sit on my cock, little slut,” he commands, eyes darting between yours, reading your reaction.

“Yes, yes,” you mumble, wrapping your hand around his hot hard cock and lifting your hips, hovering over it. You don’t make him wait and immediately sink down on his weeping manhood, as your mouth falls open and your head tilts back.

Joel’s hands are holding your hips when you start riding him, and then snake up to your breasts to knead them, pinch and twist your pebbled nipples.

You run your fingers over his forearms from the elbows to his wrists and grab his hand, intertwining your fingers. Not pausing your lustful dance on his cock, you gently kiss his palm, his hand, then your lips glide down, leaving open mouth kisses over his wrist, the underside of his forearm and his elbow, darting your tongue out and tasting his salty skin. You lean forward, your nipples brushing his chest, and kiss his biceps, using your tongue, and Joel moans, watching you practically make out with his arm.

“Fuck, you’re hot, baby,” he groans while you’re lapping at his skin with your eyes shut. You’re softly whimpering at the sensation of his body, big and strong under you, his cock caressing your walls, making your pussy flutter around it, pushing you closer and closer to your second climax.

“Shit,” Joel curses, pulls your head off his arm and kisses you, while hugging your torso with his python-like grip. He’s holding you tight and you whine, not being able to move your hips and chase your orgasm. Sensing your impatience, Joel plants his feet on the bed and begins jackhammering his fat cock into your slicked up pussy, giving it to you rough and fast, not sparing your little hole.

You’re moaning against his scruffy cheek, your body shaking with his feral thrusts but Joel’s iron hold is keeping you in place.

“Usin’ you like a fuck doll you’re, yeah? Brainless little slut. Made just to make my cock happy. Perfect for me.”

His filthy words, leaving his mouth through gritted teeth, are barely audible because of the loud slapping of his body against yours and the squeaking of the old bed.

“Joellll…,” you moan, and after a few more thrusts explode on his thumping cock, caged by his strong arms, sobbing with heavenly pleasure flooding every inch of your body.

“Hnggg—shit—can I come inside?” You hear a gruff roar in your ear and with Joel fucking your brains out right this moment, you breathe out, “yeah, oh, yeah.” You crave to be full of him, drip him for days after, getting turned on just from the memory of him. As soon as you agree, Joel starts spurting his hot cum into your pulsating cunt, filling you up, emptying his balls into you.

You’re lying still, nuzzling his neck and taking everything he’s giving you, milking his cock to the last drop with your contracting walls.

Gradually intense ecstasy morphs into a pleasant satisfaction and you both bask in the afterglow of your orgasms. You feel almost high on endorphins, not used to such an amount of happiness in your veins, in your life.

Joel softens his embrace but still holds you, letting you rest and you almost doze off, lulled by his warm chest rocking you up and down like a giant wave.

“Don’t sleep yet, ya need to take a pill,” he gently shakes you, sleep heavy in his own voice.

“Oh, yeah…fuck, you came inside,” you murmur, blinking at him, as your mind fog slowly clears up.

“I have a Plan B, don’t worry.”

He moves you off him and lays you down on the bed, then gets up, making the bed squeak.

You can’t move your limbs even if you tried to so you’re lying there, feeling his warmth between your legs, kisses of the afterglow all over your heated skin and smile lazily when he returns to the bed with a glass of water.

“Look at you, as cock dumb as they get, huh?”

He plops down next to you and hands you the pill.

You sit up with a tired smile, swallow the pill and chase it with a few sips of water.

“Good girl,” Joel takes the glass from you and shakes his head when you murmur that you need to go.

“No way. Sleep here. They'll hang your ass if they catch you out and about at this hour.”

You turn your head to the window, just noticing that it’s completely dark outside, only the street lamps illuminate the room with a yellow light.

“Aww, you care about me, Joel? Don’t fall in love,” you giggle but your heart flutters as you look up at the man, so handsome and huge, looming over you.

“I’ll try,” he deadpans and shakes his hand, motioning you to scooch.

You shift to the other side of the bed and he lies down on his back with a grunt. You’re still sitting up, shamelessly admiring his naked body.

“Quit starin’,” he mumbles with eyes closed and pulls you down onto his chest.

You’re lying on his shoulder for a few moments and then whisper,

“Can you big spoon me?”

“Jesus…,” he sighs but turns on his side, scooping you in his embrace and you smile, closing your eyes as your hands gravitate to his arms, heavy and secure around you. You press your back into his warm chest and fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!💖🌸

Masterlist

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @fruityreads

If you'd like to be tagged in my future fics, let me know!💕

[keanusbabydoll]

If you're taking requests, how about a daryl x reader with him hunting you through the woods. Y'know, the classic predator/prey thing. Maybe when he catches you, he uses his knife on you. Not to like seriously hurt the reader, but he knows she thinks he looks hot using a knife. Feel free to not write this if It makes you uncomfortable, though.

HIS PREY

a/n: anything for you guys!! i looove this one.<3

paring: daryl dixon x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ content, p in v, unprotected p in v, rough sex, dom!daryl, slight knife play, knife kink, daddy kink, age gap, fingering, slight edging, slight spanking, degrading, praising

wordcount: 2.2k

masterlist

MDNI

⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡

it was a crisp morning when rick approached you and daryl, suggesting the two of you head out to scout for food. the group needed supplies, and he knew that daryl was the best hunter in the group—and that you, after months of being together, had become a skilled tracker in your own right.

it wasn’t the first time you were out alone and let’s say you were more than just excited.

being alone on a scavenger hunt with daryl always ended up with you getting your brains fucked out against a tree. and you couldn’t get enough of it. there would be no annoying rick or michonne who constantly interrupt you or ask daryl to guard at the gates. there, it was just the two of you.

as soon as you stepped into the woods the calming scent of damp earth and pine needles filled your nose. you looked to your right and found daryl adjusting his crossbow, his sharp blue eyes scanning the area for any walkers. hell, only the sight of him made you drool and hold yourself back to not jump on him. the way his muscles flexed and his shirt hugged his trained form so perfectly.

you needed him dearly, the forming wet spot in your panties only prove of it. and you definitely knew how to get what you want.

just as daryl seemed to have prepared everything you glanced over your shoulder with a smirk, arms folded over your chest. “you know daryl,” you teased, “if i wanted to hide out here, you’d never find me.”

he snorted softly, not looking at you. “that so?” you took a step closer, leaning into his space. “you’re good, dixon. but not that good. you’d be wandering around these woods all night.”

now you got his attention.

daryl’s lips twitched into a faint smirk as he finally turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing like he was already sizing you up.

underestimating daryl’s abilities? bad idea.

“you’re talkin’ a lotta shit for someone i could catch in under five minutes.” he stated, your words definitely affecting him. “prove it.” you challenged, your voice low and teasing. you could already feel your heart racing at what would happen next.

for a moment, he just stared at you, the weight of his predatory gaze making your breath hitch. then, without a word, he reached out and gripped your upper arm firmly, his expression shifting into something darker. “you better run, girl. clock’s tickin’.” your heart skipped a beat as soon as the words left his mouth and for a second, you hesitated, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t kidding.

and you were fucking in for it.

you turned on your heels and bolted into the woods, the adrenaline kicking in almost instantly. the forest felt alive as you weaved through the trees and your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of excitement and something far more primal.

you eventually found a spot—a large tree covered in ivy. its wide trunk provided the perfect hiding place. carefully, to not make any sound, you knelt down and pressed your back against it, trying to catch your breath. you knew daryl well enough to know that he’d take his time, moving silently, stalking you like his prey. the thought of it sent shivers down your spine.

but honestly, you would’ve loved to hide somewhere really obvious only for him to find you after a minute. that’s how much you fucking craved this man. but then again, you knew that he would remind you forever that you were hiding this poorly. and the thrill of not knowing when he’d find you, got you even more excited.

the forest was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. but then, you heard it—a soft, deliberate footstep. your breath caught in your throat. he was close.

you leaned ever so slightly to peek around the tree, scanning the woods for any sign of him. nothing.

you let out a quiet sigh of relief, relaxing back against the tree.

big mistake.

in a flash, a strong hand gripped your arm, yanking you to your feet. you barely had time to yelp before your back was slammed against the rough bark of the tree harshly. daryl loomed over you, his chest heaving from the exertion of the chase, his piercing eyes locking into yours. without you even fully realizing it, he held his sharp knife against your throat— not enough to hurt you but still to show you who’s in charge.

“thought ya could hide from me, huh?” his voice was low and gravelly, dripping with dominance. your eyes drifted down to the blade against your throat, your heartbeat quickening. “guess i was wrong.” you whispered, finding his gaze again.

“stupid lil’ thing.” he murmured as he began to trace the tip of the blade along your jawline, down your throat and to your exposed collarbone— leaving soft white lines. you tried to stifle a moan but the undeniable tension and daryl’s dominance made this impossible.

and he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

given the fact how pathetically you were rubbing your thighs together to gain just a tiny bit of friction. “you’re such a lil’ slut, doll.” he growled as he let the knife wander down to your tits, his eyes following it closely. “only for you, daddy.” you quietly whimpered, batting your eyelashes at him.

“yeah?” he amusingly huffed out before he captured your lips in a heated kiss— rough and demanding. his free hand gripped your waist to pull you closer as you moaned into the kiss as you felt his hard cock pressing against your lower belly.

he ached for you just as much as you ached for him.

his blade once again nestled on your throat, this time pressing a little harder, knowing it would rile you up even more.

he pushed his tongue past your lips, claiming you as his as he devoured your sweet taste. your tongues fought for dominance but daryl obviously took the lead, not letting you win this battle. the hand that lingered on your waist now grabbed one of your tits, squeezing it harshly. in reply you just pressed yourself harder against him, wordlessly signing him that you longed for more.

you felt him smirk into your kiss and he slowly let his hand glide down your body, stopping at the edge of your jeans. “please, daddy.” you whimpered softly against his lips, staring up at him with the prettiest doe eyes you got.

“what d’ya want?” he teasingly asked, his fingers inching very slowly down your pants. “you, daddy! touch me please.” your plea made his dick twitch in anticipation, he always thought you were so hot when you begged. you impatiently pushed your hips toward his fingers- your cunt was burning for his touch.

“can’t say no now, can i?” he sarcastically retorted as he finally dipped his digits inside your panties. immediately, he began to rub your clit in slow, circular motions, eliciting a relieved sigh from you. again, he trailed his knife down your body before he put it back into its sheath. he expertly opened your jeans one-handed and pushed it with your panties below your ass, giving him more access. daryl almost lost it when he saw your glistening cunt on display.

“you’re fuckin’ drippin’.” he lowly rasped, sliding a finger down to your soaked entrance, wetting the tip of it. “just for you.” you mumbled, tangling your fingers in his hair. “good fuckin’ girl.”

in the blink of an eye he had two of his digits knuckle deep in your pussy, your wetness allowed him to slide in with ease. “ah- fuck!” you mewled, gripping his hair tighter. daryl pressed his lips to yours again as he began to pump his fingers in and out of your cunt in a steady pace, his other hand was back at your tit, groping it feverishly. jolts of pure pleasure crashed through your body as he suddenly curled his fingers and stimulated your sweet spot. “right there.” you squeaked, leaning your head back against the tree.

daryl only took this as a sign and thrusted his fingers faster and rougher inside of you, your walls instantly clamping down on him. he began to lick and suck on your neck, occasionally biting down on your hot flesh. the squelching sounds your pussy made got his dick even harder, needing to be inside of you.

you were a moaning mess, his fingers bringing you closer and closer to your high but then he suddenly pulled them out of you. “wha-“ you began but daryl interrupted you mid-sentence by gripping your waist and turning you around.

“can’t wait any longer.” he mumbled sharply as you heard him fiddling with his belt. with heavy breaths you stared over your shoulder and caught him unzipping his pants. hastily, he pulled down his boxers, making his fully erect cock spring free.

he pumped himself a few times, precum already dripping from the tip, before he stepped closer toward you.

daryl quickly guided his redend tip to your slick entrance, rubbing it up and down teasingly. “ready?” he whispered in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. you frantically nodded your head and when you finally felt him push into you, your world turned upside down.

there was no other feeling, than his cock stretching you painfully open, that could make you feel this euphoric.

with a rough thrust of his hips he bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass. a loud whimper escaped your throat, followed by strings of sinful moans. daryl’s head arched back at your tight walls wrapping around him so deliciously. “never gonna get tired of your tight lil’ pussy.” he growled, immediately starting off with a fast pace, not giving you any chance to get used to his size.

his hands gripped your hips tightly and he just increased his speed, making sure you could feel every inch of him. you yearned it, desperately trying to meet each thrust. “you’re so big, daddy.” you yelped, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at his bruising thrusts. “ya can take it.” he growled in reply.

the sound of your skin clapping together lingered in the air, only mushing your brains up. daryl pushed your legs apart and made you arch your back painfully, allowing the tip of his cock to brush exactly against that one spot, nestled deep inside of you, that made you go feral. your nails scraped harshly against the tree bark, eyes tightly closed. “you like that, huh?” he asked you breathlessly, “you like my cock stretching you open?” he pistoned into you like a man on a mission.

“yes! i love it!” you purred as he continued to fuck you straight into oblivion. “dirty whore.” daryl growled as he sent a harsh slap to your ass, receiving a high pitched moan from you. to add fuel to your pleasure, he reached around your middle and let his middle finger draw messy circles on your puffy clit. “god, daryl! don’t stop!” you cried out, feeling your orgasm slowly build up.

daryl himself was close to his high, hammering into your tight hole in an animalistic way. your knees began to buckle as he flicked his finger faster- determined to coax an orgasm out of you.

he knew exactly what you liked and how you liked it to get you to your release in an instant.

“gonna cum?” daryl whispered in your ear, kissing the spot just beneath it. “mhm, close.” you managed to let out—his dick was the only thing in you could really think of.

daryl rolled his hips even rougher and quicker than you thought was possible, his cock twitching uncontrollably- always a sign that he was on the verge of cumming. “‘m gonna cum.” he utterly growled through gritted teeth. the only thing that daryl wanted more than anything was to feel you gush all over his cock. “me too!” you whimpered pathetically, knowing that you will cum any second.

“now.” daryl commanded, using a second finger on your clit. “oh my fucking—” a scream tore from your throat, interrupting yourself with another yelp. you were sent straight to heaven as a powerful orgasm took over your whole body.

quick gasps left your mouth as you clutched on the tree in any way you could.

feeling you cum around him and your pussy clamping down on his shaft, daryl’s hips began to stutter as the contraction sent him over the edge with you.

he kept rubbing your now sensitive nub and slammed his hips a few more times against your ass before they sputtered to a stop. reluctantly, he pulled out of your pussy, a sharp hiss falling from your lips.

“was that enough prove?” he mocked you while smacking your ass.

“maybe.” you replied defiantly and pulled your jeans and panties up, still trying to catch your breath.

“you’ll never learn to shut that cheeky mouth of yours.” he stated irritatingly, adjusting his pants as well.

“nope.”

REQUESTS ARE OPENED <3

[juliewillruinu]

Do you think you could write Sukuna spoiling his concubine?

Your wish is my command, but let me add a bit of spice 👐

18 +MDNI

☆ Toxic/Possessive Sukuna, fingering, oral (fem receiving), cunnilingus, mentions of double p, and mentions of childbearing. ☆

The night air in the palace is thick with tension. The queen and other concubines whisper bitterly amongst themselves, their eyes often narrowing with jealousy when you pass by. Yet, none of that matters. Not when you feel Sukuna’s gaze, sharp as a blade, following your every move. It’s a gaze that sends shivers down your spine, a gaze that makes you feel both vulnerable and utterly desired.

Sukuna Ryomen has had countless concubines, each more beautiful than the last, but there’s something about you that’s different. Something he can’t quite place but knows he can’t resist. You’ve become his favorite, a position that comes with both perks and perils. He admires the way you carry yourself—graceful yet strong, submissive yet possessing a quiet defiance that intrigues him. The softness of your skin, the curve of your lips, the way you react to his every touch—all of it drives him mad with desire. He likes that you aren’t like the others, who cower and bend to his will without question. You challenge him in your subtle way, and that only makes him want you more.

You’ve seen how the others envy you, their eyes dark with jealousy whenever Sukuna pulls you close or lavishes his attention on you. They hate how he spoils you, how he indulges your every whim. But what they don’t understand is that Sukuna’s affection is as dangerous as it is intoxicating. He doesn’t love you in the conventional sense—he doesn’t know how to. But in his twisted way, he is utterly and possessively yours.

Sukuna shows his affection through acts that blur the line between dominance and devotion. When you’re alone with him, away from the prying eyes of the court, he’s different. He’s still the cruel, unpredictable King of Curses, but with you, there’s a softness in his touch, an almost tender care in the way he handles you. He likes to watch you to see how you react to his presence, and it’s during these moments that he’ll reach out, pulling you to him with an unbreakable strength.

One night, after a particularly heated day of courtly duties, Sukuna summons you to his private chambers. The air is thick with the scent of incense, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. As you enter, you find him seated on his throne, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he beckons you closer. Without a word, you approach, and he pulls you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you in a way that’s both protective and possessive.

His chest is solid against your back, his breath warm on your neck as he leans in, inhaling the scent of your hair. “You know you drive them mad,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “All of them wish they could take your place.”

You can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles flex beneath your touch. He likes that they’re jealous. He likes that it only solidifies your place by his side. His hand moves to your chin, tilting your head back so that your eyes meet his. There’s a darkness in his gaze, a hunger that never seems to be fully sated, no matter how often he has you.

Slowly, Sukuna lowers his head, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s both demanding and possessive. His mouth is hot against yours, his kiss searing, as if he’s trying to brand you as his own. His other hand slides to the small of your back, pressing you closer to him, as if he can’t get enough of you. The kiss deepens, and for a moment, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in this moment of heated passion.

When he finally pulls away, you’re left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. Sukuna’s eyes are half-lidded, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he takes in the sight of you. “You belong to me,” he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. “Don’t ever forget that.”

In the days that follow, Sukuna continues to spoil you, giving you everything you could ever want or need. Whether it’s the finest silks, rare jewels, or simply his time, he gives it all to you without hesitation. He enjoys seeing the others fume, their jealousy only fueling his desire to spoil you even more. But he also knows when to give in to you, when to let you have your way. It's a dangerous game you play with him, one that both excites and terrifies you.

A joyous day it was when your birthday came along. Not only did you have the king all to yourself, but the servants and the men of his court found it to be a day they didn't have to worry about losing their heads. Sukuna had you sitting on top of your desk where you read and wrote on. His lower hands came to rest on either side of your hips, gripping them with intimidating strength that anchored you in place. His upper hands cupped your face, his touch surprisingly gentle given the power that lurked beneath his skin. His thumbs brushed along your jawline, tilting your head slightly upward, forcing you to meet his gaze.

His lips hovered just above yours for a moment, the anticipation thick in the air. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the scent of him intoxicating. And then, without warning, he closed the gap, his mouth crashing onto yours with a hunger that left no room for hesitation.

The kiss was anything but soft—it was demanding, all-consuming, as if Sukuna was intent on claiming every part of you with just his lips. His tongue slid past your parted lips, exploring your mouth with a fierce possessiveness that made your heart race. He tasted of something dark and forbidden, a flavor that was uniquely his, and it sent a jolt of pleasure through you.

As his upper hands held your face in place, his lower hands tightened their grip on your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk until there was no space left between you. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, seeking to bring him even closer, though the solid weight of his body had already pressed you firmly against the desk.

Sukuna’s kiss deepened, growing more intense with every passing second. His tongue moved with a skill that left you breathless, a mix of rough and smooth alternating between coaxing and commanding. The sheer power of his kiss made it feel like he was drawing the very breath from your lungs, leaving you lightheaded and completely at his mercy.

His upper hands slid from your face, one tangling in your hair, gripping it just tight enough to send a delicious thrill of pain down your spine, while the other trailed down the side of your neck, his fingers tracing the pulse that raced beneath your skin. His touch was a reminder of the control he held over you, a control that you both knew you could never escape. The moment you pulled away to breathe in the air was the time he took to ask you,

"Tell me what you desire. It shall be yours."

"I'm not sure I know what more I could want?"

"Perhaps more jewels, dresses, a pet to keep you company when I'm away from court, or maybe," he leaned towards your ear, his hot breath grazing your skin as he whispered, "You need me to pound my cock in those spoiled holes of yours for the rest of the day as a gift, hmm?"

"Those do sound like great gifts, but something crossed my mind this afternoon. I wonder..." her eyes shifted to him, "what would it be like to have a king on his knees and in between my legs?"

He’d smirk respond with a smirk, his crimson eyes narrowing as he leaned in closer, his voice dripping with a mix of arrogance and desire.

“Oh? Is that what you want, my little temptress?” he’d purr, one of his hands trailing along your thigh. You sheepishly grin as you turn your head. You knew he would end up doing it. Not because he felt like he had to. Oh, no — he was doing it because he found your boldness amusing as always.

When Sukuna Ryomen decided to indulge his favorite concubine, he did so with the same intensity and dominance that defined everything else he did.

Sukuna wasn’t one to rush, especially not when it came to you. He would begin by having you stripped bare before him, taking his time to admire your body with an appreciative gaze. His eyes would linger on every curve, every mark that he had left on you in moments of passion. It was ecstasy to his eyes.

With you sitting before him, Sukuna would lower himself, his breath ghosting over your skin, teasing and taunting you with the anticipation of what was to come. His hands, large and powerful, would grip your thighs, spreading them wide, ensuring that you were completely exposed to him.

"Look at this beauty." You shivered at his fingers that grazed over your exposed cunt.

"Don't tease me, my king."

"So impatient. We'll have to work on that one of these days."

When his mouth finally descended, he would start slowly, dragging his tongue languidly along your most sensitive bud, testing your reactions, savoring every shiver, and gasp that escaped your lips. Sukuna was a master at knowing exactly how to drive you wild, alternating between feather-light touches and deeper, more insistent strokes that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. One hand brushed through his hair as you slowly felt a knot in your stomach tie itself up.

He would pull you closer, his grip tightening as he buried his face deeper between your legs, his tongue flicking and swirling with an almost torturous precision. The sensation of his mouth on you, combined with the raw, primal hunger he exuded, would be overwhelming. His teeth would graze against your skin, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to send a jolt of sensation through your body, a reminder that he could be both your pleasure and your pain.

Sukuna’s lips sucking with a deliberate slowness that built the tension within you to unbearable heights. He’d revel in the way your body responded to him, your back arching off the bed, your hands grasping desperately at anything within reach. He’d chuckle darkly at your helplessness, his voice vibrating against you, adding another layer of stimulation that pushed you closer to the edge.

As he continued, Sukuna’s fingers found their way inside of you, pumping in and out. They would delve deeper, exploring every inch of you with a fervor that spoke of his insatiable desire to consume you entirely. The rhythm would shift between slow, torturous strokes to quick, relentless flicks that had you teetering on the brink of release. He chuckled as he admired your heat. Your flesh was gripping down on him tightly, not wanting to let him go for even a moment.

"Haa...I can never forget how tight you get when I tease you. Look at these juices you're producing. I wonder if you'll make even more if I reach deeper."

"My...king, you, ahh—shouldn't say such lewd words."

"My words can't compare to your shameless moans. It's almost like you want everyone in the palace to hear you."

And when he sensed you were close, Sukuna would pull back, just enough to leave you aching for more, to remind you who was in control. “Do you want to come?” he’d ask, his voice husky, his breath hot against your soaked skin.

"Y-yes, please, my king. May-I?."

"Don't hold back then. Be a good girl and come for your king."

The climax he would wrench from you would be nothing short of earth-shattering. Your body would arch and quiver beneath the relentless onslaught of Sukuna’s expert touch, his mouth working you over with a ferocity that left you utterly undone. Every flick of his tongue, every graze of his teeth, would push you closer to the brink until all coherent thought dissolved into a pure, raw sensation. Your hands would clutch desperately at his head, fingers curling as you tried to ground yourself, but it would be futile against the overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing through you. Sukuna would take his time, savoring each tremor that coursed through your body, his dark, satisfied chuckle the only sound that cut through your final moan as your cunt finally caved, leaving your legs shaking and you whimpering.

You laid your back against the wood of the table, grazing your hand over your neck just to make sure you were still alive. Your eyes flickered to Sukuna when you found your legs being forced to open wider than before. You could feel something hard, something angry and desperate rubbing against your abused clit. His cock was staring straight at you, pent up from being ignored till now.

"I think I can offer you a gift far more precious than the last." His nails lightly grazed your stomach, a predatory smirk tugging at his lips. "I’ll let you bear my seed—carry the heir of a king. Consider it the highest honor you’ll ever receive on this glorious day."

[writeriguess]

omg more katsukis sister x villain dabi, i love the way you write and describe things

Falling Into the Flames

"You can't be serious."

Katsuki's voice is low, strained, like he can't even process what you're saying. He paces, running a hand through his hair, the other clenched at his side, sparks dancing along his fingertips.

You stand your ground. "I am."

His red eyes snap to you, disbelief written across his face. "Tell me you're not actually serious about this."

Your heart pounds, but your voice is steady. "I love him, Katsuki."

The words drop like a bomb between you.

Katsuki stops dead, staring like you just told him the sky was green. His mouth opens, then snaps shut, jaw flexing as if he's physically biting back whatever the hell he wants to say. When he finally speaks, his voice is tight, controlled.

"No. No, you don’t." His hands clench into fists. "That bastard—he’s just messed with your head. He’s—"

"He’s what?" you challenge, stepping closer. "A villain? A murderer? Yeah, I know. I know exactly who he is, and I still love him."

Katsuki exhales sharply through his nose, his entire body tense like a coiled spring. "What the hell is wrong with you?" His voice rises, frustration spilling over. "You have a family. A life. And you're throwing it away for him?!"

You swallow against the tightness in your throat. "You don’t understand."

"Then make me understand!" he snaps, taking a step forward. "Because from where I’m standing, you’ve lost your goddamn mind!"

Your hands tremble, but you lift your chin. "He’s the first person who’s ever made me feel like I mattered. Not as your sister. Not as some extra in your damn life—just me."

Katsuki stares at you like you've just slapped him. "Bullshit," he spits. "You're my sister. You matter."

"Not like that," you bite back. "Do you know what it's like to be in someone's shadow your whole life? To never be enough, no matter how hard you try? You shine, Katsuki. You always have. But me? I was always just ‘Bakugo’s sister.’ The extra. The afterthought. And then I met him."

His brows furrow, fists trembling. "So what? He gave you some sob story about how no one understands him, and you fell for it?"

"It wasn't a sob story," you snap. "He saw me. He listened. He didn’t just hear what I said—he understood. He never asked me to be something I’m not. He never made me feel like I had to fight for a place in his life."

Katsuki lets out a hollow laugh. "Of course he didn’t. Because he doesn’t give a shit about you!" He gestures wildly, his face twisted in fury. "He’s using you, dumbass! You're just another thing for him to take from people like us!"

"You don’t know him," you say, voice shaking.

"And you do?" Katsuki's eyes are wild, blazing. "He's a villain. He kills people, for fuck’s sake!"

"He’s more than that," you say quietly.

Katsuki reels back, staring at you like you’re a stranger. "You think that, but he’s not. He’s a manipulative, selfish, murdering piece of shit."

Your breath catches. "He’s broken, Katsuki."

"We’re all broken! That doesn't mean you go and fall in love with the first fucking psycho who pays attention to you!"

"You think I wanted this?!" The words rip from your throat before you can stop them. "You think I planned to fall for someone like him? It just—happened."

Katsuki drags a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. "You can’t actually be choosing him over us."

"I'm not choosing anyone," you say, shaking your head. "You're the one making it a choice."

"Bullshit," he spits. "You’re standing here, defending him. You’re acting like he’s some misunderstood victim instead of the villain he is." His voice turns sharp, cutting. "Tell me something. When he’s done with you, what happens then?"

Your stomach twists, but before you can respond, a new voice cuts through the night.

"Careful there, princess. You might make me blush."

Your blood runs cold.

Katsuki stiffens, every muscle locking up. His hands ignite on instinct, explosive heat radiating off him.

You turn just in time to see Dabi step out of the shadows, his hands in his pockets, that lazy, smug smirk playing on his lips. But his eyes—icy, unreadable—are locked onto Katsuki.

Katsuki's body reacts before his brain does.

"You son of a—!"

Heat flares, and he’s moving, ready to lunge, but you don’t think—you react.

You step in front of Dabi, arms out, shielding him.

"Don’t."

Katsuki stops so suddenly it looks like it physically hurts him to hold back. His eyes flick between you and Dabi, furious, disbelieving. "Move," he growls.

"No."

"Move!"

"I said no!"

His hands are still sparking, his breathing heavy, like he might explode just from the sheer rage burning inside him. "You're protecting him?" His voice cracks.

You nod, slow, deliberate. "Yes."

The way he looks at you—it makes your chest ache. It's not just anger. It’s hurt, betrayal, something deeper that cuts through both of you like a knife.

"You’re choosing him over your own damn family?" His voice is hoarse, raw.

A quiet chuckle rumbles behind you. "Guess that makes me the favorite, huh?"

You shoot Dabi a warning glance, but he just smirks, unbothered.

Katsuki breathes hard through his nose, his jaw locked so tight you swear you hear his teeth grind.

Then, just like that, the fire in his hands fizzles out.

He takes a step back, exhaling sharply. "Fine," he mutters. "You made your choice."

You open your mouth, but he cuts you off. "Don’t." His voice is low, shaking. "Just… don't expect me to be there when he fucking ruins you."

The words hit harder than any explosion could.

Then he turns and walks away.

The night feels colder without him.

A beat of silence passes before Dabi hums. "Damn. Guess that could’ve gone worse."

You exhale, staring at the empty space where your brother had been.

"Could it?"

Dabi steps closer, voice quiet. "You sure about this, doll?"

You turn to him, meeting those too-bright eyes without hesitation.

"Yeah," you say. "I am."

[cherrynflowergarden]

hii! could you do hector fort bf head canons please? 😇

bf héctor headcanons || héctor fort

an; tysm for the request i hope you're happy w it:) i wrote this during my college hours hehe WE'RE LIKE 4 PPL AWAY FROM 500 OMG ILYSM the arda güler works i was writing hehe yeah i dislike them im gonna turn one into smau and let's see what i do w the other one im going to write for logan and carlos next 😠🎀

taglist; @eirianna @thebasicbiatch @katamcauley @wxnyzie @lilmear-blog @vrlixlia @star-fuck-off @embonbon @idkversace @annawilk @r0nnsblog @weluvwbb @c1ydessturniolo @vintagebishx @maddie-belle @timmdmdm @happydiplomatshepherdspy-blog @crispycitrus @faith-f1 @escapentropy @florscons @carlossainzwho @luckylampzonkland @lewisroscoelove @mudryklover @rageshots @dontworryaboutit007 @chair-things @myangelbaby555 @sheesh1311 @f1lovely @silia1raf

bf!héctor who despite looking so imitating is the sweetest boyfriend ever.

bf!héctor who calls you mi vida because you are his life.

bf!héctor who smiles so wide around you.

bf!héctor who acts nonchalant but not second someone mentions you all that act is down the drain.

bf!héctor who knows the sidewalk rule. he always walks on the side near the road. subconsciously, he does this with his friends too, since he's so used to it.

bf!héctor who finally gives in to your pleas and does tiktok challenges with you.

bf!héctor who loves being your passanger princess.

bf!héctor who lets you tie a bow around his bicep.

bf!héctor who loves gossiping with you.

bf!héctor who will attack you with kisses randomly.

bf!héctor who is the ultimate scary dog privilege. one wrong look at his girl and he's scaring the daylights of the person with his glare.

bf!héctor who is a cuddler. he needs your cuddles all the time.

bf!héctor who sends random pictures with the caption "this reminded me of you:)" to you almost everytime he's out.

bf!héctor who loves going for grocery shopping with you. something about it feels so domestic.

bf!héctor who tries to make breakfast in bed for you but ultimately fails. the loud clinking of the utensils definitely woke you up.

bf!héctor who talks to his mom about you.

bf!héctor who 'hates' when his mom tells you about his embarrassing moments and shows you his baby pictures. (no he doesn't he loves that his mother loves you enough to share all these with you)

bf!héctor who lets you colour his tattoos.

bf!héctor who gets matching tattoos with you. (if you don't want tattoos then he gets one dedicated to you.)

bf!héctor who loves when you steal his clothes.

bf!héctor who gets all shy when you call him by a pet name. (he was super shy and blushy the first time you called him a pet name)

bf!héctor who wears your scrunchie as a bracelet. he does this to one, let everyone know he's happily taken and two, for the time when you need tie your hair.

bf!héctor who needs your attention 24/7.

bf!héctor who playfully bites your nose.

bf!héctor who will flex his muscles randomly to get a reaction out of you.

bf!héctor who pretends to hate it when his friends tease him with your name.

bf!héctor who loves when you give him back and head scratches. no one but you is allowed to touch his hair.

bf!héctor who carries you on his back when you're tired.

bf!héctor who gets everything in your wishlist. he loves to spoil you.

bf!héctor who appreciates thoughtful and handmade gifts. he loves when you gift him a handmade bouquet. since he doesn't have much free time, he prefers to gift you small easy crafts.

bf!héctor who parades around with your lip stain on his cheek.

bf!héctor who loves neck kisses.

[kurooh]

Happy Birthday!

i keep thinking about sukuna being so mean, calling you the nastiest degrading names whilst you struggle to ride him 😵‍💫

⟡ 18+ content (mdni), f! reader, degradation, sir kink, light face & pussy slap

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! i’m so sorry i took so long to write this, but when i did i was on a plane so im posting it now 😭 btw this thirst was delicious what is you brain made of..

“no way you’re strugglin’ this much, baby. funny, ‘cause you’re a real whore when you’re taking in dildos just as big as my cock.”

sukuna grins, sharp teeth catching the low light of the room as challenging eyes take in your trembling form. sweat glistens along the curves and slopes of your body as your hips move up and down, bitten tits swinging along with your pace.

it’s messy where you’re connected; there’s a ring of cream coloring the base of his cock, a mixture of his cum and your wetness running down the sides of his length. sukuna watches, enraptured as your greedy pussy swallows his cock again and again. two large fingers pinch your swollen clit, drawing a sharp cry from your throat.

“‘kuna, a-ah!”

with a sneer, he deftly smacks your clit with his palm, remembering what he’d told you before— you’d work to cum on his cock, without his help. your lower lip wobbles at the loss of stimulation and sting of the slap, but all you can do is keep riding.

“tsk, work on riding my cock a little better, fuckin’ slut.. should be savoring this, hm?”

you nod desperately, walls squeezing down at his admonishment; similarly, his cock twitches deep inside you.

“‘course you get so tight after i say all that shit. you’re a real whore, aren’t ya?”

heat rushes to your face when you nod as quickly as you do, eyes focused on his broad shoulders and well muscled chest. a large hand rises to your cheek, and sukuna delivers a light slap to the burning skin.

“talked about that, didn’t we?”

“yes, ‘kuna.. yes sir.”

after a quick adjustment of your hips, you continue in your endeavor to ride him properly, as he expects. pressure surfaces in your nerves, all over as you slam yourself down on him again and again.

meanwhile, tears spill over your waterline, fresh tracks crossing over old ones from earlier. wetness gleams in the peachy pink hair along his pelvis as your sloppy pussy slides just a little too far forward; this time, sukuna doesn’t comment on it.

his fat tip hits your cervix just right, deep enough to have you gasping sharply and clenching like a vice. “s-so good, sir,” you shudder, feeling a familiar sensation all over.

“you can take it deeper, i’m sure. i’ve fucked that slutty pussy enough for that.”

desperately you lift yourself, listening to his demands and following them exactly; fucked out and practically brainless now, you drag your eyes to sukuna’s.

“drunk on this cock, aren’t you?” he grunts, abs flexing as he grits his teeth. “go ahead ‘n cum. i’m gonna flip you over ‘n show you what deep means, ya fuckin’ slut.”

[greengoblinswifey]

Forbidden Flame II

pairing— dad’s best friend!nicholas chavez x fem!reader

summary— sneaking around was thrilling, but back in LA, reality hit hard. when nicholas insisted your relationship couldn’t be more than sex, you pulled away but when he saw you entertaining another man at his party, jealousy took over.

warnings— age gap(reader is 19, nicholas is aged up to be 40), praise kink, sir kink, oral(m&f receiving), fingering, degrading kink, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare, slight angst, confessions, possessiveness.

a/n— last part?🤭either way i’ll write other dbf!nicholas content.

Part I

The next morning, at the resort, your dad had felt guilty for ditching you two the night before, so he insisted that the three of you spend the day together. You went along with it, but it made sneaking around nearly impossible.

At the beach, you watched as Nicholas and your dad played soccer, just like they used to when they were younger. The sun glistened off Nicholas’ tanned skin, his muscles flexing with every move. You tried not to stare, but it was impossible. He looked good. Too good.

The moment was broken when a guy approached you, flashing a cocky grin. “Hey, beautiful. You here alone?”

Before you could even respond, your dad was at your side in an instant. “She’s not interested.”

Nicholas was right there too, his expression unreadable, but you caught the clench of his jaw, the way his hands balled into fists at his sides. Unlike your dad, you knew his anger wasn’t just protective—it was possessive. You saw right through him.

That was the moment it really hit you. If your dad ever found out you had a boyfriend, let alone that boyfriend being his own best friend—if he even suspected—you’d both be screwed. It wasn’t just a bad idea. It was dangerous. There would be hell to pay.

But that didn’t stop you.

For the rest of the trip, your dad barely let you out of his sight, still on edge after the catcalling incident. Sneaking away with Nicholas became a challenge, but you managed sneaky moments—a heated kiss behind the cabanas, his hands gripping your ass in the pool, his fingers tracing the inside of your thigh under the dinner table. It wasn’t enough, but it had to be.

Now, back in LA, everything felt different. The rush, the secrecy, the thrill of almost getting caught, it was gone. And for the first time since you first let Nicholas fuck you, you felt the weight of it all.

The house was quiet, almost eerily so. No more crowded beaches, no more women distracting your dad, no more excuses to slip away with Nicholas. Your dad was at his company, and Nicholas, you had no idea what he was doing.

You sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter, your phone in hand. The silence was suffocating.

Then, as if on cue, your screen lit up.

Nicholas: Home alone?

Your stomach flipped. You hesitated before typing back.

You: Maybe. Why?

He responded immediately.

Nicholas: I’m coming over.

Your pulse quickened. You barely had time to process his words before the doorbell rang a few minutes later.

When you opened the door, Nicholas stood there, looking impossibly fine in a fitted black tee and jeans. “You just let strange men into your house when you're alone?” he teased, stepping inside before you could even invite him.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please.”

Nicholas smirked, shutting the door behind him.

The air between you was heavy, silence settling as you stared at each other. It was the first time you’d been alone since coming back, and now, with no one watching, no risk of being caught—

“You miss me?” he asked, voice dipping lower.

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I saw you two days ago.”

Nicholas took a step closer, tilting his head. “That's not what I asked.”

“Did you miss me?” you asked, not looking away.

His hand found your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You have no idea.”

Your breath hitched. This was wrong—reckless—but you didn't care. You had already decided, no matter the risk, you weren’t going to let Nicholas go.

And as his lips hovered over yours, teasing, daring you to make the first move, you knew sneaking around would be impossible to resist.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his head down in a deep kiss. It was a culmination of built up tension and your pure need for him. As the kiss somehow deepened, his hands went under your ass, lifting you up and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

His lips then went to the sensitive spot on your neck, a moan leaving yo as he sucked. You could finally moan freely, there was no one to hear you.

“I missed those moans,” he said between nipping, as he rested you on the kitchen counter.

“And I miss that big cock.” He chuckled at your words and went on his knees. Your hands tangled in his dark hair as he slipped off your shorts and your underwear in one swift motion.

“Wet already?” he teased.

His head dipped before you could even answer, tongue gliding across your wet folds. He worked with precision, dark eyes looking up at you as his tongue focused on your clit. He flicked and nipped gently at it, his movements having your legs shaking and he barely started.

“Missed tasting your pussy so fucking much,” he growled.

Your toes curled and your back arched off the counter, his tongue’s assault having you on the brink of an intense orgasm. He abruptly slipped two fingers inside you, scissoring and curling them, his mouth practically engulfing your clit.

“N-nick, I’m gonna—”

Unable to finish your sentence, you squirted in his mouth and all over his fingers. He took you through your high, slurping your juices like it was the only thing that quenched his thirst. When he was satisfied from how much he made your legs shake, he stood up and pulled you in for a wet kiss. You savored the taste of yourself on his tongue, moaning into his lips before slipping off the counter and falling to your knees.

“My turn,” you smiled up at him.

His large hand caressed your cheek as you pulled down his pants swiftly along with his boxers. His hard cock sprang free, slapping against his abdomen and already leaking pre cum from the tip.

“Missed this big, hard, thick cock so much,” you teased, taking him in your hands.

“Fuck—you’re so dirty. Be a good little slut and suck it,” he urged.

You stroked his cock with both hands carefully, looking up at him with big doe eyes. Slowly, you took him into your mouth, stroking what you couldn’t fit. He took ahold of your pigtails, his jaw falling agape as you took him deeper and deeper.

“That’s it, princess. You’re so good at this,” he groaned.

His praises willed you on and you went faster, taking him deeper as you went, using as much tongue as you could. You were a sight for sore eyes, pre cum and saliva dripping down your chin and soaking your chest, mascara beginning to run down your cheeks. His hips slowly thrusted, the head of his cock repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. Your hands massaged his balls and you felt them tighten under your touch.

You paused briefly, taking him out of your mouth. “Cum down my throat, please sir.”

His hips bucked and with a deep guttural moan, he came down your throat. You stroked him as he came, drawing every last drop of his cum from his cock.

“Oh my fucking God. You’re a dream, a fantasy come to life,” he panted. He pulled you to stand, his lips capturing yours in a sloppy kiss that left you breathless. He practically sucked your tongue, tasting himself before pulling you into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist once more, grinding against his hard cock.

“I need you so fucking bad, Nicholas,” you whined.

“Oh sweetheart, I need you more. Never had a pussy this good, this fucking addictive.”

He impaled you on his cock, taking your breath away. He stilled inside you, walking up the long flight of stairs to your room. As he entered, he placed you on the bed, hovering with his cock pulsing inside you.

He began moving with harsh, deep strokes, the headboard slapping against the wall as he did. With every thrust, you felt him hit your g spot and your cervix in a way no one else ever had. In a way no one else ever could. His gaze locked on yours, eyes lust blown and filled with desire as his cock dragged across your pulsating walls.

“You’re all fucking mine. Every single one of your holes is mine,” he growled, tone filled with possessiveness.

“Yes, sir. All yours,” you croaked out.

He ripped your top, finding you without a bra and swirled his tongue over your nipples. His thrusts became faster, feeling your pussy clench around him from the pleasure.

“Keep going, just like that,” you moaned, your pussy clamping around him tightly.

He bit down gently on your nipple then reached between your bodies to rub your clit and that was enough to tip you over the edge. He stared into your eyes as you fell apart beneath him, your pussy soaking his cock.

“That’s a good girl. You like how a real man fucks you? Yeah?”

You nodded your head, tears prickling the corner of your eyes he continued rubbing your clit.

Swiftly, he flipped you on top of him, his cock still buried inside your aching pussy.

“Ride me. Show me how much you love this fat fucking cock. Show me how much you crave your dad’s best friend’s cock,” he murmured.

He leaned against the headboard, bucking his hips as you began bouncing wildly.

“So obedient. That’s it, ride your cock.”

Hearing him refer to himself as yours had you feeling something you’d never felt before. Maybe it was the reassurance that there could be something real, something serious between you—whatever it was, it left you aching. In response, you lifted your hips higher, slamming yourself down on him so he could feel how deep he was inside you. He let out a breathy moan, clutching the sheets below as his eyes averted from your tits bouncing to his dick disappearing inside your pussy.

“You like how I ride you, baby?” you asked, your pussy grinding against him.

“I fucking love it,” he panted. “And if you keep that up, I’m not gonna fucking last.”

Those were exactly the words you wanted to hear. You leaned down, putting one of your tits in his mouth and he squeezed your ass while he sucked. He thrusted up into you, meeting your bounces, the angle making him reach even deeper inside you.

“Oh God—I’m gonna cum, you’re fucking me so good,” you cried.

Your body shook on top of him as you creamed and soaked him. He gripped onto you as though you were his anchor, moaning deeply as ropes of his warm cum spurted deep inside you.

“You feel fucking amazing,” he moaned, holding you down as every drop of his cum went inside you.

Your body went limp on top of him as he slowly thrusted. He pressed kisses on the top of your head, his hand caressing your ass.

You both winced as he pulled out, his cum oozing from your pussy. He pulled you into his arms as you lay on your side, his gaze locked with yours.

“You did so well for me princess, are you okay?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead.

You nodded, smiling tiredly.

Nicholas lifted you effortlessly, his hands firm and careful as he carried you to your bathroom. His touch felt different, less rushed, less frantic. He wasn’t just touching you, he was taking care of you.

The warm water cascaded over your skin as he bathed you, his hands gentle as he lathered soap over your shoulders, down your arms, across your back. He didn’t say much, just focused on you, and you found yourself watching him. The way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration, the way his fingers traced over you with a gentleness that contradicted the strength in his grip.

Something stirred in your chest—something deeper than attraction, something more than lust.

Did you actually like him?

You weren’t sure if it was just the sex, the secrecy, the way he made you feel. But you wanted more. If that was even possible.

The thought sat heavy on your tongue, hesitant, unsure, but you still asked, voice quieter than you intended.

“Would we ever—I mean, could we ever be something more? Something serious?

Nicholas stilled, his hands pausing against your skin. Then, after a beat, he let out a soft chuckle—low, almost amused, but there was something sad beneath it.

“You know that’s not possible,” he said gently, rinsing the soap from your skin.

You went quiet, frowning slightly.

He sighed. “Your dad is my best friend. And you’re young—you’ve got your whole life ahead of you, so much to experience. I wouldn’t want to hold you down.”

You wanted to protest, to tell him you didn’t care about any of that. That all you wanted was him. That he was the only experience you’d ever need, that he was exactly your type, and that you didn’t want to be with anyone else.

But all you did was nod.

And even though the warm water was still running, you couldn’t ignore the cold ache in your chest.

When he finished, he wrapped a towel around you, drying you off with the same care before handing you one of your oversized sweaters. You pulled it on, the fabric swallowing you as you climbed back into bed, curling up beneath the covers.

The air felt different now. At least, to you.

Nicholas leaned against the doorframe, watching you for a moment. “I was thinking we could go out for lunch,” he said. “Maybe hang out at my place after, I’ll show you a few scripts.”

You shook your head. “I’m tired.”

He studied you for a second. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said. “I just need to catch up on sleep.”

Nicholas nodded slowly. “Alright.”

You pulled the blanket higher, barely looking at him. “Lock the door on your way out.”

He lingered for a moment longer, like he wanted to say something, but then he left. And as the door clicked shut behind him, you exhaled, pressing your face into the pillow.

You had caught feelings for him. For your dad’s best friend. And he’d just told you that nothing could ever come of it.

What was the point of continuing then? It was a losing game. If you kept seeing him, kept touching him, kept wanting him, you’d only fall deeper. And the feelings would never be returned.

So for the next few days, you ignored his calls. His texts. You needed space—needed time to push him from your mind.

But that didn’t last long.

The next weekend, Nicholas’ team threw a party at his mansion, and of course, you and your father were invited.

You took your time getting ready, picking out a dress that hugged your body in all the right places. Maybe it was petty, but if Nicholas was going to act like you were just some girl who’d eventually move on, you wanted to remind him exactly what he was trying to resist.

When you arrived, Nicholas was the first to greet you at the door.

His eyes raked over you, staying a second too long, but his expression remained unreadable.

“Glad you could make it,” he said, but you caught the tension in his voice.

You offered him a polite smile, nothing more. “Thanks for the invite.”

Then you turned and walked away, leaving him alone with your dad.

And you didn’t have to look back to know he was watching your ass as you went.

The party was in full swing, music loud, lights low, drinks flowing. You were seated on a plush couch in the corner of the room, a guy you’d just met sitting far too close. His hand rested on your thigh, fingers tracing patterns against your skin. You didn’t move away.

You could feel Nicholas watching.

His gaze was heavy, burning into you from across the room. He was standing tense, drink in hand, pretending to listen to whatever conversation your father was having, but his eyes never left you.

You laughed softly at something the guy said, tilting your head back slightly, resting it against his shoulder in a way that was entirely too familiar. The same way you used to rest against Nicholas after he wore you out, breathless and satisfied.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

And it worked.

Because the next thing you knew, Nicholas was striding across the room, jaw clenched, eyes dark. He didn’t stop when he reached you, didn’t acknowledge the guy sitting beside you—just grabbed your wrist and pulled you up from the couch.

“We need to talk,” he said, voice firm.

“Uh—” The guy looked between the two of you, confused. “Dude—I mean, Mr. Chavez.”

Nicholas didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at him.

You didn’t protest, letting him lead you through the house, past people too drunk to notice, down the hall until he shoved open a door and pulled you inside.

The door shut with a click, and you crossed your arms. “What the hell was that?”

Nicholas ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “I’m sorry.”

You frowned. “For what?”

“For what I said before,” he admitted. “I know it affected you.”

You searched his face. “Then why did you say it?”

“Because I’m used to pushing people away,” he said, voice quieter now. “Because I was scared—of losing you, of losing my best friend. I thought it was easier to end it before it got too complicated."

You held his gaze for a moment before exhaling, shaking your head. “No one has to know, Nicholas. But, you were right.”

His expression flickered, like he wasn’t expecting that.

You took a step back, leaning against the dresser. “You were right,” you repeated. “I have my entire life ahead of me. So much to experience.”

His jaw tightened. “No.”

You let out a soft laugh. “No?”

“Yeah,” he stepped closer, closing the space between you. “No. I take back what I said.”

You looked up at him, brows raised slightly.

“You think boys your age know how to treat a woman?” he asked, voice low.

You swallowed, but didn’t answer.

He stepped even closer, backing you against the dresser now, hands bracing on either side of you. “You think they know how to make you feel good?”

Heat crawled up your neck.

His eyes darkened. “You think they know how to make you squirt and scream on dick like I do?”

Silence.

He smirked slightly. “That’s what I thought.”

You sucked in a breath, your mind racing, your heart pounding in your chest.

Nicholas tilted his head, watching you carefully. “I don’t care what happens,” he murmured. “I’m not letting you go.”

You blinked up at him.

“You’re mine,” he said. “You’re not going to give me that pussy and then take it away.”

Your breath hitched slightly at his words.

He gazed at you, then arched a brow. “Say it.”

Your lips parted. “I’m yours.”

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Good girl.”

You exhaled shakily, still trying to process everything, but Nicholas was already stepping back, his face returning to that unreadable expression.

“Now,” he said. “Go back out there and tell that kid you’re not interested.”

You hesitated.

Nicholas lifted a brow. “And tell him you’re only into older men.”

Your stomach tightened. “Okay sir.”

His smirk widened slightly. “Good girl.”

Then he opened the door, stepping aside to let you walk ahead of him. You did, feeling his presence right behind you as you both reentered the party.

But just as you reached the crowd, the moment shattered.

Your father spotted the two of you and waved Nicholas over.

Nicholas let go of your hand immediately.

And just like that, everything snapped back into place, the secrecy, the sexual tension, the unspoken heaviness of it all.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Tags: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @nicholaschavezslut69 @chavezwifeyy @nicholaslut @iamsebastiansstan @makebanks

[discombobulatedderry]

Fire and Ice

Hey, hey, hey! I'm back. (not for long, i'm sorry for still not updating that Sevika fic, tee hee) It's finally time to write about Ambessa, my no. 1 muscle mommy RAAGHHH. I saw a fic inspiration from a prompt saying how would Ambessa fare with someone who has the same status or standing as them, of equal importance and such. That idea stayed in my mind for like...a long time, before I actually found the will to write this. I hope it's to your liking!

The war table was laid out in the heart of the grand strategy hall of Noxus, its dark stone bathed in the glow of torches that lined the walls like sentinels. The air was thick with tension, the scent of steel and smoke mixing with the scent of parchment and old ink. Maps were sprawled across the surface, marked with crimson lines of conquests and blue counters denoting enemy forces. Seated at one end of the table, you kept your hands folded, your crimson-painted armor polished to perfection, giving no indication of the battles you had fought nor the sleepless nights spent orchestrating victory from the shadows. Your reputation preceded you. The "Ice of Noxus," they called you—calculated, unyielding, and relentless in strategy. You were not one for empty boasts or needless bloodshed; efficiency was your doctrine, and success was your law. Across from you sat the Lioness of Noxus herself—Ambessa Medarda. A warrior unlike any other, her sheer presence a force of nature, her reputation built on unbreakable will and a lifetime of victories. Her form was adorned in golden pauldrons, her signature deep red cape draped behind her like the bloodstained banner of war itself. She had been watching you for the better part of the meeting, her intense gaze never wavering, even as others debated strategy and countermeasures. You felt the heat of her presence, a direct contrast to your own calculated cold. “The eastern front is still holding, despite the resistance,” one of the generals spoke, his voice edged with frustration. “We could force their surrender if we—” “Burn them out,” Ambessa interjected, her deep voice cutting through the discussion like a blade. You exhaled sharply, though your composure remained unshaken. “Unnecessary. We hold the advantage already.” She turned her gaze fully on you now, the flickering torchlight illuminating the sharp angles of her face, the slight smirk on her lips betraying her amusement. “You’d have us waste time and resources prolonging a battle that could end in days?” “No,” you answered, your tone cool. “I’d have us win without needless destruction. Precision is our strength, Medarda. A pyrrhic victory is no victory at all.” The room went silent. Tension coiled between you like a drawn bowstring. Ambessa leaned forward, placing both hands against the table, muscles flexing beneath her armor. “You fight like a scholar, not a warrior.” You tilted your head slightly, unfazed. “And you fight like a hammer, not a tactician.”

Her smirk widened, eyes darkening with something dangerous. Interest? Challenge? You weren’t sure. The other commanders exchanged wary glances. They had seen men crumble under Ambessa’s presence before. But you? You sat still, poised and unaffected, a perfect contrast to the fire she exuded. “You believe in war without fire,” she mused. “I wonder how long you’d last in the flames.” You met her gaze with a quiet intensity, your voice a blade cloaked in ice. “Try me.” And for the first time in a long time, Ambessa Medarda laughed. A deep, knowing chuckle that sent a shiver through the gathered warriors. This war was not yet over. And neither was the battle between you and the Lioness of Noxus. The meeting had long since ended, yet the echoes of your dispute with Ambessa still burned in your mind. You strode through the darkened halls of the fortress, the weight of strategy pressing against your thoughts. But there was another weight—one heavier, more demanding—that followed you. The door to Ambessa’s quarters loomed ahead, flanked by guards who stiffened at your approach. Without breaking stride, you pushed past them, your boots striking hard against the stone floor as you entered. Ambessa stood by the hearth, one hand resting on her hip, the firelight licking at the edges of her armor. She didn’t turn as the door shut behind you. “Bold,” she mused, voice deep with amusement. “But I expected nothing less from you.” “You are reckless,” you stated, stepping forward, your tone sharp and unyielding. “Do you even consider the cost of your conquests?” At that, she turned, eyes glinting with something primal. “I consider victory,” she countered, stepping toward you with slow, measured strides. “I consider strength.” Your jaw tightened. “Strength without control is destruction.” “And control without fire is stagnation,” she shot back, stopping just inches from you. The air between you was charged, her presence radiating heat that clashed against the ice in your veins. For a long moment, silence stretched between you, each waiting for the other to yield. But neither of you would. Not yet. Then, her lips curled into a smirk. “You argue with such conviction. I wonder—do you fight as fiercely as you speak?” You lifted your chin, voice as cold as the Noxian winter. “Only when necessary.” Ambessa hummed, tilting her head slightly. “Then perhaps I should see for myself.” The challenge hung heavy in the air, and you knew—this battle was far from over.

The space between you vanished in an instant. Her hand gripped your jaw, rough yet deliberate, forcing your gaze to hold hers. Fire burned in her eyes, a silent challenge issued in the heat of the moment. Before words could intervene, your lips crashed together in a fierce, claiming kiss. It was not soft, nor hesitant. It was war. Armor was unfastened, discarded piece by piece, each removal an unspoken surrender met with another advance. The firelight flickered, casting deep shadows across heated skin, the contrast between your cool resolve and her relentless passion only fueling the storm between you. She backed you against the stone wall, the chilled surface a stark contrast to the molten heat of her mouth against your throat. Your fingers dug into her shoulders, nails scraping against muscle as she pressed against you, strength overwhelming but not unwelcome. Every touch was a contest, every gasp a declaration of battle. She was relentless, pushing, taking, demanding, and yet you met her force with calculated precision, answering her ferocity with controlled intent. The tension that had crackled between you for months, the unspoken battles fought with glances and words, now spilled over in unrestrained desire. Fire and ice clashed, neither yielding yet both consumed in the inferno they had ignited.

She pushed, you pushed back. Teeth grazed, nails dug into flesh, neither of you willing to yield. When she pressed you against the wall, her hands gripping your wrists above your head, you yanked free, twisting her arm just enough to reverse the roles, pinning her instead. Her breath came hot against your skin, a slow, taunting chuckle escaping her lips. “Is that all?” she murmured, her voice thick with challenge. Your answer came in the form of your lips crashing against hers again, swallowing her words before they could fully form. She retaliated in kind, hands threading into your hair, yanking you closer, refusing to let you set the pace. Every move she made was met with calculated counterforce—when she pushed, you pulled; when she took, you took back. Every inch of revealed skin was a new battlefield, every breathless gasp a momentary victory before the war continued. She lifted you, forcing your back against the cold stone again, her knee parting your legs with practiced ease. But you wouldn’t let her win so easily. You twisted, rolling her beneath you, straddling her waist, pinning her hands to the bed now instead of the wall. A low growl rumbled in her throat, but her smirk never wavered. “I see,” she mused, voice husky. “The Ice of Noxus does know how to burn.” You leaned down, lips brushing the shell of her ear, huffing before biting on it. “And you know how to freeze.” The night was long, the battle unrelenting. Dominance was traded like a weapon, each of you testing, taking, yielding only when it served to heighten the war. And when the fire finally settled, the echoes of your conquest still lingered in the dim candlelight.

By the time the storm settled, the battle waged between sheets instead of steel, you lay beside her, breath uneven, skin alight with the remnants of war. She turned her head, golden eyes glinting in the dim light, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You fight well,” she murmured, voice husky. You exhaled, the ghost of a smirk playing on your own lips. “I always do.”

The following morning, the field was alive with the sound of steel and the march of disciplined boots. Warriors stood in formation, clad in dark armor bearing the sigils of their legions. The air was thick with the scent of iron and anticipation as banners of Noxus waved under the pale morning sun. You stood at the head of your elite force, each soldier a hardened veteran trained in precise, calculated warfare. Their discipline was absolute, their loyalty unwavering. They were an extension of your will, your strategy made manifest. Across from you, Ambessa led her own warriors, a force known for their sheer power and relentless brutality. They stood as fierce as their commander, a stark contrast to your own legion’s quiet control. Your eyes met Ambessa’s from across the ranks. The embers of your argument from the night before still smoldered beneath the surface, but there was something else—a silent acknowledgment, a respect forged in conflict. She inclined her head slightly, a smirk barely visible beneath the morning light. You gave nothing in return, your gaze unreadable, your posture rigid with authority. Then, with the signal given, the march toward the enemy camps began. Side by side yet divided, fire and ice rode into battle once more.

A/N: And, that's a wrap! I guess? I think? I don't know, let me know what you think though. As for any updates I might do, or works I can publish, I have no schedule as I have my college semester up my ass. I only really write when I have the chance to :"))

Again, thanks for reading!