#yoga teaching training session | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

velvetures · 1 year ago

Note

omg I luv ur writing!!! is it possible to get a story thats like, ghost (or whomever) is stretching and training together but there’s alotttt of sexual tension, and ghost ends up hard and they notice it bc of the position they’re in? (Like he’s restraining reader and his bulge is right in their face😭)

Tension

A/N: I went kinda wild with this one... please excuse my filth. :)

Summary: You've always driven Ghost just short of losing his self-control. Some peeping, close combat training, and seeing you do yoga eventually snaps the fine line warding off the Lieutenant.

T/W's: NS/FW 18+ ONLY, fem reader, rough sex, overstimulation, tension, inappropriate horniness, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex/creampie (don't do that IRL), fingering, multiple orgasms, standing missionary?, a hint of rushed consent, big feelings, manhandling ofc, and I don't proofread well.

Ghost had watched your late-night training routine many times. A bit of a jog to get warmed up, some plyometrics on one of the mats, and then some light weights. It would leave you in a glittering sheen of sweat under the dim lights; jewel-encrusted as you’d wait until the last hour of your workout to pull out headphones and start doing yoga.

After looking up some of the things you did, the Lieutenant knew enough about it to understand that it wasn’t just some bullshit thing you felt worked. It held some actual merit on plenty of applicable skills. And fuck did you make it look good. From the simple stuff like laying on your back and just breathing, to the more mind-bending positions like the *Sirsa Padasana -*one of those Ghost needed to know the name of- after watching you stay almost entirely still like that for five minutes. He’d seen a lot of the different ways soldiers practiced not only strengthening their bodies but their minds while training. And the way you spent so much time in yoga practice… he felt like there wasn’t any question as to how you had such control over yourself in the field.

In the beginning, Ghost found himself unable to interrupt your… sessions? for the unfounded reason that his presence huffing and groaning while running or lifting would interrupt whatever silence or isolation you preferred. At least, the silence he assumed you wanted since he never saw you in the gym when the sun was still visible. Instead, he’d just come to the edge of the windows and peek to see if you were still there; Deciding how close you were to finishing up before going back to his quarters and waiting until he heard the sounds of your footsteps walking past his door. But he’d been caught after a while.

And it opened up and entirely different kind of training that Ghost wasn’t prepared for.

You had been more than happy to share the gym with him, almost begging that he join since you never had “company” this late at night. Not that his “company” was much more than his body just being in the same room, but it never failed him to see just how utterly calm you were at the thought of him lingering around you. Most people flinched or shied away, but you never did, and even when you twisted yourself into the most ridiculous looking shapes and put yourself into vulnerable positions, it didn’t effect you at all that he could walk right by you or possibly be watching.

He was always watching.

It made hand-to-hand combat drills more interesting too.

Gaz had been partnered up with you initially, seeing as he could be the most patient and actually give you clear pointers without sounding too harsh. He’d been quite happy with your progress over the span of a few months, and quickly gave Ghost a task that became his most challenging mission to date. Teaching you how to fight without losing his own mind being that fucking close to you for nearly two hours multiple times a week. As if personally viewing your workouts late at night wasn’t bad enough, he actually got to feel just how much the yoga strengthened you when he had to grapple your little body and try to pin you down. Teaching you to block fists without seeing them coming, locking knees with opponents three-times your size, avoiding handcuffs, knives, and other non-projection weapons came with a cost.

Ghost wouldn’t really be focused on your techniques or reaction time nearly as much as he’d be concerned about the way your hips ended up flush with his, or just how easy it was for him to just slip one arm between your thighs and effortlessly manhandle you onto the mats. It was hard keeping a clear head when you just made fighting feel a lot more like aggressive foreplay. Hell, you sounded a lot more like you were being fucked too. Nothing but little grunts and groans when he’d secure one arm behind your back, or little pants as you fought off his punches and forward drives to kick one of your feet out from under you. s

“Don’t let me holding anything in your house I your legs,” He felt himself growling out the order as you fought underneath him to pull your legs free from between his thighs.

“If I pin you, you’re dead.” The words were harsh… and it’s why everyone thought Gaz would be a better fit.

But that hadn’t been enough, and now here he was, half-sweating and half-hard, trying to make sure his cock didn’t brush up against you long enough for you to notice that you were playing more than just one game with him. While your strength didn’t match his own, it was your flexibility that made you competent enough to have even been thought to be put into a spar with him. You could twist yourself up and out of spaces most grown men would never think about, and it did give Ghost a bit more challenge trying to combat how hand-placements knowing you were about as slippery as fucking water. And without attempting a conventional tactic, you’d gotten yourself free of his legs and wrapped back around his back with one leg and an arm pulled in a headlock.

Ghost gave a frustrated sigh, feeling his air supply being hindered but not actually cut off. You’d misjudged his windpipe -probably due to the mask- and tightened down less than an inch away from perfect. It was a good counter move, but not lethal. And that was unacceptable. Hardly any force was needed to pry your arms from around your leg and literally throw you belly-down onto the mat, both arms pulled tight behind your back with his legs pinning yours down securely. You wiggled and jerked against him, ass brushing the base of his ever-present erection, and it forced him to let you go. For nothing more than the safety of his own pride and insurance that you would go another day without your Lieutenant’s perverse thoughts becoming known.

“I thought I had you that time,” You pant, coming up to sit on your knees across from him with a frustrated look pinching your eyebrows. “What did I do wrong?”

He had to give you credit, you were so damn teachable. Always asking questions and stopping in the middle of a fight to expect some kind of explanation instead of just learning through trial and error. Naturally, he’d been partial to ignoring you at first but when you wouldn’t engage after asking a question until he said something, he realized that there was no use. So, he did what he could do best. Teach by example.

Slow… example.

“Come here,” You got back up to your socked feet and walked right up to him, sweat clinging to the tip of your nose and dripping down the side of your neck. He had the insatiable urge to rip his mask up and lick that bead from your collarbone to the pulse point jumping under your skin.

With one hand he turned you around, your shoulders tight to his upper stomach and placed his forearm against your throat in the same way you’d done just a moment ago. It made things hard since his arm hardly fit in the gap to begin with, but he could feel you swallow easily, letting him know he’d found the correct angle.

“Your arm hit off to the side,” He tightened down just a little, feeling your body tense up as he began putting pressure over you. “When it should’ve been straight.” With the smallest adjustment, his left hand palmed the top of your head, holding you still while the bulk of his muscled, right forearm pressed flush against the right side of your throat, and his massive bicep flexing to apply pressure to the other side; forcing a hissing sound from your mouth.

Your little hands came up to grip his arms, not exactly pulling him away or fighting the pressure. Both hands curling around his And while he knew he shouldn’t actively be testing just how long you could go before passing out, Ghost found himself waiting patiently just to see what would happen under the stress. There for a split second, your muscles suddenly went slack and he honestly thought you’d already lost enough oxygen to faint. But when your fingers still pressing against the veins in his arm started slowly moving in a little wave of tapping motions, he was proved wrong.

Right away he remembered seeing you do it before. In the times your yoga practice was a little less than comfortable or you were actively trying to push yourself further than you’d gone before. Something like a little tell, or coping mechanism that allowed you to focus without exerting too much energy to something else outside of the main stimulus. Another little thing you did that Ghost found so much more interesting and downright strange about you. How clever you were doing things differently than everyone else.

“Alright, enough,” He let go and pushed his hand in the gap of your shoulders to put some pace between you.

You stumbled forwards, taking a gasp of breath and turning around to Ghost with a heavy flush settling in your cheeks and a bloodshot tint in the whites of your eyes. You brought a hand up to your neck where a faint outline of his own arm had pressed into you, your fingertips tracing the outline with a little bit of an embarrassed smile on your face.

“Any reason you didn’t fight back?” He questioned, flattening out his tone and looking at you with a pointed glare.

You shrug, looking down at the floor for a moment. “I… was trying to feel it. The pressure I mean, and see if I could resist you.”

Ghost rolled his eyes, trying to keep from barking out a laugh. He’d not even used his actual strength to apply pressure. It was nothing more than the literal bulk of his arm just fit against your throat. Hearing you think otherwise gave the Lieutenant a deep stroke to his ego, even giving his half-hard cock a good wave of stimulation as well. He couldn’t find it in himself to not give you correction though.

“You couldn’t resist it, kid.”

“Excuse me?” The offense you took surprised him. Ghost took a couple steps closer to you, settling his hands on his hips.

“You. Couldn’t. Stop. Me.” He punctuated his words with a flat, and uninterested tone to mask the sudden intrigue he had after actually managing to keep the thundering beat of his heart under control.

You, with your calm demeanor. Patience beyond humanity. Body from his own wet dreams… A better man would’ve known how to stay away from you and ignore the desires to bend you to his own will. A good man would be like Gaz. Train you with only your best interests in mind. Develop your weaknesses without thinking of all the ways he could use them against you in the most twisted and deprived ways. Learn your body and train it to be even more dangerous than it already was. Not spend every second during sparring using it as an opportunity to have you under him or wrapped up in his arms so tight you couldn’t get away.

“Looks like you can’t stop yourself, L.T.,” You answer with a confidence and direct stare directly at his belt.

The remembrance of his cock straining against his pants became much more significant that his own comfort and control in that moment. Halting all thoughts aside from the way your eyes swirled with unspoken questions and plenty of ideas forming that Ghost didn’t nearly have the ability to respond to. A cold rush of panic spread through his body, and he immediately turned his back to you, spitting out some kind of dismissal as soon as her could manage it.

“We’re done today, go get cleaned up.”

Later that day, you’d not seen a single glimpse of Ghost. You’d not really meant anything mean by the mention of his… excitement, while training. It was understandable, seeing as you’d both been quite close and in very vulnerable positions that could easily skew anyones mind past the straight and narrow. You’d be lying if there weren’t times that you thought about the different ways your body could be really manhandled by your Lieutenant. He was undeniably attractive with his gruff voice and often bitter character. It made Ghost who you knew, and while you knew most people wouldn’t understand, you felt comfortable and safe around him.

Even when you felt his erection pressing against you while teaching you how to defend yourself in close combat. That whole ordeal was in the forefront of your mind in such a significant way that even Soap noticed it while you were putting together some dinner for the pair of you. Nothing special, just some pasta and chicken, but you’d nearly boiled over the pot of spaghetti twice now, and the Sergeant wasn’t so oblivious to not notice.

“You good?” He nudged you, taking the spoon from your hand and scooting you out of the way politely as to take over the cooking while you had such a hard time focusing. You’re slow to respond, still a little stuck trying to sort through your own feelings and the attempts to sort through what had happened, if it was your fault, and how in hell you were going to try and make an apology for overstepping bounds.

“Um… I have a question,” You speak up, wrapping your arms around yourself and watching Soap stir the chicken in the skillet.

“If you were sparring with a girl… and you got hard, does that mean you’re into her?”

You felt like a high school girl gossiping with her friends about how to tell if guys were crushing on you. Such a stupid question would’ve gotten you in a lot of trouble if you’d asked anyone other than Soap. Johnny looks over at you, a smirk on his face and his eyes alight with mischief. He turns around and leans against the counter with his lower back resting there causally, glancing around the kitchen and living area to see if anyone was around before answering you.

“Well lass, I can’t be sure of nothin’ more than theory…” He rubs a hand over the short and scratchy stubble growing out on his cheek. “But, if I really liked her, yeah… I’d probably get a little excited doin’ somethin’ like that.”

The topic falls into a somewhat comfortable silence after that; Allowing you to eat you dinner on the couch, stewing over not just the sight of Ghost standing right in front of you, obviously turned on in some way or another as well as Soap’s -unknowing- confirmation. Therefore by the end of your pasta, after a long stint of attempting to read a book, and debating if you’d just fucked up a very important relationship within your squad, you found yourself getting changed into some comfortable clothes and heading back down to the gym.

You didn’t bother warming up with a jog, or any real kind of strength training. You needed some kind of way to focus, and yoga was the only surefire way to shut out any other thoughts. There was just enough dedication required to work through poses correctly, that after less than ten minutes of gentle flow you’d lost a lot of the edge cutting into your peace of mind over Ghost. You’d been working on extending your ability to remain in Kapila pose, and got almost two minutes over your record when you heard the door to the gym snick open, followed by heavy footsteps walking past you towards the weight rack.

It was nearly one in the morning. No one looked for a hard workout this late night other than your Lieutenant, and he was the last person you wanted to face right now. Fuck… he was the whole reason you were pushing your limits right now, nearly reaching into the painful edge of stretches just to force your breathing and mind onto the center of balance and exertion. With your face mere inches away from the ground, sweat drips off your nose onto the mat you’re sitting on and makes a quarter-sized puddle by the time you’ve finally felt like you’ve held to pose long enough. Your flow lead you into Compass pose next, beginning the opposite leg and physically guiding yourself into a position meant for nothing more than to release tension lingering in your body. It takes a while to feel your joints and tendons finally giving up to the stress in your mind, making the hold on your foot behind your head more manageable.

It’s around that time you begin hearing the sounds of squat plates clacking against each other alongside the rich and room-filling sounds of Ghost’s quiet grunts and groans. Resisting the strong desire to imagine what his legs look like, flexing under the weight of the bar. Using massive thighs and such explosive power to push the multiple hundred pounds he’s holding over his shoulders over twenty times for racking the weight. It’s all in the sounds you can’t ignore due to forgetting your headphones. Damning you to an onslaught of delicious sounds that would’ve fell on deaf ears anywhere else on base. Overshadowing the tinges of pain in your body with the commanding nature of the Lieutenant even when he wasn’t seeking it out.

You spent nearly an entire half hour trying not to put too much weight on Ghost’s presence, working at this point just to get through your flow without drawing too much attention to yourself, or giving any reason for Ghost to say anything to you. You’d not prepared anything in the way of an apology, and you couldn’t begin to formulate one with clanking metal and his suggestive sounds filling your ears. Maddening… downright sinful in nature. Enough to make any woman squirm. And fuck were you utterly terrified that you’d chosen to wear such light colored grey leggings, because if you’d move in just the right way, the dampness growing there would be painfully obvious.

In a headstand, choosing it for nothing more than your confidence in it, you’d closed your eyes and started tapping on the mat with your fingers. Picturing your own spine and tying a string to it, using that thin string to draw your vertebrae straight and tall, lengthening your entire body and deepening your breaths. You nearly fell flat on your face when you feel fingers graze the back of your knee and tease over your calf. The wiggle in your concentration stacks your weight over your head and forearms on the floor and pitches you towards the ground.

Right away, an arm wraps around your hips and swipes you off your own control and kept you from falling to the ground. Instead of hitting your mat or the concrete you had your eyes on, you feel nothing short of muscle and stocky build pressed against the entire backside of your body as Ghost holds you upside down not unlike a sack of flour or a sniper rifle. The back of your head hits against his lower leg and you grunt a little, taken by surprise and once again finding yourself at the mercy of Ghost’s strength alone. You’re about to speak up, and are cut short by the Lieutenant literally spinning you right-side up with his free arm, holding you eye-level with him.

“Distracted?” His eyebrow raises above the cut out of his -much thinner- almost athletic mask missing the trademark skull painted on it. His hand palming your ass felt like it was branding the skin under your leggings, leaving you speechless and hanging on nothing more than the sounds of his breaths hissing through the mask.

“You… you spooked me,” You mutter, one hand bracing on his shoulder and the other somewhere on his chest… you couldn’t quite gather enough spacial awareness to connect the dots. “Made me jump is all.”

Ghost chuckled, “Spooked you?” Even his tone was mocking of the ridiculous idea you knew was so full of holes, it wouldn’t hold water. “Touching you s’enough?”

Looking down at your body pressed against his; the direct contrast of your cream colored knit sweater and his tight-fitting black shirt, the embarrassingly long distance between your feet and the floor. Everything about this meeting with Ghost was so far different than when you met on level ground in the sparring room. Then, you both knew the intentions. How to work around each other and how to go about pushing the right buttons. But now… you weren’t even close to feeling like having any power, and you were certain that the Lieutenant could feel it radiating off of you.

“Maybe it is.” Replying back, you feel his fingers dig a little into the flesh of your ass a little harder.

“Maybe its not what I’ve done that’s bothering you… but what you’ve been thinking about,” He challenged you back, looking over at the mat you’d been using. “Why you came here, pushing so hard… Ignoring me.”

All the air in your lungs evacuated when he so accurately saw right through your skull and into the deep recesses of your head. Enough that you were nodding your head just enough for Ghost to let out something of and amused kind of sound. Short of real laugher, but not nearly enough to call it a breath. Either way, there was no hiding now. You admitted it right to his face, looking deep in those dark eyes with a level of intensity you had never seen from him before.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s in your little head?”

You hadn’t the slightest idea where to begin. Should you admit that you were hungry for more about his thoughts on you? Or just admit that you’d been struggling all even with the guilt of enjoying the thought of him lusting over you and having the power to call him out over it? So many ideas popped into your head, spinning it around so quickly that y the time you spit out an answer, you were already in the changing rooms in the back of the gym; Ghost carrying you towards the counter with a mirror. He sat you down on it, slotting his hips between your spread thighs and rubbing those massive hands up your thighs like he was savoring the feeling of your muscles tensing up under his touch.

“C’mon. That was an order, soldier.” He pressed, actually pinching at the creases of your thighs made all the more defined with you sitting. “D’you have somethin’ you want to ask me? About training earlier…”

You gasped softly, twitching when his fingertips traced over the indentions in your thighs marking dimples and other imperfections that you would’ve loved to go unnoticed by his wandering hands curling around your hips and back towards your ass again, sliding you flush against his chest. Forcing you to visualize the heavier rise and fall of his chest, shadows defining the valley between his pecs and the heartbreakingly gorgeous width of his shoulders caging you in. Masterfully, this man was drawing words out of you in such a confident and almost inescapable seduction. Yet the only question you’d been struggling with was answered with nothing more than the soothing voice and teasing touch of a man who had you wrapped around his finger.

“Hmm, no questions?” His head tilted a bit, seeing you so flustered over nothing than a couple little touches.

Enjoying nothing more than how you looked at him so surprised and innocent, despite knowing just how fucking turned on you were after spotting the totally soaked crotch of your leggings after approaching you during your headstand. Unable to resist you any longer, Ghost tipped your chin up a bit to meet his gaze and purposefully softened it. Wanting to ease you into this a little more, humming lowly when your pretty lips curled into a sweet smile. Letting your head rest in his hold with every ounce of trust you showed in the field and one the mats during conditioning.

“I have a question for you. Did you like it…? Seeing me standing there with a hard cock, knowing you were the sole reason for it.” He traced his finger down the bridge of your nose gently.

“How does it make you feel inside, knowing I want to feel every inch of you. Taste your screams of my name and the slick dripping out of your cunt onto those fucking leggings you’re wearing.”

“F-felt… good,” You sputter, face flaring brightly. “Liked it a lot.”

His hands kneading harshly at your ass quickly came up to the high waist of your leggings and tugged, hard. Breaking stitches and even tearing the material on one side as he pulled those skin-tight leggings off your legs; Growling deep in his chest when the sheen of your arousal spread on your skin under the florescent light. You held on to his shoulders, helping him just enough to make sure he didn’t totally ruin your bottoms.

“I knew you did,” He snarled, throwing your pants behind him and giving you a very clear smile from behind his mask. “Such a good solider, too bad she’s a dirty little slut for her Lieutenant’s cock.”

You could help the guttural moan you let out when his fingers dipped between the slick folds of your pussy and so very gently rubbed over your swollen clit. Using his hips to keep your thighs from locking his hand into place. Ghost was as calm and collected as ever, giving you an almost placating look as you squirmed and fought between the desire to back away from the sudden intense stimulation and the desire for more. His other hand held your chin steady, tutting at you like he was disappointed when you bit your lip to try and muffle the sounds of pleasure he was giving you.

“No, you’re not allowed to do that.” He pinched your clit, making you yelp loudly and squeeze your thighs against him until they shook. “You’ll sit there and let me play with you until i’m finished, okay?” Ghost actually nodded your head up and down for you. “That means I hear every fucking sound, because they’re all mine.”

You couldn’t remember how many times you came around Ghost’s fingers before the entire countertop you sat on was pooling with your cum. Feeling it stick to your skin and the wet sensation of his mask dragging over your body as he licked and bit at your skin until the pain melted into such overwhelming ecstasy that you couldn’t hold your upper body of your own strength. You’d slumped your forehead against his chest, blabbering utter nonsense and struggling to manage just how Ghost could expertly play your body to his own desires. With a swollen and exhausted cunt still clenching around his fingers, you were being lifted off the counter and up into Ghost’s arms with the hot and thick head of his dick teasing your dripping hole.

“G-Ghost… can’t take it. Can’t take more,” You groan, clawing at his shoulders and back as he gently rolls his hips just enough to give you a taste of what he was about to stretch you out with.

“Oh yeah you can…” His breathless chuckle made your stomach churn. “You can. And you will, because I need you to come around my dick.”

In one fatal movement, you were speared onto Ghost’s cock down to the base. Crying out his name as your walls spasmed to adjust in time. Adjusting his hold on your body, the flexibility he’d lusted over while watching you worked to his advantage as he held you by your thighs, dropping your pussy back down over him. Releasing the first of many wet, sucking sounds that earned you such a deep moan of your own name that you impossibly tightened around him.

“Thaaatt’s ittt,” His punched-out praise only urged you on, creating deeper and more unavoidable desire to please him. “Such a good fuckin’ slut. Dripping down my balls… fuucck. You’re gonna make me come.”

The idea of Ghost filling you with his hot release poured hot, honeyed feelings of pleasure. You couldn’t believe there was a feeling such as deeply effecting as this. The shocking weakness in which you felt completely absorbed in to the point that you saw past the rough exterior Ghost was presenting, and understood that he wasn’t taking with your physical self, but everything else that you could offer him. Closeness, support, trust beyond what others had given… maybe even love. Sex hadn’t felt like this before. Especially the filthy way Ghost was fucking his cock up into you so deeply your cervix was curving to mold around his tip. But the connection was there and so strong that your heart was burning in your chest.

“Doin’ so good…” He murmured, wet mask brushing against your cheek and fanning damp breaths over your sensitive skin. “God m’gonna keep you right here forever,” He groaned, biting at your cheek through his mask. “My little toy. Let me make you feel good…”

That wetness in your bright eyes as you nodded up at him, whimpering broken pleads and begs for him to do it. To claim you… fill you up over and over. Never spend another day without Ghost either right next to you, or his semen dripping out of you as a reminder that you’ve been possessed by such a powerful and commanding man that would stop at nothing to drive you out of your mind with pleasure. Such intense emotional and physical feelings that sent you careening over the edge of a earth-shattering orgasm that left you quite literally screaming out his name at the top of your lungs, feeling a heavy pressure in your lower stomach break. Clamping down on Ghost’s cock and feeling overwhelming wetness soaking his pelvis and dripping down onto the floor in a gush of splatters.

“Shhiitt!” Ghost shouted out your name, stuffing his cock as deeply inside you as he could.

Feeling jets of his release flooding your pussy and overflowing the tight space until it rolled down your inner thighs in thick pearl rivulets. His hips rocked against yours, stuttering as they grew weak and his cock overstimulating against the texture and tightness. Right away the bruising grip on your ass and thighs loosened, and on unsteady legs Ghost moved you both back towards the counter and reluctantly drew himself out of you with a hiss. Too fucked out to even respond in a noticeable way, you just kept your weakened legs and arms wrapped as tightly around him as you could. Shivering with aftershocks of nearly-fried nerves and overworked muscles.

You were cradled against Ghost’s chest, with both arms protecting your body. His head resting atop yours, listening to your breaths and feeling the way you began to slowly wind down, made that much easier by his fingers trailing up and down your spine and whispered praise scratching an itch deep in your heart and brain. He was taken by you, so small and made that much smaller with nothing but that soft sweater covering your form and the little hands you’d fisted into his shirt. So pretty, and if it wasn’t for seeing your skills as a soldier, he’d think you were as breakable as a hand painted, porcelain teacup.

Duty to protect and provide washed over Ghost. So strongly that even the small chills rising on your legs were distressing him beyond what would’ve felt acceptable. He wanted you warm and feeling safe with him after taking so much for so long that you could hardly hold your own head up. Moving you again to his quarters was his next task, and he very quickly had you gathered up in his arms and the large towel you’d brought to the gym draped over your bottom half so that neither of you would have to fuss with the wet leggings that had been unintentionally soaked by your final orgasm. Ghost didn’t even bother picking them up off the floor since the right side had been ripped apart beyond repair or wearing again. Mentally, he already had plans on replacing them.

But there would be a lot of things that changed sooner than later.

He’d done everything to stay away. Pretend that he didn’t want you deep in his very bones, and ignore how heavy of a struggle it became to deny simple closeness to another human being that meant more than a cooperating operator. You would be nothing less than his sole purpose in working for. Ensuring you had everything you needed and more than you could ever ask for. He’d take nothing you gave for granted, including the total control of your body for him tonight. And he’d be certain that the next time he touched you… he would do it the right way instead of allowing the desperate side of him to try and swallow you whole. You deserved more than a rough and dominating man. And he wasn’t sure how to even go about becoming something he’d long abandoned for no other reason than survival.

But fuck if he’d be damned if he didn’t dedicate the rest of his life trying.

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jarofstyles · 2 months ago

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Strawberry Sunrise 2

Hello my angels, here is part two of gymrry! 💪🏼 I hope you guys enjoy him

Part One

Check out our Patreon with 200+ exclusive writings and early access

Warnings- mentions of violence, stalking, sexism, misogyny, self defense training

WC- 3.3k

Harry was exhausted physically, but mentally he felt more awake than he’d ever been after a long day of sessions.

Sitting at the smoothie bar, he sipped on a PB Choc shake that Y/N had ready for him after he was done with his last session of the day. He tried to pay her, but she’d insisted yet again that he was helping her out so the least she could do was give him a free drink. Harry was a tad bit pathetic in how much her genuine smile made his heart race, but instead he nodded and let her finish up her closing duties. He’d offered to help but her eyes had narrowed and she had pointed at his drink, so he decided to leave it be.

Besides, it gave him time to observe her.

The ponytail was slightly falling now, a few pieces of hair around her face and at the nape of her neck as she wiped down counters. Her tank top with the gym name on it was slightly loose on the torso but clung to her chest. Yoga pants were her choice of bottom, which, fuck- he had to avert his eyes from those considering he had to get up close with her soon. He had to teach her so he wasn’t about to have a stiffy when he showed her how to throw a punch. As attracted to her as he was, these sessions were to help her feel safe. He’d rather have an arm chopped off than be another one of those men that she felt creeped around her.

It was no secret that Y/N was attractive. She was probably the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, if he was being honest with himself. It was discussed between staff and other trainers about how beautiful she was and how her personality was only elevating the physical beauty she had, because the girl was sweet as pie. She was the type that remembered everyone’s birthday and made sure they got a free protein cookie or gym shirt, and put a few decorations in the break room even in the short time she had been here. Y/N was someone a lot of women felt comfortable enough to go to when someone made them uncomfortable, using her power and access to the private security guard (Who unfortunately left before her) to have them escorted out. It had made it all the more upsetting to Harry to know she had felt defenseless over the guy waiting outside the night before.

Unfortunately he knew it was a reality for all women. He had a sister, a mother, multiple women as friends and it infuriated him to know that her experience wasn’t an uncommon one. It had made him more than proud of her, actually, when she asked him to help her. To take your personal security and safety seriously was a big deal, even if you shouldn’t need it in the first place. The hope was she’d never need to use them, but he was relieved that she trusted him enough to ask him to teach her.

The doors at the front were locked so no one could get in, Y/N giving them a few tugs to make sure it stuck before she turned on her heels to face him. Clapping her hands together, she nearly bounced over to him with a spring on her step that he envied, grabbing her water bottle she’d left beside him. “Okay! Let’s get started. I promise not to keep you here for a long time, 20 minutes should be fine- but I realized last night I’d probably break my hand if I threw a punch.”

Yeah, that was exactly what they’d want to avoid.

“We don’t have to rush unless you’ve got to get out of here. All that’s waiting for me at home is a fish tank and some tea.” He assured her, leaving his bag at the smoothie counter as they made their way towards the training area.

“Oh- I thought you had a girlfriend?” She asked curiously, undoing her ponytail. Hair fell down to her shoulders momentarily as she ran her fingers through the roots, fluffing it out before smoothing her hair back to fasten into a new ponytail. “That girl that came in a few times, pretty red hair?”

“Oh, no.” Harry shook his head. She’d noticed that? It was interesting that she had. “She’s a friend’s girlfriend. Amanda and I go jogging sometimes but she and her girlfriend are my mates. She’s a chef, though, so she brings me stuff to test out since she specializes in health foods.” He could see it seeming much different to her though. “I’m single, chronically.” The need to clarify was there, maybe seeming a little desperate but hey- apparently he’d not made that clear enough.

“She was super nice and pretty, so I assumed. But I made an ass out of myself with that, didn’t I?” Her laugh was lighthearted but he swore he saw her smile get a bit bigger as she raised her arms up to stretch them over her head. “You’ve got fish?”

“No, I don’t think so. It’s natural to assume things sometimes. But as for the fish- I do.” He nodded, feeling a little happier himself. Y/N noticed that he had a visitor and seemed happy it wasn’t his girlfriend. “It’s a hobby, I’ve got a saltwater tank. I’m not home enough for a dog, even though I really would like one. Fish are beautiful, relatively easy if you make sure you do the cycling upkeep, and don’t need to be brought out for walks. Besides, I don’t think they miss me too much when m’gone all day.”

“Oh, god. I get it. I’ve got a cat and she’s a menace when I get home. It’s like I’d been off to war, she likes her snuggles but gets mad at me so she grumbles when she sits on my lap.” Her laugh rang through the gym. A beautiful sound he’d love to hear more of. “Fish are cool though! I watch some of those guys who build ponds on YouTube and all of that when I can’t sleep, makes me wish I could have one in my place. I’ve just got a balcony though.”

“I’ve been saving for a house, so I get it. I rent small because I don’t need a ton of space for just me.” It was clean and tidy, upgraded with the food appliances and a comfy bed, but Harry wasn’t home all that often. Even if sometimes he wished he was. There wasn’t much to come home to. Maybe he’d be more inclined to get the house search on if he had a partner or something, but as of right now he was happy to stay where he was. “Uh, I meant to ask what you know but you said you were worried about breaking your hand during a punch. Let me see how you make a fist, please.”

In all reality he could spend hours just chatting with her, but if he didn’t try and get to the point they’d be there all night. As nice as it sounded to him, he doubted she wanted that.

“God- don’t judge me too harshly please. I’ve always been a lover, not a fighter.” Y/N curled her hand up into a fist which she could see immediately wasn’t correct by the look on his face. “I appreciate the effort but I can totally see you wincing right now.”

“Sorry! M’sorry, I just… here.” With cautious fingers, he helped her unfurl her fingers. “You don’t want your thumb inside. It’s far more likely to break that way.” He began arranging the fingers as they needed to be. “You’re gonna want t’have your thumb on the outside… like this.” He murmured, the warmth of his hand a contrast to her cooler one. “Between your first and the second knuckles right here…” his touch was gentle as he adjusted her smaller fingers in the fist. “Near your index and middle. There.” Releasing her hand, he showed her on his own hands. “See? Like this.”

“Okay- I see. I always forget if it’s in or out and then I go with it because it feels like it would protect the thumb but, I’ll remember now.” She sighed, mirroring it with her second hand. “Where do I hit?”

“Easy, Tiger.” Harry laughed, letting his hands fall down. “You’re going to want to remember that the first thing you want to try is to get away first. That’s always the first option, escape and run the hell off. Make noise, get attention from other people. There’s power in making a scene.” From self defense classes he’d taught before he decided to take the shorter form and give it to her now. “You don’t know what people have. I don’t want to scare you, Y/N, but people are unpredictable. The most important thing is your safety, so getting away is the most ideal thing. But if you can’t, you want to make sure you have a good stance so they have less of a chance in grabbing you or knocking you over.”

Planting both feet on the ground, he left his knees unlocked and kept his arms raised close to his body. “Shoulder width apart, arms up at your sides. Try it.” He stood next to her to show her, gently using his foot to nudge her legs a little further apart as he moved towards the front. “Put your dominant side leg out more in front of you. The worst thing to do is to have your knees locked because it’ll be easier to knock you over.” Rocking on his legs he demonstrated the right way to move, which she followed. There had been no doubt she’d catch on quickly, but he was still impressed. “Are you following along? This is just a crash course and we can meet again to go over more specifics but even just a little bit of this stuff can make or break you.”

“I am. I really am interested in knowing it all, so keep going please.” She encouraged, eyes bright and determined. It was ridiculously cute in his opinion. “So what if someone grabs your arms?”

“If someone grabs you? You pull down. There’s more momentum that way and you’re likely to break free versus if you go up- may I touch you?” The permission was granted with a nod, his hands gripping firmly on to her forearms. “Try moving up, and then down.”

Y/N followed instructions, immediately seeing the difference in it as she got her arms freed from his grip on the down pull. “Okay, I see. I’ve always meant to go to a self defense class but I’ve put it off… I’m really glad you were there last night. I was nervous to ask because I didn’t want to be overreacting but… I wasn’t sure.” A shrug of the shoulders followed her words. “I didn’t think the guy was gonna hurt me or anything but I didn’t know what he wanted. Why he was staying after I already said no.”

“No.” Harry said gruffly. “No. You don’t give them the benefit of the doubt, Y/N. The first priority is always to protect yourself. Even if you find it embarrassing after and no harm was meant, it’s always better to be safe rather than sorry. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help. You should do it.” The idea of her not asking because she worried about how it would come off made his chest hurt.

“Listen, I think that our intuition is the best gift we have. It’s there to protect us, down to the most biological level. So if you felt the need to have protection it’s because your body knew it needed it. Okay?” His voice softened up at the end. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that, but I’ve seen what happens when women aren’t taken seriously. When guys think they’re overthinking or crazy. My sister…” he paused. “She was hurt because people told her she was overreacting, so she doubted her intuition. She’s okay now, but I’ve never forgotten about how she asked for help and people assumed that she just didn’t need it.”

Harry didn’t talk about that period a lot. In all honesty, it surprised him that he’d even brought it up, but Y/N had gotten to that soft spot in his defenses and reminded him that he could be the one to help her avoid that sort of pain that he knew his sister had to go through.

“I’m so sorry something happened to your sister, Harry.” Y/N whispered. “I promise I’ll listen to you and take your advice. That’s why I asked you. Something felt wrong and it was because there was no reason for him to be there waiting for me like that, and your car was in the side lot so he couldn’t see it… he thought I was alone.” Swallowing the lump in her throat at the thoughts of what If, she wrapped her arms around herself to self-soothe. “I know I watched a lot of true crime a couple years back and I used to think I was just being paranoid, but it was a wake up call. It wasn’t the first time I’ve dealt with a guy not taking no for an answer and thinking persistence was something that would wear me down, but it was the first time I felt that level of unsafe. My stomach hurt just looking out there.”

Harry could only imagine. As much as it tugged on his heart to grab her and hug her body to his chest, he didn’t have that right. Not yet, anyways. “Christ, I know. He gave me the creeps too, if I’m being honest. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you overreacted and I think you’re incredibly brave to ask for my help. It’s exactly what you should do. You need to protect yourself at every turn, even if it’s exhausting.”

“I know. I do, I did for a while but I didn’t think about it happening while working here. A lot of people ignore me most of the time which is fine, some flirt, but no one’s made me feel outright uncomfortable or unsafe before at work. I used to have one coworker back at a store I worked at that would be a bit too persistent but he left me alone after a while. I realize now that I should have said something back then.”

“Y/N, I don’t want you to ridicule yourself for your past mistakes or actions in general. You made it here, you’re safe and you made the best decisions you could for the world that’s taught you that. But now, I want to teach you how to make sure you can get yourself out of any situation that could come up.” He felt sick at the idea of her having to use these skills but even for his own state of mind, it would help him feel better.

“Okay.” She nodded, giving him her eyes. It felt like a hit to his chest, stealing his breath. “Did you want to do more of this, then? I don’t want to keep you for too long because I know if I’m tired you must be exhausted. Can we plan to meet up again?” Harry was pretty sure his exhaustion had to be on his face for her to say it, but he had to agree. Today had been an unusually filled day, so next time he hoped to be able to do more.

“That sounds good. We can text about it some more if you want to make a little schedule, but if you’d be comfortable you can meet me out at a park or something. I’ve got a nice one near my building if you want to do something in daylight. I think we’ve both got Wednesday’s off?” It was a wonder for him how luck had been on his side with coinciding days off, but he watched her nod and the ponytail she’d pulled back a few moments ago bouncing along with the motion. It was difficult for him not to be gross and think about holding said ponytail again, but he reminded himself that this wasn’t for his personal wants. She was trusting him with teaching her so he had to keep it in his pants.

“Yeah! I’d love to do that.” She agreed easily. “Can I see your fish tank, though? Not trying to invite myself to your place, even though I kinda am. I just think it’s really cool that you have one.”

“Course, I don’t mind at all.” His chest felt lighter at her own willingness to go past just a coworker sort of thing and initiating getting to know more about him. “I’ll stay later and work on emails at the smoothie bar for the rest of the week then, make sure I’m here to walk you out. I’ll see if I’ve got some other self defense supplies too. I ordered some a while ago t’keep in my car and I know they accidentally sent me an extra taser.” They didn’t. He’d ordered it last night.

“Oh, really? That would be so lovely of you to let me use it. I’ll pay you back for it.” Grabbing her water bottle from the side of the mats, she turned and surprised the hell out of him by wrapping her arms around his neck for a hug. It took him a second to reciprocate, blinking a few times in shock as he planted his palm over her back. He hoped to god he smelled decent and that the fact he’d had to use the soap the gym provided instead of his own today had been enough.

“Thank you, H. I really appreciate it. I love working here, but you’re so nice to me it’s crazy. I know you don’t have to do any of this for me but you’re going above and beyond and I.. I can’t think of a way to thank you.”

Harry prayed again that she couldn’t hear how hard his heart was beating- or at least thought it had something to do with the training as she rested her cheek against his chest and sort of snuggled in. It was by far the best hug he had ever had in his life. If he could have one of these a day, the stress level would most definitely be brought down. He’d almost bet on it. The feeling in his tummy swirled as he chuckled to disguise just how much he liked holding her, giving a gentle squeeze to her body. It felt so right to have her body pressed against his own, like she was meant to be there. “You’re lovely, Y/N. Course I’d do it for you. You’re a real gem, y’know that? It’s rare to meet someone with genuine kindness like you’ve shown everyone here.” It was crucial that she knew that he saw it. “As for a way to thank me?”

He had a lot of ideas on that, but he settled on the more savory and far less inappropriate answer. Y/N was his little crush, but he wasn’t sure she had a clue. “All I want is for you t’keep yourself safe, come to me or call if you feel uncomfortable… and maybe a few extra shakes.” He’d take a PB Choc or Strawberry Sunrise she made any day.

“Mmm… You’ve got yourself a deal.” Y/N’s face was bright despite the tired eyes she had, pulling away from the hug. Immediately he mourned the warmth and plush of her body. If he could pull her back into the embrace without it being weird, he would. A new addiction. “But for now, you’ll act like the fierce protector you are and walk me to my car, yeah?”

“Anything for you, pet. Let’s go. Need to feed the fish.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles au #personal trainer h #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles one shots #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fic

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moondirti · 7 months ago

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I just know, in my heart of hearts, that those men can bench press a bull but have zeeeeero flexibility/mobility because they don't train it. Pigeon pose? Can barely get their elbows on the floor. Half splits? More like quarter splits. Camel pose? They have already given up.

Cue: yogi/dancer reader, determined to get them to take care of their bodies by teaching the powers of Stretching Properly. And maybe also showing off a little bit...

yoga! reader is brought on to teach the boys how to manage stress through wellness exercises. they’re just so used to the rough and tumble, the physical demands that beat them to a pulp, that it’s almost a necessity at this point. like yeah, they’re complete units, but that doesn’t account for shit when their backs ache so bad in their 30’s and their knees pop every time they crouch – not to mention, how high their blood pressure is from all the exertion.

you’re the top instructor in the region, vetted by laswell and sent to base twice a week to host 90-minute ashtanga classes. which is a form of yoga that doubles as an excellent introduction into flexibility and posturing, or so you tell the begrudging men upon meeting them

though i can't stop picturing what type of student each of them would be–

gaz is a teachers pet, without a doubt. not lacking the reservations the others hold, but willing to try once he sees you bend over in a pair of skin-tight leggings the first time. brings you water and snack bars without having to ask. is the first to arrive to your sessions, even earlier than you do sometimes, and rolls his mat out right behind yours (which he claims is the best spot to get a sense of what you're doing – uncontested, seeing as he mimics you perfectly every time – but it's really because it has the best view of your ass). starts practicing alone in his room so he can impress you with a super cool pose that he totally didn't get off the internet, and ends up spraining his wrist because said pose actually isn't meant for rookies like him! pouts when you scold him the next day – there's a reason i didn't teach it, garrick – and spends the rest of the month sulking after you demote him to simple stretches.

soap doesn't try to hide his intentions. he's outwardly flirty in every capacity imaginable. the logic is, if he's being forced to come here, why pretend he's interested in anything other than the pretty thing teaching him? will pull up in the sluttiest shorts imaginable – i'm talking the tightest hoochie daddy pair in his closet – and a white undershirt, every muscle flexed to its limits. flashes you a big smile when you roll your eyes at his appearance and asks if you'd like to touch them. nae many men are built lik' me, bonnie. might nae git this chance again. definitely pretends to struggle to beckon your attention, despite being the most flexible of the 141. throws a fuss every time you instruct them to take a pyramid pose, complains until you personally position him. huffs and groans as your hands pull his legs the correct distance apart, taking note of the flustered furrow of your brow so when he approaches you after class, he has something to build his advances off of.

price pretends he's far above this whole affair, even though he's the one who needs it the most. will chuckle condescendingly when you ask why he's just sitting to the side, a cigar in hand as he 'supervises' the activities. don' get me wrong, lovie. s'sweet how dedicated you are. but i'm not subscribing to none of this... mm, business. you think it's a masculinity thing – older men are usually more averse to embracing yoga, seeing as it's a female-dominated exercise and they were raised in households that barred that sort of thing. in reality, price is just hesitant to make a fool of himself in front of his men. his joints creak when he moves and he can't touch his toes without toppling over, never mind contorting into intricate poses. the misunderstanding sets off more than one disagreement, and after a particularly rough day – wherein the two of you hashed it out in front of everybody – he starts to feel a tiny bit guilty. you're trying so hard, after all, driving out all this way to help some poor sods get over their physical impediments. so he opts to catch you on your way out to the parking lot, confessing the real reason why his participation is lacking before inviting you to his office for a private session.

ghost doesn't show up. no, seriously. you never see him, though you're aware of his absence; your attendance lists four soldiers, after all. you give him the benefit of the doubt for three weeks before reporting to laswell of his failure to meet expectations – only to be accosted by a big man in a skull balaclava on your way out. if y'wanted to me to watch you bend over so badly, pet, all you had ta do was ask.

#༄dee answers #141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 headcanons #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick

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julymusings · 10 days ago

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Dick Grayson x South Asian!Reader HCs

requested | reader is fem; like with Jason's hc post, I tried to keep it non-specific to any country, hope i achieved that😬

also it's barely mentioned but as a special treat: reader is trained in Indian classical dance😏😏😏

He loves watching Bollywood movies, but gets especially into the music…like really into it

This man becomes OBSESSED with Shreya Goshal; you come early one night to find him singing along to both parts of the duet Manwa Laage from Happy New Year while doing the dishes (which, if you don't know, is a very high-pitched song). He's so off-key but so into it you don't have the heart to tell him that your neighbors texted you to ask if a feral cat got loose in your apartment💀

Then it escalates— he tries to learn Hrithik Roshan’s dance from Dhoom Again (which has nothing to do with the fact that you told him Hrithik Roshan was your childhood crush)

(if ur not desi, it starts at timestamp 0:38 I highly recommend watching it for full context it's incredible— if you are then I know you already know what i'm talking about LMAOO)

And since you're a dancer you learn it with him but he’s genuinely upset that it’s so easy for you but so hard for him

"I should be getting this! Do you know how bendy my body is?!"

For some reason I feel like he would love the strong female lead-type movies (probably because he’s so eldest daughter coded) so movies like Queen, Dangal, Chak De India, that’s his jam, but he loves Kal Ho Naa Ho when he needs a good cry

If you’ve ever seen those tiktoks of families who dress up their dogs and cats in traditional wear…you’re doing that with Haley 100%

I think Dick is familiar with hair oiling because of his Romani background, but doesn’t start doing it until you guys are dating because you do it regularly so he just starts joining you

OR he does do it, but…badly. with one of those over-priced chemical-filled Sephora brands, and he doesn’t even apply it correctly. The first time you see him do it you’re legitimately offended. You spend the entire afternoon teaching him the right way, first taking him to the Indian market (they’re in new jersey so you know there’s plenty💀) and collecting all the ingredients and explaining the benefit of each one, then going back to his place and showing him how to properly toast the herbs and spices and then warm the oil with them, how to massage it all throughout his scalp and find all the pressure points.

He’s sooo attentive and genuinely interested, plus he just loves how passionate you are about this

He loves pani puri (obviously, he’s dick and they’re balls WHO SAID THAT)

But seriously, you make them and he’s just throwing them back non stop

He calls you rani (queen), meri jaan (my love), pyaari (cutie I think)

Dick learns how to drape your sari for you— he knows where all the pins go, where to make the folds and where to tuck in the fabric. He loves how happy it makes you and how you twirl in the mirror when he’s done. Once your relationship gets more serious, he loves to buy you new ones until you have all different styles for every occasion

He loves when you wear payals. You wear them once for an event, and he encourages you to wear them around the house because the sound they make when you walk is just so pretty

Another reason why he LOVES watching you dance. The ghungroos you wear make it all the more mesmerizing

Given how flexible he is from his acrobat training, he’s great at yoga. Much better than you, and you often require his help to get the positions right. He doesn’t mind, though, as long as it means he gets to have his hands on you as he guides your body into the correct stance

Of course he’s learning your language so he can communicate with your relatives. That doesn’t mean it’s easy, though

Most teaching sessions end with tears and/or yelling

“WHY ARE THERE SO MANY POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS??? WHY IS THERE ONLY ONE SPECIFIC SCENARIO FOR EACH ONE????”

“I DON’T KNOW DICK THERE JUST ARE”

In the least foot fetish-y way possible, he thinks the tradition of wearing toe rings is so attractive. When you tell him that only married women wear them, he considers proposing just for that reason (I mean he already has the ring, so what’s he waiting for?)

Speaking of marriage (😏), he’s so excited for you to get his name hidden somewhere in your mehendi/henna. When you’re getting it done, he keeps trying to peek into the room to see if he can spot it until the artist gets fed up and locks him out😭

On your wedding night the first thing he does when you get a moment alone is start searching for it

You told him about the tradition of stealing the groom's shoes beforehand. You did not, however, tell him about the bargaining portion of the tradition

So when he and his siblings are "looking" for them (come on now, they're world class detectives, but they don't want to ruin the fun) and ultimately "give up" like "okay! you got me! where are they!" and your family starts talking about a 5-figure ransom to see them again...

He's going insane trying to tell them that his father is the billionaire, not him, but your relatives could not care less. And the whole time he knows exactly where they are but he doesn't want to be that person and make all your relatives hate him😭

He manages to coax them down to 4-figures

He wanted 3, but after your youngest cousin read him to filth ("Oh the trust fund nepo-baby can't spare some change? Is this the kind of husband you are? Is this how you plan to support your wife?"), he had no choice

You KNOW he’s doing a dance number at the reception. Bonus points if it's the Dhoom Again dance

And of course he wants you two to do a number together. When he tells you as much, he thinks it'll be fun and silly and a way to spend time together— he's wrong.

Like a true Indian classical dance teacher, you are a DRILL SERGEANT. He gets transported back to his old Robin-training days, except Bruce is 8 inches shorter and wears 5 pounds of bells around his ankles. It's worth it for the end result, though.

You obviously eat him UP but he does a very good job

Which number? I'm SO glad you asked........

It's Kala Chashma

ok this really got away from me but i loved writing it. as for kala chashma i just thought it was funny😭but if you have any other songs you think would fit i would LOVE to hear

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ficsonpost-its · 17 days ago

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sparring with gf!lara croft

summary: dating world renowned archaeologist lara croft does come with some conditions. the most important one? you need to know how to defend yourself cw: mentions of loss but otherwise, pretty fluffy!

‣ Lara's number one rule was simple: know how to defend yourself. She's not risking the chance another break in to her home happens and you're caught unawares with no way to protect yourself if she didn't get there in time.

‣ This meant countless hours in the home gym Lara had constructed shortly after the events of Yamatai. You'd find her down there some nights with a faraway look in her eyes working on one of the machines. She made it look so easy.

‣ She found a way to make it at least a little bit fun though. Playful contests on who could run on a treadmill the longest, who could lift more (that one was one you were certain you'd always lose), and at one point there was an impromptu game of messing about on yoga balls during a moment where Lara found herself feeling less serious than usual.

‣ During a session where Lara was attempting to teach you how to get out of grips, the both of you had found yourselves on the floor, nose to nose.

‣ "Does this mean I win?" You had asked, and you were proud to see her turn her head to semi hide a smile that grew on her face and laugh in that way she did where she couldn't help btu be amused by you.

‣ "No, it means you've lost, and now are being dragged to who-knows-where."

‣ "I don't know, from where I'm lying I see this as a win."

‣ Shamelessly flirting with each other became the norm too. Stealing kisses during close encounters, making little jokes (some of them less than clean), or finding excuses to give each other a cheeky squeeze.

‣ Of course, amongst all the fun, there was also the main goal: sparring and hand-to-hand practise. Not that you'd let a chance to hold her hands pass you by, not at all.

‣ "This is serious!" She'd say as she caught you not-so subtly ogling her arms for the nth time in the past couple hours. Now, Lara would be lying if she said that didn't give her a spike in confidence and esteem that you were so distracted by her you couldn't concentrate, but in the back of her mind flashed images of those that didn't make it in the past. Whether directly because of her or not, that weighted on her heavily, and she couldn't have it happening to you too.

‣ But really, how could you not get distracted? It wasn't often you saw her in clothes that truly screamed casual. But being with her, alone in her home gym while she shows off her physique in black sweats and matching sports bra? Sometimes you messed up on purpose just for her to throw you around a little.

‣ She'd flipped you over for what you hoped wouldn't be the final time and stared down at you, obviously trying to look annoyed but you could see how she struggled to not let slip the little smile and her eyes never lied - they were always soft for you.

‣ You, meanwhile? You stared lovingly up at her, matching her own smile, and let yourself laugh. You were down bad, that much was true.

‣ "What would you have done if I hadn't been me?" She'd ask you rhetorically with a tilt of her head as her face changed to that subtle expression she'd give you when giving you some sort of warning or trying to make a point. "Right now you could have a gun pointed at you, or a knife, or who knows what else?"

‣ You could hear hints of frustration in her voice and you knew it wasn't exactly directed at you. Lara had told you some stories of her adventures in the past. People she had gained, people she had lost, and you came under the 'people not to lose' category. It made sense why for the most part she was a little hard on you.

‣ As serious as the reasons behind these training sessions was, you would notice that now and then she'd let herself crack a smile or just have fun with you. You always try to encourage her to see the positives of working out together and not the negatives that would often plague her mind.

‣ Maybe kiss her a few more times when she isn't expecting it? That should do the trick.

writers block is complete ass but i finally finished this! hope you enjoyed!

#tomb raider #tomb raider x reader #lara croft #lara croft x reader #rise of the tomb raider #shadow of the tomb raider

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its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

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I’ve always had this idea that reader is like, one of the fittest people that work at AFC Richmond, like she can hold herself in a fight. Maybe she does boxing and the team shows up to support as a surprise and they’re all like DAMN. And a certain Manchester man goes googoo over her and ALSJDISPDODJKLL I feel like in my mind it’s an idea with lots of potential behind for any character matchup and scenarios but yeah that’s it (ps I love your writing it brings me so much joy!!)

got it! thanks @coloursofyen for a) the ideas and b) keeping me on track with these last few fics.

I rage-wrote this fic bc I accidentally saw the Man City score before I had a chance to watch it. I’m very upset rn😂 Also, I know nothing about boxing.

move fast and keep quiet

Ted’s been on this thing recently, where one day of training out of every five is a “physical and mental enrichment day,” which is a fancy way of saying the team does yoga or some shit together. Recently he’s been bringing in this boxing coach for “the team’s aggressive tendencies,” in wake of the whole West Ham debacle, and no one’s quite sure if that was really the best response to the situation. Teaching AFC Richmond how to fight better? Maybe not the best idea.

You’ve been coming once a week for a month now, teaching them how to spar on the pitch. Isaac, Jamie, and Bumbercatch are definitely the most enthusiastic about it, with the way Isaac studies each punch, Bumbercatch practices the footwork, and Jamie asks a million fucking questions every single time.

According to Sam, he’s been an absolute menace, practicing his moves through the halls of Nelson Road.

“What is your problem?” Jan asks one day. “Can you not just walk to the gym like a regular person?”

Jamie shrugs. “Where’s the fun in that?”

It isn’t long before word goes around the dogtrack that Jamie has a crush on the boxing instructor.

“You like her,” Dani singsongs. Jamie doesn’t deny it.

“She’s mad fit. Even her smile,” Jamie defends.

He’s not exactly wrong. The team starts an unofficial countdown until their next training session, and are disappointed to walk into the regular setup when the day rolls around. There’s a whiteboard with a new play from Roy and Beard, and the whole team barely tries to hide their disappointment.

“Oi, where’s Jamie’s girlfriend?” Isaac asks the moment Ted walks in.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jamie interjects.

Ted points to Jamie. “We’ll unpack that later. For now, I need you fellas to get ready to run this new play Coach Beard and Roy have cooked up. I want everyone ready to show a lotta teamwork.”

Richard raises his hand. “Coach, where is Jamie’s girlfriend?”

Jamie puts his head in his hands and says, “She ain’t my girlfriend, lad,” but it doesn’t matter. The name is going to stick.

Ted says, “She’s busy training for a match tomorrow, but she’ll be back next week. She told me to tell you all that she hopes you can come watch.”

Sam loudly whispers, “You mean she hopes Jamie will come watch,” and the rest of the team says oooh.

“Fuck off,” Jamie replies, but he’s blushing.

—

They end up commandeering the team bus.

The fight is… well, let’s just say it’s convinced Jamie that he needs to make the “girlfriend” jokes a reality. He will never admit how smitten you make him, what with the way you’re dodging and weaving, wiping sweat from your brow as your braids fly. But when it’s all over and you’re announced the winner, he’s almost positive you can hear him cheering over the rest of the crown because he’s just so damn happy.

The team waits around while the rest of the arena clears out, but Jamie can’t wait. He slips away from the group and asks a security guard where he can find you. The guard looks at him and states, “You’re Jamie Tartt.”

“Yeah,” Jamie responds, unsure of what else to say because it wasn’t exactly a question.

“She said you could come back. Follow me,” grunts the guard. Jamie turns around to make eye contact with Sam before hurrying after the security guard.

“In here.” The guard points to a door then leaves Jamie alone, staring at your name printed on a metal plaque. Shit, how good must you be to have your name here?

He knocks once and hears you call, “Come in,” so he pushes the door open. You’re sitting on the floor downing a bottle of water, still sweaty. There’s a bit of blood dried to your forehead and Jamie is a little worried that he finds it sexy.

You smile at him and pat the floor next to you.

“I’d get up, but I’m really fucking tired,” you say. “She got me good.”

Jamie slides onto the floor next to you. “You were fuckin’ amazing,” he says. “Made me rethink my whole career.”

You wheeze out a laugh. “With the way you run your mouth? You’d get brained in a week. I make sure none of my partners hate me. Me ’n the girl you saw tonight are going out to lunch tomorrow.”

Oh. That’s new information for Jamie. He’s trying to figure out if you mean lunch as a friend thing, or if you’re going on a date. Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea.

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Oi, what’s your deal? Upset you’re stuck as a sad little footballer when you could be getting punched out on the daily like me?”

Jamie shakes his head. “Nah. Just thinking how cool it were tonight.”

You grin and take another swig of water. “Hey, you wanna take me out on a date?”

Jamie chokes on air. After a moment he manages to cough, “Sorry, what?” and you shrug.

“Told myself if you came back here after the match I’d ask you out. I let security know you could come back if you wanted, and I figured you might be kinda fucking interested if you tried to get back here without me inviting you.”

“Uh huh,” Jamie says, still trying to get his breath back.

You look at him sideways. “Is that a yes? It’s all good if not.”

“No, yes!” Jamie says. “It’s yes. Where do you want to go? When’re you available? We could do something tonight if you want.”

You make a face. “I’m absolutely knackered. I was planning on going home to take a nice long shower and then passing out.”

Jamie nods. Right. Sounds logical.

“You could join me,” you suggest, and Jamie chokes for the second time.

“Jesus, Tartt, you’re excitable,” you tease. “It’s just a shower and some sleep. Although I might be convinced that I didn’t get enough cardio in tonight. Depends on if you’re willing to drive me home so I can nap.”

“Done,” Jamie says immediately. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

You grin as he pulls you up off the floor. “Oh,” you say, studying his perfect lips, “one more thing before we go…”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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tabootoji · 5 months ago

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"LOVE IT WHEN HE HIT AND SMACK TOO"

TRAINING DAY - PART 3 OF SELFISH DESIRES ← pt. 2

✰ - SYNOPSIS: it's time for you to advance your skills as a curse user if you hope to remain by suguru's side, and who else better to train you than the worst one of all time? (or) you and suguru get down and dirty in the middle of a yoga session. ✰ - WC: 2.8k ✰ - TAGS: reader is female, short, black and curvy, semi public, obsession/possessive, size diff., nipple play, dry humping, groping, pussy slapping, cunnilingus, v. intercourse, dirty talk, praise, belly press, f. orgasm, creampie, no use of (y/n), all lower case ✰ - A/N: our reader is finally going through her training arc! (kinda :P) so ofc i used the opportunity to feed my imagination with the idea of geto in a compression shirt hehe (which was kinda inspired by this). also i put in a really small gojo mention, i was debating on whether i should in this story or not, but since i did say i'm sorta following canon events it just made sense to. anyways, we have one part left, so i hope y'all like how the story's been going so far!

since the 'incident' with manami, suguru has been carrying himself around the sacred temple with an extra pep in his step. and why wouldn't he? the amount of followers coming to the temple seems to have doubled, maybe even tripled in a short amount of time - which meant more curses to add to his arsenal. the wealthy contributions to their organization have also skyrocketed, granting everyone in the shrine a life of comfortability. above all, suguru was able to walk with his head held high knowing that now, all had graciously accepted your position as his one and only beloved, staying right by his side where you belonged.

however, there was an elephant in the room that he had yet to address: training you. suguru's group consisted of strong, sharp-witted shamans who stood ready to follow his every command. and although he had no intentions of ever putting you in a situation where your life would be in danger, he needed to know that if there was ever a time he or the other curse users couldn't protect you, you'd be able to defend yourself. he also hoped that coaching you would in turn boost your confidence in your own skill and abilities, putting you amongst the ranks of your peers.

suguru made up his mind that at least once a week, he would clear a part of his schedule to physically train you, as well as guide you to perfect your cursed technique. you were hesitant to the idea at first, but after much coaxing, you agreed as long as he promised he would start off teaching you slowly. so today, he stands in the center of the traditional garden behind the sanctuary with yoga mats sprawled on the freshly trimmed lawn, waiting for you to join him so he could start you off with the basics.

suguru decided to forgo his usual long, flowing garments for a more casual look. he donned a compression shirt that fit tightly around his athletic torso, loose sweatpants that hung off of his defined waist, and opted to stay barefooted with nothing on his feet. it was a sunny afternoon, and the clear blue skies accompanying the warm sun that casted a radiant glow over the magnificent oasis gave the fake buddhist priest much to think about as he awaited your arrival.

he thought of the irony of him currently adapting a teaching role in his current position, a role he so desperately tried to run away from when he abandoned jujutsu society. he was sure his former best friend from a period so long ago it felt like it happened in a different lifetime would laugh at him if he saw him right now. suguru closed his eyes as favorable memories of his youth flashed in inconsistent intervals in his mind that the dreadful ones had yet to cloud before he was interrupted by a familiar soft, melodic voice calling his name.

opening them, suguru instantly felt a pleasant tranquility wash over him at the sight of you. sporting a gym top with yoga pants, you stood with a beaming smile on your face, head slightly tilted as you asked if he was alright. he chuckled to himself, shaking his head and dispelling your worries by bending down to your height to peck your forehead. when the troubles of his past barred their ugly fangs, of course he knew he would be fine, as long as he could gaze at you, his future.

you feel your cheeks heat up, very sure that your face was covered in a red blush at not just suguru's affectionate gesture, but by how hunky he looked in his current attire. you don't usually get the chance to see him in anything else besides his robes, so you quickly take a mental image of how his massive arms seemed so close to ripping through the elasticity of his shirt, and how his structured v-line and sexy happy trail peeked out of the band of his sweats.

once you and suguru decide that you're ready to start, you both sit beside each other on one of the yoga mat's cross legged, and begin to meditate. pushing a curly strand of hair that fell out of your styled high bun behind your ear, you try to listen to his prompts to close your eyes, focus on your breathing and rid your mind and body of any anxiety you're feeling.

contradicting his own teachings, suguru takes the opportunity to eye you from top to bottom suggestively. your cropped sports tank top had a slight dip in the neckline that gave him a glimpse of your deep cleavage. and because of how the top was tied behind you, your ample breasts were pushed up, threatening to spill out if you made one wrong move (which suguru was indeed hoping for). and don't get him started on your damn yoga pants. the sheer, tight fitted garment not only hugged your delectable curves in just the right way, your rich skin was visible behind them. suguru's cock twitched at the idea of how easy it would be to rip them right off of you.

but alas, he had to stay focused. after he deemed that you were relaxed enough to move on to stretches, suguru instructed you into the first position. as you lay on your back with your arms flat on the mat, he kneeled in front of you, telling you to bend your knees and lift your pelvic region off of the ground. however, after a couple of seconds your legs begin to shake, already threatening to falter your current pose. when suguru holds your hips firmly in place with his hands on either side of you, your eyes shoot up at the thunderbolt of dopamine rushing through your veins you feel every time the two of you touch. teasingly, he smirks at you. "looks like ya gonna need some help, little one. mind if i assist ya?"

if you thought your face was red before, you were certain you resembled a tomato as you nodded your head slowly, nervously accepting suguru's offer. you've barely had to go through any physical endurance throughout the span of your life, so all of this was fairly new to you. you were already doubting how you were going to perform, now you've advanced to worried at the idea of the well built, good looking man before you grazing your body through it. get your mind out of the gutter and focus, you thought to yourself.

however, this would prove to be especially hard during the next position suguru aids you with. with your back still on the floor, he grasps the back of one of your thick thighs and holds it as far as it can comfortably go, which wasn't much without any force being applied. to your surprise, he situates his groin in between your legs, places your foot onto his broad shoulder, and slowly leans towards your face to deepen the stretch. your size difference is apparent now more than ever as his tall frame hovers over your short one. you're now unsure if your perspiration is due to the hot sun or the sexual implications of this yoga pose.

suguru thanks himself for his choice of outfit, knowing his growing hard on would be embarrassingly apparent right now if not for his baggy pants. though the more you both continued these sensual stretches, the less interest he had in modesty, wanting his sinful thoughts to be known by you. "ya doin' alright baby?" he asks jestfully. suguru watches you bite your lip bashfully at the pet name, humming your confirmation. cute. so, so, cute.

you move on to model your best child's pose, suguru behind you almost passing out looking at you. with the way your knotted shirt twists behind you, he was able to admire the curve of your lower back and the matter in which it dipped in the center. when he tells you to progress into a cat pose, suguru doesn't even give you time to go into the paralleled cow's position, becoming enthralled by your mesmerizing arch and proceeding to grab your waist to push your bottom against his lap.

you gasp in surprise, looking behind at suguru as he slots his covered, rock hard boner in between your clothed pussy lips. wordlessly, he begins to fondle your body, groping the fat of your gut and ass, before reaching beneath your tight top to palm your huge tits, pulling and twisting your taut nipples with his rough fingers mercilessly.

at the sudden, yet thrilling stimulation, you compulsively mewl out his name, grinding your butt against his bugle, and it awakens something inside of him. in the blink of an eye suguru's previous thoughts become reality as he uses his powerful strength to rip open the stemming of your leggings to expose your crotch to him. to his disappointment, the fabric of your cotton underwear stands in the way of his pot of gold. at the speed of lighting he gives your nether regions a sudden 'smack', causing you to squeal at the sensation of pain and pleasure becoming one. "panties? really girl? y'know better than that." he reprimands you.

before you get the chance to explain that you wore them for the sake of the training, never in your wildest dreams being able to predict that the two of you would end up doing this in the middle of it, he slides the flimsy fabric to the side to reveal your already leaking pussy. watching your tightly rimmed hole pulse with anticipation only doubles his insatiable craving to taste you, so without hesitation suguru bends down till he's eye level with your cunt, sticks the wet mass of his tongue out, and licks a long stripe up your quivering genitals.

his eyes roll to the back of his head as he savors your succulent nectar. suctioning his moist lips, suguru sucks up your wetness that dribbles into his awaiting mouth in quick successions. you suddenly become all too aware that you're right at the center of the facilities public garden where the gardeners, servants, any resident of the building could stroll through and witness both of your current indiscretions. but the way suguru flicks your sensitive clit with his flat pink tongue is just too good for you to care right now.

your knees buckle and your trembling voice begins to increase in pitch as suguru continues to messily eat your pussy from the back. you could have confused him for a famished man in the middle of the desert with the way he was slurping your sopping cunt. and if that wasn't enough, he began to prod the muscular organ deep into your delicate flower, as if he was trying to reach the barricades of your soul with just his mouth alone. and every time you tried to squirm away from his passionate lapping's, he would bury his face till his nose nuzzled into your vagina, lolling out his tongue to swipe your bundle of nerves from side to side.

just when you're on the brink of cumming all over his face, suguru retracts from your pussy, panting so loudly you could feel his cool, minty breath tickling you. you huff out in frustration from not receiving the spine tingling orgasm you were anticipating, pouting angrily at him. he plants a parting kiss to your cunt, then leans forward to mutter in your ear four words that make you immediately forget why you were frowning your face in the first place.

"i need you. now."

shame almost overtakes you as you drawl out an eager chant of yeses, but that quickly disappears when suguru rushes to pull his leisurely pants down to the top of his knees, swiftly springing out his now enraged cock before taking it in his hands and thrusting it against your womanhood. collecting all of your excitement onto his thick length, he slides it into your tense awaiting walls.

you both groan in satisfaction as suguru fills you up to the brim with almost no resistance. he almost can't believe he was able to, considering how tight of a fit it is whenever he pushes himself into you the first time. either he's finally fucked you enough for your gummy canals to become his personal fleshlight, or the stretching you did beforehand must have really did its job and relaxed you.

and although the two may be true, he's currently attributing your new flexibility to the later. now that you're warmed up from your previous light workout, you're able to angle your rear side till the front of your torso is pressed onto the yoga mat. looking at you grip the sharp blades of grass with your hands till you're almost pulling them out of the ground, further entices suguru to draw his hips back, before railing his desperate cock back into you.

you and suguru set a ferocious pace, him using brute force to barrel his veiny dick into your sex while you match his thrusts, throwing your curvaceous body back as he drives forward. both of your risqué behavior contradicts the peaceful atmosphere of the beautiful garden surrounding the two of you. the soothing pour of the fountains, the unique chirps of the foreign birds that home the piece of land, and the gorgeous flowers in bloom juxtapose the slapping sounds of your ass cheeks hastily colliding with suguru's thighs, your squelching pussy wrapping around his large membrane with a vicious gripe, and your conjoined wails as he continues to defile you.

you realize you may be just as lecherous as he is as your indecorous spectacle shockingly exhilarates you the more you both achieve your desirous commands of one another.

your jaw slacks open when suguru repeatedly lurches his round cockhead to bump against your tender womb. "su-sugu...right there, right there!" you encourage him. he digs his fingers into your luscious lumps to allow himself to delve even further inside your numbing cunt than you thought humanly possible. "ya like that princess? huh? my dainty toy wants it rough? right here?" he finishes his sentence by pressing his sizable hand against your chubby stomach to feel the point of intrusion.

his filthy words are the final nail in the coffin, consequently imploding your snug cunt as flows of your secretion burst around the girth of suguru's unrelenting cock. you're on cloud nine, your entire body falling slack as you allow him to use it for his own lustful volition. "look so good takin' me, fuck, gonna ruin ya baby girl...agh! cumming...m' cumming, here it comes...!" he grits his teeth in anguish, feeling your pussy cruelly squeeze the life out of him, leaving him dizzy. the steadfast movement of his hips finally stutters as he spurts his heavy load into your belly.

he lunches forward after experiencing his sweet rapture, both of you breathless from your endeavors. while your consciousness slowly comes back to earth, suguru takes the opportunity to pull his weighty shaft out of you. he quickly repositions your underwear back on, the semen pouring out of your abused cunt quickly dampening it. you scrunch your nose at the wetness pooling in your undergarments, kneeling up with suguru and bashfully looking at the aftermath of your robust sex.

suguru has to hold in his laugh by giving the top of your head another long kiss. how fast you switched from a crazed vixen back to his angelic, coy girl was so adorable. "i think that's enough training for the day, don't you think little one?" he asks jokingly, helping you both to your feet while you giggle at him. he will have to make sure that starting next week, you both begin taking your lessons more seriously. starting off by making sure you don't wear anymore revealing outfits, unless you wanted to get your bones jumped again.

"agreed, i think i'm definitely in need of a shower after our...exercise." you chuckled. but before you take a step towards the entrance of the monastery, you glance down at your pants, quickly realizing its tattered state. you look up at him in alarm. "suguru...i can't walk around the sanctuary like this." without another word he pulls his own top off, helping you put it over your head so it covers your bare regions.

suguru now stands before you shirtless, sweat glistening off of his beautiful skin. you ogle at him like it's the first time you've seen him naked, because how could you not? it was as if the man's abdominals were carved by the gods themselves. you have to take a strained gulp to keep yourself from literally drooling before you take his hand to hold in yours possessively. "will you...join me.?" you ask him.

momentarily stunned by your request, he quickly recovers and lets a mischievous grin form on the sides of his face. "thought you'd never ask darling." he whispers in your ear provocatively, walking with you hand in hand into the premises. suguru wouldn't worry too much about skipping your training for today, because he was going to have plenty of time to build your endurance and stamina.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #suguru geto #suguru geto smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #anime smut #female reader

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anchoeritic · 2 years ago

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Jake sully pregnancy anything !!! Please . I NEED DILF JAKE

your habits jake learned to grow used to after you became pregnant with his child:

• constant need for cuddles / physical touch. your number one love language is cuddles, second is probably acts of service. it can vary from time to time.

• it didn’t matter what time of day it was, where you were sitting or standing, you always needed to feel him in one way or another. you tend to hold his hands a lot more when you’re in public rather than hugging onto him though. you knew the clan wouldn’t mind but it’s much more personal.

• jake smiles to himself when he feels your hand slip into his, your fingers intertwining gently. your hands were smaller than his so it felt like he was melting your hands but you loved that. the warmth of your mate could never steer you away, only drag you closer to him.

• another habit jake got used to, the emotional rollercoasters you would go on because of your hormones. it would happen almost all the time and only he knew how to deal with it.

• being more emotional can also lead to becoming more anxious: as jake calls it, you can be a little over the edge sometimes. refusing to

• sometimes you’d wake up crying in jake’s arms, using him as a shield to shy away. it would work out pretty well because you’ll usually be met with kisses and breathy reassurances by your mate: “you’re okay, baby.” “i’m right here, don’t worry.”

• sobs. he is the cutest person to ever exist. literally the most wholesome in the entire universe.

• his favourite thing to do when you’re falling asleep is hum to you. he’s not a great singer, he knows that, but it took him time to realize that maybe you thought different.

• his singing is trash but you would never tell him that. you’d rather listen to his voice right as you fall asleep than listen to the crickets of silence and his heavy snores.

• so he likes to hum nursery rhymes or old songs that his friends would sing to him during his time as a marine and pet your hair, hoping the lil lovebug in your belly could hear the bonding of their parents. jake would do anything to make his loved ones happy.

• something else you picked up was a lot more gentle training, like yoga! preparing for birth was something unexpected so you had to get ready for it.

• jake would come back from his training to you in a warrior pose, it didn’t look close to the warrior poses he had to endure training with the clan, but he still joined you.

• pressing a kiss to your head as a quiet greeting, he’d get into position, following your voice as his commands. “let the wind flow through you, let it feel your emotions, let everything blow out,”

• let’s just say the session would be ruined by jake laughing at how you worded your sentences, finding them a lot dirtier than you did. “shut up.” “jeez, i’m sorry, honey!”

• little did he know, you’d be laughing under your breath too.. just a lil bit quieter than he did though so he wouldn’t notice.

• “you’re a child, jake.” you scolded him, moving down into a different position, feeling the stretch of your muscles. he chuckled, shaking his head. “how did you expect me not to laugh?” true.

• you began to become more of a motherly figure to the other children, trying to teach them the language of the sky people. you weren’t a teacher, but someone that was willing to share the world jake once set life on.

• from the nature around, you would weave them into small gifts, giving them to each of the children with a smile. those handmade gifts can vary from hats, bracelets, and even rings.

• your partner in crime was, you guessed it, jake. he would collect and you would weave. a two man job for a couple, this was light work.

• while taking care of the children from time to time, you developed a group meeting; called it a sharing circle. jake recommended it as a type of way to get closer to one another. each day, a couple of kids would talk about themselves like a show & tell, telling stories or just about their favourite hobbies.

• soon after, some of the adults would start to join, sitting beside their kids and listening to their stories. neytiri loved to talk about the history of toruk makto, creating tiny shadow figures with her hands to entertain the children.

• life wasn’t so easy on pandora but it was your homeland, you were surrounded by the people you loved, the mate of your dreams. you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

#jake sully x reader #jake sully smut #avatar #avatar smut #jake sully

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angelinpiink · 2 years ago

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❥ note: wrote this at 3am,, just needed to get my dirty thoughts out of my head and onto tumblr.

❥ warning: this writing contains mature content and themes such as dry humping, scissoring, perv mikasa, and dirty talk.

personal trainer!mikasa who pushes you to your limit during workouts just to watch your thighs tremble. she loves seeing you sweaty and flustered to get an image of what you’d look like when she finally has her way with you. she wants you so bad she doesn't know what to do with herself. her interest in you hadn't faltered once since you first started attending the gym and you can bet she’s been scheming on how to get you alone. at times when she’s tough on you believe its simply because she wants you to achieve your fitness goals but really she’s only frustrated that she can't bury her face deep between those pretty thighs of yours. and because she wants to see you as often as possible she recommends that you come to the gym far more often than you actually need to. during workouts she has a habit of being touchy and as sly as she is, she simply plays it off as correcting your form. her hands-on approach convinces you to purchase more sessions with her. being trained by mikasa several times in a week surely had its benefits, your body became more toned, the most noticeable change being your ass becoming more firm and oh so grab-able. There was nothing she wanted more than to get her hands on you outside of just a few mere seconds of contact. Who better to explore your body than the very person who helps craft it?

After your workouts she watches you make your way to the showers, waiting a few minutes before following you to get a peek of you without those annoying clothes being in the way. When she goes home, she’ll fuck herself to the images of you she’s burned in her mind. The second the shower stops, she’ll swiftly make her way over to the connected locker room and pretend she was only getting a drink of water from her bag. She’s so slick, you’d never even suspect a thing.

Mikasa offers you complementary yoga services on your rest days. You view it as her being sweet, causing you to grow more fond of her. when in reality she actually despises yoga, but because she gets a gets a room with you all to herself, she endures it. Did i mention that she’d do anything for you? It’s more difficult for her to keep her attraction hidden whenever you too are alone. She finds herself praising you, her fingers coming in contact with your skin anytime she gets the urge to do so. “Good girl.” she’ll say when attempting to teach you a new pose. You will often question if you are hearing her right because her expression remains impassive, and unchanging. Trying your best to hide the effect that has on you, you switch into the next position. At the end of each session she tend to make some sort of innuendo that you have to force yourself to not interpret as dirty. “Enjoy being stretched?” With cheeks of red you give her a nod, telling her you’ll see her tomorrow. Waving, you take your exit.

tomorrow rolls and around you show up in a tight gym set, that highlights your curves and is so fitted that the outline of your cunt is visible whenever you bend over, leaving mikasa’s own core hot and throbbing. She tells you that you have tension in your lower half, another lie she tells to get her way, offering for you two to try a new yoga exercise that she claims is a perfect solution. Trusting her expertise, blindly you oblige with her instructions and spread your legs exactly as she tells you.

Your obedience only serving to make her all the more eager to have you. With your cunt now exposed, mikasa takes her rightful place between your legs positioning herself so that her leg is just above your own. Your heat mere inches away from hers and the color leaves your face the second you notice. Her fingers caress your thighs as she gives you the order to move your hips. shes even so kind to reassure you that it you that i may feel a bit funny at first but that means it's working. Wiggling your hips just as ordered, your cunts meeting each other. It was electric so much so you couldnt hold back your gasps, heat pooling in your core when she too began moving her hips. The friction making things all the more unbearable. you found yourself wishing that your leggings weren't in the way. “N-need more please.” You had no shame in begging for it, and mikasa had no shame in being eager to give you just what you asked for.

Ripping into your soaked leggings to expose your pretty cunt, Mikasa looks at you, her eyes heavy and clouded with lust. “You dirty girl..” she says, noticing that you weren't wearing any panties. her finger rubbing away at your swollen clit again and again earning a symphony of needy yelps from you.

She slips out of her shorts and panties, returning to her spot between your thighs. Nibbling at her lip she began moving her hips, her cunt dragging against your own, your clits came into contact, kissing each other sending jolts of pleasure through both of you. Her juices dripping onto your cunt, mixing with your own as you cried out. “F-Faster Please!” You began to sob, the pleasure becoming way too much.

Your legs wrapping around her while she grinds against you. “That’s it baby. Gonna cum for me?” You nodded. “Wanna come for you so bad, please..” You were sobbing, the tension in your stomach becoming unbearable. you came as her movements became sloppy and desperate. she followed suit a string or praises leaving her lips before she connected them with your own, kissing you deeply. Once was not enough to get you out of her system. your training sessions from that point on would surely end in such a manner, being burnt out from something other than an intense workout was something you could get behind.

heres my masterlist!

#mikasasmut #aot smut #mikasaxreader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x y/n #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x reader #mikasa x y/n #mikasaaot #mikasaxreadersmut #mikasa smut #mikasa x reader #mikasa aot #mikasa snk

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venus-haze · 2 years ago

Text

Kick It Out (Queen Maeve x Reader)

Summary: Maeve doesn’t date, for her own good and that of anyone she might be interested in. Teaching you how to kickbox definitely isn’t dating, even if the two of you do flirt every time you’re alone.

Note: Female reader with some references to being plus size, but not enough for me to designate the fic as such. No other descriptors are used. This takes place slightly before Homelander outed Maeve, but she still does a lot of internal shittalking about him. Hopefully I did well with her characterization because I’m already planning a follow-up. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Some references to homophobia Maeve’s experienced. Homelander vaguely threatens the reader to Maeve. Semi-public fingering, Maeve's kinda rough. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

It was a coincidence, really, when Maeve walked by Vought’s employee gym during one of the yoga sessions that was part of HR’s company wellness initiative. She’d forgotten Vought even had that, not interacting much with the corporation's rank and file on a regular basis and using The Seven’s exclusive gym to train. The employee gym was spacious, clean, and at that moment filled with dozens of Vought employees in a rainbow of athleticwear. Maeve could remember the old Jane Fonda workout tapes her mom used to put on in the mornings, how pleased she was with little Maggie’s rapt attention at the videos. You always need to keep your body moving, Maggie. It’s so important.

Her eyes scanned the group lazily until they landed on you in the middle of a stretch that made Maeve feel like that little girl staring at Jane Fonda in spandex all over again. She licked her lips, giving you a quick once over before anyone could notice. You would become target number one the moment Homelander got a whiff she was remotely interested in you. Her fists clenched at the thought of how he–and her own complacency–ruined her relationship with Elena. She couldn’t do that to you, not that she even knew your name, and she wouldn’t learn it if she could help it. She wasn’t that selfish.

At least, that’s what she thought, until somehow she kept running into you. An interview here, a briefing there, she wasn’t even sure what you did at Vought exactly. It didn’t matter. You clearly hadn’t drunk the Kool-Aid, viewing your job as a way to pay the bills instead of the feverish devotion so many of its employees had. She started looking forward to seeing you, taking the opportunity to stand next to you when she could and exchange quips back and forth about how corny a promotion seemed or how weird the marketing team was.

Like clockwork, though, you’d be in the employee gym whenever the yoga classes were being held. She casually brought it up one day, asking if you were really that into yoga, or just taking advantage of the free classes.

You nodded. “Yoga’s nice, but I’d love to get into kickboxing or something. I’m kind of nervous to sign up for a class. I’ve never done anything like that before, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep up.”

“I can teach you,” Maeve said, the words coming out of her mouth before she could even think.

“Are you sure? That’d be great, but only if you have the time and everything.”

“Yeah, let me give you my number. It’ll be easier to plan that way.”

You handed your phone to her, and she quickly entered her personal number into your messages, texting a simple ‘Hey’ to herself. She hesitated a moment before giving you back your phone. Okay, this was for real. She was committing to it.

“I’ll text you later. I’m free most weeknights, so just let me know,” you said cheerfully.

A sour mix of excitement and regret clouded her mind until you left, and as she walked down the hall to the elevator, she thought she’d at least have a chance to at least convince herself that it wouldn’t be that bad. She was never that lucky.

“Uncharacteristically nice of you to offer to help out Y/N,” Homelander said, almost as if materializing out of nowhere.

Maeve balled her hands into fists at her side. Why did he always have to be lurking? Recently, he had been fucking off to god only knows where, sometimes for days at a time. Of course he had to be around when she finally made a move. “I’m just full of surprises.”

“Your heart’s beating like a racehorse, Maeve. You’re not that excited about just practicing some kickboxing moves, are you? I’d be a better partner than her, in that case. You and I are practically indestructible. Her on the other hand—it’s amazing how fragile humans are.”

Maeve remained silent, letting out a shaky breath as she refused to acknowledge his taunting.

“You think she knows her sports bra is a size too small? I mean, one downward dog and her tits are practically spilling out of—“

“Get a grip,” Maeve snapped.

“Hey, don’t be like that. It’s just locker room talk,” Homelander said, a menacing smile plastered across his face. “Speaking of surprises, I wonder what Y/N would think if she knew this was all a ploy for you to get into those tight yoga pants of hers. I guess I can’t blame you. Not exactly my type, but with the way you can see her panty line through them, she’s practically asking for it.”

“Asking for what?” she asked, standing taller as she looked him in the eye, daring him to make his threat.

“Hit a nerve there, huh, Maeve?”

“Mind your business, and I’ll mind mine.”

“Well, you sure know how to pick ‘em,” he said abruptly.

She knew him well enough that it meant someone was coming down the hall, and he didn’t want them hearing a word he said. Scoffing, she shook her head as she walked away, trying to keep a brave face as she made her way to the elevator.

Storming into her suite, she slammed the door behind her and threw the nearest breakable object at the wall before collapsing onto the couch, her head in her hands. Fuck. She’d been too obvious, too careless, and now you were going to be on the receiving end of it. Keeping her distance wouldn’t be fair to you, and it’d only put you in more danger when it came to Homelander. As much of a Girl Scout as Starlight could be sometimes, at least she was willing to risk it all for Hughie, even when he was lying through his teeth to her about Butcher and Compound V. At the very least, Maeve could do the same for you moving forward.

Still, she decided she was way too sober for her liking, and dug through her cabinets to find a half-drunk bottle of vodka, wanting to escape the gravity of the situation she found herself in for just a little while.

The next day, she woke up a few minutes past eleven, her head pounding as she checked her phone. A few missed calls and texts, including one from you: ‘Hey! Homelander said you were sick. Hope you feel better soon💐’

Between the thought of Homelander being near you and her raging hangover, Maeve leaned over the side of the bed, throwing up into the nearby trash can. She got another text from Ashley, asking if she’d still be able to do her designated crime fighting schedule that night since she was supposed to team up with A-Train. Staring at the text, she grinned, getting out of bed to choke down a few aspirin and make her way to crime analytics.

The department’s office was depressingly dark, and the girl who nervously pulled up the schedule for the next few weeks looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Opening the notes on her phone, she quickly typed what days and times Homelander would be away from the tower. It wasn’t perfect, but it’d do while she figured out how to take control of the situation.

Your kickboxing lessons with her began a little after seven on a Thursday evening. Maeve had asked you to keep everything under wraps, claiming she didn’t want everyone pestering her to train them. This was a one-off thing because you were friends. She was relieved at how your face lit up when she put it that way.

The whole arrangement made her realize how rusty she was at flirting with someone she was actually interested in, as opposed to the sleazy guys she’d bring up to the tower for one-night stands only to kick them out afterward. Training with you was great, you were eager to learn despite struggling to pick up some of the moves. She took the opportunity to stand close to you, putting her arms over yours and guiding your movements, her body framing yours. Sometimes her hands would linger over your skin, feeling how soft you were against her until she felt you shiver or heard your breath hitch. The physical, intimate closeness drove her crazy. In those moments, she wondered what your whole body felt like, your stomach and thighs surely plush beneath her fingertips.

Things came to a head during your fourth training session. Homelander hadn’t been at the tower for a day or so, and you were acting bolder. There was no way you didn’t catch her staring at the way you bounced around while Heart’s ‘Kick It Out’ blasted from the speakers you’d connected your phone to. She was sure you were doing it on purpose at that point.

“I think I’m almost as good as you,” you joked, beads of sweat rolling down your forehead.

She laughed. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Bring it on!”

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you stood across from her on the training mat. Your stance wasn’t the best, but you were trying despite her dodging your blows with ease. Just because she liked you, it didn’t mean she was going to hand you a win. You were having fun, a smile on your face as she caught your lifted leg before you could really kick.

In any other scenario, she figured you could hold your own pretty well in a fight with a non-supe. You threw a punch which Maeve blocked without so much as blinking. One more time, you went for another kick, only for her to send you flat on your back with a thud.

She pinned you to the mat, the two of you silent except for your breathing. Maeve didn’t do anything but stare at your face, just mere inches from hers for a few moments. God, you were fucking pretty. Your eyes seemed to sparkle despite the harsh gym lighting, and your parted lips were almost calling to her.

“You win,” you said softly from beneath her.

“Do I get a prize?”

“Wanna get drinks after this? On me?”

She smiled, reluctantly getting up from on top of you. “Hope you have your credit card ready.”

You took her outstretched hand, almost surprised at how fluidly she pulled you up onto your feet, until you remembered she was the strongest woman in the world, after all. The fact that she was getting drinks with you was a plus.

“I know a few places in my neighborhood, if you don’t mind going out to Brooklyn,” you said. “They’re kind of dives, but they’re fun.”

“That honestly sounds perfect.”

“Okay. I’m gonna shower and change really quick.”

She nodded. “Take your time.”

As soon as you disappeared into the locker room, Maeve looked down at her costume, internally groaning. It was the furthest thing from inconspicuous. In all honesty, she missed having a secret identity, the small thing that separated her from the persona that Vought manufactured for her. Whether for sentimentality or foolish hope of a situation like this one, she’d kept some of her street clothes.

Glancing at the locker room again, she decided to rush up to her suite and throw on something that would afford the two of you some privacy. Tapping her foot impatiently, she waited for the elevator doors to open before slipping inside and pressing the button for her floor.

When she reached her suite, she frowned at the selection of clothing in her dresser. Touching one shirt, she felt a lump form in her throat. The somewhat coarse fabric sent memories rushing back, she’d worn it on one of her last dates with Elena, before she handed her whole life over to Vought and Homelander sunk his hooks into her. There was a slight stain on the sleeve, evidence of Elena’s wine glass that had tipped over when some asshole decided to make it clear that he didn’t approve of their date, so he had to make it the whole restaurant’s problem. When he started becoming aggressive, Maeve grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him over, knocking him into at least three other tables with the sheer force she used. That was the catalyst for her initially fake relationship with Homelander, as Vought’s marketing team decided it would improve her image after the incident.

She exhaled, shaking her head as she tried grounding herself. Things could be different with you. She’d take back control of her life—from Vought, from Homelander, from her own self-sabotage. Her outfit choice for the kind-of-but-not-really date was simple. She ran her fingers through her signature styled waves, messing her hair up a bit to make her less recognizable. Seeing herself in the mirror, she smiled. For the first time in months, she looked and felt like herself.

Her phone buzzed, and to her relief, it was a text from you.

‘Hey! Ready to go when you are🍻’

Biting her lip, she retyped her response to you three times before sending, ‘Great be down in a min😄’

She instantly regretted her choice of emoji, but it didn’t matter, something that simple wasn’t going to ruin her night. After all, she couldn’t remember the last time she was asked out by someone she actually liked. You hadn’t explicitly said it was a date, but the tension was there, and Maeve hoped to god she wasn’t reading too much into things.

You were waiting in the gym for her, now changed back into your work clothes of a blouse and skirt. In the meantime, you had pulled up the info for some of the bars that you and your friends frequented in your neighborhood. She looked over them quickly, settling on a 70s-themed one you recommended based on the decor and cheap burgers. Her mind raced while the two of you walked down the hall and to the elevator, deciding to leave through a service corridor rather than the building’s main floor.

As the elevator made its descent to the lower levels of the building, Maeve figured she at least owed it to you to let you know what you were getting yourself into. She’d already put you at risk with the amount of time she was spending with you. You looked at her in confusion when she pressed the emergency stop.

“You know this isn’t just drinks, right?”

You smiled a bit, “What is it then?”

“Y/N, I’m serious,” she said. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Maeve, can you just be real with me instead of the cryptic shit?”

“Fuck," she groaned. "Okay, look. I’m into you, but Homelander’s a jealous son of a bitch who won’t let me have a life, so the fact that we’ve been spending time together and going out for drinks means you’re in serious danger.”

You were quiet for a few moments. She took your silence as an understandable rejection, moving to press the emergency stop button to bring you back up until you spoke.

“I’ll take the risk.”

“Are you sure? Y/N, Homelander won’t hold back. I’ll do what I can to protect you, but–”

You looked at her, really looked at her, as she laid out the risks for you clear as day. It didn’t matter. You’d come to the conclusion pretty quickly that she was worth it. She was Queen fucking Maeve for Christ’s sake. Most importantly, though, you were into her too, and you’d never forgive yourself for passing up the opportunity to go out with her and see where things led.

As she was in the middle of listing ways Homelander could kill you, you interrupted her with a quick peck on the lips, enough to startle her out of her rant for a moment. That seemed to get the message through, because she kissed you, backing you into the elevator wall across from the closed doors.

You parted your lips for her, happy to let her take the lead as she cupped your cheek in her hand, her fingers pulling your face closer to her. Even though she’d just pinned you to the floor less than an hour earlier, you were taken aback by how strong she was. She bit gently on your bottom lip, her teeth tugging at it before kissing you again.

Groping one of your breasts through your blouse, she moved her hand further down your body until she reached your thighs, her fingers gently tracing undistinguishable patterns into your skin. You could feel her start to play with the hem of your skirt before sliding her hand beneath it.

You whispered a soft ��yes” against her lips when her fingers brushed against the damp spot on your panties. Pressing her fingers against your core, she watched your face contort in pleasure as you whimpered for more.

It felt like eternity before she finally pushed her hand past the cotton material and began teasing your clit, ignoring your aching pussy. She pressed hot, open kisses against your skin before settling on the crook of your neck, biting into the tender skin so hard you almost thought it would break.

“Maeve, fuck,” you moaned.

“Too hard?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head. “Harder.”

Maeve grinned, slipping her index and middle fingers into your pussy, and you were almost embarrassed at how wet you were. She didn’t care, curling her fingers inside you, pumping them in and out until your breath caught in your throat. You gasped as you gripped her shoulders, trying to keep your legs from giving out from under you. Using her other hand, she held you up by your thigh, her fingers squeezing your soft flesh.

You leaned your head back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut as she began rubbing her thumb against your clit, bringing her attention back to it as your pussy clenched around her fingers. She brought her lips to your ear, her teeth grazing your earlobe before she whispered, “You gonna cum for me, baby?”

“I’m close,” you barely managed to say.

“Don’t hold back. I wanna feel you,” she said, her voice raspy as she squeezed your thigh for emphasis.

“Fuck–fuck, I’m–”

You came on her hand, fully relying on her strength to keep you up as she kept fingering you through your orgasm. Pressing her lips to yours, you were hardly able to kiss her back as you moaned into her mouth, your fingers clawing at the wall behind you as you tried getting a grip on something.

Finally, she pulled her hand from your pussy, and the one that had been holding you by your thigh wrapped around your waist to support you. She brought her hand to her mouth, licking your juices off of them so casually you wouldn’t have thought anything of it. You kissed her again, feeling lightheaded at the taste of yourself on her lips. Still, you figured someone must have noticed by then that the elevator wasn’t working. You didn’t even want to think about anyone finding you and Maeve like that, especially if Homelander ended up hearing about it through the grapevine.

“My roommate’s working the night shift,” you whispered, your voice noticeably hoarser than before. “I’ve got beer at my place.”

“Fuck the bar,” Maeve said, kissing you again.

You let out a yelp that dissolved into a fit of giggles as she literally swept you off your feet. She smiled, pressing the emergency stop button, sending the two of you back down to the service corridor you’d be slipping out into the night from.

#queen maeve x reader #the boys x reader #queen maeve #maggie shaw #maggie shaw x reader #the boys #queen maeve imagine #the boys amazon #the boys tv

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zoeykallus · 1 year ago

Note

Do you take requests? I would love to read something with Hunter where he teaches you how to fight :))) smut is also welcome

Hmm, thanks for the input 🔥🔥🔥

Hunter x Fem!Reader One-Shot - Show Me What You've Got

Warnings: Smut/Strongly Suggestive/Soft-Dom Hunter/Training Turns To Smut/Sexual Content/Dub-Con(?)/Dirty Stuff/18+

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You won't find much of a plot here 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also, I'm so tired I could cry, so this is not proofread, sorry...

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You are much too self-confident, actually you already know that before you visit him, so far you never beat hunter in a sparring session. But you want to try out the few moves you learned yesterday. And who would be better suited for that than Hunter, whom you like to get close to anyway? The man is downright outrageously handsome, with his dark hair, that striking face, those firm muscles under his toned skin. Combined with that deep, slightly smoky voice, the way he moves and looks at you, a cocktail that always makes your heart beat faster and fills your nights with wild dreams. Hunter really likes to be alone. You know that because he always makes sure he has a training room all to himself in the barracks. Basically, Hunter withdraws from others at every opportunity rather than seeking their proximity. You know why he takes time off whenever he can, trains alone, and spends as little time as possible with other soldiers besides his own squad. Hunter's extraordinary senses cause him to be quickly exposed to sensory overload, with things that others wouldn't even notice. Being continuously exposed to everything in this way, you imagine, is very exhausting.

So you can understand his general reserve. Hunter is already waiting for you when you enter the training room. He has already spread out the large mat on the floor, which is supposed to cushion any possible falls. You examine him quickly, inconspicuously. Black muscle shirt, black sports pants, barefoot. Of course, he's wearing his bandana, as usual. He has bandaged his hands, probably he intends to go to the punching bag later, you have observed him secretly, fascinated sometimes. The flex of his muscles, the power behind each punch, his posture. You suppress a longing sigh at the thought. Hunter addresses you, snapping you out of your thoughts. "There you are. I've been waiting." You glance at the clock hanging on the wall of the room above your heads, and say dryly, "I'm five minutes early." Hunter smiles with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "I know, but you're usually in earlier than that" You blink, feeling caught. Does he know that you sometimes secretly watch him? But he distracts your thoughts again.

"You learned something new you wanted to try with me?" he asks curiously. "Um, yeah, right. Something Wolffe showed me." Hunter frowns briefly and asks, so casually it almost doesn't seem casual anymore, "Since when do you hang out with the wolf pack?" The way you look at him makes him feel like you're looking right into him and seeing through his curious question. So he looks down at his hands and pretends he needs to fix the bandages. Somehow you can't recognize his behavior for what it is at this moment. You shrug your shoulders and say, "For quite some time now, as a matter of fact, sometimes. Did I never tell you about it before?" "No, you didn't," Hunter says, clearing his throat and pulling his bandana a little tighter. "Well, now I've told you," you say lightly, unaware of why he's so interested. Hunter nods and says, "Okay, show me what you've got."

His gaze wanders along your body, your posture. Your black yoga pants hugging your curves, the shirt you wear is a little wider, but knotted in the back. Hunter is distracted and promptly lands on his back as you pull his legs away with a simple trick. He makes a startled noise before landing on the ground. Grinning, you bend over him. "Well, that was easy today," you say, amused.

"I wasn't fully on top of my game. That doesn't count." You snort and laugh softly, "Oh come on Hunter, no one on the battlefield cares if you're ready or not either". His eyes narrow, and he says suspiciously smoky, "Hmm, good point". In the next moment he's grabbed you, taken down your defenses, has you on your back and is on top of you.

"Damn," you curse softly and try to break free, but he holds you under him with ease. He grins at you and your heart really jumps out at him, but not only that, a gentle pulse has arisen between your thighs as your nether regions touch, and you feel every contact very clearly through the thin fabric of your pants. "Gotcha, once again," he says with a grin.

You smile back nervously. You are aware of how sharp his senses are, and he will notice the change in your mood and hormone balance very quickly. Finally, you see it in his face. His expression changes, the smile slowly disappears, he blinks and tilts his head slightly to the side. "That's new," he says softly. You don't even ask what he means, because you already know. You swallow and say just as quietly, "Sorry." You expect him to let go of you and seek distance, but he surprises you. Hunter grabs both of your wrists with one hand and pins them above your head on the mattress, his other hand gently moving to the back of your neck. "There is no need to be sorry, if you ask me".

He knows it's a daring move, but he cant help it, he has to take the leap and taste the waters.

Your heart almost jumps out of your chest as his face comes closer and closer. His lips touch yours, slowly at first, tenderly, and your pulse begins to race, your eyes closing. Hunter's tongue slides over your lips which automatically open for him, and as it slides in and touches yours, the pulse between your thighs intensifies. You moan softly into the kiss. Very clearly, you feel him slowly getting hard as his pelvis still rests on yours, between your thighs. The hand that is on your neck slowly moves down, over the fabric of your shirt, feeling your breasts, gently kneading them, probing. His thumb feels your nipples, which are erected, pressing through the thin fabric of your bra and shirt.

A shiver runs down your spine, a tingle spreads through your belly as he plays with your nipples through the fabric, still holding you captive beneath him and his kiss. Ever so slowly, barely noticeably, he moves between your legs, pushing his hard length through the fabric, rubbing over your pubic, sparking gentle, stimulating friction. Hunter's hand finally moves under the fabric, while the other still holds your wrists. You feel his bare fingertips on your skin, the rough fabric of the bandages on his hands as he pushes the cups of your bra up and off your breasts to get at the soft, velvety mounds beneath. Suddenly he straightens up, sitting between your thighs, and let's go of you. He points an admonishing finger at you with a dirty little smile and says, " Stay right there." You obey, not even thinking of contradicting him. He takes off the bandages, removes them from his hands and tosses them carelessly to the side before throwing himself over you again. He stops just inches away from your face, catches himself with his hands on the mat, and grins at you.

Hunter teasingly kisses your chin and the tip of your nose, then straightens up again, pulling your T-shirt over your head. "Be a good girl and come with me," he says in an almost whisper, close to your ear, just before he bites your earlobe very gently.

You swallow, but nod and let him help you up. Clad only in your panties, you follow him to a side chamber where other workout equipment is stored. Hunter leads you to one of the benches where people usually lift weights, puts his towel over it and gently but firmly pushes you onto it so that you are lying on your back in front of him.

With a little smirk, he says, "Good girl."

Hunter wanders down along your body, pulling off your yoga pants and murmuring, "I really need to smell and taste you." You blink, heat flooding your body the second you realize exactly what he means by that. Your pants land on the floor, then his fingers travel down from the base of your breasts to where your body is radiating the most heat. His fingertips ghost over the thin fabric of your panties, lingering on the wet spot, exerting playful pressure. Hunter is kneeling in front of the bench, head between your thighs, close to your pubic area, he takes a deep breath and shakily expels it. "Damn, what a scent!"

His cock is already twitching expectantly in his pants, your hormones, the luring substances your body produces in arousal, tingling under his skin, from crown to toe. His fingers finally wander under the waistband of your panties and pull them off as well.

You can't believe that you are lying practically naked on a bench in one of the training halls, Hunter's head between your thighs. He has reserved this room for himself, but it is not locked, someone could still come in. But this thought suddenly disappears from your mind when you feel his breath on your damp folds, and shortly after his lips and tongue.

He presses his tongue to your pussy, roaming through your folds, dipping into your sensitive, wet hole once or twice, making you twitch, before he focuses on your clit. His tongue, exerting perfect pressure, circles skillfully and nimbly on the bundle of nerves. You haven't noticed it yourself yet, but you're already sighing, moaning and gasping, fueling him in his efforts. Hunter feels exactly each of your reactions, knows exactly when and what causes your arousal to increase, and thus learns very quickly, to perfection, every pressure, every movement that sends you into ecstasy. You tremble with aroused tension, your thighs quiver gently. You are so horny, and yet a part of you is very aware of what is happening and can't quite grasp it. That's Hunter tonguing your clit as if he's been programmed to do just that. It feels so good, everything is tingling and vibrating inside you, your hands are gripping the bench above your head and clutching at it.

He is relentless. You hear the soft slurp, a repetitive soft aroused rumble deep from his chest as he holds your thighs apart with his hands. He's getting faster and faster, his tongue gliding over your swollen pearl more and more rapidly. Hunter is literally chasing you towards your orgasm. The knot that has formed in your belly loosens, a fiery tingle pulses through your clit, your pussy twitches and drips. Your moan is almost like a little scream. Hunter's tongue massages you through a prolonged, intense climax.

You dare only a brief glance and see his intense eyes, the pupils so dilated that his eyes seem almost black. His senses are full of you, your scent and your hormones have practically overpowered him. He lets go of your clit, just at the right moment, and you're just about to catch your breath when he moves further down and his tongue suddenly drills into your dripping opening and starts licking you out. "Hunter!" you exclaim, startled. Hypersensitive after climaxing, you twitch and tremble as he uses his tongue to fill you. He has to grip tighter to keep you from escaping his grasp and slipping off the bench with your twitching. You claw even harder with your hands on the bench. Hunter takes his time, absorbing every drop of your juices like a starving man. It takes a moment, but your arousal builds again. Suddenly his head comes out from between your legs and he takes a deep breath.

"What a feast, my good girl," he says in a voice rough with horniness. He straightens up, kneeling in front of the bench, his pelvis between your thighs, and you catch a glimpse of his hard length. His cock is thick, long, gently curved, the tip slightly red and swollen, leaking pre-cum. You lick your lips, knowing what's coming next, can't wait to feel him inside you. But you're also a little nervous. You know him, you know he won't hurt you, but this has all happened so suddenly and quite unexpectedly. As if sensing it, he looks at you and asks softly, "Are you ready for me, beautiful?" You blink, feeling a little breathless, but you nod and say, "I couldn't be more ready." He smirks, looks down, grips the base of his cock and guides the tip to your pussy. Hunter is hungry, very much so, but he takes it slow, applying only gentle pressure at first, prodding at your entrance, softly. You bend your legs and pull them up, opening your thighs invitingly a little wider for him.

Hunter applies more pressure, parts your wet folds and slowly advances between your slick walls. You watch him as he tenses his muscles. He licks his lips, looks down and watches in fascination as his hard length sinks into you. As he bottoms out in you, he closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. The feeling is intense, for both of you. For him as your wet heat closes around his cock, his senses full of you, and for you as he stretches and fills you. One of his hands moves to your hip and grips gently but firmly, the other moves to your pubic area. His fingertips gently glide over your clit, which is swollen, gently pulsing. Your legs clamp gently but firmly around his hips, showing him you're ready for more. Hunter smiles in satisfaction. He can definitely feel and smell your willingness. He knows that his fingers dancing on your pearl have got you going again. His hips pull back a bit and thrust into you again. A soft wet sound, accompanied by the impact of naked skin on naked skin, fills the room. He takes you slowly, but he gradually speeds up. You feel each thrust, erotically invading, combined with your pearl pulsing under his fingers, and you lean your head back.

Hunter watches you, your every movement, the way your breasts move with each of his thrusts, and again and again he looks down, watching your bodies merge. "This is so good, Hunter," you moan, pushing against his thrusts, using your hands on the bench to push. He's getting faster and faster. The accelerating, lewd sound of your bodies colliding with each thrust, mixed with your lustful sounds, is like music to his ears. The tension, the intensity increases, you feel it too. You automatically tense your abdomen, causing your pussy to close even tighter around his cock.

He lets out a half-swallowed moan. His fingers on your clit quicken, his whole body tense, hard as granite. You groan out in a near whisper, "So close." "Good girl," Hunter presses out breathlessly.

His thrusts become irregular, he bites his lower lip, his hand on your hip grips tighter. Your climax pulses through the center of your body, makes your pussy twitch, and your thighs shake. A curse comes across your lips. The next moment you hear him let out a deep, drawn-out moan, feel his warm seed coating your walls. Two-three more slow, firm thrusts and Hunter pauses, breathing heavily. You both catch your breath, only now noticing that everything here smells musty like an old gym, mixed with the distinct tangy, salty smell of sex. He leaves your body, gently cleans you with the towel. Then, finally, your eyes meet again. You look at each other for a moment, then both of you grin. "That was an interesting workout," you say, laughing softly. He chuckles and says, "That's something Wolffe sure didn't show you." You look at him cheekily and say, "How would you know?" Hunter frowns, his smile disappears, he doesn't seem to know quite what to say. You can see his shoulders tense. You chuckle and say, "You should see your face. Relax Sergeant, you're the only soldier who's been between my thighs so far."

Hunter's shoulders relax again, he raises a brow in amusement, "If you don't mind, I'd like to remain the only one in the future"

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

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@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

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unhinged-summer-fun · 3 months ago

Text

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 11

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger" Warnings: Mentions of physical assault, not involving either main character (I know it's a fighting au but this is different enough to warn about)

A/N: dividers by ME AYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

series masterlist

chapter 11: in the lining of your skin

Time moved in a strange blur, everything happening simultaneously. She spent every evening of the following week training with her stranger and the rest of her time wishing she was. It didn’t matter that she saw him daily; he always had time for her. Whatever he wanted to teach her, she would learn; whatever she wanted to ask, he would answer. Even when he had work to do on his laptop at his apartment, he would invite her over to at least supervise her while she ran through drills on his living room floor.

Osha’s usual restlessness was redirected into extended sessions focusing on mobility, recovery, and flexibility. After years of being shrugged off at the Temple, he showed her how her body should have been treated. What made it that much sweeter was the casual intimacy it brought.

His hand correcting her ankle as she started wobbling off-center—firm and unyielding as a brace. His fingers tapping, feather-light, against her arm to adjust her form. His eyes, burning coals of unspoken emotion, boring into her soul with little she could do to defend against his gaze.

And—because this was new—

His thumbs digging into sore muscles, massaging her wherever and whenever she liked. On his living room floor, in the dressing room at Unplan, and, today, the small yoga studio in their apartment gym.

“Are massages supposed to hurt?” she groaned. He swerved to dodge a lazy swing in his direction.

“If you wanted to spar so badly, you could have told me before the cooldown,” he said. At some point, she knew he was smiling by the sound of his voice.

“Oh, I can make requests?” Osha practically barrel-rolled to face him. “Can we spar?”

“You want to spar right now?” he asked, his voice gone a little husky. He loomed above her, haloed by the overbright fluorescent bulbs.

Her lungs still ached from the dry sauna, and her muscles burned with exertion from the sprints workout earlier, but she had a spark in her eye that told him she was ready to rise to whatever challenge he gave her.

And he knew it.

But he didn’t indulge her. “Soon. I promise.”

“How soon?” she whined, dramatically flopping back on the mat.

He hadn’t removed his hand, letting it glide around her as she moved. His thumb idly traced her calf along the delicate line of her muscle that snarled into a scar a few inches above her ankle.

“After the full moon.”

She sat up. “Full moon? You make it sound like there’s a ritual or something. Do I have to bleed all over crystals and burn incense—”

“Unknown Planet doesn’t know you’re not on the fight roster for next month yet. Someone would try to step in if they saw the new girl sparring with the scary guy during the down-weeks.”

“What do you mean?”

He hummed, making her roll back over so he could finish working on her muscles. This was how they worked: he would answer her burning questions, and she would endure whatever instruction he had for her. She rested her head on her crossed arms, and his massage continued.

“There’s no official number, but Unknown Planet has been doing fight nights for every full moon of the last fifty years, give or take.”

Whoa. “Those balaclavas are grosser than I thought.”

He flicked the back of her knee for her sass, but she held back from kicking him—this time.

“What I mean to say is that the process, the fight tempo, it was the same song and dance for a very long time. A while ago, the process was that you’d sign up for the next month’s fights the same night as the one that just ended. Then, the fight organizers would post the next month’s list two days later—on the public board in the gym. The culture then dictated that if you were on the list, you’d spend all those next four weeks preparing. However, about nine, ten years ago, someone was badly hurt less than a week after a new moon.

“One guy, he’s nowhere near the gym anymore; he’d been a member maybe two or three months, and he wanted in the cage. He had beef with another member, and put his name in the running, hoping he’d get matched against him. But when the schedule came out, his name wasn’t there. The other guy was—and he was fighting someone else. So the hothead decided he’d attack her out of nowhere in the middle of the gym.”

“What the fuck?” Osha said. “So he could take out the competition and get to fight the other guy?”

Her stranger nodded. “Story ends with this guy getting sent to the hospital—all fucked up. Busted skull, broken wrists, nearly lost his eye—because the experienced fighter he picked a fight with defended herself just as she would have in the cage.”

“Well, he fucked around,” she shrugged. “Is she still at the gym?”

“Mhm. Her name is Idise. You know her better as Daybreak.”

“The purple fighter from the masquerade that won with you?”

“That’s her. After that, they implemented a few actual rules for everyone’s safety, not just relying on unspoken etiquette and the like. One, they started sending the lists to only managers and those involved—and made the prep phase two weeks instead of four so there’d be some goddamn peace in the gym.”

“On the full moon, you mean.”

“Smart girl.” Osha tried not to squirm while his attention was so thoroughly focused on her body. “The second change was that any new cage fighter would have to be nominated—by another fighter.”

“Promotes community, I guess.”

“If you’re there long enough, you eventually become friends with the people who occasionally beat the shit out of you once a month. That didn’t squash every quarrel, though. There used to be a non-zero chance of getting your ass handed to you whenever you walked into the gym.”

“Speaking from experience?”

He flicked her again. “The third change was that the winners of the masquerade brawl were discouraged from public sparring with anybody that could be on the coming fight list.”

“How many people does that cover?”

“About seventy people sign up every month, and then there are two dozen names on the list.”

“You can’t spar with them even if they end up being in different fights than the brawl?”

“Even then.”

She hummed, pouting. “So you won’t spar with me at the gym for half a month because, to everyone else’s perception, it’s possible you nominated me for the next fights?”

“That’s correct.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Also correct.”

“So once everyone knows I’m not on the list, then you’ll spar with me?” she asked hopefully.

He squeezed her side and leaned out of the assisted stretch he was helping her with. “Yes. I will spar with you then.”

“Do you think I’ll be put in the masquerade with you my first time?”

His hands faltered a little, jerking in their hold around her calf. “No.”

“Why?”

“The PTB only puts rookies in one-on-one matchups.”

“The what?”

“Powers that be.”

“PTB? NHB? I’m practically named for job safety standards, and that’s a little—”

When he pinched the back of her thigh this time, she actually kicked him.

“Ouch,” he laughed. He kept talking once she calmed. “Anyway, there’s such a long waiting list it’s possible that when I do nominate you, you won’t be put in a match for a while.”

“Why, because there aren’t any women at my handicap?”

His hand spanned the back of her thigh in a steady grip. It made her brain stand up at attention from where it had slumped into self-deprecation. She looked up at him, finding his expression serious and unyielding. “Because when I nominate you for the cage, they won’t be ready for you.”

She sat up after that but didn’t start picking up to go home. They both stewed in silence for a while. After about three minutes of dead silence, Osha asked, “Why are the masquerade champions specifically discouraged from public sparring?”

He went very still, and stayed that way for so long that the automatic lights in the studio snapped off, casting them into darkness. Only then did he feel comfortable speaking.

“Many fighters fight because they want to let off steam. Fighters in the cage want to fight so badly that they’ll say, fuck the rules, I want someone to pay for the pain I’m feeling. A lot of members at Unplan hit the cage once, and they’re set. Never step in it again.

“And I get it. It’s scary facing the part of yourself that knows how to hurt others. It haunts you, the awareness that your capacity to inflict violence is so close at hand. It’s not something humans are born knowing. It’s not something we should know. Many of us learn it—in lessons taught by the unkind.

“But sometimes, someone faces that part of themselves that thrives in violence, and finds they can look themselves in the eye without a mountain of guilt crushing them for the sin of what they’ve done. Still, they hear the bloodsong and want to sing along, again and again until they can’t hear it anymore.

“Those are the people who fight in the masquerade. We wear masks and take fake names to prevent the guilt from killing us. Beneath the mask… There is no honor or glory in winning that fight. And only the people who know that are the ones who win it, the ones who have to wear the mask.”

She swallowed roughly, suppressing a shiver. “What are you saying?”

He met her eyes through the darkness.

“Historically, those fighters are more likely to snap when provoked.”

Fillik had asked her to lunch a few weeks ago and had finally come calling with solid plans.

“Look at you! I almost forgot what you looked like; I haven’t seen you in so long.” Fillik hugged her close before they took their seats.

“Such a hardship for you to remember what your friends look like,” she teased back. It felt good to see him out of the Temple. She missed taking classes with him, but he’d been cut from the elite sessions as well. Not a competitive guy, he’d shrugged.

After some small talk and ordering, Fillik commented again, “You do look different, though. You seem different. I remember you being a lot more fidgety than you are now.”

“I’m trying something new,” she said vaguely.

“Oh?” he said, leaning in. “Are you dating again? Is that why I haven’t heard anything til now?”

The last time Osha had a boyfriend—if he could be called that—was almost ten years ago. Osha had met Cal at a competition three states over and, on the last night of the competition, had kissed in one of the dark halls of the event center. The long-distance thing didn’t work out for a couple of reasons.

Regardless of Osha’s ultimate disinterest in Cal upon returning home, when Sol found out something so terrible as a seventeen-year-old boy existed in his daughter’s orbit, he grabbed his wrist wraps and the car keys to defend Osha’s honor. He’d gotten as far as the front door before Osha managed to stop him, only convincing him to relax after showing him she’d deleted Cal from her contacts.

When that story got around her high school, nobody even wanted to be friends with Osha, let alone date her. It also kept her from considering going away to college, knowing Sol’s helicoptering would fly to new heights. His meltdown over Mae enrolling at the community college two years ago still made her cringe, even a few weeks away from their 27th birthdays.

And then there was Bazil. For years, any friend coming over (from the Temple or otherwise) would be swiftly reported to Sol, who would either show up while they were hanging out or call and demand answers. But in recent weeks, there hadn’t been even a peep from Sol that he knew who was walking Osha to the door every night. Bazil would always hustle up to say hello, having grown more friendly than she’d ever seen him.

Last night, he’d gestured between Osha and the stranger before making some encouraging yet undeniably suggestive remark—making her stranger blush and refuse to tell her what he said.

“No—well. I’m not dating.”

She was conflicted about telling him more. It was easy to remember that she had to keep Qimir a secret in the Temple, considering his ties to the gym and the possibility that Vernestra might still have it out for him. But it was just Fillik. He wasn’t in the ‘inner circle’ like Mae, he didn’t work there (and therefore blame her for the hours cuts), and they’d known each other since grade school.

“Okay, maybe there is a guy, though…”

Fillik looked like she’d told him his birthday had come early. “More. Details. Now. I’m getting us drinks.”

She told him scarcely anything—he’s a fighter, he’s at another gym, you don’t know him, you don’t know the gym, he’s a teacher at the college, he’s so hot, we sometimes see each other at my apartment gym. He ate it all up regardless of her lack of specificity, and for the first time in a long while, Osha felt… normal.

In high school, she’d been quite the outcast: she was pulled from classes to prepare for tournaments, the whole Cal incident, and her strange upbringing making it hard to relate. She always felt she missed out on the simpler parts of life that Mae seemed to excel at, like gossip and following drama and having crushes.

And now, with the complications that Qimir brought to her life, she had nobody in her social circle to talk to about him.

“When do I get to meet him?” Fillik said anyway, grinning. “If he makes you smile and zone out like this, then I’d like to shake his hand. He must be damn good in bed.”

Osha’s face flared hotly, and she was grateful she still had the drinks menu to hide her face. “You are so gross.”

“You’re literally walking completely different than I remember! It’s entirely possible he did some kind of back adjustment while blowing out yours.”

“You are awful!” she laughed. “I am not sleeping with him.”

He repeated himself, this time without the salacious undertone. “Really, when can I meet him?”

“I don’t know. He’s not very social. And… I think I want to wait until we both know what’s going on between us. You know how Sol is; I want this to be mine for a while. But I promise you’ll meet him if it works out.”

He nodded, smiling softly. “I’m happy for you, Osha. You look happier—and even if he does find out, you said he’s a fighter. He might be able to take Sol in a fight. At least for a little bit.”

Long after their lunch concluded, the thought made her feel quite ill.

Osha texted her stranger Saturday afternoon to see if he wouldn’t mind training earlier in the evening. The full moon was tonight, and she hoped she could harangue him to spar with her, finally.

O: Is the gym open at the same hrs as Unplan?

?: Gym facilities are 24/7.

?: Why do you ask?

O: Are you available earlier to train tonight?

O: I’m a little restless lol

?: I’m not available earlier, unfortunately.

?: But I have a better idea than training for tonight.

?: Wear something you’ll dance in.

?: I’ll see you at sunset.

Osha thought she read his messages wrong.

Dancing. He was taking her dancing? What kind of personal training, alternative exercise theory, active lifestyle nonsense was—

Who was she kidding, she didn’t need any convincing.

Osha chose what to wear partly for her own comfort and partly to impress him. For comfort, she chose a pair of sneakers she could put through their paces, tight jeans, and a cropped shirt she kept hidden beneath her winter coat. And for him…

The lipstick made her feel silly the second she applied it, but she didn’t have time to properly remove it when he texted to tell her he was waiting downstairs.

“Hello,” he said as she approached. She scowled at him for using what she called his ‘doofus accent,’ knowing how much she hated it.

Her first instinct to get back at him was to lower her voice to a sultry tone, her best attempt at a bedroom voice. “Hi there, stranger.”

He… straightened up. His response awoke something feral in her, and she prowled the rest of the way to him.

He blinked a few times, mouth opening and shutting as he took her in. After the long once-over, his eyes flickered between her eyes and her mouth. It gave her butterflies.

Okay, maybe the lipstick could stay.

“You… you’re…” his voice trailed off, tongue poking out as he tried to figure out what to say. She’d never seen him so affected before. It stunned her right out of teasing, making a laugh bubble past her lips.

“What?” he grumbled, near-scowling. He turned to get the door for her.

“I think I like you when you’re rattled,” she said, still smiling. “Are you rattled, stranger?” She didn’t know where the boldness came from when she reached forward and tugged on the lapel of his jacket.

Perhaps her gesture teetered at the edge of his control. His hand darted up to capture her wrist in a firm hold. He leaned in close, his breath brushing her ear in a caress.

“You’re rattling a bit close to the sun, Osha.”

She rested her hand on his chest, just like she’d done at the pool with him that first time. It felt like a dare—I dare you to close the distance between your mouth and mine. Fuck propriety, fuck what they should be. She was stone-cold sober and knew what she wanted.

“I know what I’m doing,” she whispered.

He inhaled deeply, but the street lamps flicked on before either could move. The warm yellow radiance erased the dusky darkness enshrouding them, making her feel exposed. The instant the light touched them, it was like a knife had separated them. The curtain had been pulled back, revealing their intimacy in the darkness to be forbidden and scandalous. Damn the lights, damn them.

“Car. Now.”

His dinky iPod kept the silence from being too awkward the entire drive to Unknown Planet. They parked in the back but bypassed the usual direct-to-dressing-room entrance in favor of the service entrance.

“Hey, wait—” Osha said, unzipping her coat.

“What are you doing, it’s snowing—” Qimir went quiet when he saw the shirt she was wearing. She didn’t give him much time to recover before she stuffed her jacket in the car and closed the door.

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning to stay outside this long, but...” A what-can-you-do shrug pulled her shirt up higher, showing off the navel piercing she’d gotten years ago—the same hazy night she’d gotten her tattoo. His eyes dropped to the little jewel like an elevator with the wires cut.

“Let’s get you inside,” he said, almost absently. Like he needed to remind himself of the weather as well.

He led her by the hand while he navigated through the kitchen, storage racks, the bar, and finally to the main room. Nobody looked twice at them besides a few nods his way.

Her stranger took her to the last open seat at the bar. It was crowded tonight; that was the most likely reason for him pressing close behind her—close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin. Though some of her was still cold from outside, the parts that touched him burned hot. His attention felt like a moonbeam, and she turned to face it more fully. She found him mere inches from her, just as close as they’d been standing in the parking lot. This time, his primal curiosity was hidden by a polite, patient interest—most likely for the benefit of everyone around them.

A bartender came up. She recognized him as the bouncer from fight night. He greeted the stranger with mild surprise, but the warmth in his tone told her he was pleased to see him. “Hey, Q. The fuck you doing here tonight?”

The stranger—what had he been called? Q?—faced him, showing her the long line of his neck and the sharp edge of his jaw. She wanted to bite him.

“Kana,” he greeted. The red neon behind the bar flashed across his teeth. “I felt like dancing; what can I say?”

His voice had pitched up a little, something softer and friendlier than she was used to. It wasn’t the doofus accent, nor was it as dark and velvety as it was when they were alone, and it wasn’t the breathy, excited voice he used when he encouraged her in training. They were all authentic parts of him that he wasn’t afraid of showing. Watching him switch it up for other people was fascinating.

“Is that so?” The bartender looked at Osha now, one eyebrow quirking up. His sparkling eyes seemed to challenge her to impress him with her response—would she deny her stranger’s sentiment, elevate it, or challenge him right back?

Osha felt the chaos in her rising to a fever pitch. Reaching behind her stranger’s head, she carded her fingers through his inky black hair, left down for once and not beneath a hat (or a mask). It was a temptation she’d been distracted by for weeks now, and now she’d indulged.

“It is so, isn’t it, Q?” She smirked at the stunned, then drop-dead murderous look on her stranger’s face. When his eyes started to morph from annoyance into sensual promise, she looked back at the bartender. “Might need something to drink first, though.”

Kana grinned like the cat who caught the canary. “I like you,” he said decisively. “What’s your poison?” She ordered something for both of them, and he walked off, leaving them alone in the privacy of a crowded room.

The moment she tried dropping her hand from her stranger’s hair, he snatched it up. They had little to no space between them. Just beneath her thumb—the Mount of Venus, she recalled—he pressed the slowest, softest of kisses. There was absolutely no hiding the way her face slackened in aching, desperate want.

Then he bit her.

Nothing vicious, nothing hurtful, but sharp enough for her to pay the fuck attention. With his jaws around her hand, she felt his goddamn tongue flick against her skin, sending her body into a fucking crisis. She saw them as their primal selves: lion and wolf. He’d bite, she’d pounce. She finally understood what he meant when he spoke about powerful emotions taking control—but this emotion testing her control was—

The bite received another kiss to soothe it, longer than the first. She curled her fingers against her stranger’s cheek, gentle in defiance of his sharp teeth. His eyes fluttered shut, and his eyelashes tickled her thumb. He broke the kiss and opened his eyes but didn’t move away.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured against her hand. His lips were so close she could have sworn the two words were another kiss.

“You like trouble,” she whispered back.

“I fucking love trouble.”

A series of red, blue, and yellow lights burst to life behind them, spinning and streaking across the bar. It drew their attention away from the moment, but the promise of picking up where they left off was still there. He placed her hand on his shoulder for safekeeping, almost like he would pick back up as soon as this interruption passed.

A DJ spoke over the bar speakers. “Happy full moon, Unplan! If you’re here, you’re dancing. If you’re not dancing, you better be drinking. And if you’re doing neither, you better have a good reason.”

The crowd cheered, and Osha watched as the remaining tables were moved and stacked to the side, creating a dance floor that spanned the entire establishment. People flooded the space—some faces familiar from her time in the gym. She faced the bustle as the song settled into a jaunty rock song, piling on the bass beneath a shroud of bright teal lights.

Well, I’m so above you, and it’s plain to see… but I came to love you anyway-y-y…

“Is everyone here a member?” she asked.

He bobbed his head with the beat, so she didn’t know if he was nodding until he spoke. “Pretty much. A lot of them bring their partners. Some come looking for something temporary.”

“It doesn’t sound like you come here a lot.”

He shrugged. “I prefer it upstairs.”

“Why come tonight? Looking for something temporary?”

Oh-oh-oh, I got a love that keeps me waiting…

His expression grew a little serious. “I wanted to bring you because even though you’re my student, you’re still a member here. You deserve to know what being a member gets you.” He hooked his chin over her shoulder, speaking almost directly into hear ear over the noise. “And because I wanted to dance with you as long as you’d let me. No ‘temporary’ about it.”

Holy shit.

The sound of two glasses arriving at the bar broke their embrace. Kana smirked at them once they disentangled themselves. “Keep it open?” he asked the stranger.

“Yeah.”

The bartender didn’t move away to run his card as she thought he would. Instead, he reached a hand out to her.“We haven’t been introduced. I’m Kana.”

“Nice to meet you, Kana; I’m Osha. I think I’ve seen you upstairs a few times.”

“And I’ve seen you training with Q. He said you might be looking for a job. Have you got your alcohol license?”

“Yeah!” she said, leaning closer as the music got louder. “I just got the cert in the mail; I’m all licensed.” Her stranger had suggested it to her a few days ago, and she was glad she’d done it—studying during lulls at the cafe and to avoid talking to Mae.

“Sounds good. Yeah, we just had a few positions open up from people moving away, and we like hiring from the membership pool. Come by any weeknight around open, and I’ll get you talking with the manager.”

She lit up, astonished by the change in her luck. “Wow! Thank you, that means a lot to me! I’ll be here.”

“Of course. I’ll see you around, Osha. Step on Q’s toes for me, wouldja?”

“Fuck you too, Kana,” her stranger said cheerfully.

Kana walked off. Qimir put Osha’s drink in her hands, then rotated her seat around on the swivel. She was blinded momentarily by the red lights that came with a new song, but he blocked them out when he stepped between her legs to reach for his drink. He had a crimson halo around his head when he raised his glass to hers. “To trouble,” he said, smirking openly at her gaping expression.

She snapped her mouth shut so quickly her teeth clacked together. “To rattling and being rattled.”

They clinked their glasses and drank, eyes locked.

Within a few minutes, the dance floor had transformed into a great undulating mob, spreading from the entrance to the stairs leading up to the gym. It didn’t matter what the DJ played—samba, R&B, classic rock, pop punk—people danced. Some dancers would pair off, others would find groups, and many more were fine doing their own thing. It felt like watching a sport with seventeen different things happening at the same time, all of them worthy of her attention.

Unknown Planet’s philosophy was the same below as it was above: anybody could dance (or fight) however they wanted, without judgment.

When their drinks were nearly finished, she said, “Q?”

Her stranger snapped his head around to look at her before he relaxed, rolling his eyes. “You’re—”

“Trouble, I know.” She grinned, squinting against the yellow spotlight making rounds above the crowd. “What’s the story there? People can’t spell your name?”

He sighed. “I’ll tell you out there. Let’s do what we came here to do.”

She scoffed, setting down her drink. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

He positioned them near the edge of the crowd when the song changed. A pop song with a thick, electric beat pulsed in their teeth as they passed one of the speakers. The accompanying red lights pulsed in Osha’s eyes as he led her there, bright as the ones on top of police cars.

Some of them want to use you, some of them want to get used by you…

He turned and grabbed hold of her waist. The short length of her shirt allowed his fingertips to graze her bare back, his thumb ghosting over her ribs. The contact made her nervous, like her inhibitions would take control right out of her hands. But soon, there wasn’t time to be nervous, because they were too busy falling into the rhythm—just as easily as they fell into each other. For the most part, all they did was sway and roll together in the crush of bodies around them, moving with the current.

She’d seen him fight, swim, and even exercise when he joined her in their training sessions—but feeling him move was entirely different than watching him. Clearly, he was a good dancer from his comfort moving her body where and how he wanted. It was just as confident and authoritative as when he corrected her form in the gym. And just like then, his hands never left her body, never retreated to where professionalism dictated they should belong. Before long, her heart raced like it did in training.

After about twenty minutes of non-stop movement, the music changed to a slower song, a lowkey R&B ballad with melancholic blue lights to set the mood. He pulled her closer, her back against his front. His hand spanned wide across her stomach, stretching from the waistband of her jeans, across her piercing, and up beneath the edge of her shirt. God damn, but his thumb was tracing along her bra.

This is a strange song to dance like this to.

His lips pressed to her ear as he finally answered her question from earlier. “I am, very technically, still Qimir Loharne in all the ways that count.”

A shiver clawed down her spine. “Is that the name on your degree?”

“You’ll have to be more specific; I have several.”

Ass. “Which name is on your doctorate?” she deadpanned.

His long-suffering sigh skittered across her neck, but he kept her close. “You’ll have to come by and see for yourself.”

“Fine then. I will.”

“I had no name when the FDO got me. I was four, and wouldn’t talk to anybody. They named me Qimir after my first few days there.”

—how many times did I tell you I’m no good at being alone? It’s taking a toll on me, it’s—

“All the kids at the FDO get branded with the same surname if we didn’t have one before. It’s why you see Loharnes fucking everywhere in this city.”

“You’re the first I’ve met.”

“You also met Kana.”

“Two people who already knew each other isn’t a proper data set.”

“Then trust me. We’re everywhere.” He nudged her cheek with his nose, a wordless let me talk. “From the day I got the name ’til I was about 20, I went only by Qimir. Then I distanced myself from it as hard as I could, and told everyone my name was Q. I joined the training staff, they called me Coach Lo. For the last eleven months, I’ve been Smiley. And to you,” he paused, tilting his head and brushing his lips against her ear, “I’m your stranger.”

Her heart flip-flopped in her chest, and she didn’t have the bravery to turn her face to meet him, so she raised a hand behind them both to play with his hair again. He made a soft, pleased noise and dropped his head to her shoulder.

You know, I could do it on my own, but I want that real full moon black magic, and it takes two… problematic—

“That’s a lot to keep track of,” she managed to say after a few bars of the song, gently swaying in soft, almost lonely blue lights.

“The more spread out my identity is, the harder it is to catch me.”

The mystery there compelled her. He sometimes spoke as if he were on the run, that he had to keep his identity a secret. There were still some dark, foggy parts of his life that he hadn’t yet told her about. The time between joining the gym and his injury, the injury itself, whatever followed that—namely, whenever he got his life together to become a doctor.

Vernestra, she knew, was central to almost every ounce of his pain. She was the dark machine that kept him from settling—even from feeling comfortable using his name like everybody else.

What name would you choose for yourself?

I like yours the best.

“What name would you really choose for yourself?” she asked softly.

He brought his head up somewhat. Her heart stopped when he pressed his lips against the skin of her shoulder, slow like he was kissing a bite better. “Yours,” he rasped—an immeasurable weight balanced on a single word.

His answer seemed so… simple.

But—really? Stranger Loharne?

You said it’s your favorite name.

I said no such thing.

“I don’t understand…” she said.

He pulled his head back and put a bare inch of distance between his body and hers. Only his hands continued their dance as the song shifted—into a soulful, wailing guitar solo with a similarly crying voice behind it.

I’m falling apart in front of you, can’t you see—?

He was always so incredibly patient with her, never growing frustrated, even for a second, when she asked him to explain things. This was the closest to the edge that she’d pushed his temper. She’d missed something, something important that he wouldn’t spell out for her like before.

The discomfort slightly dissipated when the song changed, and the lights turned from lonely blue to pale yellow. His demeanor changed, too, plainly intentional. He spun her around, dizzingly fast. She was met with a strained smile, so she let the matter lie without dissolving into confused apologies.

He started to move to the samba beat, encouraging her to do the same when he let go of her hips to take her hands.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she protested.

His eyes still showed some strain when he told her, “I know you’ll get it eventually.”

While the stranger went out to warm up the car, Osha reaffirmed that she’d be back to talk about the job when saying goodbye to Kana. She hadn’t drank enough to make a fool of herself, but she still had a good buzz going when Qimir returned, first ushering her into her jacket and then into the night.

The cold was shocking, but it was also a relief after the stifling heat of the bar. Her body thrummed with the satisfaction of a few hours spent in motion, and she couldn’t help humming one of the last songs they’d danced to—a groovy, hypnotic beat with glittering synth and bells on.

“You liked that one?” the stranger asked, getting her door.

“I couldn’t really understand it, but I liked it.”

“I’ll play it for you on the way back.”

The drive home was comfortable. As the song from earlier faded into another by the same artist, she let her mind drift.

I know that you think you sound silly when you call my name… but I hear it inside my head all day…

They were at an abnormally long wait at a red light when she felt him looking at her. He turned out to be incredibly close when she looked around, eyes fixed on her mouth.

“What—?”

“I don’t want to wait any longer to kiss you, but if you tell me no, I will keep waiting.”

It feels like I only go backwards, baby… every part of me says “go ahead…”

Her heart flipped over in her chest, but everything felt like honey, slow-moving and sticky-sweet. “I don’t want to wait either,” she said.

In just the dim red glow of the stoplight, his face was made of shadows—as she ever loved to see. She had seen him make this exact expression a hundred times since she met him. Had he been waiting to ask her for that long?

His hands left the steering wheel to hold her face. His thumb gently brushed her lips, then rested against her cheekbone. For all he said about not waiting, he sure was taking his time to get to the point. His eyes flicked between hers, making doubly sure. She covered his hand with hers and leaned in to cross the rest of the distance.

Kissing him was just as divine as she thought it’d be. Fuck—better. He kissed her with certainty, and his hands trembled from barely-leashed desire. Every single thought she had was flooring it into the nearest wall, over and over again, each time he pulled back to kiss her anew.

“Osha,” he breathed against her lips. A prayer. “Osha.”

She wanted to know what to call him in these moments. Qimir, stranger—an intense feeling told her the right answer was mine—

I got my hopes up again, oh no, not again…

“Osha,” he said again, his hand leaving her face to shake her shoulder. It jostled their kiss some, and she felt like she was missing something important—again.

“What?” she asked against his mouth. “What?”

“Osha, c’mon.” He was laughing now, a soft chuckle. He gave up on the kiss, and really—how rude. “We’re here.”

Things came into perspective nauseatingly fast. As her eyes flew open, she could still feel him close, still felt the hand on her shoulder, his lips against hers—but the red light was gone, and the pale golden sun had already broken into the sky. She looked around, taking in her surroundings. They were parked in the same covered spot he liked to steal when dropping her off.

His glasses were on. In her dream, he wasn’t wearing any.

Feels like we only go backwards, darling…

The song ground to a silent halt along with whatever quiet joy she had. The next was too loud by comparison, and he turned the volume down to ask, “What’s wrong.”

She fumbled with her seatbelt just to avoid looking at him. “Nothing’s wrong. Why would something be wrong?”

“Because you’re upset.”

She shook her head, finally unclipping it with jerky movements. “I’m not upset. Just—just tired.”

“Osha,” he murmured her name—just how he’d done in the dream. Damn that dream. Damn it. She looked at where his hand wrapped around her wrist. “You don’t need to tell me, but I don’t want you to lie to me.”

When she finally looked up at him, his expression was a study in containment. His jaw flexed, his eyes flickering over her face to take in her body language. His lips pressed into a thin line at whatever he saw, and he kept his observations to himself.

She took a shaky breath. “Thank you for driving me home.”

His face fell just a little. “Of course.”

She felt wretched for disappointing him, but her mind was still a hurricane of emotions. Damn that dream, ruining the comfortable, silent company she’d craved with him for so long.

She exited his car, the biting cold just another sensory nightmare in a string of uncomfortable situations. To her confusion and mild panic, he cut the engine and got out with her, raising an eyebrow at her frozen figure on the other side. “C’mon.”

They walked silently up to her apartment, aware of the late hour. The breezeways were dark, somewhere between when the lights turned off for the day and when the sunrise broke into the darkness. The darkness was where they thrived before, where they made so much progress getting to know one another. Now, it felt cold. It felt like a cave with no ending, swallowing them whole.

“Thank you,” Osha said as they approached her apartment. They kept their voices down, knowing the concrete halls would echo overloudly in the quiet early morning hours.

“What for?” he asked.

“Taking me dancing,” she smiled weakly. “Buying me drinks. Walking me to my door. A girl could get spoiled with enough of this.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that,” he teased, eyes softly pleading for her to join him. Play with me. Tell me we’re okay.

“No, it’s too late. You’ve created a monster. Watch. I’ll throw a tantrum right here.”

He smiled, shoulders dropping a little in relief. “Those aren’t things you need to thank me for, Osha,” he said. “Those are all things you deserve. It’s like thanking me for looking you in the eyes or being honest.”

Truth struck her in place, one hand hovering over the doorknob. She looked up at him when she shared it. “When everyone else is so used to overlooking you and lying to you, it’s hard to remember I deserve those things.”

His eyes softened. “I can teach you to remember that, too.”

Her gaze did the traitorous thing of falling to his lips. Her heart joined the coup, beating faster and faster as the moment stretched. “Qimir,” she murmured.

He inhaled a little sharply. It threatened to undo the gentleness of the moment, but she held onto it with both hands. She looked into his eyes.

“Yes?” he breathed, chest rising and falling quickly. He looked like a trained wolf, like he’d do whatever she asked of him without question. Like he’d take a running leap off the edge of a cliff… or into her arms.

I don’t want to wait any longer to kiss you.

Damn that dream.

What was she doing? He was her coach; he was training her in a violent, brutal art. There shouldn’t be any room for gentleness or affection between them. But with every moment they shared, the events of her dream seemed prophetic, inevitable.

What do you want from me?

That’s a very complicated answer.

“Would you really choose ‘stranger’ as a name for yourself?”

The moment shattered, but the noise was muted, as if far away. This close, she could see the moment his emotions shuttered themselves from his eyes. He took a deep breath, stuttering a little by the end.

“No.”

She wasn’t surprised. She thought she’d come upon the beginnings of an answer, but the thought had fled her with the dream. He took a step back, and she let him.

“Take care of your ankle before you go to sleep, Osha. We were on our feet for a few hours.”

“Okay,” she whispered, feeling a great deal of whiplash. “Good night.”

He nodded and walked away, and she stood there for far too long before opening her door and heading inside.

It was dark and quiet in the front hallway, and because she felt so disoriented after saying goodbye to the stranger, she didn’t notice the kitchen light was on as she walked by.

“Fun night?”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Songs used (in order):

Lonely Boy by The Black Keys

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of These) by The Eurythmics

Lose Control by Teddy Swims

Feels Like We Only Go Backwards by Tame Impala

I also imagine the song after Lose Control is fuckin Bailamos by Enrique Iglesias, and the song Osha was humming along to was The Less I Know The Better by Tame Impala (hence the 'other songs by artist' line).

Also I love seeing y'alls comments - I get reblogging fic chapters ain't everyone's bag but comments & likes are greatly appreciated always <3

#unhingery #common grounds #osha x qimir #oshamir #oshamir fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #the acolyte #the acolyte fanfiction

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