#you were not specific enough to avoid this twist

[eatmyheartoutjpg]

𓇻 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗟 𝗛𝗖'𝘀 ᵃᵐᵇᵉˢˢᵃ ᵐᵉᵈᵃʳᵈᵃ ˣ ᵍⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ;; Headcanon. Romantic/Wholesome. SFW. Overall just Ambessa Medarda with you (Arcane). 𝘼/𝙉 ;; First Arcane fic here! I hope you guys enjoy! Might add onto this if it's really liked.

11.21.24

— Ambessa never outright claimed to be with you, but everyone knew. It was impossible to ignore the way she looked at you, how her piercing, commanding gaze always softened in your presence. The unspoken bond between you was clear, even to the most casual observer. — She was undeniably fond of you.

— Though you weren’t dating, engaged, or married, the connection between you two was undeniable. You spent an absurd amount of time together, always by her side, offering her your company whether it was necessary or not.

— You weren’t a servant or a subordinate—don’t get it twisted. You were much more than that. A close, trusted companion and perhaps something more—though Ambessa would never admit to loving you.

— Ambessa valued you too deeply to treat you as anything less than an equal, refusing to order you around or regard you as just another soldier under her command. — She called it “fondness,” never putting a more specific label on her emotions. For her, it was simpler that way. It wasn’t a romantic love, nor was it sexual desire. What she desired was your presence alone. You were her calm. — For example, during her rare moments of downtime, such as lounging on a couch and indulging in fresh grapes, she’d still ask for your company. To her, it didn’t matter what she was doing—whether doing paperwork, working out, indulging in wine, or doing absolutely nothing—you needed to be there. Your presence was as essential to her.

— This respect and value she placed on you extended far beyond what others might have expected. Ambessa, known for her formidable strength and unshakable pride, showed refusal in indulgence. She avoided the temptations of foreign escorts or other offered pleasures, choosing instead to keep her dignity intact when you were around. She wouldn’t dare lower herself in your eyes. — Instead, when on expeditions in foreign lands, she turned her attention to things she thought you might enjoy.

— During a visit to Piltover, for instance, to see her daughter, Mel Medarda, Ambessa chose not to indulge in distractions. She dismissed her guards and subordinates, deciding instead to explore the city with only you by her side. It was a quiet, intimate moment—just the two of you walking through the bustling streets. — Mel was unsurprised to see you. She had grown accustomed to your constant presence in her mother’s life, even before her exile. In truth, Mel recognized the subtle influence you had on Ambessa—a thread of reason tying her to humanity. If you weren’t there, Mel believed, a few more heads might have rolled over the years.

— And yet, you didn’t seem disturbed by Ambessa’s brutality. At most, you were slightly unsettled, but you understood her. You saw the reasons behind her actions. That was enough for you.

— You accepted her for who she was, flaws and all, offering her something she rarely allowed herself: unconditional companionship — You’ve become her moral compass in a way she’d never admit. She catches herself pausing before making decisions, wondering how you’d react or whether you’d approve. — You’ve introduced her to softer moments in life. For example, you’ve convinced her to take small breaks to watch sunsets, sit by the waters, or enjoy simpler meals without grand banquets. She doesn’t say it, but these are some of her favorite moments. — Because of you, she has developed a subtle patience. Where she once might have resorted to immediate, bloody solutions, she now considers alternatives—though she’ll always default to force if her hand is forced.

— Ambessa doesn’t openly show affection, but her actions speak volumes. She remembers every small detail about you—your favorite foods, your preferred wine, the exact temperature you like your tea—and ensures they're always available wherever you go.

— She doesn’t say it outright, but she makes sure you're warm in cold climates by draping her signature red cloak over your shoulders.

— Ambessa always positions herself between you and potential threats, even in mundane situations like crowded markets or political meetings. Her protective nature is subtle but unyielding, her large figure easily covering you. — Whenever she returns from a journey without you, she always brings back a small token—a beautifully carved trinket, a rare flower, or a piece of jewelry she claims “caught her eye”

ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ

[harmonysanreads]

sunday with a singer! darling, one who had escaped from him almost seven years ago, and disappeared off the face of the galaxy. imagine his reaction when he gets word of a famous belobogian band on the radio soon after it’s connections to the IPC were restored, comprised of a woman named serval landau, and a *very* familiar young woman, with an even more familiar voice.

- (…could i be ✨ anon?)

Curtain Call

Yandere!Sunday x Reader

cw(s) : yandere, written before 2.2

wc : 2.6k

You have the power of democracy by your side ✨ anon and I have no choice but to adhere to public demand :] Even though you mentioned a female!reader, the direction of the narrative didn't necessitate that specification, so the reader is gender-neutral! But they have been called ‘babygirl’ once.

“How can the bird that is born for joy

Sit in a cage and sing?”

— William Blake

You've avoided all shades of white and blue since the dawn of this day.

Serval regarded your pertinacity with a voiceless breadth of intrigue, before yielding with little to no resistance. A smidgen of guilt had briefly permeated your consciousness upon the vague shadow of a pout on her face, you recalled her enthusiasm passed through plans of matching outfits on your debutante from days now labeled as the near past. She picked herself up quickly though, her free-spirited ideals would not be compromised by some mere color choice.

It was difficult to not admire her. Lamentably, it is much easier to cradle the preachings of an unrestrained life than to actually act upon them — and by doing so, shouldering the frigid reality that came with such a life. As a child of frozen terrains although, frigidity must be Serval's playground, you eventually conclude. That is hardly the case for you, but you'd rather swallow whole chunks of ice than pin the blame on yourself alone for that apparent incapability.

You aren't at fault for your paranoia in embracing freedom, but you are resolved enough to try breaking away from its clutches. But just as tattoos sink deep beneath skin, that anxiety stubbornly clings to your psyche and the memories of the past nurture and allow it to fester. Which is why, you must avoid any shades of white and blue, at least until the dawn of tomorrow graces Belobog. Be it a superstition with no rational ground or scientific explanation, you decide to believe firmly in your gut.

The walls of the makeshift back-room muffle the chorus of the crowd outside, but it is enough to comfort you that your long held wish did come true. The single light bulb hanging beyond the door of the room serves as the sole source of luminescence, although it is barely helpful, the light bounces off from your back and reflects a scarcely tangible silhouette in the mirror of the dressing table. Glitters of dust floating around are illuminated by that light, abandoned furniture peek beneath their veils from your peripheral — they exclaim what this room's previous purpose had been.

Neither the modest setting nor the small trinkets spread across the dressing table come close to what you had a taste of ; glimmering surfaces, brands of beauty products worth a man's life savings and silks of no contender would mock this shack, if they could. But your heart soaks in solace whenever that irritatingly bright light flickers and mellowed cheers of the crowd permeate the room's thin walls, not because you lack taste in life, but because you recognize the futility of vanity.

“You did amazing there, babygirl!”

Your vision stutters at the impact of firm touch, you feel arms rest atop your decolletage, a shadow cloaks your reflection in the mirror. The cool touch of metal upon your left shoulder and a distinct streak of blue masquerading among blond locks of hair draw out a breath of relief from your lungs. But a faint twist engulfs your gut the very next second, you recall asking for a moment of quietude vividly.

“I don't think my performance was as great as you say, Serval. And whatever I achieved, it wouldn't have been possible without you guys.” your fingers twiddle with your sleeves, your eyes find interest in an abandoned nail polish.

You peek up in time to meet the rockstar's stare through the mirror, with some wrestling with the light, her disapproval shines through to your eyes.

“Nonsense, you were the star of today's show. Give yourself some credit, would ya?” your cheek soaks in the pinch before your brain can decode her words, you muffle a whine in protest.

“Okay, okay! I'm sorry.” your hand quickly soothes over the tempered skin when her fingers retreat, that's the extent of ‘retaliation’ you offer Serval, having accustomed yourself to her spontaneity in the interim of your stay under her care.

“I saw you look... pretty unnerved after the performance, so I came to check.” you scratch your cheek, eyes darting upwards to find her face shielded by your hair. You cannot pinpoint why, but for a second it seemed like she struggled to find footing with her phrasing of words. You've never heard her falter, at least in speech, but the waves of conversation swallow that momentary observation just as quickly.

Instead of being candid, you take a different turn, “You know, I wasn't lying about being grateful to you all. To perform on a stage without any rules was a long held dream of mine,” you feel gooseflesh bloom across your arms as tip-toeing touch descends to your sides, something within tempts you to curl in on yourself but you force your breath to finish. “If it hadn't been for your help, I would never succeed in fulfilling it.”

Serval hums in understanding, the timbres of it traverses from your skull and extends to your nerves. Her arms rest snuggly around your waist and you swallow dryly. Serval always wrapped her arms around your shoulders whenever she felt the need to and the fact that it made your head nearly spiral with questions didn't require to be stated. Only now do you reckon the slumbering atmosphere, without the jeer and cheer of the audience, you felt Belobog's cold biting into the tips of your fingers. You told everyone to not disturb you — your mind echoes without clarification.

“Is it because of that husband of yours?”

Your shoulders tense and for a litany of reasons, most obscure enough to be dismissed as misnomers produced by your instincts, none but one potent enough to be addressed. “Well yes… I told you about a man, but I don't remember specifying that it was a ‘husband’ responsible for my situation.”

Your words materialize as half confused and half laden with caution, you'd told Serval a few things about your predicament — nothing groundbreakingly detailed, just enough to earn a portion of her empathy. It kills you to follow tactics that enticed you to your doom, but what is life, if not a series of trial and error? It's best to apply the teachings of a manipulator than to continue being manipulated for eternity. But of course, you'll admit, such carefully taken steps still don't lessen the likelihood of meeting a dead-end to zero. How unfortunate.

It's Serval's turn to tense, but it's so quick you're left questioning whether it really happened. “Ah, but there was a ring on your right ring finger when you first came here! And the ‘man’ in your stories didn't seem to be different persons. So, I took a guess…”

An awkward chuckle leaves the rockstar's lips and you blink. She's right, you were still wearing your wedding ring when you came here ; an amateur mistake, you should've left it at some abstruse corner of the Dewlight Pavilion. You glance up at your reflections on the mirror, Serval was now mimicking your previous antics, a painted nail against her cheek albeit, the opposing light veiled her expression from recognition. One of her arms was still around your waist, loosely this time.

“I didn't say anything offending, did I?” the mechanic mutters tentatively. You take a deep breath and exhale, vacillating between the multitude of scenarios conjured by your lingering paranoia. But if it's Serval, you give it more thought, there was no tangible reason as to why she of all people would bring this up with malicious intent — or at least, none that you could come up with. She was likely merely concerned for your well-being, a big sister's instincts perhaps.

“Not at all,” the three words are uttered with more difficulty than needed but the effort is proved worth it when she relaxes and returns to embrace you with gusto.

This time you can feel her touch vividly across the bare skin of your midriff, a reminder of your present dress up automatically causes blood to rush to your face. The matching crop-top with Serval was hardly the most revealing thing someone had worn in this universe, but it was the boldest you'd been with your attire. You think you saw her gaze tilting at the sight but the only way to affirm it would make things further awkward. As you melt upon recalling that you'd sung your lungs out with this on in front of a crowd, the rockstar chimes in again.

“Ah right, I almost forgot why I actually came here. I have a gift for you!” you blink out of your stupor to hear shuffles, a bottle of hairspray is knocked to the ground due to her movements. The object clamors down and rolls a few feet away but Serval pays it no attention, you quirk a brow at her sudden briskness. “Close your eyes.” she lulls sweetly, you obey despite your state of disorientation.

You feel the faint brushes of her fingers first, then a noticeable weight around your neck, fastened a little too tightly. After she beckons you to open your eyes, you scrutinize the object through your reflection on the mirror and recognize it to be… a choker. It's heavier than what you recall chokers to be, its body is painted in baby blue and when you turn your head the light bounces off its surface to reveal golden outlinings. Three small wings curl around the white tassel hanging from the middle, you find the wings to be unnervingly soft when your fingers brush across them.

The choker looked expensive, despite its somewhat gaudy appearance and it didn't seem like something aligning with Serval's tastes. But most importantly, there's blue and white in it — the two colors you'd been stubbornly avoiding. Your mind spirals, you clearly remember telling Serval that you didn't want to see those two colors today — or, did you? Perhaps it was your mind weaving its own narratives in the flurry of adrenaline? A chill rears its grotesque head, a panic you can't quite push down despite your mind adapting to give her the benefit of the doubt, your breaths lapse unevenly.

“For being such a darling member of Mechanical Fever, a token of our friendship. I didn't know how else to thank you, so I got this instead.” Serval's voice yanks you from the edge of a panic attack, you force yourself to breathe deeply. You turn around when you notice the absence of her shadow, finding her retreating into the shadow of the half ajar door.

You remain seated on the juncture between light and shadow, returning to face the mirror after the rockstar settles on a stool. “I should be the one saying that and… you didn't have to give me this, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless.” your thumb and index fingers twiddle with the pure white tassel.

Her words seem to make you forget about your earlier paranoia, nostalgia cascades down your soul as you recall the fond memories inherent to Belobog. Destiny's game is truly difficult to comprehend, to think you'd find an actual home so far from your supposed one.

You add without waiting for her reply, “When I first came here, I was so scared and paranoid. I couldn't sleep the first night and I wanted nothing more than to flee the next morning. I really mean it when I say I couldn't make it without your and the others' help.”

Your palm cradles the beat of your existence, the thin fabric of the crop top does little to muffle your heart's clamorous prance.

“Thank you, thank you so much for everything.” your pour as much gratitude from the river coursing through the recesses of your soul in those words. Your chest constricts as you sigh, you remember all the faces that are now known as familiar and random instances buried deep in your memories. Perhaps it's the naturally cold weather of this planet that plays a part, but you furrow your brows as inexplicable sorrow engulfs your heart.

“I, too, hope that you've had a wonderful experience on this planet.”

A much younger you used to judge the victims of stories for choosing to freeze than to flee in the face of candid danger, vowing to not follow in their footsteps should you meet such a predicament one day. Your heart would shatter to incorrigible bits if it hadn't been so viciously twisted, you realize how futile promises are at the thin line separating life and death.

Your body flinches from its hunched position to meet watchful golden eyes, shielded by the door's shadow. You blink a multitude of times, as if that'd make his poised presence disappear, as if that'd affirm that you were simply in the grips of anxiety and Serval would return to reprimand you back to reality.

The warmth drains from your body when he's still there, sitting in front of you with a mocking serenity — you've never hated the vice grip he maintains on his composure more than this moment. Why, how, when and what conjoins his name to frame a myriad of questions, each being answered by none other than you the very next second. Your ears twitch when you catch voices at the end of the hallway, the actual Serval and others must be retreating. You might be a deer inches away from the tiger's jaw, but you'll not go down without a fight, at least.

“If you're planning to scream, I'd advise against that.” Sunday calmly states, your breath catches in your throat. “The choker on your neck has a shock mechanism and it can be activated in various ways. Namely, any time you raise your voice above the coded decibels and the voltage will increase the louder you scream.”

Your hand flies upwards towards the cursed choker and you wrestle a breath in disbelief, you were made a fool of and quite exquisitely. You realize you should've listened to your gut instincts when you still had the choice. Sunday raises a gloved palm when you restlessly tug at the thing, “Don’t bother, it can only be taken off with a password.”

A password only he knows, you conclude. It was not news to you that his sanity is loose from the hinges of his soul, but never would you have expected him to go this far. You glare at your husband, though it looks more like a gazelle's helpless stare as it struggles in the jaws of a predator. The voices from the hallway disappear entirely, you'd told them not to look for you so they'll not return, you feel your eyes moisten as you realize you're stuck alone with Sunday.

“Why—” you choke.

“I understand that you must have a lot of questions,” his words are half resignation and half cheap empathy. “But it is not your turn to speak, for there are more pressing matters at hand.”

Sunday stands up, brows scrunching at the dust floating around the room. “The matter of your possible unfaithfulness is one thing,” his hand grips the handle of the door and you flinch. “But performing in front of so many people without any consideration of how far it'll spread, or choice of attire,” your body erupts in shudders upon feeling his pointed stare, the expanse of your exposure finally registering.

“Truly unbefitting of my spouse.”

But it's not his judging gaze that has your nerves frayed, it's the hints of genuine disappointment that borders on anger leaking through his words that makes you feel parched, makes you want the earth split in half and take you from this situation. Your experience with Sunday has taught you that he has the patience of a saint, but none of those memories reassure you that it's boundless. You realize that you've never actually seen his face contorted in ire, no matter how defiant you'd been. Aeons, you wish it stayed that way forever.

As the shadow of the closing door engulfs your form and leaves the rest to interpretation, the last thing you see are his darkened golden eyes — you're certain that, that was the instance the last spirited part of you died.

rest in peace i guess

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Favorite Guest | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Visiting the controversial but fascinating zoo: Twisted Territories is something you finally got around to doing. Usually satisfied with the attached aquarium and petting zoo; it’s a bit of an adventure going into the very popular exhibit. 

“Here is our exhibit for our Nagas! If you don’t see them don’t feel bad they are a little shy. So if you like you may look up at the screen where we have some footage of our training with them–”

The zookeeper kept talking as the crowd made a makeshift line along the glass of the giant enclosure—moving awfully quickly because of the lack of action. Letting yourself fall into the back of the line you took your time admiring the grand enclosure. Much larger than any you’ve seen it was likely they could’ve been in plain sight camouflaging with the foliage inside it. Finally telling yourself to move on you take one last look at a specific spot in the bushes. Doing a double take you try to see if you saw the shimmer of someone’s eyes. 

“Mommy, when will I get a chance to see?”

Hearing the child’s whining you decide your time at the glass was up, writing off what you’d seen as an especially shiny plant in the exhibit. Pushing it to the back of your mind, the memory fades with the attraction of the merpeople and the wolf-hybrids who were much more present. It’s good enough to encourage you to come back, once again giving the Naga exhibit a chance. 

Spending a little while looking at the unreal nature, hoping you’ll find some hidden pattern of scales or a tiny bit of movement that reveals where the Nagas may be. It didn’t take long before your eyes were drawn to the open space right behind the glass. Only having time to look befuddled before a crowd of people started to form around you. 

“Look that snake-man came right up to the glass! Quick get your camera!”

As so many voices began to point out, a pale upper human half with a silver tail coiling behind him was right up against the glass. Hands-on the glass with his dark eyes trained on you, this Naga with a choppy bowl cut didn’t seem keen on moving. His intense eye-bags made it hard to tell if you were angering him or just entertaining him. You weren’t keen to find out. 

It took a while but you let the crowd take your place struggling to get through them to move on to the next exhibit. Taking advantage of the crowd’s excitement, when you looked back you couldn’t see the Naga which you could delude yourself into believing it was pure coincidence. Trying to enjoy the rest of your trip to the zoo, once again you tried to push your weird encounter into the back of your head. When that doesn’t work you settle for calling yourself ‘lucky.’ Who else has gotten such a close view of one of the illusive Nagas in the enclosure? 

This is why you internally scold yourself when you find a special invitation to that part of the zoo again. The email claims it's a prize for being such a frequent visitor and it makes sense that they offer a discounted price. If only to shake away the memories of the odd encounter you do again this time avoiding that exhibit for last, with plans to go at the end of your stay. You try to hurriedly rush through the path without incident.

The sound of a glass being banged and a muted hiss has you turning to look at the nagas exhibit. This time there are two–the grey one who’s tail was still on the glass and the other whose tail is a vibrant blue with hair to match. The blue one was coiled in on himself practically hiding behind the grey haired one–but he was also looking at you. Both leaning in tandem as you tested going further down the path. Once again the crowd was in an uproar surrounding the spot. You could see the blue one hurriedly retreat into the bushes of the exhibit while the grey one lingered. Through the surrounding crowd you found yourself locking eyes with dark grey ones. The glare was the same as before—a demanding sort of stare that weirdly made you feel guilty for turning away. 

Well…you were never coming to this zoo again.

__________________________________________________________

“Hi, can you please please come to the zoo again? I’m asking personally because legally that wouldn’t be right but there’s this neat grey area where I can–”

Cater couldn’t help but ramble as he spoke to the former frequent guest of the zoo. Tasked by his superiors to do whatever was needed to get the Nagas corporation. Since uniting the three specimens their murderous tendencies had increased. For a time there were vague signals of in-fighting but that quickly died down and suddenly their scientists and zookeepers were turning up dead. 

It seemed like there was no end to the carnage. 

Until (Y/n) came along.

In the zoo’s database, they were listed as a common face. An annual pass and accessories to match it was a matter of time before they visited the new mystical exhibits. What no one expected that it’d be them who got the Nagas to be active. With cameras placed on the ceiling and some trees, the scientist smart enough not to go inside could watch. But the Nagas were smart they knew precisely where they were and their intense strength didn’t help. Taking advantage of the terrain that didn’t need to be changed the Nagas made their supposed nest in a cave which meant that no scientists could see them even at rest. 

So it shocked everyone when they saw multiple dashes across the screen at the fifth big crowd of the day. Unlike some of their other creatures who had fun toying with the guests and were rewarded for it. The Naga s were never a part of this group usually ignoring guests or making themselves completely unseen on purpose. But now they were rushing to the edges of the forest without a care for the cameras or the eyes of amazed onlookers all to look at one person in particular.

“That one human. When will they be here again?”

Cater was the unlucky understudy who was finally spoken to rather than immediately suffocated for simply delivering food. He was shaking like a leaf as he promised to find out for them. It was a wonder they spoke at all let alone the biggest one of all. 

The creatures Twisted Territories had gathered were oddly enough quite close to one another. Already having split themselves into factions and hierarchies that fit with their species. But the greatest predator and the most feared was none other than the rumored dragon. Illusive and feared the only reason he hadn’t decided to end the organization was because he was looking for something specific. 

He said this after leaving nothing of an army of men and women. 

No bones. No blood. No survivors to speak of.

This is why it was a miracle that Cater was able to return to the guffawing scientists with a message at all. Bringing this up to the Superiors he was praised and tasked with making sure that their requests were fulfilled. 

Did these creatures have a type they liked to kill?

An interest in specific blood types or was it something else?

Was it a mating interest?

Competition?

The possibilities were endless and those superiors of his were hungry for answers. Granted it would come at the cost of this poor person’s life but he wasn’t in a position to argue. Not when he told the dragon he’d find you himself.

“I’m not really interested in returning anytime soon.”

That wasn’t going to work.

“I…actually would like to offer you an exclusive look at one of our exhibits. We’ll give you a free meal and some extra merch–”

“I’m sorry but I really don’t want to. Those Nagas really put me on edge.”

Cater’s heart sunk even deeper into his stomach. Letting his mind wander to the consequences of failing to get the subject to come willingly. His superiors would no doubt go to the extremes– buying the land around them, blackmailing, entrapping their family. It would be so much worse than a simple call. 

“I shouldn’t be saying this but the next time someone calls you about coming…there will be dire consequences.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if they’ve already heard me…just pack a bag and come, please. I don’t know what they’ll do.”

Cater hung up the call, his heart aching in his chest. Looking at his feet he was acutely aware of the shadow that stretched in the doorway near them. 

He thought he was safe.

He thought he was essential.

The first one to speak to The Dragon without being dead.

Perhaps he wouldn’t get to deliver the guest to the dragon himself. 

Maybe you’d be better off on your own.

__________________________________________________________

“Welcome (Y/n) (L/n) to your official behind-the-scenes of Twisted Terrain. Is there anything I can get you before we start?”

“The guy I was talking to…where is he?”

“.....Right this way honored guest.”

You didn’t like how they deflected but it prepared you for what you may be dealing with. Despite the media denouncing it, you’ve been looking at the forums. Written off as hurtful conspiracies to zoos they provided their speculation about the zoo’s latest additions and how far their willing to go to keep them. Sadly it aligned with everything that’s happened so far; more people with suits surrounded you as you further traversed into the maze of staff-only doors. It didn’t make you feel so bad about scheduling a post about this thing. They’d take it down eventually sure but if you were never coming back it’d be best to warn others about this wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

“So here is the private extension of the Naga exhibit, where our scientists do their best to learn while taking care of our reptile friends.”

Seeing where this part of the exhibit expanded from the one the public saw was shocking. From a previous perspective, it already looked like a small forest, this larger part just made it so much larger. You realize this makes the Naga’s interest in one specific side of the glass that much weirder.

“Now if you’ll do me a favor and step up to the glass so you can have a closer look at their habitat?”

It wasn’t really a question, the slight inching of the others in suits said so. Adjusting your hold on the strap you were holding some luggage with, you step forward. In your heart of hearts, you almost hope that nothing will happen. That this would all turn out to be some ruse that happened to be triggered by the environment or the color of the clothes you wore. 

Like the feeling of realizing something so uncomfortable, so nightmarish, happening to you, and when you blink your eyes, you are not dreaming. The whole wood seemed to rustle as a long green tail much larger than the other Nagas’ you’d seen reached for the glass between you two. Almost caressing the glass. 

“Spectacular! I would’ve never believed it if I hadn’t seen it! Alright, let’s get them in there! Get those cameras ready I don’t want to miss an angle–”

“What?! Ahhh!”

The people in suits held you tight, maneuvering to a vault-like door where they took you and your bag inside. Feeling the bruises on your skin you tried to regulate your breathing and it was proving hopeless. The gaggle of people surrounding you in lab coats with cameras and notepads, it seemed as though they truly were prepared to feed you to these Naga. The feeling really sunk in when you were slammed into the dirt watching from over your shoulder as thousands of people watched like an audience of Colosseum—practically cheering for your massacre. Breathing in and out, you tried to ignore the burning ache of cuts on your hands and knees. You squeezed the handle of your bag as you walked into the forest, a glance back showed the gaggle behind the glass groaning and whining that you didn’t stand in the clearing the gate opened up.

You thought about flipping them off but this would have to do.

The second you stepped past the forest’s edge it was that same green tail that gently wrapped around your back guiding you through the forest. It was alarming but oddly comforting that the muscles underneath those evergreen scales were somehow softer than the humans who brought you here. 

“Where are you taking me?”

You continued to follow its light pushing and support over more rocky terrain. It eventually stops at the mouth of a cave, the tail disappearing into its darkness. Popping out again to imitate a finger calling you to come in.

You patted your pockets for your phone; coming up empty they must’ve swiped it while they were manhandling you into the enclosure. Figuring you’re better off relying on another sense you let your hand drag along one side of the cave, leaning on it as the ground dipped as you got even farther. 

“I can’t believe they brought you.”

Turning to the left of you, you were sure you heard a voice there. Looking in the darkness for any kind of movement you continued along. After that, you make sure to listen for some kind of sliding equated with the sound of Naga s slithering but you hear nothing. 

“D-did they put any wires on you?”

Turning again and seeing no one you put your back to the wall. Hoping that this will eliminate the directions someone can come at you. Shimmying along the wall you debate with yourself about how to react to these voices around you, whether you’d respond or swipe if only to prove you weren’t going insane. Before you could decide you felt something swiftly pull at your clothes.

“Ah!”

“S-s-orry it’s just that they did put something on you.”

“Uh, thanks?”

Whoever was the owner of this shaky voice made a sound you’ve never heard before. It sounded close but when you dared to reach a hand out you found nothing again. Continuing on your way, you wondered how far you’d get before you reached wherever you should have gone.

A cool sensation spread across your waist, making you jump. Thinking it was water or something you sent a speculative finger down to check finding what stopped you in your tracks was a Naga tail. It pulled you from the wall into a warm and lean chest; for good measure matching pair of arms wrapped around you trapping you against what you assumed to be one of the Nagas you were meant to meet. Seeing as the coils that wrapped around you were only moderately squeezing you figured you could let your guard down. 

“To think you had to be with those nasty humans this whole time makes me sick.”

That voice was the first you heard. The voice was smooth authoritative and a little snobbish you wondered which of the Nagas you’d seen was the owner. 

“Um, can I ask some–AcK!”

“Don’t squirm, I’m checking past these infernal coverings.”

The hands inspecting you were just as chilly as his tail which was maneuvering you in all sorts of ways to help remove the ‘infernal coverings.’ Trying to push the hands away proved to be nothing but a nuisance to the Naga who casually slapped your hands away to continue trying to remove your clothes.

“Wait don’t—”

“Stop whining! I can look better if you just stop–”

“Rollo, please.”

The voice that spoke from somewhere unusually close was deep, a baritone that practically shook the air of the cave. A command that had the Naga holding you stopping their attempt at removing your clothes, letting you rest in their coils.

The light draft of the cave became more intense, wafting against your cheeks in a cold thrush. A light brush became an intense whirl, making you shut your eyes from the dark expanse of the cave. There was the sound of something cackling like a fire and then the faint wave of light reaching through the cover of your eyelids. Opening your eyes to a whole new cave, a green flame burning on a torch being the main reason.

“You must be gentle. Their eyesight is much different than ours it makes sense they’d be  disoriented.”

The owner of the deep voice was a pale man with hair as long and dark as the cave, you’d entered. With a pair of horns on his head and evergreen scales trailing from his cheeks down his unclothed chest blending with the length of his tail. His tail was hard to see for its true color with the glow of the green flame but accounting for it you recognized the scales for the evergreen ones that guided you into the cave. Looking at the now illuminated ground it was that same evergreen tail that seemed to curve and coil all around. Trying to pinpoint the end of the tail to its beginnings led you to meet its owner. Resting on one of many coils of his, with a fanged smile you could feel the heat rising from the pit of your stomach as slitted evergreen eyes looked deep into your own. 

Taking a gulp you tried to speak,” You led me here right?”

 He was still smiling at you, making you wonder if he planned to respond to you at all. Unable to hold his gaze you found yourself looking away. 

“Haha, I did!”

His laugh reverberated through the cave sending shivers up your spine. When you dared to look again he was much closer. Seconds ago he was leagues away now barely a hair from your nose, it only served to make you turn away again in embarrassment.

“I am glad you found a way in here considering how dark it is for you.”

“T-thanks.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with checking you for wounds.”

The snobbish voice of your captor reminded you that he was there, finally looking over to put a face to the voice. He was the gray-haired Naga with tired eyes that you recalled glaring at you through the glass. 

“You!?”

“Is there a reason you're pointing at me like that?”

“You were the one who was glaring at me that one time I came.”

He sighed exasperated as though it was tiresome to recount the frightening experience. He crossed his arms upturning his nose at you as he turned his head, all the while keeping those grey eyes trained on you.

“I wasn’t glaring. I was watching.”

“Why’d you slam against the glass then!?”

“You weren’t looking, it was just a light tap to get your attention.”

“And the hissing?!”

“Well, I think it was wrong of you to just ignore me like that, especially after you left last time.”

“You freaked me out! Of course, I left!”

He rolled his eyes at you, “I don’t see why this is still important.”

The one with the black hair came close again, tilting his head in your direction. 

“First impressions are very important Rollo. If you scared them you have to take responsibility.”

“Y-y-yeah!” 

The Naga with the grey hair—Rollo rolled his eyes again bringing the tip of his tail to cover the bottom half of his face. Very badly hiding the sneer on his face.

“Whatever. You’ve been dodging the topic of those injured of yours. I think whatever I’ve done in the past doesn’t quite matter now.”

You immediately wanted to protest as the green-eyed Naga beside you gently grabbed your hands and opened them to reveal scratches from bracing your fall. Trailing up your wrist and to your arm gently caressing the bruises you could feel forming. 

For the first time since you’d met him, he wasn’t smiling. A neutral expression on his face but the sharp twists and twirls of his tail said otherwise. You turned to Rollo who was still holding the tip of his tail over his mouth, this time hiding a subtle act of gritted teeth. His tired eyes were also on your arms where the other Naga was still caressing. 

“Those in the coats did this to you?”

“Uh yes.”

Rollo spoke up again, his tail wrapping around you tighter, “Despicable humans! They can’t do a single thing right!”

Shooting him a look, he brought the tip of his tail down to fold his hands in front of him. 

“Don’t get me wrong. I adore you all the same. It’s just all other humans.”

As if that was any better. 

A flurry of sparkling lights flooded your vision bringing your attention to the Naga who was solemnly guiding the lights on your wounds. The dull ache coming from them began to dissipate as the open scratches closed themselves and the discoloration from the bruises faded away. 

“I think this is reason enough.” 

“I agree. I’ve been wanting to tear those humans apart the day they brought us here!”

“If I can take their tech that’s fine with me!” 

The third voice came from behind you, revealing the blue-haired Naga you saw shyly poking out that one day. Now he was smiling happily, slithering closer to the other Naga as he looked at your arms. 

“If they did that there’s no way they’ll be living another day.”

A lot of things were being said and they all pointed to an uprising against the scientists. There was just one glaring issue. 

“But why?”

It was like the scratching of a record. They all turned to look at you like you’d grown a second head. Rollo’s face looked almost offended. The blue-haired Naga’s jaw was dropped. Even the one with the horns had his green eyes widened in shock.  You feel your cheeks burn in embarrassment. Closing your eyes to block the image of their judgment being cast. 

Feeling the cool tips of fingers and elongated claws lightly caress your cheek and jaw; tilting your face upward, goading you to open your eyes. Doing so slowly you were face-to-face with the ethereal face of the Naga who healed you. Eyebrows knitted together with sorrow in his eyes, it felt wrong to look away.  

“You are our mate.”

Searching his expression, hoping he’d elaborate it didn’t look like he was going to. 

“Like imprinting?”

Rollo scooched closer to you lightly tugging you from the other Naga’s grip to put you in his own. Nuzzling his nose into your own, holding you firm when you naturally attempted to back away.

“Deeper than that. It’s destiny that you’re mine.”

“Ours.” The black-haired Naga corrected. 

Rollo huffed,” Ours.”

Coming close to him was the blue-haired Naga. Practically snuggling into Rollo’s side he let his tail coil on top of his, lightly shifting you into his hold. Bringing you close to him, he encouraged you to wrap your arms around his neck. Hugging you tightly with his arms you finally got to see his face. Framed by his wild blue tresses, golden eyes, and matching blue lips that were spread in an awkward smile.

“We were waiting for you this whole time.”

“Me? Are you sure?”

Rollo leaned into the blue-haired one this time, batting at some hair that got in his way. Turning to you with a smirk.

“We told you, didn’t we? You are ours. Guess that human side of yours has a problem with accepting the truth.”

Feeling a kiss on your neck, then a nudge of someone resting their head on your shoulder. 

Looking down the Naga’s green eyes practically glowed as he spoke, “Then we will have to fix that. Right, (Y/n)?”

__________________________________________________

“So what’s the plan?” 

After getting some much-needed introductions and a vague talk about the biological herrings of mates. You would like to be the voice of reason when it comes to this uprising they planned to do. 

Malleus took his head off your own to cutely tilt his head, “Plan? Do we need one?” 

Rollo’s claws dug into the sides of his hands which were folded on top of his coils. 

“I was going to just go for the ones that disrespected me the most.”

Idia let out that sound you equated with happiness, now that you could see his blue tail wiggle about in excitement.

“I’m so glad you asked–”

He held nothing back as he rambled on and on about the plan he had. While you were following for the first half you couldn’t keep up after he mentioned opening an interdimensional portal. Feeling the vibrations of laughter on your back you looked to Malleus who was doing just as you felt. Perching his head back on the top of yours, he squeezed you closer to his chest turning his head to whisper just above your ear.

“Can you tell now? We really do need you.”

You couldn’t help to chuckle along with him. Noticing that Idia had run out of breath and was panting over the schematics he’d drawn in the dirt. While Rollo looked disgusted that he was heaving so heavily. Clapping your hands to get their attention they turned to you. 

“Alright, so this is the plan….”

More!

[honey-flustered]

Kinktober Day 1: Xenophilia/Oviposition

Warnings: 18+ smut, dry humping, dirty talk about alien sex

Boyfriend!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie tells you why alien sex is so much better. Maybe he can even show you.

A/N: Decided to join kinktober fun because why not so I’ll be posting to catch up . Posting something risky and weird on the main so lemme know what yall think

You’ve known Eddie to be quite stranger ever since the day you met. It was evident considering the differences in your friend circles. He is a pop culture nerd and you’re the popular cheerleader. Somehow, his weird vibes were able to pull you in, unafraid of the odd rumors associated with him. Hell, you took it as a challenge then. But you’d soon come to fall in love with one another, appreciating the differences as it made teaching each other all the more exciting.

But you’d say the best part of being with Eddie is that neither of you had to hide any of your most intimate and sometimes down-right bizarre secrets from one another.

Like when Eddie learned of your secretly nerdy enjoyment of stargazing and tracking celestial events, he’d purchased a telescope for you where he’d spent the night listening to you explain away the galaxy. And like as of now, when you learned of your boyfriend’s alien sex fantasies while watching the new Alien movie.

You’d noticed the way he shifted in his seat during the movie, adjusting himself in his jeans. You playfully questioned him and he was a mess of stutters and stammers.

“It’s fucked, I know,” He says, avoiding your eyes and twisting a lone ring around his thick finger. “Bet you think I’m a real fucking freak.”

“I mean, I do think you’re a freak,” You say, bringing his face back up to yours. “But that’s exactly what I like. So…if you could have alien sex…how exactly does that work?”

“W-well, there are like some sex toys to make it happen.”

“And the whole egg implanting thing? Is that like when you creampie?” You ask excitedly.

His cheeks grow redder, coughing in embarrassment. “No—So like there are these gelatin egg kits that you can purchase at a sex shop. And they’d get deposited inside through sex and would eventually melt inside you—o-or any person for that matter not just you, of course. I’ll just use us as an example for clarification. But it’s only a fake scenario. Totally not real. For shit and giggles. Hypothe—

“I get it, babe,” You impatiently interrupt. “Get on with it.”

“Right,” He swallows. “So, imagine me wearing this cock sleeve thing that’ll look pretty gnarly because it’ll look kind of like a blue tentacle with all these ridges and bumps—

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “Oddly specific.”

“Y-Yeah but it’s only to help with the visuals. Not because I have one. Psssh, what?” He says with a anxious high-pitched tone, eyes shifting side to side.

“Mhm,” You say, moving from your spot on the couch to sit in his lap. “Anyway, so back to you naked and wearing that little toy. Will the gelatin eggs be in it already?”

“They would. Then, I’d have to lube up the toy so you can take it. I’d get real nice and slick to the point where it’s dripping like slime just so we’re on the safe side.” He says, letting his hands glide up your thigh, lifting your skirt a little higher.

“Ooo, it’s that big?” You gasp, rocking back and forth against his growing erection. Every now and then, the tip would slip either between your clothed wet core or your soft thighs.

“Uh-huh,” His face in your neck, planting light kisses. “Or maybe you’re just that tight.” He emphasizes the last word while gripping and kneading the inner fat of your thighs.

“Then, what happens?” You mewl.

“Then, I’d stick it deep, deep, deep inside you.” He groans into your ear.

“Would you still be able to feel my warm walls around you? Feel clenching around you so you’d stay inside me?”

“That toy is specifically meant to give you pleasure,” He breathes hotly. “No, I won’t get to feel your tight, wet pussy directly around me. But I’d get pleasure enough seeing your face when I plant my seeds in you. You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you, babygirl?”

“Yes, fuck, why do I want that so badly?” You take his hand to place over one breast. Through the thin fabric of your shirt and bra, he quickly locates your pebbled nipple and plucks at it repeatedly.

“Because I just taught you how great monster sex can be.” His teeth sinks into your earlobe.

“You mean there’s more than just alien sex?”

“Mhm, I can show you.” He says, loving that he’s corrupting a girl like yourself.

“Yes, please, master. Show me more.”

[pure-smut]

addicted.

featuring: Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader

contains: college!Sukuna, groping on public transport (exhibitionism maybe??), a smidge dubcon, orgasm denial, missionary, mating press, size k*nk, Sukuna is a stalker and super possessive/toxic, unprotected s*x

word count: 2.6k

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

MDNI | 18+ content

series: 1. infatuated | 2. obsessed | 3. addicted | 4. toxic | 5. feral

masterlist

a/n: thank you so much for all the love this series has gotten!! kinda feel like this maybe isn't the end?? idk i feel like sukuna's got more tricks up his sleeve so lmk if you'd like to see more~

It’s been a few days since you had that wet dream about Ryomen Sukuna and you still can’t get it out of your head.

Weird enough that it had come completely out of the blue – it’s not like you’d really thought about him since you slept together – but it was so vivid. The feel of his tongue on your throbbing clit, broad and deft as he made you cum on his tongue.

You shudder, growing wetter even as you remember it.

You’d seen him around campus a few times but despite his usual intense look, he hadn’t acted any different to before. You didn’t mind – despite being a great night, you knew Sukuna was a fuckboy through and through. You have no interest in spending more time than necessary with a guy who couldn’t give a shit about you.

So, you’d ignored him back.

Except for that wet dream.

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the memory, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re at the train station, waiting with a thick crowd of commuters as you wait on your train home. You usually leave class a bit later than everyone else, staying behind to study, specifically so you could avoid the crush of people at rush hour. But today, your textbooks were getting delivered and the timeslot was less than convenient, forcing you to rush home with everyone else.

You try to make yourself small as the train arrives and you’re swept up with the crowd.

Everyone files on quietly, squishing themselves into the cramped space. You mumble a few apologies as you press into the commuters around you, finding a corner that you can face, hugging your bag to your chest. The train shudders as it starts up but you’re so crushed into the corner, you don’t even sway at it moves. You sigh heavily. It’s going to be a long journey home.

You start to zone out, wishing you’d thought to bring your earphones so you could at least listen to some music. When you feel a hand on your hip, you don’t even register it, assuming it’s someone in the crowd squeezing past. It’s only when you feel hot breath on the top of your head and the hand slides lower, touching your bare thigh, that you jolt.

You try to turn around but you’re pressed into the corner, not able to move. You heart hammers in your chest, your breath catching. Some random pervert is feeling you up!

What do I do?! You think to yourself, panicked.

And then you hear him.

“Relax, baby.” Sukuna’s voice is low so only you can hear, his mouth against the shell of your ear.

You freeze.

“S…Sukuna?!” you squeak.

“Shh,” he hushes you, his thumb tracing circles on your thigh. “Keep quiet for me, angel.”

You risk a quick glance behind you, but Sukuna’s large frame covers you completely, blocking you from view. You twist your neck to look up and see him grinning down at you.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” you say back, blinking. “What are you-?”

Before you can even ask, he’s answered you. Sukuna’s hand moves up your thigh and under your skirt, cupping your panty-clad pussy. You gasp and Sukuna tuts in your ear.

“Be quiet, remember?” he says firmly.

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry, but give a small nod. Despite the absurdity of the situation, a weird thrill runs up your spine at how brazen he is. You’re in public. Anyone could see. The train rocks on the tracks and Sukuna takes the opportunity to slip his fingers under your panties.

You bite back a gasp.

“Good girl,” Sukuna purrs.

He starts to stroke small circles around your clit, already slippery with your arousal. Your body responds to him on instinct and you spread your thighs slightly, allowing him more access.

The train stutters to a halt. You remain rooted to the spot, unmoving, as people file off and on the train. Thankfully, it remains full to the brim, so no one notices Sukuna groping you in the corner. You only breathe when the train starts moving again.

“Tell me something,” Sukuna says lowly. “Who were you speaking to earlier?”

Your mind is foggy with lust, too focussed on his fingers playing with your pussy in public. You blink several times, trying to understand his question.

“Um…” You falter as he applies more pressure, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. “W-who?”

Sukuna growls in your ear and he pulls his fingers away. You fight the urge to whine, your clit still needy.

“Don’t play dumb.” His voice is quiet enough for only you to hear but has a dangerous undercurrent. “That white-haired jackass.”

You furrow your brow, confused. You had bumped into one of your classmates earlier outside your work and had ended up chatting to him for maybe ten minutes. But how did Sukuna know about that? And why was he angry?

You’re jolted from your thoughts as Sukuna lightly slaps your pussy.

“Well?”

“T-that was just a c-classmate,” you stammer out.

“You seemed awfully cosy with him.”

“How would you know?” you shoot back, a nugget of defiance forming in your chest. “And why do you even care?”

“I care,” Sukuna whispers in your ear and it sounds more like a threat than reassurance. “I care a lot.”

Your breath catches in your chest as Sukuna’s fingers return to your puffy clit, stroking it again. You nearly groan but bite your lip to contain it.

“Does he get to do this to you?” Sukuna asks. “Does anyone but me get to touch you like this?”

“N-no. Of course not.” You’re trying to keep the waver out of your voice but the way he’s rubbing your sensitive bud is making your knees weak.

His deft fingers quickly bring you to the brink. You press your back against his hard stomach and chest, stifling your moans as Sukuna dips a finger between your folds to gather more of your slick. You tilt your head back, resting it against his chest as your breathing turns ragged. You’re nearly there. You’re so close.

And then Sukuna pulls his hand away, withdrawing out from under your skirt completely.

“What…” you puff out, frustration and surprise colouring your cheeks.

Before you can twist your head to ask him what he thinks he’s doing, Sukuna intertwines his fingers with yours. As the train stutters to the next stop, he pushes through the crowd like a battering ram, pulling you by your hand behind him.

“Where are we going?” you protest. “I don’t live at this stop.”

“I do.”

Sukuna drags you out of the station but once you’re free of the rush hour crowds, he slows his pace, letting you walk in step beside him. You notice he doesn’t drop your hand.

You open your mouth several times to ask what he’s doing but the answer is obvious. He wants to fuck. Why, is the bigger question. Why when he could have any girl he wants, at least for a night. So that's what you ask him.

“Why me?”

Sukuna brings you to his front door, an eyebrow cocked as he pulls his keys free.

“What kind of a question is that?” He rolls his eyes.

“Why do you want me?” you insist.

Sukuna sighs, slotting in his keys and opening the front door. He drags you in, slamming the door closed before pushing you against it.

“Because you’re mine,” he states plainly.

Mine.

The word echoes in your mind as Sukuna dips his head to kiss you roughly. His lips part yours, his tongue demanding entrance. You open yourself to him as he grabs you loosely by the throat.

“You’ve been making me wait,” Sukuna groans into your mouth. “You’ve been testing my patience.”

Before you can question him, he scoops his large hands under your ass and picks you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around him.

“You’re not working tomorrow,” he says, almost a question but not quite.

“How do you know that?”

“Yes or no?” he ignores you, carrying you through the hall and into his bedroom.

“N-no.”

“Good. We’re not leaving this house for two days.”

Sukuna doesn’t ask you. He tells you.

He throws you on the bed before lying on top of you, pressing his mouth against yours to swallow any protests. His hand tangles in your hair at the back of your head, cradling your skull against his palm. His lips are soft even as his kisses are rough, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. Between his prolonged teasing on the train and his annoyingly good kisses, you feel your thighs growing slick with how turned on you are.

You snake a hand to the back of his neck, fingers gliding through his soft, pink hair. Sukuna grinds his crotch against yours, the friction making your clit throb. You whine with need.

“Let me cum,” you beg. “You got me so close before.”

“Say it again.”

“Let me cum, Sukuna.”

“Again.”

“Please! Please let me cum, Sukuna.”

He pulls back to grin at you.

“That’s all you had to say, angel.”

Sukuna reaches down to undo his jeans, pulling his cock free. You know he’s big, the memory of working it inside you still imprinted on your mind, but seeing it in person again makes your eyes widen.

“You were too tight last time, baby,” Sukuna coos, stroking himself. “Need to loosen you up first.”

Sukuna moves his hand from his cock to your clit, resuming his previous tight circles. Your back arches and your nails sink into the hard muscles of his shoulders. Sukuna uses his other hand to tug your shirt up, exposing your breasts. Still playing with your pussy, he latches his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and nibbling at it.

“Ah!” you whimper, the combined sensations overcoming you.

Sukuna feels you wriggling beneath him and pins you down at your hip, forcing you to stay in position. Your breathing gets short as you squeeze your eyes shut, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train.

You cry out Sukuna’s name as he makes you cum on his fingers, finally fulfilling the promise his touch made on the train. Sukuna talks you through it, his cock responding to the sweet noises you make because of him. With a satisfied smile, he pulls his hand back.

You collapse back onto the bed, dazed, as the head of Sukuna’s hard cock nudges at your entrance.

“Keep your legs spread for me, baby,” he commands. “There’s a good girl.”

Still coming down from the high of your orgasm, you’re pliant and obedient. You push your thighs apart, resting them on the cut of Sukuna’s hip muscles as he leans forward over you. Sukuna’s fat mushroom tip meets your hole and then slowly, so slowly, he pushes it inside you.

Your breath hitches, your brows scrunching up in the middle. You look down to see him splitting you in half, his cock stretching you so deliciously.

“Ah-!” you gasp. “Fuck, it’s so big…”

Sukuna doesn’t stop himself from grinning. He’s never been on top before, never thought anyone could take him like this. But he knows you can. And he’s willing to be patient for it.

Your pussy is slick and relaxed from your orgasm, stretching to accommodate Sukuna as he sinks himself another few inches inside you. He’s only halfway but the feel of your walls pulsing around him is setting his skin on fire. He grits his teeth and pulls back slightly, fucking you with a few shallow pumps to spread your juices along his cock.

You feel heavenly. He could cum just like this but he knows you can do more. He can wait.

Sukuna pulls your legs up, hooking your ankles over his shoulders so he can go deeper. He presses himself further, your welcoming pussy swallowing another few inches, your lips wrapping around him so tight.

You fist the bedsheets next to you, his cock rubbing against every nerve along your walls.

“S-Sukuna!” you cry out.

“You can take it, baby,” he soothes you, holding himself agonisingly still to let you get used to him. “You did before.”

You know he’s right – in fact, you made a point of taking his entire cock last time, just to spite him. And you don’t want him to stop, not really. You’ve never been with anyone who’s reached so deep inside you before. It feels strangely intimate, this secret thing that you only share with Sukuna.

Sukuna waits until you stop squirming before moving again. He’s so close, only an inch or two left. He thrusts in and out a few more times, drawing another whimper from your lips, before sinking in fully.

The front of his thighs meet the back of your ass, pressed together as he leans some of his weight down on you. Your lips fall open, a million curses waiting at the back of your throat, but all you can think is – you feel so full.

“Your pussy was made for me,” Sukuna groans, teeth gritted.

That’s exactly how you feel. He fits so snugly inside you, so tight and stretched, the thick ridges of his cock dragging so perfectly along your plush walls. Sukuna starts to thrust, keeping himself deep, never wanting to leave the warmth of you for long, and every stroke sends you hurtling towards another orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Sukuna’s eyes are glued on where your bodies meet, at where his girth slides in and out of you, coated in your juices.

He’s addicted to the way you sound, the lewd squelch of your pussy, the desperate moans from your lips. He’s obsessed with the feel of you around him, swallowing him whole. He’s infatuated with how you look, folded beneath him as he fucks you, your face contorted in the pleasure he’s giving you. Beautiful. Perfect.

He is never letting you go.

Sukuna picks up his pace, hips rolling. Your bodies are both coated in a thin sheen of sweat, the sounds of slapping flesh filling the room.

“You’re mine,” Sukuna growls. “Say it back to me.”

You’re delirious, drunk off the feel of his cock pistoning in and out of you. When you look up at him, your eyes are half-lidded and glazed.

“I’m yours,” you breathe.

“You going to ignore me again?”

Sukuna punctuated each syllable with another brutal snap of his hips. You cry out, so close to cumming even as your pussy aches.

“No!” you sob. “Never.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m yours, Sukuna. I belong to you!”

“Good fucking girl.”

Sukuna leans down further to kiss you roughly, his tongue lapping at yours without breaking pace. His cock rubs against just the right spot and you dive headfirst into another orgasm.

Sukuna feels you cream on his cock, your pussy like a vice grip around him. It’s enough to bring him to his own finish. He tips his head back, a flurry of curses falling from his lips as you feel him spill thick ropes of cum inside you.

Your thighs fall to either side of him as Sukuna half-collapses on top of you, chest heaving. You hold him to you, pressing soft kisses against his neck.

“Sukuna…” you say quietly, unsure.

He rolls over to the side of you, pulling you with him so you’re lying tucked into the side of him, your cheek pressed against his chest.

“I meant it,” Sukuna says, seeming to understand you even without you asking. “You’re mine.”

He looks down at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“And I’m yours. Always.”

Taglist: @tojis-ball-sack @moonjellyfishie @kalulakunundrum @benimarusimp33e @samoankpoper21 @travistheaussie @jazzywazzzy @cla1r20 @namjooningera

masterlist

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[hxltic]

i absolutely need suna x reader having secret sex while the miya twins are a room across🫣

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

You had no real attraction to Suna, but it was just one of those nights where your brothers came home after a game, bringing his friends along with him to celebrate, and to avoid sitting in their sweat, they had to shower. Thank god you took yours before the boys made it. Being the last to shower when the floor is wet and it’s steamy already is literally the worst shit ever.

The problem was, Suna never really came over; therefore, he had no real way to know which room was your brothers’.

He had specific instructions to shower and take some clothes from his room. Looking back on it, he should’ve asked which door it is, but strutting back with nothing but a towel on his waist is not an option. So, he resorts to opening every door until he finds what he would think is the room of his teammate. Or rather…either of them?

Instead, the knob twists as you’re fully bent over in your walk-in closet, digging through a basket of clean clothes for a t-shirt. Of course it had to be the second you wanted to change when he walked in, and not when you were comfortably reading in bed with a little light on earlier. There’s no bra on your chest now, just a pair of navy blue lace panties.

Hey! On the bright side: they could’ve been cotton with “kiss my ass” stamped on the back.

Your arms draw up in an effort to hide your chest when you hear the twist of the knob and the door come flying open. Key word is effort, because now your breasts are pressed up against each other, which Suna believes is ten times worse for you than the position he found you in. At least when you were bent over, he had to imagine whatever he couldn’t see.

“Holy- shit!” you exclaim, eyeing the man at your door that’s actively dripping water on your carpet. His hair is fallen and sticking to his face messily, just enough for you to spot his slim eyes. He doesn’t say anything at first.

It’s mainly just him blinking blankly at you while you panic, searching the room for literally anything to provide some decency, but once you render the clear lack of any emotion (like embarrassment) you currently possessed in his body, it calms your nerves a bit.

He’s seen a woman before. It doesn’t make him any less prone to being attracted to puffy lips and nipples only covered by an arm, but it somehow soothes you to know he won’t make a big deal out of it and maybe not even mention it to your siblings.

Eventually, you throw on the nearest shirt over your head and pull your hair through, dirty or clean, still with no pants to match.

You sigh deeply, “What is it Suna?” It comes out in an irritated grunt.

“You know my name.” His eyebrows raise with surprise, but not as high as the average person’s would.

“Yeah, I do. Is there a reason you’re still here?”

He presses on: “How do you know it? Do they talk about me a lot?”

Your head drops in your palm to shake back and forth. “I can’t do this right now,” he overhears your mumble.

“My bad, I was looking for Tsumu’s room but got jumpscared instead.”

Despite saying this, he still stands in the doorway—not with it cracked, but with it wide fucking open—and it’s then when creaks from the stairs clears the air between you two. He doesn’t move, but you quickly shove him over to peek around the corner, then drag him into your bedroom before whoever it is gets the wrong idea by the view from the hallway.

While you’re turned after throwing him mindlessly into your room, he readjusts the falling towel around his waist. What he said finally hits you a few moments too late.

“Jumpscared?! You? I’m in the comfort of my own room when you barge in with nothing on!” Your hands gesture up and down as you scold him. “And don’t talk about my body like that!” Only he doesn’t really look at your eyes. When you’re done, he finds your attention.

“It was really an accident, but I’ll stay until whoever goes back downstairs,” he shrugs. “And why does it smell like sex in here?”

Your cheeks redden. There was a reason you were looking for a change of clothes. “It doesn’t.”

“Yeah, it does.” He flops back onto the bed carelessly, dipping your comforter.

“Stop! You’re getting my sheets wet.” His body has only slightly dried, but with the full head of hair he has, it hasn’t dried at all. “Suna, get up.”

“They probably already are.”

He closes his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. His stature was not what you thought it’d be. He was tall and packed with muscle in his legs. You could tell that much by the pictures if you didn’t figure it out by the fact that when he’s sitting you’re still face to face; but on top of that, his abdomen was carved and his arms carried some weight too.

Nothing compared to the sheer size of his legs, but still up there. They had to be the size of your head. By photos he’s an average high school athlete, so it almost appears fake when he takes the uniform off.

Unfortunately, as you were looking, his eyes had opened and he’d been watching you inspect him. Suna will always preach there are benefits to being as quiet as he is, like how he can pinpoint that your fingers come to pinch the edge of your shirt.

You clear your throat in hopes it will gather your thoughts too, then rectify his past statement. “They aren’t.”

“Right… just like how all the red tabs in this book are for nothing?” He reaches beside him to take it in his hands, then he flips through the pages quickly until he comes across one. “‘I run my fingers down her trembling thighs that yearn for my touch. You’ll take it like a—’”

Before he can finish what you remember is very unfortunately highlighted, you crawl over him to rip it out his hands and throw it. You chuck the literature nowhere in particular with shame that can’t get any higher as he laughs, then you quickly retreat with a knee up on the edge of the bed. His laughter is a sweet sound. It makes sense why he’s friends with your brothers.

You don’t even notice you’re half-straddling him while you point your finger in his face. “What I read is none of your business.”

He spoke clearly and assertively when he read, and the last thing you need him figuring out was how bad your body desired he’d read the words to you again; he was already too observant.

“Of course. Forgive me for saying such vulgar things around my friend’s sister. She would never do such a thing.” Finally, he slowly sits up, which naturally makes you rise with him, so you place your hand on his shoulder to prevent from wobbling. Your thigh is beside his with your foot unstable on the floor. “She’s just so sweet and innocent, and definitely not up here alone reading book porn.”

Your breathing picks up at the proximity and the pressure of a declaration you can’t avoid. You search between both his eyes that do the same to you. He deserves a medal or something, because fuck—the shirt lifts just a little bit every time you fiddle with it and the lace sticks to your skin like glue. “I- uhm,” you stutter, removing your stability from his body and backing away from the bed.

Of course, to add to the fucking humiliation, you stumble backward, but he reaches out to you. His hand firmly wraps around your wrist and the other is hooked behind your back when he jerks you back up to him. He only releases your wrist.

“Is that all you read?”

You shake your head. “I read regular romance and fantasy too.”

He nods, “Ah, I see. So you want the prince of a faraway land to twirl you around in his field of flowers saying how much he loves you, then you want him to make you beg to come?”

Your eyes shoot wide at the comment, only stretching the lazy smirk on his face.

“N-No,” you reply, even though that does sound extremely appealing.

“But you do want someone to ‘run their fingers down your trembling thighs’ though, right?”

To emphasize his point, he lets the knuckles of his hand trickle down the back of your thigh, just barely grazing the skin. The sensation shocks you and almost sends you forward. This can’t be happening. Actually, you pray it isn’t, so your eyelids slam shut.

This prompts his other hand to pinch either side of your jaw gently and drag your face to his. “Or lay you back and tell you to take it like a good girl.” His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, then back up, noting the state of disbelief your countenance holds. He flattens the hand that stops just under your ass.

You almost melt in his hold, and this he knows because of the long breath you took after his words. It’s easy to infer you’re fairly untouched by not only your responses, but how receptive you were. It was you two, only about an inch from each other now, waiting to see who would make the next move and risk something far worse than just a growing attraction. The twins flash in your head as a beat passes and you swallow.

“Yes. But that has nothing to do with you.”

Suna shines a smile with his teeth. “Your thighs are rubbing together.”

You look him up and down. “So?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You don’t look him in the eyes, they drop to your pillows. Before you can separate the thighs in question that are only disconnected by his fingertips, he nudges you forward onto him, bringing your hands back to his shoulders. You’re completely straddling while attempting to keep your eyes locked on his when his entire torso is on display. He leans forward to speak just above a whisper in your ear as if this is a normal occurrence.

“I can feel you dripping all over my hand.” The cool of his breath tickles your neck, only worsening as he continues. “Why is that?”

You’re at a loss for words at first, but you suck it up, holding your own. “Nothing to do with you. Maybe I went too hard earlier.”

He wholeheartedly chuckles at this response. “So you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“That you were up here fucking yourself to your book?” His voice is an echo behind you since he’d decided to rest his chin comfortably on your shoulder.

“Yeah. Yeah—I guess I do. It’s not like you didn’t come in here and figure it out yourself,” your eyes roll.

“Which part were you reading?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

There’s a moment of silence. “She’d just decided to drop her toxic ex-boyfriend and his sister came to console her. The way she did it was kind of fucked up, and I think the slow burn is what made me look past it, but anyway—she brings her to a party, the boy she meets there happens to be the barista at the place she orders from every day, and he has a history with the main character’s ex. He hates him even though he’d gotten over it as years passed, but she really wants to get back at him, so they send an anonymous short video of them, um… together, and he gets really pissed off.”

Suna is quiet as he reviews what you just said. He admires your perception of the book and the passion to read. He goes, “You’re into that?” and then it’s your turn not to say anything, even with the amusement lacing his tone. You grow fidgety, and just when you don’t think any more words will be exchanged, he suddenly demands, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That. What you just did.” You shifted your weight from leg to leg as the silence grew longer. Just to see, you do it again.

“You’re grinding against me when you do that by the way.”

You giggle maliciously, continuing to go back and forth. It’s payback for teasing you the entire time. He comes to hold your hips still to prevent further movements, but in protest, you create an arch in your back to actually roll your hips down instead, ensuring he felt it.

“Okay, really, unless you want to move like that with my nine inches inside of you, I suggest you choose your battles now.”

You finally halt at the words. He was dead serious. He feels scratching along his shoulder blades at your fingers curling up in response, but not removing yourself. He still rests his head beside yours. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re into that too?”

So that’s how he ended up with his back to your headboard, head tipped up, looking at you through his pretty eyelashes as you wrap your hand around his slick length and reposition it to line up. You lower your body down, allowing your walls to open up for him. The stretch hurts only a little just because he’s so big.

You hadn’t kissed him the entire time, so he groans desperately when you wrap your fingers tightly around his neck and lean in. He allows you to no matter how hard you squeeze.

This drives up your confidence with your pretty lace panties pushed to the side, making you raise to your feet.

“Shit,” he grabs ahold of your ankles between half-lidded eyes, and his mouth slightly dropped like he can’t believe what the fuck he’s seeing. “If Atsumu could see you now.”

The mention of your brother at all should turn you off, but it doesn’t. It only fuels you knowing that you’re actively riding his teammate. In fact, you must tighten around him, because he knows immediately.

“What? Does that turn you on? Fuckin’ slut.”

You whimper at the words, pressing your lips forward to his. You kiss him the best you can as he hungrily reciprocates.

The bed moves forcefully, but Suna knows the other guys are probably too busy downstairs to hear it, and whoever is in the other room may only potentially be a problem. So up and down you go, now slamming your ass against him and reddening his slightly tan, freckled skin.

“Poor thing was up here by herself. If dick was what you really wanted, you know you could have always asked.”

“Hhhmmm,” you whine, breathing shallow.

The brunette lets you go until your legs burn and you’re slowing pace. It’s driving him insane watching you chase your orgasm, using him like he was the perfect replacement for your fingers, in your own little world with your face twisted up in ecstasy and muscles straining. You were too stubborn to stop when he offered it to you, but he doesn’t mind. Not everyone has legs like his.

He instructs while inching his hips up the bed, “Fall back to your knees.” You do, and he grabs one wrist in each hand before digging his heels into the blanket and pounding up into you at a pace you don’t think you could ever meet. It’s rough and loud and you can feel his balls coming up to strike you from behind. Quite literally, it takes your breath away.

“Fuck fuck fuck yes,” tendrils of your hair fall over your face when you lay your head down over his head for stability. Aside from not being able to move, this is the best angle for the both of you. Your tits move over his face, which would allow him to suck and bite as he pleases while holding you still, and with the tilt of your body his fat tip reaches your most sensitive part.

You bounce over and over and he wishes he would have pulled your shirt up first. He’s grunting in your ear dangerously.

“Was this in your book too? Is this when he told her to take it like a good girl?”

You try to answer but it’s incomprehensible with the speed of his thrusts.

He commands, “Again.”

“Y-Yes,” you retry, finally getting something out. He’s satisfied with this, so he lets go of your wrists and pushes you upright, only slowing for the moment. This time, he wraps his fingers around your neck, just enough for you to breathe, while rolling his thumb across your revealed clit. The veins of his forearm show themselves and he peers up at you with a glare as if you were the most irritating thing to him.

How hard you were holding him is nothing compared to how hard he is holding you, and just that thought has your eyes threatening to fall closed.

“Then be a good. Fucking. Girl,” he punctuates each word with a harsh upwards cut of his hips, “and take it.”

“Oh God,” you connect your own weak hands around his, your mouth falling open with every moan that floats into the air. He holds your gaze with his threatening eyes, and if you tried to look anywhere but him, he’d pull you right back. “Suna, I’m coming,” you rush it out like there’s no stopping now. And honestly, you’re currently wishing you didn’t say it at all, because you know if he told you not to, your body would try its best to comply.

“No the fuck you’re not.”

Godammit.

Removing his finger from your nub, he moves the hand to meet the other at your throat. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to, which you did want to, just to let him know that this would only make it worse. There’s a movement: you’re coming down on him yourself with the force of the thrust driving you up.

Your mouth creates the words, but they don’t come out. Suna knows anyway. “Please.”

“No.” And it’s as simple as that, because then he says, “Do you hear that?”

Of course you don’t, he just asked to see if you were sane enough to come back to your senses and focus your hearing. His tight hold on you is enough to leave a mark, but not enough to prevent your head from slowly shaking back and forth.

“On the other side of that wall is your brother. Both of them.” Your eyes shoot wide at the same time his thrusts calm down. He still continues, it’s just with a deep grind to prevent the hard slapping of skin, and he brings your forehead to his as he speaks to you. “Come now and both of us are in trouble.”

He has valid reasons to infer that it is specifically the twins, but he’s sure you don’t want to hear those right now. If it was up to him, you would have been throwing your head back and showing that arch he imagines you had before he intruded in on you changing, but holding it above your head like meat to a starving dog was fine too.

“Please let me come Rin, please. I’ll be quiet,” a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose ends your pleading, hoping it softens him up with the use of his first name.

And maybe it worked, because his eyebrows curl upwards with pity when he explains, “We both know you’re too vocal for that, princess. How about we try something else?”

You nod frantically, raising off his length and letting him lay down completely while you wait for directions. He gets situated by moving pillows out of the way. “Come here.”

You realize now the pity he expressed was fake. Swinging your leg over his waist, you begin to line yourself up.

“No. Come here.”

You stare at him dumbfounded.

“Up here, towards me,” he ushers his hands. You scoot closer towards his chest with your hands on his pecs, not sure how much closer the two of you can get.

“My face, baby.”

Instead of getting angry with you, he kept his tone. It was little but it made you feel good. “Oh.”

You come to a hover over his lips, contemplating a lot and nothing at the same time, mainly if this man was really under you telling you to do what you’re doing.

“Sit.”

“Are you sure?” You clarify.

“Yes. Sit before I make you read your porn to me.” This brings your eyebrows in with a crease and you drop with no remorse on his lips. His face is smothered somewhere between your thighs. The only thing visible is his damp hair.

Unfortunately for you, he enjoys the thrill of not being able to breathe.

You’re less than two minutes into absolutely grinding on his tongue, chasing the vibrations of his grunts and groans by tugging on his hair. Your other hand is covering your mouth.

Thankfully, because there’s a quick knock, and Osamu’s voice passes through the door. “Pizza’s here. You okay in there?”

You nod as if he can see you. You then realize he cannot.

Shakily, you call out, “Yes.” The only way to not moan while Suna slides the muscle between your lips to taste all of your slick is by biting your lip. His fingers grip the fat of your thighs.

“Okay.” In the background there’s another voice, presumably your other brother. Finally, they become faint until you hear the stairs, and you allow yourself a little freedom.

“Rin,” you look down fully expecting to meet his eyes, but you can’t see him at all.

“Hmphh?”

“I’m close…can I?” On cue, he pushes in as far as his tongue can go inside your hole. He nods yes, simultaneously flattening it to lick all of you in one stripe before deliberately sucking your clit.

To muffle your sounds, your hand comes to cover your mouth once again and you’re somehow managing to prepare for your eyes squeezing shut at the same time as your muscles tensing. Suna can feel you dripping, literally this time.

this was kinda rushed

©️hxltic

[augustinewrites]

once shoko opens her door, you offer her a half-hearted smile and hold up your bottle of wine. if there’s one person you can count on to help drink your feelings away, it’s—

“i actually can’t tonight,” she sighs. “i have an exam tomorrow and i already had a few drinks so…”

“wait, shoko—” you catch the edge of the door, sighing as you admit, “i think satoru is cheating on me.” 

she pauses for a second, as if checking to see if you’re serious. 

then, “you open that up. i’ll get the glasses.” 

“thanks,” you grin, following her inside. 

“do you need anything else?” she calls from the kitchen. ��a hug? baseball bat? an alibi?”

“no need for glasses, and we don’t need the other stuff…yet,” you grimace, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a swig, kicking the door shut behind you. “and i don’t know for sure that he’s cheating, but he’s just been so weird lately.” 

“weird how?” your friend asks, pushing aside the textbooks she has open on the couch cushions before gesturing for the bottle. “it’s gojo, you’ve gotta be more specific.”

you hand her the tequila, shaking your head. “it was small things at first. showing up late for dates or just cancelling them. not telling me where he’s been all day. then last night i saw this text on his phone…”

shoko’s brows raise. “you were looking at his messages?”

“no!” you exclaim. then, when your best friend sends you a look, “okay, i didn’t mean to! he left his phone on the nightstand while he was in the shower and i looked at it when it buzzed with a text from someone named megumi.”

“oh,” shoko realizes, eyes widening. “that’s a girl’s name.” 

you both sit in silence for a moment, passing the bottle back and forth. your phone buzzes a few times in your pocket - undoubtedly satoru asking why you’ve been avoiding him all day - but you ignore it.

“let’s confront him,” shoko proposes once you’re halfway through the bottle. “find out once and for all.”

“okay!” by now, you’re buzzed enough to think this is a brilliant idea, standing on unsteady legs as shoko calls for a cab. 

_____

“hey,” your boyfriend smiles weakly once he opens the door. “wait, what’s shoko doing—”

“where is she?” she asks, pushing past the both of you to walk into his apartment. she begins flipping up couch cushions and checking behind curtains. 

“what’s going on?” satoru asks, letting you push him inside. he looks down at you, concern clouding his expression. “what’s she talking about?”

you’re not sure if it’s liquid courage or frustration that causes you to blurt, “are you cheating on me?”

“what? of course not—”

“then who’s megumi?”

“he is toji’s six year son!”

your eyes widen. shoko freezes, halfway through opening a cabinet. 

toji…had a son? “so he’s a— a—”

“he’s a zen’in,” your boyfriend confirms. it’s as if all the air leaves your lungs when he says that, catching in your throat. “his mom passed, and after toji…i couldn’t just leave him alone. apparently toji made some deal to sell the kid to the zen’in clan, and i didn’t want…so i filed for guardianship.”

“guardianship,” you echo. “you’re planning to raise the kid on your own?

“his sister too.” 

“i’m gonna go get a cab home. let you two talk,” shoko laughs nervously, speeding out the door. 

satoru walks over to the couch once she’s gone, sitting the edge and hiding his face in his hands. “i’d get it, you know.”

“get what?” you ask, sitting next to him.

“you didn’t sign up for this,” he sighs. “taking in two kids— it’s a lot. but i couldn’t do nothing. he’s going to need someone to help him. teach him. care about him. so he doesn’t end up like…”

he doesn’t finish his sentence. you don’t make him. even after a few years, the heartache of losing your friend causes a dull ache in your chest. 

though…he’s right that you didn’t sign up for any of this. kids were the furthest thing from your mind at this stage of your life, not to mention this stage of your relationship. 

but if satoru, who is barely an adult himself, can find it in his heart to do what you know in your mind is the right thing…

“then i guess it’ll make the next few years of our lives pretty exciting,” you sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“our lives?” he repeats, sounding shocked. “you’re…staying?”

you draw back to meet his pensive gaze, though it melts away when you offer him a small smile. you see him in this moment. 

so you cup his face in your hands, thumb softly stroking his cheek. “you didn’t think i would want to stay?”

“i hoped,” he murmurs, lips brushing against the inside of your wrist. “but i didn’t know for sure.”

“well, i’m not going anywhere,” you assure him, kissing the tip of his nose. “even if you’re a monumental pain in my ass.”

[ihrtsevyn]

٠ ─ BLUSH, BLUSH, BLUSH, YOU ARE NOW MY BIG FAT CRUSH . . . 𖤐 | j.g x reader

moved to: @kiemiu

SYNOPSIS headcanons of johnnie having a crush on you :)

WARNINGS no specific race/age/gender specified. nothing explicit of any nature. lowercase intended. very loosely proof-read.

WC: 1028 >

. . .

johnnie's crush on you developed out of the blue, in all honesty. it wasn't love at first sight, like he was struck by cupids arrow. it was more of a quickly approaching train from a distance coming towards him while he was tied down to the tracks. it took him a while to finally catch onto his feelings, but once the realization hit, it hit him hard.

He was always attracted to you physically, but getting to know you more made that attraction grow emotionally as well.

. . .

He'd find himself thinking about you constantly. he'd wonder what you'd be wearing today and if anything you wore would correlate with his outfit so he could point it out. he'd think about you at gatherings when you're not there, always thinking about how he'd have 10x more fun if you were there.

he's always trying to strike up a conversation with you. if there's an opportunity johnnie can take to talk to you, he's gonna take it. sometimes he'll even approach you before having a conversation starter ready in his head.

tries to make you laugh. he'll do whatever he can to hear that pretty laugh of yours that he's grown to love. he'll embarrass himself and draw enough attention to form a crowd if it'll get a half-hearted chuckle out of you. he'll even bring out timmy if he really wants to force that laugh out of you.

gravitates towards you. at parties, or just friendly dinners, johnnie will always find a place next to you. sometimes he doesn't even try to, his body is just naturally attracted to your energy. most of the time he does look for you first out of the crowd, and if he can't find you he goes to jake and asks for you. on more than one occasion he's asked someone to trade spots with him to get closer to you.

plays with your hair. he does it unconsciously. if you're standing or sitting close by him he'll find himself zoning out and pulling on a strand of your hair, softly twisting and twirling it between his fingers. if you have boundaries on your hair and don't like it to be touched or just have really short hair, he'll instead substitute it for your accessories. tugging on whatever bracelet, belt, or necklace you have on.

talks quieter around you. whenever you two are having a conversation his voice gets significantly softer. he'll go from screeching at jake to whispering at you. his entire demeanor eases and he's suddenly right in front of you exchanging hushed whispers and quiet laughs.

avoids eye-contact. if you're someone that makes intense/unwavering eye-contact with people when talking, johnnie simply wouldn't be able to handle it. his eyes would dart in all types of directions before finally landing back on you, he'd only be able to hold it for so long.

protective of you. in any heated discussion johnnie will be there to back you up. if someone's talking shit he'd be the first to defend your name while insulting the person who's talking down on you in the same breath. if one of your friends are playing a cruel joke on you, he'll be the first to rush to your side and shield you from prying eyes.

creates a playlist for you. one of his most listened to playlists is the one he made for you. the title is your name with a simple black heart and the run time of it is at least 2 hours or more. if you recommend any songs to him they'll go directly into that playlist without fail. he likes to keep the playlist on a loop when he's doing mundane tasks around the house.

always finds some way to mention you. it annoys literally everyone with how much he brings you up but he can't put a stop to it even if he wanted to. the most random things could remind him of you and some poor soul has to be stuck with him fawning over you again because somehow an empty baskin robbin's cup in the middle of a parking lot reminded him of you.

indulges in your interests. if you loosely mention that you're interested in something, johnnie will go into full research mode and figure out the lore behind whatever game/movie/tv show/book you're interested in. anytime you have a conversation about that topic he'll bust out a random fact in hopes that it'll impress you.

genuinely wants your opinion on things. he cares about your point of view on things, so it's only natural that he goes to you for advice and to hear your thoughts on certain things.

a bit more affectionate with you. it's the little things that someone would really have to pay attention to take notice of. his affections simply include fixing your jacket that's sliding off of your shoulder, pulling your hair from under your jacket, putting an arm out in-front of you if you've ever came close to running into someone, asking if you've eaten, letting you fall asleep on his shoulder on long car rides, etc . . .

responds to all the tik toks you send. you could send 20+ tik toks over the course of an afternoon and he'd watch every single one of them, responding to each of them with either an emoji or a drawn out text. it might take him a while to respond to all of them but he will eventually.

always picks up your calls. it doesn't really matter where he is or who he's with, if you're calling he's gonna answer. he could be mid-shit on the toilet or at a loud overcrowded party with blasting music, it doesn't matter. he'll always answer even if the call ends up being just 2 minutes because you wanted his opinion on what shoes you should wear. he'll never regret answering the phone for you.

waits patiently for you. even though you might not return his feelings, he still has love for you. he will patiently wait for you as long as he needs to if it meant you'd return his affections at some point.

. . .

i haven't written a fic in so long and just busted this out in my sleep deprived state lol. if anyone has any requests or ideas they'd like to see me write out please let me know! :) i'd be happy to take requests and i hope you guys enjoyed this small fic. <3

[windser]

what about.. cuteness aggression with sylus like i lowkey wanna bite him (lovingly)

 a/n: thank you so much for your request ... i apologize in advance bc i took this and ran with it under the excuse of been wanting to write sylus/mc sparring for agesssss. but you did get your bite in!

you fell back and the room around you capsized. it required a few moments longer to gather your senses but then you shifted quickly to avoid being pinned. from your position on the mat, you spun your body and brought your foot down behind sylus' knees and grinned proudly when stumbled down to one.

“and that is how hunters get it done.” you panted out as you lurched up to pin the man with your body. however, you weren't fast enough this time, however, because before you knew what was happening, sylus had you once more on your back as he straddled your waist, hands were pinned on either side of your head.

“cute, kitten,” sylus said, leering down at him from above.

this had all started with a light challenge. an attack more on UNICORNS then you specifically, when sylus outwardly commented on their faults. but you naturally took it personally, as you were trained up by the organization.

at the sum of it, sylus just wanted to see you properly trained for what you might encounter in the n109 zone. but you were determined to prove that you came packaged with all the necessary skill sets.

“i don't want to hear it” you grit out, yanking your arms and bending at the knee. it didn’t dislodge his hold on them, but it set sylus' equilibrium off long enough for you to rotate your hips and strike the taller man's side with enough force to knock him off.

you kept your own momentum to roll again, snapping your leg out to kick at sylus. “you forget who held their own at-ugh!”

the man seized your ankle and tossed off your balance. within seconds, sylus had you falling ass over tit until your cheek was pressed against the floor with your arms pinned behind you.

“come on, sweetie, is that all you’ve got?” sylus drawled. “and you were so sure of yourself a minute ago.” he leaned down to peck your cheek mockingly.

you snarled at him in frustration and snapped your head back, harder than was probably called for.

you managed to catch sylus on the chin and the man swore. he shifted but didn’t release your hands. instead, he transferred both wrists into his left hand, pressed both knees closer at your sides, and brought his free hand down against your ass.

you gasped and stilled, the sensation a surprise but not foreign.

“really, sy?” you yelped when sylus spanked you again. "sylus!"

"make me."

you wait with a baited breath for his next move, but all you get in return is the disappointing release of his grip as he calls for a timed break in favor of rehydrating. it was a mindful reminder that brought attention to your own parched throat from effort, but the desire to retaliate was stronger as you leapt to your feet.

if sylus had any hint to your action, it was muddled by the way he let the tackle send you both toppling to the ground near the edge of the ring.

if anything, the attack must have been equally warranted on his end as he returned the energy with a grunt. it was one of the more unrestrained tussle, a truth fight for dominance that still hinted at the same results.

sylus would win and you knew it—but that didn't mean you weren't going to make him work for it. and honestly, you got something extra out of it too. there was always something about the weight of sylus's body, the taut limbs and the real power behind it all that kindled this newly acquired thrill in you.

you manged to keep at it until you were twisted in such a way you could barely move. these were the moments when sylus showed the most expertise, favoring precision over pure strength. it wasn't until you tugged the last trick from your back, mouth finding the meat of his shoulder where you bit down just hard enough to bruise.

sylus hiss, something different than pain, until he reached the point where it was no longer a request for submission but a declaration. an effort that left his breath labored and his skin dampened from exertion as he pressed you back firmly into the floor, hand curled at the back of your neck.

"i think this makes me the winner, kitten. do you yield? " he drawls, words liquid heat.

your equally, if not more a mess of tangled hair and lips, yet you hold the stance of a stubborn bull as you blow out, "make me, honey."

"make you?" his laughter is thick and heady as it coats your skin. "i'm not sure there is much left for me to make you do. but i'm open to more options."

you turn your head towards him, watching as he licks his lips after he speaks in a low, husky voice. you realize that he does want you to make him -- he wants you to try your best until you get frustrated and hot, until you break free and nearly attack him with your mouth.

he wants to play this little game with you, get you all riled up, and get you on the bed without your clothes, to his mercy and his own rules.

he's not going to stop now and he won't stop then. he likes the flush of color dancing up on your neck and he likes getting you bothered.

he wants you and he wants you soon, so he's going to need to get you warm and sweaty and sticky.

and you were going to let him.

[skipper19]

Imagine this..

Alpha!Keigo, who always made sure his mate was well taken care of. There was never anything that you would ever need or want because you already have it, so there's no need to long for it any longer. Keigo keeps his feathers hidden around the house, and a not so hidden one wrapped around your neck as a courting gift. These feathers will always let him know when his little omega is in need of something.

Alpha!Keigo put that specific feather on a necklace because it was the very last courting gift he provided to you before he asked you to be his mate, officially. Not that it was necessary. Keigo always made sure it was obvious to the people around you both that you belonged to him, bond mark or not. Not to mention the stench of nothing but Takami Keigo wafting off of you most times. Which was totally not intentional.

Alpha!Keigo was so twisted with his own emotions the first time another Alpha approached you. One one hand, Keigo knew you were his loyal omega, and you would politely reject the other Alpha, but on the other hand, Keigo wanted nothing more than to hold you so close that his scent was permanently marked into you. He wanted to growl and prowl at the other Alpha, maybe even show off your bond mark that he so happily gave to you when your relationship became official. Thank God Keigo had a reputation as the number two hero to upkeep because if he didn't, he may have actually taken the second option.

Alpha!Keigo became so flustered and nervous on the inside that the media found out about his omega mate. No one would leave you alone. Either it be asking questions about you during an interview or trying to take a picture of you as you walk down the street. Keigo hated when the reporters would spot you on the street when he wasn't there. You always come home smelling of anxiety and nervousness. Keigo, the adoring Alpha that he is, always made sure to calm your nerves on these occasions. Fortunately, you grew accustomed to the press after some time, and you easily avoided them.

Alpha!Keigo notices a rather large bruise on your arm one day, and after further investigation, he discovered it to be a hand mark. Keigo persuaded you (made you cum until you were a crying, blubbering, mess) until you finally revealed that a reporter had spotted you on the road today. You were walking home from work. The male reporter thought it would be a good idea to corner you so he could ask questions. You, rightfully so, attempted to just walk away like you always do. But this guy, alpha no less, grabbed your arm so you couldn't leave. Keigo was seeing red.

Alpha!Keigo calms down enough after a few hours. He lulls you to sleep and watches you dream away so peacefully before he pulls out his phone and makes a call.

Alpha!Keigo doesn't hesitate to let you build a nest in his office. None of his coworkers nor workers are allowed in his office after you do. Of course, they can come close to the door and knock, but they are forbidden from entering. Even when Keigo/you isn't there, they still are not allowed in his office. Your nest is too precious to even be seen by anyone else. Keigo teared up when you said you wanted to build a nest in his office and his room at his house. You trusted him enough to do that. He could only hold you close, wrapped up in his beautiful red wings, as he praises you and thanks you.

Alpha!Keigo, who hates it when you switch your shampoo. You always claim that you never cared for what shampoo you grabbed, as long as it wasn't conditioner, but he hated that you switched it up every time. Your scent just changed too much, and nothing ever smelt special for you, specifically. Finally, the night you both first made passionate love to one another for the first time. Keigos' back was lined with burning passion. His shoulders were tense, sweat dripping from his forhead, his wings jerking and relaxing every few seconds, not to mention you. Your body laid out beneath him, sweat lining your beautiful skin, hair sticking to the bed and your own face, hickies and dark bite marks scattered along your upper chest and neck, it was all perfect. What made it even more perfect was the smell that Keigo couldn't get enough of. After he had emptied his balls into you, he just laid on your chest. But Keigo didn't expect to smell the sweetest, most drooling scent he had ever smelt, pouring from your scent glands. Nothing covering or blocking you from openly releasing this scent if yours.Round two immediately started after that.

Alpha!Keigo protects you and loves you with everything he is. Man, hero, son (hopefully a daddy bird soon), you took it all when you stole his heart. Keigo would gladly put down his life for his omega, and he would put down someone else's life for you, too. Though he would say that allowed, he knows you're more sensitive about gore and killing than he is. But he doesn't care. As long as you stick by his side no matter what, he knows he will stick by yours.

And don't get be started on Alpha!Keigo becoming a father after impregnating his little omega.

[unlimitedlust]

Pretty When You Cry - Noah Sebastian x Reader (+18)

Author’s Note:

Heyy, this was requested by an Anon, I got really excited with their idea and I hope I made justice to it!

Warnings: smut smut smut smut (this one has a lot more smut than the previous ones), handjob, oral f! and m! receiving, p in v, creampie, squirting, dom! Noah.

It’s very late over here, forgive me for any mistakes, please.

W/C: 4.2K

Tag request: @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning

Please let me know if you enjoyed it, it makes my day when you comment on it ❤️❤️❤️ Likes and reblogs also make my day, so feel free to do so!!! Enjoy it!!!

End of Author’s Note

Noah had just got home after months on the road with the boys and the way you missed and craved for him at that point was maddening. But before you could have your alone time with him, you still had to attend the band’s barbecue to wrap up and celebrate the end of the tour.

You begged him for at least a quickie, but he was adamant you’d leave that for after the party because he knew that after such a long time away from you, it wouldn’t be just a quickie.

But you weren’t okay with that. You wanted him and now you were obstinate to have him crawling for you.

So you wore the floral sundress you’d just bought, it hugged your body in all the right places, marking your waist and highlighting your chest, and had a slit on the left side, exposing your leg and thigh at each step. You applied your favorite cologne and a light makeup, and you were ready to go.

Noah eyed you from head to toe as you came down the stairs and gave you a firm slap on your ass as you walked past him towards the door.

“I liked the dress, baby, looks perfect on you” He paid his compliments as you both got into his car.

“Wore it for you, love” You winked at him and landed your left hand on his thigh, like you always did.

But then an idea crept into your head as he hummed a random song distractedly. You moved your hand higher and inwards on his thigh, caressing it with gentle rubs getting closer to his crotch each time.

You felt him tense and his gaze shifted from the road to you for a fraction of second, until he relaxed and settled himself on his seat, allowing and giving you space for whatever you had in mind.

You moved your hand higher and your fingers finally grazed his cock, hard in his shorts with your teasing. You palmed his length over the shorts slowly, impatiency starting to slip off him with a heavy sigh as you circled lightly the pad of your thumb on his sensitive tip.

His knuckles got white on the steering wheel due to how hard he held it while you pulled his shorts down just enough to free his cock, heavy and slapping against his lower belly, the sight making your mouth water and your pussy throb in need.

You spit on your hand and wrapped it around his shaft, slowly dragging it up and down his length, intentionally avoiding his tip, which made him visibly clench his jaw and fight back a frustrated moan as you worked solely on his shaft.

You gathered some saliva and leaned closer to him, making him think you were about to blow him off, but instead, you stopped your mouth inches away from his cock, parted your lips and let your spit drip from your lips to his tip, extra sensitive from being neglected, the light feeling of your saliva dripping and running over it making him buck his hips slightly searching for more.

You giggled seductively as you added your other hand on rubbing him off. One pumping his length, twisting its wrist around it to add an extra layer of pleasure, while the other worked on his head, switching from squishy pumps to just cupping it with the palm of your hand, leisurely rolling and lightly squeezing him, the wave of pleasure from that very specific motion making him break the car abruptly as a nearly guttural moan came from his lungs with the sensitiveness.

Seeing Noah so needy and vulnerable in front of you got you aching between your legs as he begged for you not to stop and threw his head back in pleasure. Thank god you were stuck on some light traffic because at that point Noah had his hands on the headrest of his seat, blunt nails digging on its leather as he buckled his hips forward and came in a long moan, cock twitching, spilling all over your hands as you kept on working on his high.

“That was amazing” He exclaimed breathless as his chest heaved up and down, and he got back into his driving stance while trying to reach out for some cleaning tissues for you, until he, taken by surprise, almost got hard again by watching you lick your hands and fingers clean, a devilish smirk on your lips “Fuck, baby what’s got you like that today?”

“I needed you to fuck the shit out of me before we left, but you decided against it, remember?” You teased him by making a pout with your lips, pretending to be annoyed at him.

Before the traffic light turned green, he pulled your head roughly and kissed you aggressively, in a clear attempt to show you how much he wanted you too. But still, you couldn’t miss the barbecue with the boys.

You arrived there shortly after, Noah’s cheeks were still rosy when you got out of his car and went straight to the backyard’s gate to meet the guys, their laughter could be heard from the street.

It was a warm and sunny afternoon, everyone was enjoying themselves and laughing off the fun moments from the tour while eating good food and having nice cold drinks.

You could feel Noah’s gaze on you from the small group he was gathered in a corner, watching closely everything you did, even the smallest gestures. So you took advantage of that.

Matt had just served a batch of hot dogs in the table next to you and you took one of them, taking it to your mouth, your tongue sliding on the sausage as you drove it in, mayo smearing on the corner of your lips on purpose, so you could sensually lick it off, just as you did on your fingers back in the car, getting Noah ridiculously jealous over a hot dog.

And that’s when you decided you’d tease him at every chance you got.

You could see him trying to avert his gaze from you, but it was pointless, his eyes were always there. You walked to one of the coolers for another beer and turned your back to him as you bent down to grab another bottle, your dress riddening up as you did so, almost revealing what it hid underneath.

At that point he wasn’t just discreetly watching you, he was actively ignoring his conversations and had his eyes trained on you, torn between wanting to fuck you there and then at that very position, and feeling a pang of jealousy because if he was watching that, it meant others could watch it too. On both hypotheses he felt himself getting hard, which made him have to carefully arrange his cock in his shorts so no one saw the on growing boner.

He forced his attention back to whatever random subject Jolly was talking about, trying to think about anything but you so he could quiet down the “situation” inside his shorts.

That’s until you, after a couple of minutes out of his sight, waltzed past him, stealthily depositing your white lace panties on his hand, winking at him as you casually walked back to the group of friends you were in earlier.

Noah swallowed dry and his blood boiled as his cock got fully hard, forcing him to sit down on the couch behind him and immediately grab one of its pillows to cover himself while also saving your underwear in his pocket.

“You okay bro?” Ruffilo asked, aware of his friend’s uneasiness.

“Yeah. My back hurts. Just need to seat for a moment”

You knew by the look on his face he’d make you pay for that later. Not only for getting him all flustered in front of his friends, but especially for walking around in that dress having no panties underneath.

You thought about giving him a break, but when a tray of cupcakes came into your sight you just needed to push his buttons again.

You grabbed two of them and headed straight to Noah, sitting on one his thighs as you gave him one of the cupcakes.

His free hand made its way to slide over the curve of your ass, but you stopped him in his tracks.

“You can look, but you can’t touch” You whispered deviously, giggling in his ear.

“I’mma fuck that attitude out of you when we get out of here” His promise along with his husky tone got you clenching your legs together in anticipation.

As if nothing was happening, Noah took a bite out of his cupcake, frosting smearing the corner of his lips, and before he could himself clean it off, you leaned into him and licked off, your eyes meeting his dark ones as you did it.

“Guess you’ll have to work hard then” You spat back and got off his lap, swaying your hips on your way.

A couple of hours had gone by and you decided to give him some peace, but your previous acts through the event were still lingering on his head, earning you predatory looks you knew you’d “regret” later when he had his way with you, especially every time he felt the lace in his pocket.

It was night already and the barbecue came to an end. You said your goodbyes to everyone and headed home, the ride on your way there silent, but the tension thick in the air and you noticed how Noah drove a lot faster than usual, eager to get home.

He pushed you inside the house and closed the door behind him with a loud bang, his impatience evident in his demanding tone.

“Bedroom. Now.”

“I’m so tired, can’t we leave this for tomorrow?” You teased one last time, faking a yawn, and in the next second he had you pinned on the hallway wall, hands around your neck.

“Quit it. Upstairs. Now. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d fuck that sassiness out of you, so don’t expect any sleep for tonight”

You’d been wet all day in need of him, but having him bark those words at your face had you dripping in anticipation.

He let go of your neck and you quickly obeyed him, practically running up the stairs as he followed closely behind, closing the bedroom door as you got inside.

“On your knees” He commanded, voice husky in lust as he took his shirt off.

You dropped on your knees in front of him, both of you next to a floor to ceiling mirror, allowing you to watch yourselves.

Noah bent down and grabbed you by your jaw, his face inches from yours as he said:

“Got me hard in front of everyone the whole damn day and with that short dress with no panties underneath” You bit your bottom lip at his tone, terribly turned on by him and his imposing, bossy stance “Gonna fuck that pretty mouth of yours so you learn not to do that again”

You tried to kiss him but he stood back up straight and pulled down his shorts, freeing his rock hard manhood in all its glory.

“I’m the one who’ll decide when you can kiss me or not, baby” He had a devilish grin on his lips “But have in mind, you’re the one who started it”

You couldn’t think straight to come up with any sassy remark or any other kind of answer, so you just drove your hands to his cock, only to be stopped midway by a pull on your hair.

“No hands. You’ll have to deal with all of it with your mouth only”

You put your hands on your back as he brings your head closer to his cock, eyes connected, your mouth split open and tongue sticking out to lap him languidly from its base to its tip, swirling your tongue around it before taking it in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around it as your tongue played with the small bundle of nerves on the slit right below his tip on the underside of his cock, making a strangled moan escape from his lips.

You kept on sucking him, driving him deeper into your mouth, making sure to make a “pop” sound every time you pulled out of him completely, only to dive into him again, jaw hurting with his thickness and length, but focused on getting him all the way into your throat, to the point your nose pressed against his pubic area, without the help of your hands.

The vision he had from above was unholy as he kept you still, cock deep in your throat as watched you struggle on keeping him all the way in, a few tears running down your cheeks and spit down your chin in the process, an absolute heaven for him.

Noah tightened the grip on the makeshift ponytail on your hair and started to thrust in and out of your mouth, ruining it as he sped up his pace and intensity, making you take support on his legs as he fucked your face, moaning shamelessly above you.

You knew he was close when his thrusts became erratic and his cock started to twitch on your tongue.

Noah entangled his fingers on the hair on the back side of your head and pulled you backwards, away from him, letting only his tip rest on your tongue as he stroked himself and came on it, some of his spurts missing your tongue and painting your face as you keep your tongue out and mouth wide open for him.

In his eyes you looked like a work of art, all disheveled, makeup running down your face and eyes glazed with lust as you licked and swallowed the cum that stained your lips and your cheeks.

“Good girl” He praised as he hoisted you up and crashed his lips against yours hungrily, tasting himself as he captured your tongue.

He guided you backwards to the bed, stepping out of his shorts on the way, and laid you on it without ever breaking the kiss.

His lips finally left yours and trailed their way down your chin towards your neck, spreading kisses and love bites all over it, making sure to leave his marks, claiming his girl.

While he kept working on your neck sending shivers down your spine, his hands came up to your boobs cupping and fonddling them still covered by the dress, until he finally pulled its front part down and off of you, exposing your hardened nipples and allowing him to explore your breasts further.

He pinched your nipples with his thumbs and index fingers, rolling it between them but not too hard, just enough to make you arch your back, offering more of you as you writhed under him.

You spread your legs wide and thrusted up your hips to meet his own, desperately trying to have the slightest friction on your pussy, but it was no use, Noah immediately brought one of his hands and pinned your hips down on the bed.

“Please” You whined is frustration, clit aching and desperately needing some attention.

“Thought you liked teasing” He sank his teeth on the crook of your neck in response.

Noah soothed his bite with his tongue and kissed his way across your collarbone to your chest, licking its valley before he attached his lips around one of your nipples, gliding his tongue over it to then nibble at it, the stimulation so good you could feel the knot on your pelvis forming only by it.

He shifted his attention between your boobs, repeating the same movements, and you were so concentrated you didn’t see him moving his right hand down to the center of your body.

You gasped audibly when he finally ran his fingers over your slit, collecting your slick to rub it on your clit with feather-like touches at first.

You raked your hands over his tattooed arms and back trying to feel more of him, one of them settling through his silk dark hair, keeping him at your chest level as he still feasted on your boobs, marking their flash with small bites.

Noah pressed harder on your clit with the pads of his fingers and you felt that knot on your lower belly tightening, eager for the long awaited release as Noah, even after all those months away, knew your body more than yourself and pushed all of your right buttons to have you falling apart under his touch.

Your whole body tensed as you got close to your climax, but when you were about to snap it, he stopped and drew his fingers away from you.

“No!” You complained in raw frustration.

Noah giggled evilly at your reaction, the tables had turned and by the mischievous look in his eyes, you knew he’d make you pay for all the teasing you’d put him through.

“You’ll cum only when I allow you to. Understand?”

You nodded flustered as he collected more of your slick with his fingers and drove them to your lips so you could taste yourself. He pushed his inked fingers in your mouth, making you open it wider.

“I want your words”

“Yes”

“Good. Now eyes on me”

His face was on the same level as yours. He braced himself on his arm by the side of your head as he drove his hand back between your legs.

He sank two of his long fingers inside you, stretching your walls and going straight to that spongy spot inside you. He smirked when he saw your breath hitching and your pupils dilating when he started to curl his fingers inside you, rubbing it in a ‘come here’ motion.

Noah knew you loved this and knew how easily you gave in when he reached that very spot, and you only confirmed that when you unwittingly spread your legs even wider, allowing him full and unrestricted access to you.

“Noah please…” You begged, helplessly trying to pull on his short hair as he sped up his pace, taking you up that cliff you’d been craving to jump from.

Your body tensed again and you bit your bottom lip as we kept on fingering you, and when you thought he’d finally make you cum, he stopped again, retrieving his fingers and licking them clean as he laughed at your frustration.

“No” He deadpanned.

Restrained electricity ran through your veins and you felt even more sensitive with all the edging, your body feeling like jelly, even though you hadn’t cum yet.

As he waited for you to come back from your - almost - high, Noah crawled down the bed, pushed the skirt of your dress up and peppered wet kisses on your inner thighs, his lips getting dangerously close to your pussy, to then skip it, just to watch you wriggle above him.

He snaked both of his arms around each of your thighs and brought your pussy inches away from his face. He blew his hot breath over it and lightly ran his nose over your swollen clit as he did so, making you shudder under his hold.

You groaned loudly when you finally felt his tongue run along your slit, lapping up your arousal. He kissed and licked and suckled on your most sensitive spots, making you buck your hips up for even more of that, desperate for the release that’s been denied to you twice already.

Noah sucked on your clit and licked circles on it as he kept it between his lips, and that was it for you, you felt it coming hot and strong inside you, ready to ripple through you, toes curling at it, when he again, pulled away, postponing your release.

And at that point you were desperate, your chest heaved and a couple of tears of both pleasure and frustration streamed down your face because you needed it, you needed it hard, and he was taking it away to punish you.

“Please please please” You begged again while he helped you out of the dress you were still wearing.

“I told you I’d fuck that attitude out of you, didn’t I?” He whispered against your lips as he hovered over you, the tip of his cock lining to your opening as he did so.

“Then please do it”

“Do what?”

“Fuck my pussy” One of his hands went straight to your neck at your words.

“It’s not your pussy baby” He choked you “It’s mine” And pushed himself all the way in in one hard and deep thrust, making you moan loudly at the sudden stretch.

Your nails clawed down his back and you felt completely full as he started to fuck you properly, the hand around your neck adding to the experience as it pressed on the sides of your neck, cutting off part of the flow of oxygen to your brain.

After all those months away from him it felt like heaven having him inside you again, hips slapping harshly against yours as he now fucked you in short thrusts, but hard and deep at each of them, making sure to roll his hips enough so your clit would also be stimulated in the process.

“Fucking missed this” He groaned on your ear, peppering kisses on your neck “Fucking missed you”

“Me too baby.. feel so good inside me” You mumbled back as your walls clenched around him, announcing your orgasm building again in your core.

“Fuck don’t do this, I need to last” He moaned out, visibly holding himself back at your walls squeezing on him.

Changing positions, Noah manhandled you roughly, making you land on your fours, and pulled you by your hips, pushing his cock all the way back in one hard thrust. Stilled inside you, his hands once holding your hips slid down to your waist and then your ribcage, his hard grip pressing your body down on the bed while your ass was still up in the air and bottomed out by him.

He leaned down to your ear and said:

“I want you to cum hard on my cock, can you do that for me?”

“Yes baby” You sighed, breathless and head in overdrive with the new angle he was hitting.

“I want you to clench hard around me, milk me up so I can fill that pretty little pussy, you understand?” His words alone were enough to make you throb around him.

“Y-yes”

“Good”

He got back to his previous position behind you and pinned both your wrists together behind your back as started to fuck you again, in and out in harder and deeper than before, shoving your body forwards at each thrust, making you fight for your own balance as you drooled on the bed sheets, completely cock drunk.

You became a full moaning mess as he railed you like never before. Your denied climax coming back stronger than ever before and heightened by the sounds of his own moans as he drilled you.

You felt your body in flames as the pressure on your pelvis got unbearable and Noah, reading your body, leaned forward and took his hand to your clit. Only this time he wasn’t stopping it.

So it came. You screamed against the sheets as an earth shattering orgasm took over your senses, making you gush over Noah, your whole body shudder and your walls clench hard around his cock as he rode you through it, the feel of him twitching and cumming inside you at the same time only adding to your high as your whole body went numb with the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had on your life.

You were so blind by your high you didn’t realize you’d squirted on Noah, who smiled proudly at you as he pulled out of you, your fluids running down his lower belly and his cum dripping out of your hole.

He buried his face on your sensitive cunt and lapped it up for the last time, collecting his own cum to bring it to your mouth, which you gladly accepted by sticking your tongue out so he could spit it in, kissing you lovingly after.

You shifted your position on the bed, laying facing up the ceiling while Noah went to the bathroom.

He came back moments later with a wet towel and started to take care of you. First he cleaned the smeared makeup on your face and the remnants of spit and cum, kissing tenderly the places he’s just taken care of, then he cleaned the cum oozing from between your legs, kissing your knees once he was done.

After disposing of the towel, he climbed back on the bed with him, pulling you to his embrace as you nuzzled against his chest.

“You have no idea how I missed you, baby, I love you so much” He whispered as he kissed your forehead and held you tightly in his arms.

“I couldn’t stay another second away from you, Noah, you’re a part of me already” You tilted your head up to meet his lips “I’m unable to describe how much I love you too”

You felt dizzy as his heartbeat lulled you into your sleep, until he poked you.

“Uh uh” You looked at him confused as you waited for him to continue “I’m just giving you a break. I meant it when I said we’re not sleeping tonight”

[cat-in-a-mech-suit]

Transmasculinity Throughout Time: Greek Mythology

This is a relief of Caeneus from Greek Mythology getting beaten into the ground by centaurs with trees. He is one of three trans men in Greek myths that I will be discussing! Not only am I looking at actual historical trans men, but examples of transmasculine figures in myths and stories too. The next one will be FtM crossdressing and transmasculine longings written in Shakespeare - I am still wondering though, what other examples of transmasculinity in fictional myths and stories are out there?

Reiterating, I am not any kind of authority on history and am getting my information from accessible internet resources- if you want a source on something specific, ask - many sources are slightly to very problematic in how they talk about gender and transmasculinity so I prefer to not post them directly but will give them in the comments on request if you want to look into something. For this post, I am just going off of Wikipedia. Anyways, anything I post in Transmasculinity Throughout Time is my own opinions, I will talk casually and formally (I don’t really distinguish formality due to autism), and I will use the pronouns of my best judgement. If you don’t like this series for any reason, cool, don’t interact. If you like it and want to give suggestions, cool. I would like to bring transmasculine histories to light in my own way, and welcome a curious and open minded discussion.

In Greek myths, there are three trans men who are known of: Caeneus, Iphis, and Leucippus. If you read the following about Caeneus, please be aware of the content: specifically, TW for SA. Skip to Iphis and Leucippus after the break if you’d prefer to avoid it.

Caeneus was the child of Elatus and Hippea. He was born a girl, but was transformed into an invulnerable man after being raped by Poseidon. In some accounts, he asked to be transformed to avoid pregnancy. In others, it is simply so he doesn’t suffer the same thing again. This narrative is very interesting to me. Some modern sanism and queerphobia manifests as the idea of transmasculinity, lesbianism, or queerness of any kind as a response to sexual trauma. But Caeneus wasn’t a one dimensional victim turned oppressor. He was the strongest warrior of his day after he was transformed, and became king of the Lapiths. Somehow, he angered the gods, exactly how is unclear - it is suggested that it could have been worshipping or encouraging others to worship a spear instead of the gods. As punishment, they sent centaurs after him.

The most popular story involving Caeneus is actually his battle with the centaurs, not his gender transformation. It was called centauromachy, a battle between Lapiths and centaurs. Because he was invulnerable, none of the centaurs weapons worked on him, and he was difficult to defeat - to kill him, they had to actually bury him in the earth by beating him down with stones and uprooted trees. These centaurs were transphobic too. They said:

“Shall I put up with one like you, O Caeneus?

For you are still a woman in my sight.

Have you forgot your birth or that disgrace

by which you won reward—at what a price

you got the false resemblance to a man?!

Consider both your birth, and what you have

submitted to! Take up a distaff, and

wool basket! Twist your threads with practiced thumb!

Leave warfare to your men!” (Ovid, Metamorphoses).

“Transandrophobia isn’t real” “trans men have no historical presence” Meanwhile greek mythology be like… anyways.. So .. Then.. the centaurs were defeated by him! He was invulnerable. But they could still beat him into the ground with uprooted trees. It is described in Races’ translation of Argonautica, Apollonius of Rhodes: “They rallied against him, but were not strong enough to push him back nor to kill him, so instead, unbroken and unbending, he sank beneath the earth, hammered by the downward force of mighty pine trees.” This makes me think about how transmasculinity is buried in history.. Onto the next myths!

Iphis and Leucippus both have very similar stories. Iphis was born of Ligdus and Telethusa. Ligdus only wanted a son, and said he would only let the child live if it was male. The goddess Isis asked Telethusa to keep the child regardless of how it is born, and promised her aid in the future. Iphis grew up raised as a boy, and was “officially” transformed by Isis before marrying a girl, Ianthe. From Ovid, Metamorphoses:

“Her face seemed of a darker hue, her strength seemed greater, and her features were more stern. Her hair once long, was unadorned and short. There is more vigor in her than she showed in her girl ways. For in the name of truth, Iphis, who was a girl, is now a man!”

Leucippus’ tale is almost the same, he was born of Lamprus and Galatea, Lamprus would only accept a male child, and Galatea concealed Leucippus’ birth sex from her husband, giving him a masculine name and referring to him as her son. Upon puberty, he was changed physically into a man by the goddess Leto. This story actually inspired a male rite of passage in Phaistos dedicated to Leto, and inspired a wedding custom where brides would lie next to an image or statue of Leucippus before weddings. Two customs in an ancient greek city being inspired by a story about a trans man is an important and cool fact methinks.

[justauthoring]

stubborn.

request(s) -> Hii! I love your Gray Fullbuster x reader fics. They are so great!! Could I request then something like female reader goes on a mission and comes back being hurt and tries to hide it, but Gray saw through her and he is so worried about her, because they like each other so he corners her and help her. With a fluff, maybe even a kiss? Thank you in advance!! <3 + can you write a childhood bsf to lovers story for gray or sting from fairy tail? Nothing too specific, but also wanted to say I love your stories <3 😖

requested by -> @shogun0wa

pairing: gray fullbuster x f!reader

gray could tell something was wrong, even if you were desperately trying to pretend otherwise.

frankly, he didn't even see why you bothered—stubborness perhaps? he'd known you long enough, since the both of you were children, to see that the smile on your lips was forced and feigned. years spent attached at the hip gave him the insight others wouldn't notice.

so, yeah, he guessed - stubborness it definitely was.

chin resting in the palm of his hand, gray's eyes watch you closely as you talk with erza and lucy. you're less animated than usual, letting the two other girls do most of the talking for you as you simply listen and nod. if either lucy or erza noticed something was wrong, it was easy to tell you'd brushed their concern off with a simple excuse of being tired.

the same excuse you've used with gray since you'd returned from your solo mission and he'd noticed something was off.

anytime he'd confronted you, you'd been skillfully adept at avoiding him. gray would barely get a word out edgewise before you'd slip off from with some excuse or another of mira needing you, or lucy wanting your help with something.

things of the sort.

gray's patience was waring thin and with it, his concern was overwhelming him to the point he could barely function normally. he could see the paleness to your skin, all colour leaving your cheeks and the way your eyes would narrow and your lips would purse when you thought no one was looking.

it was clear you were in pain.

gray couldn't understand why you were trying to convince otherwise.

"i'll talk to you both later, okay?"

pulled from his thoughts, gray straightens when he sees you standing from the table, offering a small wave erza and lucy's way. the smile at you in response, each wishing you goodbye but gray's only zone in on the way your face, for the splittest second, twists in agony before you school your expression.

that was it. gray was going to get to the bottom of this.

standing up himself, gray is careful to be quiet, hanging back a minute after you move towards the guild doors before following you. he exits a moment after you do, you still blissfully unaware, and with an eased movement, gray's hand locks around your wrists and tugs you gently towards the alley beside the guild.

you stumble after him, a whimper leaving your lips — gray does feel guilty for causing you pain, but he figures this'll help prove his point.

"gray! what are you—"

"where?"

he doesn't bother letting you finish your accusation — he was tired of your pointless stubbornness. all he wanted to do was help you.

huffing, you glare up at gray; "where, what?"

"where does it hurt?"

your face falls at that, glare dissipating in seconds as you stare blankly up at gray. you shift against the wall he's cornered you against, gray's body trapping you with no escape as you squirm uncomfortably.

gray's eyes, however, zone in on the way your hand clutches at your side.

"there?" he asks, raising a brow as he reaches for your hand. "that's where it hurts?"

"gray—"

"enough." he cuts in once more, voice sharper. his eyes fall shut in frustration before turning to meet your own, gaze unwavering. gray's patience is gone at this point and perhaps he'll regret being so sharp with you later, but for now it's necessary to get the truth out of you.

like he said, you were too damn stubborn.

"i don't know why you're trying to pretend you're not in pain, but i can tell, okay?" he huffs, exasperated. "i know you."

you blink up at him, face easing.

"i... it's really not that bad."

gray just shakes his head; "let me see."

you warm faintly at that, but knowing gray won't back down, especially not now, you oblidge to his request. slowly, your hands move to the hem of your tank, slowly pulling it upwards until your stomach is bare. you tuck your shirt just under your breasts, feeling vulnerable in an entirely new way as you avoid gray's gaze.

in another light, gray would be just as embarrassed. there's no room for that, however, when he see's the large bruise across your ribs; your skin is discoloured with a terrible yellowish-purple.

honestly, gray's surprised you've been able to walk at all with a injury that size.

"why didn't you get wendy to heal you?" gray hisses, concerned, as he reaches for you. you tense as his cold but familiar touch falls on usually untouched skin, biting your lip as he gently prods to bruise, wincing slightly in pain. "y/n, this is bad."

"it's not that bad," you force out, huffing.

"yes, it is," gray argues, sharp eyes falling back on your own. "it looks like you could even have a broken rib given how bruised it is."

you just frown.

"why?" gray sighs, finally pulling away as you slowly let your shirt fall back down. "why hide it?"

it takes you a moment to reply, looking down at your own feet and desperately avoiding gray's piercing gaze. gray almost thinks you won't speak and goes to ask again, until he hears your soft and mumbled voice. "i didn't want to be a bother."

"...what?"

"i didn't want to be a bother!" you repeat, this time louder; your voice cracks in desperation as you turn to gray with a tear-filled gaze. he stares blankly back at you, stunned. "i'm always getting hurt on missions and everyone is always having to help me... you most of all! so i took this mission by myself to prove i'm strong, only i got hurt like i always do!"

you finish with a gasp, hands pressing against your wound as you twist yourself uncomfortably.

gray doesn't say anything at first. he frowns, shoulders falling and watches as you desperately try to hold back the tears that threaten to slip past your eyes, he thinks about the fact that you think so lowly of yourself.

do you really think that's what the others think? what he thinks?

spurned on by the guilt of ever letting you think that way about yourself and desperate to rectify his own foolish mistake, gray ignores the nerves bundling in his chest and leans forward with a burst of desperate confidence. he grabs your chin, tugging you towards him gently as he lets his eyes flutter shut and presses his lips against your own.

you tense at the action and gray fears the worst, moving to pull away, but then a second later you're easing, hands slowly moving to shift around his own as you lean into the kiss.

he pulls back a second later, blinking down at you.

you stare up at him; "what was that for?"

"to prove to you," he whispers.

"prove to me what?"

"that none of what you said is true," he urges, cupping your cheeks. "your strength is your strength, and you are a vital member to both fairy tail and the team. if anyone says you aren't, i'll personally show them otherwise."

gray watches as your lips part and your eyes soften with something warm.

"gray..."

"it doesn't matter how much you get hurt, i will always be there to help you." he continues, letting the truth pour out of him with vulnerabilty he's unused to. "all that matters to me is that you're okay. i need you, y/n. so please don't ever hide something like this from me again, okay? please?"

slowly, you nod.

"okay," he nods, some of that blind confidence wavering as he feels his cheeks burn with the reality of his confession. "n-now, can we please take you to see wendy?"

you nod once more, but the small smile that curls onto your lips is undeniable. then, you slowly lower his hands from your cheeks, holding tight to his right one as you thread your fingers through it, squeezing.

gray eases at your assurance, a grin curling onto his lips.

he guesses, when he truly thought about it, he was just a stubborn — it's why the two of you got along so well.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Just Perfect | Yandere Illumi Zoldyck

The heat underneath your turtle neck collar was sweltering. The coolness of the kitchen counter was unable to reach you through your jeans, only felt when you briefly let your hands brace yourself on it. The cutting board and toaster pressing against your back served as a minor obstacle, shoved to the side by the man enraptured by you. For you, it was a reminder of where exactly you were and the time of your ‘lonesome’ afternoon coming to an end.

“W-we have to stop soon.”

Your neighbor didn’t answer, instead busy himself with harshly biting your lip. Probing deeper into your mouth as he pulled at the loops of your jeans in an unspoken request. Your hands previously tangled in his hair were grabbing fistfuls of his tracksuit; passionately pulling as you felt the burning heat in your lungs as your kissing continued.  The haze upon your mind was addictive, thinking only of the way his mouth never stopped sucking–your tongue, your jaw, your neck. Barely registering his pale and masterful hands slipping under the form-fitting wool to squeeze at the fat of your waist. His hands are trailing upwards speedily making their way to your chest, it was almost enough to put all your worries to rest. 

The jingling of keys just outside the door stopped that immediately. 

With unimaginable haste, you unlatched and shoved the man away. Hopping down from the counter to pull your sweater back down and your pants up. Turning around to fix up the appliances on the counter. You quickly ran to the decorative mirror on the wall pulled the neck of your sweater up and inspected the marks on your face. Specifically on your lips while you sucked at the bloodied part of your lip. Lightly dabbing at it you sucking your teeth, cursing yourself before turning to the door swinging open.

“Welcome home Akaza!”

The black-haired boy didn’t look surprised to see you. Instead, he looked surprised at your state even though you felt like you fixed most of it. Watching him scrutinize your appearance, stopping at your bottom lips. You curled your lips in as though it would hide what was already seen. 

“What happened to your lip?!”

You chuckled nervously,” I bit it–on accident. Is it that bad?”

Adding the extra question you hoped would dissuade him from asking more. Instead, the second year marched further inside the home nonchalantly dropping his bag at the door; leaving it to you to pick up. After setting it nicely on a hook you came into the kitchen where your adoptive son was clutching at the tracksuit of your long-haired neighbor, practically growling in his face.

“How’d I know this parasite would be here?! Oi oi, you listening to me punk?! What’re you doing here!?”

You held the bridge of your nose. That twisted face and tensed posture matched the reports made by so many teachers. You knew this wouldn’t end like those situations in the past. Not if you had any say about it. Not that Illumi was going to let you.

“I think you know why.”

“GGRRRR!”

Akaza quickly reeled back to punch him only for your neighbor to dodge, and swiftly unlatched Akaza’s hand maneuvering him into the perfect position for a headlock. You figured it’d be best to end this now before one of them actually hurts the other.

“Akaza. Illumi. Break it up.”

The teen growled again reeling his fist in an awkward position. Illumi didn’t release him, anticipating the punch.

“Now, Akaza!”

The teen shook his head as he stomped away, avoiding eye contact with you. He headed up the stairs occasionally sneering as he made eye contact with the man standing unharmed and defiantly in the kitchen. Letting out a sigh you let your neighbor come in close as you apologized. 

“I’m sorry about him. I’m sure you know how he feels about you.”

Illumi didn’t bother sharing your worried gaze at the steps. Only intensely staring at you. As he usually did.

“Is that where you’re going this afternoon? To the principal’s office, again?”

Crossing your arms, you already recognized the annoyance in his voice.

“Yes again.”

“You’ve had 6 meetings this month alone. And they all happen on the evenings that are usually dedicated to us.”

You shrugged. “Yes well, that’s just the reality of it.”

“Isn’t there a seaside school you–”

The glare on your face made Illumi quiet himself. Clearly, the mention of that option was entirely off-limits. It’s exactly what he feared.

“Sorry. Maybe a meeting at the end of the month can be negotiated?”

“Unless you can convince Akaza to keep his confrontations to the end of the month, then I don’t see that happening.”

Illumi didn’t groan because he doesn’t groan. Instead, he crossed his arms to stare off to the side. He waited for you to hug his waist, shoving yourself through his locked arms to hold him tight. You enticed him to look at you, smiling when he finally did. 

“Depending on how this meeting goes you can come with us during our victory meal.”

“As if!”

No longer in his uniform, Akaza had returned. Looking disgusted at the affection you two displayed, he donned his shoes again and stood impatiently near the door. The teenager had you swallowing laughter, how could a little delinquent (as he portrayed himself to be) still be so polite? Despite his words, he was waiting patiently for you and he hadn’t gotten physical since he returned downstairs. You’d consider that progress.

“Well maybe during our consolation dessert?”

“Nuh Uh! Your boy toy is just awkward maybe if he didn’t stare at you like you were his dinner I wouldn’t mind.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter at his assessment, letting a cheeky smile spread on your face. Hugging Illumi tightly you kick up your foot to playfully bat your eyes at Akaza, delighting in the little twitch his nose makes when he’s angry.

“Awww~are you jealous?”

“Blegh! Get a room you creeps!”

“Hahaha.”

Releasing your boyfriend you went over to your son, scratching his hair affectionately before reaching for your coat and shoes. You smile at Illumi encouraging him to leave with you two as you pull out your keys.

“Well then maybe we’ll go see a movie together instead.”

Looking down to lock the outside of the door, you’re vaguely aware that the two of them are speaking. But you don’t pay any mind, you figure it’s a thing they feel like must be done. Talking about territory, counseling books would usually reprimand this kind of thing but Akaza was no doormat and neither was Illumi. It was actually emboldening to think you’d find someone capable of going head to head with your self-proclaimed bodyguard. And even better he was just next door. 

“Yeah, get running track boy.” 

“Don’t call me boy, boy.”

“Yeah yeah get off our lawn!”

You didn’t bother fighting them—this was a peaceful interaction more so than the others they’ve had and you could focus on starting the car while you waited. A few more insults were thrown back and forth between the two of them; finally ending when Akaza slammed the side of the door into the passenger's seat. Only then did you send him a look that had him reopening and closing the door—softly this time. Smiling at him you rolled your window to shout to Illumi,” I’ll text you afterward about what we’re doing.”

Illumi only nodded, watching still as you smiled and waved then you were speeding off. Didn’t want to keep the principal waiting any longer. 

_____________________________________________________

“Aka, don’t you think this is a little…excessive.” You finally allowed yourself to speak normally, now that you both were leaving the empty school. Your son also seemed to relax, putting his hands behind his head as he walked alongside you.

“No. I’m doing it for her. Those bullies made her transfer, it is all their fault.”

He skipped ahead to open the driver’s side for you. Ever so polite you shoo him away back to the passenger side. Back in the car, you sent a wave to the principal who stood concerned while watching you drive off. 

“I know but you couldn’t have a witness or someone recording you defending her?”

Akaza sunk into his seat, sulking a little. You weren’t trying to bring him down but you figured if you offered some playful jabs he’d get your point.

“Like that blonde kid! What’s–his–name is clearly high all the time, I’m sure you could pay him off to back you up.”

You spared a glance from the road, catching the laugh he tries to hide. He rolls down the window letting his hand get pushed by the wind being cut through by your speeding car. 

“Douma is too popular for that kind of thing.”

“But he seems to like you enough.”

“He’s just a masochistic freak. Totally get’s off on the way I hate him.”

“Well don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m serious–”

You two continued to talk as you’ve always done. When you first met him, he was some flea-ridden kid who you’d caught breaking into a neighbor’s house across the way. Come to find he was trying to pawn off what he stole to afford medicine for his father. You’d seen this kid get caught by the police before and to say they weren’t fond of him was an understatement. In an impulsive rush of good will you decided to be a an anchor for them–coming over with food and necessities. Soon you were paying for school supplies and signing for field trips. You were more than happy when the state offered for you to tak him in. Ever since you’ve been the guardian to a troublesome boy with an inclination for using his fighting spirit to solve all his problems. 

While you had no regrets about taking Akaza there was a glaring issue of your dying social life. Being in a small district for the school, meant familiar faces and a lasting reputation. While no one seemed to hate you for your son’s…unconventional problem-solving, they weren’t eager to get to know you. Those that were–usually romantically—would also start running because of some unknown force your son.

They were scared. 

You understood but it didn’t make anything better. Both you and Akaza only had each other and the few people who were crazy enough to interact with you. One of those being your new neighbor. 

“So icecream or churros?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

_____________________________________________________________

Watching the familiar car drive away from the entrance of the school parking lot, from his phone Illumi clicked it off. Looking back up at the blubbering woman and their teen, expecting something. 

“You stopped.”

The woman nervously brought her hands to smooth over dyed hair, hiding the silver strands that imminently began to appear. 

Shakily coughing she continued, “Right, well as a major donor to the school I’m sure they value me and my son’s opinion quite a lot. It’s nothing personal really—in fact we can make a donation in your name to support such a…troubled kid.”

Illumi didn’t care what she had to say. He has listened to hundreds of seedy or innocent targets try and rationalize their lives. Those in particular, that were lucky enough to get the chance to bargain. Just as usual nothing they offered was worth the pay. 

“Alright I heard you out.”

Unsheathing the needles from his cashmere classic coat, unbothered by the screaming family in front of him. Now he was thinking about who’d he’d kill first? Who was he kidding, he’d been trained to kill them all at the same time. He briefly thought of how inefficient he was when he hadn’t gotten his fill of his fiance. 

“WAIT! What if I got you a new principal!? Someone that could wipe his record! That’d be good ri—!?”

Illumi wasted no time flinging the needles into their necks. Their tied forms going limp on  the floor. That was a great idea, it’d be easier to orchestrate the vacancy of the principal than convincing his fiance to depart with their misfit boy. It’d be even better if the newly appointed  principal could avoid scheduling meeting on the days dedicated to pampering his fiance. 

Wordlessly the corpse of the woman rose like the undead. Standing, twitching occasionally the  corpse moved past Illumi with a mission. 

Illumi turned to join, stopping at a rock song coming from his phone. Letting his puppet unlock their phone, following through with their prior promises; he busied himself with the realization of his phone’s latest feature. The icon of a locator app took up his screen, his fiance’s face adorably holding up a piece sign above the car moving through the map. 

Illumi wasn’t aware that his love had, organized this app on his phone. Let alone made the . ringtone an obnoxiously inappropriate song. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to undo the effect. It was like his gifts. 

Secret and made for surveillance.

Recognizing the route, he sent a message to his contact there. Illumi texted his fiance, reminding them of their prior offer. Perhaps this evening would still be salvageable; that is if that child would allow it. 

______________________________________________________________

Akaza was planning a murder. 

He’d done his best to keep chatting with his guardian, distracting them from their vibrating phone. No doubt the leech trying to get their attention Long enough for him to silence their phone when they got gas. He’d hope that’d be the end of it. Have his churro–icecream-monstrosity while watching the latest movie for him to laugh at with the only person in his corner. 

But no. 

He couldn’t have that. 

Not with the leech, conveniently being at the theater after they got their tickets. Pulling his guardian into his side while he collects the ticket for the open seat next them. Instead of his parent already turned to snark to him throughout the movie, they were whispering in the ear of the neighbor. Whispering and laughing with the man who was staring blankly at the screen, probably not even watching. The frozen section of the dessert in his hands, melting was just an omen to the night ahead. 

Instead of raving about the movie and they’re parent talking about their favorite parts, Akaza was forced to listen to the flirting of the two adults. Watching his parent pull at the man’s hands asking all the questions that usually would be asked of him.

“What do you mean you weren’t watching?”

“I was too busy looking at you. I didn’t care for the movie, really.”

“Don’t say that, there’s got to be something you like-”

“You.”

“Illumi, I’m serious!”

It wasn’t so bad when they relented to Illumi taking everyone out to eat. It was worth it to see the apathetic man silently accept the addition of Akaza to a restaurant of his choosing. Part of what Akaza hated about Illumi was his lack of emotions or rather the lack of displaying his emotions. Those wide black eyes bigger than olives always staring at his parent with insanity. The man’s strange movements that made him look like a puppet. The very rare smile that has people screaming in public. 

He didn’t know what his guardian saw in him.

Or why Illumi was so dedicated to dating them in turn. Akaza knew he was intimidating enough to scare the people not worthy for his parent but nothing was working. When it came to Illumi the doll-like man seemed all together unphased. More often then not he was making his own veiled threats. 

Akaza knew this angle, well. Others have tried to slink their way, whispering grand ideas of sending him to boarding or military school. But everytime his parent had shut them down, usually sending them away the minute they pushed the point. Illumi was much closer, literally and emotionally. Too many times had he found the neighbor making his parent bashful or stare at their phone in anticipation for a call from him. 

Unfortunately it doesn’t seem like he’s going away any time soon so it was better to lay the law down now. He waited until (Y/n) had left the table, waving over their shoulder as they left for the bathroom. 

“Look stalker, what’s your end goal? Sex, half their estate, you might as well come clean now.”

The pale man’s face showed no indication that he was alarmed or that he was listening at all. It wasn’t until his small lips curved and twisted into something wide and frightening. People around were whispering and a child was crying somewhere. This man was like nothing he’d dealt with before.

“What I want,” Illumi laughed, “has been clear from the start. I have nothing but the best intentions for (Y/n).”

Akaza sneered,”Yeah right. I find it funny you consider…getting rid of everyone they occasionally mention as a problem.”

Illumi cocked his head to the side. The leak of information makes him wary of keeping the boy alive at all. Instead he’ll make a note to handle those listening later.

“You know of my occupation?”

Akaza sighed,”Anyone who lives next to you knows. The thriving garden, the burner phones, and the way you talk about anatomy it’s just too weird.”

“I told you I was a docter, did I not?”

“I looked for your name in the medical registery, there is no Illumi Reldyck. I checked. There is another identity with your name but there’s no online footprint and I’m guessing you paid someone off for the fake certificate.”

The teen had him cornered. He did decide to lighten up considering the man’s hands reaching under the table for something. The thought of him reaching for a weapon did cross Akaza’s mind and he was glad for the pocket in his bubble jacket. Flashing it’s insides, and the insurance he carried as he brought his arms to rest on the back of the booth. 

Illumi was no longer smiling, “I believe I underestimated you.”

Nothing more needed to be said as their food was finally brought by a shaking waiter. The glares exchanged across the table dissipating as (Y/n) finally returned. 

“Glad you two didn’t bite each others heads off!”

Illumi leaned into them, “You told me you would hate it if I did that so I didn’t.”

Akaza sighed,”And I know you’d prefer it if I didn’t beat your boyfriend to a pulp in public. I know better.”

(Y/n) shook their head at the both of them before digging into their meal. For now Illumi and Akaza would be civil, it wouldn’t help anyone to fight in public with all these witnesses around. They’d wait until later to sort one another out. 

Where they wouldn’t be held back by the person they were fighting over. Or the police. Or investigative hunters. Or the organization of slayers.

Yeah they’d have to wait. 

________________________________________________________________

Illumi treated his wounds with the precision an assassin should have. Using his trained eyes to properly stitch at the gash in his leg. He was far removed from the process, after all it’s been years since he allowed himself to agonize over the searing feeling of pain. Instead he preferred to let his mind wander (as it often did ) to the one he endured these very wounds for. 

Despite their inadvertent hand in creating more strain on his body for his next mission, he couldn’t help but let his obsession with them consume even more. To think even a child they hadn’t birthed themself was already strong enough to be an obstacle to a trained assassin. It only proved how perfect (Y/n) was just for him. 

He’d long ago gotten the approval from his parents and eventually the entire family. Sharing a fraction of his extensive dossier about his fiance. They retracted their interest after the 50th page but Illumi didn’t mind. For once he valued the private appreciation he discovered when he first happened upon them. 

It was a minor interaction. One that Illumi would have ignored on the route to a mission. They had smiled while passing by; a nice gesture they did on an especially good days. The assassin didn’t mind at the time. Many very observational citizens might notice him but very few actually acted on it. He didn’t care…at least not at the time. He did care when he found his mind flashing the image of their smiling face while he stabbed the needle into the subject’s heart. 

At first it aggravated him that his attention was divided because of some random person. From a distance he could tell they weren’t particularly strong or highly intelligent. Yet he found himself in a department store’s camera room going through the footage of the sidewalk. Taking the seconds of the meeting on the recorded tape, he began his investigation. His…colleague often spoke about getting enjoyment from his time with people of interest. That’s all he’d call his growing interest at the time. That’s what he’d call it. Even if his investigation had been going on for five years now—he was convinced it was just for an experiment about enjoyment. Escalating from their route to work, to their home, to their room. He watched the raggedy child become a member of their home. Watched them send the delinquent to school. Watched them cut their hair. Watched them crash their car. Watched them go to physical therapy.

Watched them get farther with a lover they’d ever had. He hated that part.

That was when Illumi felt the desire to get involved. To finally introduce himself. To show them the love none of their past flings could properly pretend to show. After a talk with his parents he stationed himself in (Y/n)’s neighborhood. It took a short while to rid the house next to theirs but when he did, everything just fell into place. 

Well almost everything. 

“Thank you for the new job. I was told you had a request for me?”

The voice coming from the burner was calm—the tone of a fellow killer. It was reassuring. 

“The student I informed you about shouldn’t need any guidance. No meetings with them or their guardian unless you confirm it with me.”

The silent static permeating from the phone filled the room. A great background to the alluring  sight through the window. Right across the way was the silhouette of his beloved fiancé, oblivious of his watchful gaze. He couldn’t wait to offer the ring.

“Perhaps I can do more…with the boy…keep him away for awhile longer. Would that satisfy our agreement?”

Illumi let a smile spread on his face as that obnoxious song play on his other phone. The blue light from the window across shining through the sheer curtains. 

“That would be perfect.”

[haechansdoll]

my little doll - ml x reader

Pairing : Boxer!Lee Mark x f!Reader

Description : Humans have hormones, you understand that much. But does that explain why you can't stop the filthy daydreams that fill your head whenever you see a specific redhead? Does it excuse you for getting turned on by him simply breathing in your direction? And to make matters worse, he is off-limits, if your father found out you were messing with his prized boxer? You would be chained to a tower and your red-haired crush would be used as mincemeat.

Warnings : Bloody Nose, Perversion, Dom/Sub, Power Play, Panties, Caught Having Sex, Overstimulation

Wordcount : 20k

Hormones.

You dearly hate them, you hate how your chest does somersaults at the mere sight of him, or the fact you have to cross your legs when his voice tickles your ear, let alone the mocking sensation of arousal that forever plagues your core at the sweet little pet names he sure loves giving you. From the crimson red hair that falls over his shoulders, typically pulled back with a loose-fitting clip, a matching pair of eyes that have this undeniable sultry and charming glint to them, or the scars from broken bones or other mishaps he has yet to give you a story about that stick to his powerful arms and mesmerizing torso.

If anyone were to find out about the things that run through your head, the lewd imagery, the erotic scenarios... you would never be able to show your face again. It's normal to have less-than-pure thoughts, right? You're no less human than the next person, everyone has desires and fantasies!

But does that excuse the fact you've desperately been waiting for any chance you can get to go and relieve yourself? That the more you stare at him, the more you think about how good he may be in bed? His muscles flexing with each thrust, imagining the length and girth of his cock, would his voice be gruff or husky?

The recollection of your inner desires has you aching, it is humiliating, to say the least. Especially when the man who is the center of these very thoughts just so happens to be standing behind you, one hand on your shoulder, the other guiding your wrist. The close proximity has you feeling sick, between his voice right beside your ear and his hands on your arm.

To be honest, aren't you sick? Pretty sick in the head to be lewding Mark without his knowledge, what would he think of you if he were to learn of these sinful scenarios you let consume you? You simply cannot help it, any woman in your position would probably be the same, right? Thinking of all the things those hands can do, how his rough fingertips would feel between your legs, his tongue against your...

It isn't like anyone knows either, after all, it would spread like a wildfire if anyone were to find out about your less than an innocent crush. In your opinion, you do quite a good job at masking it, not too clingy to him but also not completely avoiding him. After all, he is your father's "student" if you could say that, often training under the watchful gaze of your dad.

Sometimes it still feels like just the other day when you two first interacted, him introducing himself, saying how he works under your dad. You heard of him from your father often boasting about this guy he is training. You figure it would be another older guy, rough around the edges, not good enough to be eye candy. You couldn't have been any more wrong, completely in shock to learn that this "guy" was not only a lot younger than you expected but looked like those Greek statues.

You can never quite focus when he speaks to you, eyes wandering ever so discreetly, ears deafening when you catch sight of a bead of sweat dripping down his neck, how the lump in his throat bobs while he talks or drinks water. 

Even now, as you throw another punch per his instruction, your focus is entirely elsewhere. Not on the way he tells you to twist your wrist when launching your fist from your body, but rather how good it feels when he speaks right next to your shoulder, each word making your eardrums vibrate. If only he knew that you weren't very focused on his self-defense lesson, but rather how good it would feel to have those big hands wrapped around your neck or your thigh... anywhere is fine by you.

Most nights you find yourself fantasizing about Mark…Mark, all the filthy scenarios possible flooding your already corrupted mind the whole time you feel yourself up. Gripping your sheets and pretending it's his hair, breathing into your pillow to try and mask the sounds of pleasure you just can't keep in. You feel awful every time you finish, though. Hastily fixing yourself and going to shower, hoping the water will wash away sin.

Alas, you know that any level you go to repent would never erase the tainted marks of lust from your body. You're trapped in this, like a stalkerish fan swooning over her celebrity crush. Again, thanking whomever it concerns that mind-reading is not a thing.

A hand comes down onto the top of your head, drawing you from your deeper workings, "That time was really good," Mark praised with a grin, fingers dripping from your skin, much to your dismay, "Try it again without me guiding you, put your all into it!" If you had any less self-control, a moan would have passed your lips from his perfect voice, each word rolling off his tongue like honey from a spoon. 

Times like now you wish you had a deeper relationship than what is now accessed, that way you could just grab at his arms and give him the prettiest bats of your lashes all for the sake of begging him to take you somewhere private. That's all you want right now, to feel his soft lips on yours, to taste his tongue that probably will feel minty from the gum he is currently chewing. The simple privilege of being able to kiss him would surely kill you.

You throw another punch and really start to feel that ache in your shoulder, but Mark calls it a "good burn", something you remember even your father saying back when you were little. Your eyes glance to the clock hung on the wall, usually, you are hoping time will fly by, but right now? You hope it goes painfully slow, who knows when the next time will be when you have him so close with his hands all over you.

"I think you've mastered how to punch someone, I'm a little scared by how quick you are..." The playfulness in his voice does more than make you smile, it also contributes to the arousal that continues to soak into your panties, which you can probably assume are ruined at this point, "Let's practice a kick for if you're being restrained by two people." 

The last thing you expect is to feel him come up from behind and wrap his arms around your torso, restraining your arms and keeping you firmly pressed to his solid front. You would have cum right there if it wasn't for how focused you were on the veins in his arms or his flushed knuckles, "So if someone comes from behind, they'll most likely grab you in a way to trap your arms." His voice vibrates in his chest, which in turn vibrates against your back. 

Mark gives you a bit of a squeeze, a soft gasp fluttering from your lips not because of the restriction on your lungs but rather how if you arch your back just enough... you would probably feel the one thing you daydream about. The one thing you imagine fucking you every night when you touched yourself. 

"It'll be hard to elbow them, and depending on how tall they are you may not be able to head-butt them... so you can take one of your legs and then jab your heel into the arch of their foot, the point is to fracture or break those bones because then it'll either make them immobile or they won't be able to run after you when you get away." You nod your head along to his words, "Or, some people say to put as much as you can to lean forward because attackers expect you to thrash in their arms or try to hit them."

Mark lightly nudges you as a means to lean forward, you almost think not to, afraid of the hormones that are already driving you up the wall. But you do it anyway, leaning forward, despite the fact he is pressed into every inch of your backside, "Take both of your hands and grab at one of my legs, whichever you think is easier, and then you're gonna pull as hard as you can to try and knock me off."

You almost feel bad, but you assume that since he is giving you this lesson, he expects to get roughed up a little. So despite your inner conflict not to, you lean forward as much as it takes to grab the leg closest to you, that being his right leg, and firmly gripping his calf and pulling his leg towards you. You're almost surprised by how easy it was, one second he is holding onto you, his breath wafting against the back of your neck, and now he is flat on his back.

"That caught me off guard," He says in disbelief, without your knowledge his crimson eyes watch how you slowly stand up straight after successfully breaking free of his grasp, "I shouldn't underestimate you considering how intense your father is with training." He notices your panties peeking through the fabric of your yoga leggings, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip, and staring until the red fabric is no longer peaking through.

"When I was little he taught me some basic things," You turn around to offer him a hand, which he gratefully takes, "But I don't think the moves I learned when I was little will be much assistance now." You help him up with a smile, for a moment you forget the tension that had previously been eating you, "Thank you for helping me, you make it more fun than it should be."

The crimson-haired boxer offers you one of his signature smiles, flashing those pearly white teeth you always think of dragging your tongue over, "You're adorable," His fingers playfully give your cheeks a pinch just to see you pout, "Let's do one more move before you gotta close up, I think you have it in you to give it a try." Who are you to argue? After all, it means more time to ogle over him, to feel his hands, to dream up filthy scenarios that have your pussy throbbing.

What you don't expect is to feel one of his hands fall on the dip of your waist to stabilize you, the other coming down to hook under your knee and slowly lift your leg, "You're pretty flexible, I expected that... naturally everyone's legs are stronger than their arms. So sometimes if you see an opening, go for a nice high kick right into either their chin or nose." So that's why he is holding you like this.

His words, just for a moment, blur as you look at his hands on your body. The position is oddly provocative, it is easy to just picture you both nude, his cock driving in and out of you just like this. His hands holding your soft thighs wide open for him, one leg hooked over his arm as those very fingers tease your clit, his other hand snaking up your front to tweak your nipples and torturously squeeze your tits.

It's disgusting, filthy that all he is doing is holding you like this to guide you and you're imagining him fucking you just like this. It's horribly wrong, sickening - but oh, it would probably feel so good like this. His tip would rub against that sweet stop your fingers can barely reach, his breath against the very shoulder he would mark with hickeys...

"There we go," His voice sounds so close it nearly makes you flinch, "Okay, you want to aim with your heel and not the tip of your shoe because it can strain your ankle or even hurt the arch of your foot. So lock your leg as you swing it up and pretend like you're jabbing someone with your heel." You wish his cock was jabbing your insides, but nonetheless, you strike your heel into the air effortlessly.

Mark whistles at the power in your leg, what he would give to see you beat the shit out of someone. He is sure you could probably even take him out if you tried, which is another reason he hopes he never gets on your bad side. The first reason being that your dad would kill him.

"Maybe I should start practicing with you," He muses when you smoothly bring your leg back down, "I bet you'd be able to break me down, especially with a kick like that." What you would give to simply watch him train with your father, you've seen it a handful of times. How he drives his fists into the punching bag, or the muscles in his thighs stiffening when he tries to knock his sparring partner down. He always leaves you drooling, hoping to feel those very hands wrapped around your throat or to ride his thighs while he teases you for being such a slut. 

As much as you would love to spend the time with him, you know you wouldn't be able to handle all the touching, to see him sweating and his muscles showing through his less-than-covering tank top. Sometimes he even goes shirtless, which is ten times worse and even more hormone-inducing. If only there was a way to confidently tell him, "I've wanted to have sex with you since I first saw you, so please do whatever you want with me."

"I think you'd probably break me..." The words weren't meant to come out sounding so sexual, leaving a pinkish blush on his cheeks and at the tip of his ears, "But we can always practice like this whenever you want." You miss how he shuffles in place, trying to knock your first sentence from his head. Break you? He knows what you meant... but even he has some not-so-innocent thoughts.

With it being time to close, regulars gradually leave the gym, bidding you a farewell per usual, the machines slowly becoming empty. Though the only person who patiently remains, discreetly watching passing figures as they leave the building, is the redhead you have been eyeing all day. It is rather exciting, watching the final person pack up their things and leave, finally granting you the privacy you've desired all day.

You begin the process of locking up the gym, working the locks on the alternate entrance, as well as pulling the drop-down fence that cages the windows. You two often leave through the back door, so you always lock up the front earlier than you both intend to depart. Whenever he stays a little later than usual, he often waits for you to close and you will leave together. 

Being so focused on closing the main entrances and front of the gym, you don't notice the figure approaching you from behind, not until a shadow casts over you and you notice the lighting change. Not until a hand falls onto your shoulder, to which you peer behind you to see Markall packed up, "Did you bring a sweater? It's supposed to be cold out."

"I didn't, but it's fine because my car is right there." He knows it is, but he also knows that you tend to park quite a bit away from the apartment you share with your father because it didn't have a parking garage, "I'll be fine! Worst case scenario I catch a cold and can't come to work tomorrow." That's when you remember an important detail about tomorrow, one that you've been looking forward to all week.

"You have a match tomorrow, right?" Comes your voice amid his needless thinking, "Dad is making the plans, he's been running around all day... I think he may be more excited than you." You try to change the subject, knowing he will be persistent regarding you taking his sweater.

"Yeah, and that's another reason you should take my hoodie... that way you don't get sick and you can be there to cheer me on." His words make you feel so warm and fuzzy inside, is he really that worried? Does he really want you there to see him? It's too much, you may just pass out knowing he wants you to cheer for him in the crowd!

You heard rumors of professionals possibly attending, managers of some sort. It all sounds a little too good to be true, but knowing your father he is always pulling strings. To locals, it's considered a big deal because of the chance to gamble bets, entertainment... The matches are memorable. Mark likes the attention, to hear people chant his name and praise him, that adrenaline he gets when he is so close to winning. It is a drug, an addiction he just cannot shake. He needs support.

Finally, you take the hoodie from his hand, pulling the thick fabric over your head and covering yourself, "Thank you, Mark." He is so sweet, it makes you feel guilty for letting these thoughts ravage your brain. For allowing yourself to lewd him constantly, he has been nothing but respectful with you and all you can think about is how fucking good it would feel to sit on his face right now.

"Are you gonna be there to give me some good luck?" His words catch you off guard, give him some good luck? you never really see him before his matches, usually, only after will you congratulate him and offer to take him out for something to eat, per request from your father. It is a tradition to celebrate after a successful fight. Most of the night you will ogle over him, how good he looks with a slightly swollen lip, or how you would kill to lick the little bit of blood sticking to the fresh wound on his brow.

What could you possibly do to give him good luck? You will have to think of something, you can't disappoint him, "Since tomorrow is a big deal, I guess I have to make sure you have as much luck as possible, right?" Your words bring a grin to his face, you've always been so kind yet carefree. He likes that a lot about you, how you don't take everything so seriously, and never feels like he has to walk on eggshells around you. 

Whatever it may be, he likes getting some sort of recognition from you before he fights, you leave this positive and sweet taste in his chest. He finds that he tries harder with you around, whether it be to impress you or earn plenty of praises and compliments when the match is over. He doesn't care what you come up with, so long as it's from you.

Mark Remembers that you're off the clock and should get home before it's too dark, "A-Anway," He clears his throat and adjusts his gym bag over his shoulder, "Let's get out of here, I think we both could use a shower..." Despite his words, he is eyeing how exhausted you look, sweaty and your eyes a little swollen from overworking yourself. It reminds him of the time you went on a run with him, an innocent invitation he gave you since he never really sees you outside of the gym.

To his surprise, you weren't at all a bad runner, but unfortunately, your stamina does not nearly match his and he can still remember how cute you looked, tripping over your feet and waving your hand for him to slow down. The sweat that stuck to your face, neck, chest... how you were shivering all the while scraping to regain some oxygen in your lungs. Your fingers holding onto his arm, leaning into him with your eyes closed. 

You had looked so pretty that day, but all he could think about was whether or not you'd look the same if he were to have sex with you. Would the sweet bead up the same? Would your eyes get heavy once it was over? Would you pant and cling to him like now, doing your best to keep up and not collapse from exhaustion? That was the first time he ever thought of you other than as a friend, and ever since it feels like the daydreams have gotten a little worse.

Not nearly as explicit as yours, though.

God, you want to fuck him so bad. You want to ride him until your thighs burn, to feel his teeth marking your skin with every push of his hips, to open your mouth just so he can spit in it... reminding you that you're nothing but a perverted, disgusting, awful whore. That's exactly what you are. A brainless, hormonal...

Right, you're supposed to be leaving. With a final adjustment to the sweater he had kindly given you, you lead the way to the back door of the gym. You wish you didn't have to depart so soon, just before he had his hands all over you! Touching your legs, holding your waist... can't you turn back time just enough to go through that all over again? Even if it's just him guiding you to a proper punch. 

What you would give to feel those hands on your tits, or cupping the apex of your thighs. Would it feel different from when you touch yourself? Probably. His fingers are bigger, thicker, rough... you can only imagine the way they would curl to rub that special spot inside of your walls. You bet he would be able to make you squirt, you can only imagine it... if only.

"Make sure you sleep early," He chimes from beside you, "That way I can see you early before I have to go prepare for tomorrow night." It is bizarre how insistent he is on seeing you before the fight, did you do something different to yourself? Deep down, you're praying he may just have a little crush on you, but you doubt it. He could like anyone, he would never choose you... right?

Nonetheless, you don't let your selfish thinking distract you from the handsome man beside you. What doe sit matter whether he likes you or not? At least he talks with you. But every human has selfish desires, yours just happens to be wanting the crimson-haired boxer beside you to be yours, "I wouldn't miss a chance to see you," The words come out faster than you could bite your tongue, but with the cat out of the bag you roll with it, "Maybe I could bring you something to eat?"

The suggestions noticeably brighten him, the two of you coming out of the back door which you begin to lock for the night, "That would be nice, remember those grape leaves you had made that one time? I'd kill for those..." Neither of you misses how his voice noticeably quiets, as if he only wants you to hear that, for the huskiness in his tone to catch your ears. 

To say it doesn't cause a million and one butterflies to waltz in from your stomach into your chest, would be a lie. It would be a lie to deny how the most minuscule quirks he has always leave you in a state of your own temporary bliss. You wish you could hear him whisper over and over, to come up behind you like in those cliche romance films from the 60s. For his arms to encase your midsection, lips meeting the shell of your ear, telling you how his day is better now that he is home with you.

Oh, what you would give to live out a shitty romance film from however many decades ago with Mark. To be that mindless trophy wife even if for a day, to forget all responsibility and for him safely coming home to you to be your only worry. To spend your hours cooking and cleaning, making yourself look your prettiest if it means letting him use you to destress.

You just want to make him happy, is that so wrong? Maybe.

"I'll be sure to make you some," You say back, eyes falling from his to instead look at your sneakers, "W-Well, I'll see you early tomorrow... I'll be sure to bring your sweater back." You miss the subtle smile due to your eyes being elsewhere, a smile that lasts until you look back up to him, "Drive home safe, I can't wait to see the fight tomorrow."

The two of you bid your farewell, Mark keeping his eye on you up until you safely enter the comfort of your car, and only then does he get into his own. You always miss those gentlemanly gestures he does, how he never leaves until he sees you're safely in your car, always keeping an eye out for you whenever you go off to the bathroom. He gets so worried over you being just a minute too long, and part of him excuses it for a "need to protect" urge in him.

But a very small part of him has already learned to accept he may or may not have feelings for you, whether they are romantic or platonic, he cannot pinpoint; especially because he hasn't even fully accepted the fact he has potential feelings for you. 

Regardless, you drive away, unaware of how he waited for you to leave first. The entire ride home, all you could focus on was the cologne that stuck to the hoodie he let you borrow. How the masculine odor filled not only your nose but the car. It felt mocking like the hoodie knew how down bad you are forMark, but you try not to let it get to you. You try not to imagine how it would feel to bury your face into his shoulder and smell the cologne stuck to his skin.

That familiar heat floods between your legs, reminding you of how awful you are. Even with him gone, you can't stop the dirty thoughts. Maybe you just need to get laid? Maybe it's less that you like him, and just you being horny and deprived of intimacy. 

You know that isn't the case, but it's nice to pretend it is.

What would his favorite position be? Would he prefer you on top? Bent over? If you had to decide, you'd want to be able to see his face, to watch how good you can make him feel. No amount of brainstorming could probably compare to how sexy he would look engulfed in pleasure, nor how he would sound. You take him for someone who tries to hold back their moans, not wanting you to know you're being good for him.

"Oh, god..." You whisper under your breath as you continue to drive, knuckles bulging from gripping the steering wheel so hard, not to mention the ache in your lower back from how far you've arched yourself to try and ignore the throbbing in your clit. It's ridiculous, here you are driving home on an empty street, your apartment building isn't even that far away...

And yet you find yourself pulled over on the side of the road.

The entire time, you mentally scold yourself, eyes frantically looking about all the while you sick back into your seat. Your nose is buried into the collar of the sweater, the familiar scent comforting you while your hand moves under the waistband of your leggings and then under your soaked panties. Were you really this wet? Usually, you would be riddled with shame, but now? You can only thank yourself, knowing it will make it all the easier for your fingers to snake themselves inside of you.

You know that your fingers will never compare to the real thing, and most of the time you don't even get much pleasure from them being inside of you, but that minor sense of fullness somehow is just relaxing. Between your index and middle fingers being knuckle deep inside of your pulsating entrance, your walls clenching around what little space your fingers take up, and your palm grinding into your clit.

"M-Mark..." His name is always falling from your tongue, every time you find yourself viciously rubbing your clit in desperation, or grinding into the soft fabric of your pillow. Whatever you may be doing to pleasure yourself, his name is the only thing that you manage to utter during the entire process. Praising him for making you feel so good and whimpering how it's too much for you. 

If only he could see you now, curled up in your car and humping at your hand, panting and whining for the only man you've thought about for however long you've known him. If only he were here, to witness how filthy you are, that you're anything but sugar and honey - you're not sweet at all, you're just a needy nymphomaniac. 

You spread your thighs just a little more, fingers dipping in and out of your entrance only to then come out and give your neglected clit circular rubs before seeping back inside of your pussy, "I wanna cum,Mark~" Imagining it is his fingers pumping in and out of you, that it's his palm that continues to grind into your poor clit.

With the fabric of his sweater pressed firmly to your nose, it helps to muffle your pathetic sounds; strings of his name and pleas floating within the air of your car. the only other noise being the wet squelching sound of your fingers inside of you. It all feels so lewd, to be touching yourself like this in your car. If anyone were to find out, surely you would be not only shunned, but you'd never hear the end of it.

But god his hands felt so good on your thighs and waist when he was training you earlier, they were so warm, so big... his palms rough when they dragged over the skin of your arms. You wish he would've gone just a little higher

"F-Fuck... ah~ fuck me,Mark-" You squeak when your fingers nudge at your walls a little too roughly, further hiding your face in his sweater as it gradually becomes harder to contain your whimpers. The thought of him praising you, calling you his good girl, and saying you take it so well - would he pepper your teary face with kisses? Slow down to make sure he doesn't completely ruin you?

Your insides feel hot, tortuously hot. Every grind of your clit into your palm gradually brings you closer to the anticipated climax. Are you catching a fever? You know it is just your body readying itself for the oncoming bliss, the buildup in your stomach that feels like electricity, "I-I'm cumming," You breathe out a strained whine, "F-Fuck, I'm cumming... I'm cumming~!" You lose your voice as your fingers focus on your clit, rubbing back and forth against the poor nerve.

"M-Mark~ fuck, fuck, fuck- nngh~!" It all happens so quick, the squirting of your climax soaking into your panties and leggings, tainting the skin of your hand and pruning fingers, luckily not too much getting on the seat of your car. But it isn't the mess, it's the pulse you feel in your clit, a neverending throb that has your walls clenching and unclenching. 

You must look wrecked, between how you've managed to bizarrely sink into your seat, your leggings and panties slightly pulled down and your fingers covered in a mess of your cum and slick. You feel ridiculous more than you look it, having just touched yourself in your car to the thought of someone who most likely sees you as nothing but a friend. 

Once again you feel like you're taking a walk of shame; pulling your panties and leggings back up despite the uncomfortable and icky sensation of how wet the fabric is, adjusting yourself in your seat, and looking around for any ongoing or incoming cars. Only when you deem it safe, pulling out of the spot you had parked to continue your trek home, all in silence as a means to reflect on yet again letting your lust get the best of you.

All you can do is hope that when you get home and take a nice warm shower and make those grape leaves poor Mark asked for, that it will somehow erase this awful encounter with yourself from your head. Hopefully, tomorrow will be a better day. Though, you doubt it will take eight hours of sleep to cure you of the hormonal devil on your shoulder.

To make matters worse, the familiar chime of your phone interrupts your mental meditation on what just happened. Though, it isn't your phone that makes things worse, but rather the fact that the very name you see in the notifications bar is the one person you were hoping to get out of your head. You almost think not to answer, let alone look at it, but you could never do that to him.

Upon opening the message, you nearly cry with guilt - how can he be so sweet? Why do you have to be so awful?

Remember that time we went for a run? I forgot I took this pic of u when we finished... after u started to vomit because u pushed urself 2 much. U looked cute tho (:

Scrolling up you hold back the urge to get on your knees before some religious statue and beg for forgiveness. There he is smiling at the camera, holding it high enough to catch himself but also you in the back, to your surprise you don't look awful. Sure, you may be on the verge of death from running so much, and even sweatier than him, but the sunset somehow brought it all together.

And did he just say you looked cute?

You bite back the urge to squeal and get into a car accident, but mostly not to verbally freak out. Does he really think you're cute? Really? You almost don't want to believe it, why would he think you're cute? You don't dwell on it too much, happily accepting the compliment and rereading the message over and over again until another one comes through.

We should do it again, I had fun <3 see u 2morrow, don't forget the grape leaves!

Why does he have to be so perfect? It's always the nice guys who are barely out of your reach. Not that you deserve Mark, someone as obsessive as you doesn't deserve that sort of happiness - not when you focus more on wanting to have sex with him every day, rather than building up the courage to just ask him out.

Maybe tomorrow you will try.

The following morning comes all too quickly, but you give yourself credit for having not had a wet dream - something that shamefully occurs often - and waking up to the sound of your early set alarm without trouble. You're never usually up at this time, but keeping your promise to the crimson-haired man you think about more than you do yourself is your top priority. It would be awful to say you will be there with breakfast, only to diss him.

And surely he would end up not liking you at all, he has mentioned being prejudice against people who do not stay true to their words. 

You like to think that you got ready so quickly, so haphazardly due to your stress over possibly being late... but you know it's because of how excited you are to see Mark and the fact he told you he wanted to see you before he would have to go and prepare for his fight.

Before you leave, you make sure to grab his sweater which you left neatly folded at your desk. When you got home after your shower, the first thing you did was throw it in the wash and put it as far away from you as possible - that damned sweater, you should have never accepted it because look what it made you do! Nonetheless, you are grateful he thought of you and your health and that is the reason you washed it, to cleanse it of any and all evidence of the sin you committed in your car last night. It is still humiliating that you allowed yourself to lose that self-control, but at least you're not in denial. 

If your father were to have seen you with that hoodie, you are almost certain he would have recognized it and interrogated you. Luckily, that didn't happen, because if it had you aren't sure you would be able to explain without the flooding images of last night filling your head and driving you up the wall.

But none of that is your concern, not when you have to make it to the gym in time for him, you're certain he should be there at this time, as well as your father who is preparing the back building where all boxing training, practice, and matches go on. Your only hope is neither of you bumps into your old man, but with how analytical he is, he practically smells when and where he needs to stick his nose into business that isn't his.

As you pull your car into the lot of the gym, noticing the familiar vehicles that belong to both the man you are excited to see, but also the one you hope you don't bump into, the butterflies begin to catch up. He wanted to see you, even to now you still replay those very words, asking you to come by earlier so he could see you before he had to go and prepare himself for the night.

The nerves are beginning to start, you never quite got over that feeling that you were stepping into unfamiliar territory. You've known Mark for quite some time by now, can't you just get over it and walk in there? It isn't even him that you're fearful of, more so the eyes that may follow you the moment you step into the gym. What will others think? You're never so early, and walking up to the redhead with a bento box? You can only imagine the rumors this will start.

Yet, you suck it up. Your father didn't raise you to run away from things, worst-case scenario is he can't talk right now and you end up looking like a fool. You doubt it, but there are a hundred and one possibilities you are anything but prepared for. But isn't that what makes it exciting? The unknown.

Not really, you hate the unknown. The entire walk to the front door of the gym, as well as entering it to see not many people you are familiar with there, which isn't surprising since you work from the afternoon until it gets dark. Nowhere in sight do you see the redhead you have been waiting to see since you last saw him yesterday evening, and you aren't even sure where he could be.

Part of you worries you may be too late, but you figure if he were to be anywhere he must be in the back building. The only issue is you would have to possibly come face-to-face with your father, not only to hand back Mark's sweater but also breakfast you prepared for him. You almost think to just bail, claim there is a ridiculous amount of traffic and you're still on the road, but he isn't stupid.

And you're also not gonna hurt his feelings.

You carry yourself towards the back doors of the building to find the separate structure where all the boxers practice and train, it is rather run down in comparison to the main gym, but it makes sense since most of the fights that go on here go on without the knowledge of authority. You aren't even sure if your father has a proper permit for this building, but he's gotten away with it before, and you're sure you've seen local officers in their casual attire attending the matches.

But all of that is beside the point, not when you enter the building and come face to face with chaos. Between people moving chairs and tables around, cleaners mopping at the floor, boxers gathered to the far end of the building where you see your father. Unfortunately, there is noMark-

Before the figure behind you can even speak, this weird tingle down your spine alerted you to an approaching figure, which you quickly look back only to be met with long red hair and a bare, sweat-tainted torso. Had he always been so tall? So big? You have no clue where to even look, your eyes jumping from his chest to his shoulder, raking over his long hair, and finally locking with the familiar crimson eyes you are used to. You feel silly for staring at him, but you just can't help it.

"You made it," Comes his voice, a grin plastered onto his face at the sight of you holding his sweater and the bento box, "I see you brought me some gifts, is this what I think it is?" The tip of his finger points at the box of grape leaves, to which you hold them out for him to take, your words trapped in your throat at the sight of him completely shirtless in front of you. 

Mark opens the box and whistles at the plentiful amount of grape leaves you had prepared for him, "You spoil me~" He hums while bringing one to his lips, taking it all in his mouth in one bite. Your eyes lock on a droplet of oil that is stuck to the corner of his mouth, how his jaw looks when he chews, the bob of his adam's apple whenever he swallows. You can only imagine how much better he would look swallowing your cum, if only he was there last night to catch your juices in his mouth when you made yourself cum like that.

"How is everything coming along?" You finally find your voice, even if to just ask a question, from what you can tell most of the necessary tasks are just about done - which would leave Mark with an hour or so to get ready for the match later this afternoon - and most are just focusing on creating space to accommodate the customers coming to watch.

Nights like this your father makes the most money, charging for entry and snacks. You call him a shark for how he robs these people with his ridiculous fees, but what business is it to you? If it's what the people want, you're sure they would pay any amount just to watch some men beat each up other up. You weren't a fan of boxing until you first seen Mark, only ever wasting your time to see him in the ring.

When he swallows his third grape leaf, much to your shock, his eyes scan the room with an unsure shrug, "I'd say it looks fine, I've been trying to help out but your father refuses... keeps saying I should just go and warm up in the gym." You would figure as much, your father has favorites and those favorites tend to get the better end of the stick. 

You smile seeing how happy he is with the bento box you prepared for him, nothing makes you happier than when someone enjoys your cooking. Especially the person you like, a lot. It feels good to just be able to look at him and feel nothing but that giddy crush feeling bubbling inside of you, without the added turn-off of your anything but pure imagery that infests your less than perfect brain.

"There aren't too many people in the gym... maybe it will do you some good to stretch or something before you gotta get ready." Mark knows you're right, and he doesn't particularly enjoy doing absolutely nothing when everyone around him is up to some sort of agenda, "I don't plan on going anywhere now that I'm here, it wouldn't make sense... did you need help with anything in particular."

Of course, part of you is hoping to hear something like 'yeah, can you suck my dick?' but you know that won't happen. It is quite humiliating to even think that, how nice his thighs would feel in your palms, his cock shoved balls deep in your throat, tearing up and choking from the size. You bet he tastes just as good as he looks, and he looks like he tastes really good.

Mark closes the bento box, "Actually, yeah..." The three fingers the were covered in the thick oil that the grape leaves are cast in are one by one popped into his mouth, and oh is a sight to admire. His tongue dragging over the single-digit before dragging it out from his mouth with a light pop, "You mind wrapping my hands for me? I never do it tight enough." 

You've seen him struggle plenty of times with that hair of his, thick and down to his lower back. You aren't sure how he manages to take care of it, after all, it always looks so silky and voluminous. The women in those shampoo commercials could never compare, you're sure if Mark ever got into doing commercials he would have shelves empty within the first two seconds of the ad. 

Who wouldn't want to sit there and stare at him? His voice shaking every bone in your body, the way his muscles flex with the slightest movement, his pretty white teeth, not to mention thick lashes, and the way they frame his sharp eyes. Anyone would be happy to hear him talk, let alone drag their eyes over every dip and curve of his powerhouse of a body.

Before you are quiet for too long you come back to your senses, "Of course!" It comes out rather too enthusiastic, but Mark either doesn't notice or care. Especially not when you walk past him in that pretty little skirt of yours, you look so delicious clutching his sweater to your chest, your hips swaying in the most hypnotizing way. God forbid anyone, let alone your father catches his eyes checking you out from behind.

He follows you like a lost puppy, drooling over your legs and how soft they must be, how your thighs would feel amazing to just lay his head down on them. He's always found you attractive, and your sweet personality makes it ten times better. Whenever you wear those yoga leggings, he finds himself staring too long at you, watching you walk until you disappear somewhere.

What he would give to see you in cute little stockings, holding that skirt of yours up for him to admire the adorable panties you have on. Would you be into that? Letting him stare down at you, memorize every inch of your body, rub you through your panties, and push your shirt up and over your soft tits. The things he would do to you if you gave him the chance, and today he hopes he can coax you into paying more attention to him.

The two of you enter the gym, seeing that only a few other regulars have joined the same faces from when you came. The only sound being of the equipment and the cheesy music playing through the loudspeakers. Onlookers glance for a moment, watching the two of you as you both settle at one of the benches. You know they only look because they're interested in Mark and what he could possibly be doing with you. But who cares? You get to have an excuse to hold his hand!

"Did you sleep well?" He asks while fishing into the pocket of his shorts to pull out the hand wraps, "To be honest, I was a little worried about you since it was so cold... that's why I texted you, to make sure you were okay." Every word leaves you more and more in a state of speechlessness, he truly did care. All night that's all you could wonder if he genuinely cared and it turns out he did.

You contain your excitement, not wanting it to show how happy that made you, "Really?" You squeak out, "I-I was fine... your sweater kept me warm." You hide the flustered look by focusing down at the gauze in your hands, unwrapping the elastic material, "I made sure to wash it before I brought it back, I was pretty sweaty last night."

He finds you adorable, how your pretty hands hesitantly grab one of his and hold it in your lap. Your skin is so soft, so warm, he has to hold himself back from just squeezing or dragging his palm over the exposed skin. You're so careful with how you bring the gauze over his knuckles and between his thumb and index finger, making sure it is neither too tight nor too loose.

"Too bad, you always smell really good..." He watches your expression with a smirk, not missing how you tense up, "You never answered my question about whether or not you slept..." He loses his train of words as he watches your fingers trace over his knuckles. You're gentle, treating his hand like it's the most fragile thing you ever held, between the way you've fastened the gauze just right and are now just adjusting the wrap to better cover his abused knuckles.

The only thing on your mind is whether he takes proper care of his hands or not, does he make sure to clean them up and put ice? To massage all the kinks and knots out? You worry too much for him, not that he could ever tell. The tips of your fingers trace what scars aren't being covered, admiring how much he has probably been through to get this far. You've seen the way he trains, hours without a break, and always pushing himself, that's how stars are made.

Would it be so bad...? You feel conflicted, despite your hand already gradually bringing his closer to you, has anyone ever made sure he took care of himself? You try to do so, but sometimes your selfishness gets in the way. Is there anyone he lives with that pampers him? What you would give to be that person; rubbing his aching shoulders, kissing the bruises and cuts he has, washing his hair and back for him...

"y/n-" Your name leaves his mouth with a stutter, crimson eyes caught on your lips pressing delicate kisses to his knuckles. Your lips are soft, shimmering slightly from the lip-balm you have on, not to mention the warmth of your breath wafting against his hand. He doesn't protest, more so in awe at how pretty you look, how you don't even seem to be aware of what you're doing.

To say he hasn't pictured this exact scenario a hundred times or more, you wrapping his hands before a match, kissing each finger with one of your beautiful smiles. All he can do now is soak in this mini victory, a dream come true if you will. Your eyes peering through your lashes when your lips pull away from his hand, the cutest look of shame flashing on your pretty face, "Sorry, it just looks like it hurts..."

Mark stays silent as you hold his wrapped hand, reminiscing on how your lips felt on him, wondering if they would feel even better elsewhere. He doesn't respond right away, placing his unwrapped hand in your lap with a smile, "I liked it..." He says while you start to wrap his other hand, "Y-You should do it more often." 

You never expected him to say something like that, not that you expected him to be upset with you. To be honest, you weren't entirely sure what you were expecting his response to being when you pulled away. Part of you thought the atmosphere would grow awkward, unwanted even. Yet, here you are repeating the process with his other hand, the entire time you can't keep yourself from glancing up, only for your eyes to lock with his and his lips to curl into a smug smirk.

Just as you had with his other hand, you sheepishly bring the newly wrapped knuckles to your lips. Of course, this time you aren't as confident, but he finds it just as pleasurable. Your pretty eyes locked with his, kissing at the scarred flesh and trying to sit still. He can tell you're embarrassed simply by your body language, which you shouldn't be, he likes this show you're putting on for him.

Only when you finish, lowering his hand from your face and sitting up straight on the bench opposite to him, does Mark get a good look at your face. You would look good with a swollen bottom lip, irritated from his teeth nipping and tugging at it, and he wouldn't mind giving your cheek a playful bite, too. He realizes he doesn't quite want you to move away just yet, the simple act of you wrapping his hands already leaving him craving more of your attention.

"Could you help me with my hair, too?" You are only a little surprised by the question, especially since you've seen him put up his hair - despite it looking rather rough around the edges and a bit too low - and be perfectly fine with it. But you wouldn't turn down the opportunity to be close with him for a little longer. Did he ask that because he wants the same thing? You want to believe it.

Mark hands you the tie around his wrist, watching you come to a stand and circle around to stand behind him. His hair looks shiny, like layers of red silk on his head, "You have nice hair," You shyly state, putting the tie around your wrist as you start to gather his long and thick hair in your hands, "I bet you'd look nice with a half-up half-down style, but keeping it all up is probably for the best so it doesn't obstruct your vision, right?"

He wanted to answer you, but your voice sends such a chill through his spine, your warm breath hitting the back of his neck as you work to make sure not a single hair has fallen astray. Your fingers are like heaven, rubbing against his scalp, combing through the heavy bundle of red hair, "The last time I wore my hair down for a fight," He holds his tongue when you lean forward, the softness of your tummy pressing into him as you lean over his body to make sure you gather the hair in front, "I-It kept getting the way and stuck on things..."

You hum softly, not even really aware that the fact you're practically laying over his back to pull back the loose strands have him swelling in his briefs. Fuck, he would do anything to fill you up right here, let everyone watch him do it too. Pretty little y/n get her pussy stuffed for being a teasing little whore, panties around your ankle, barely fitting him inside of you. 

"You'll do great tonight," You say loud enough for only him to hear, "And um... maybe after we can go out for dinner?" Mark almost laughs at the predicament, it seems you beat him to it, "I-I mean, only if you're up for it, I just know this place with really good western dishes and I wanted-"

"Would you believe me if I said I was gonna ask you the same question after the match?" Your heart lodges in your throat, he is serious... right? Of course, why else would he say that? But it feels too good to be true! Would he really ask you out for dinner? It feels like everything is just falling together with the more the day goes by; wanting to see you before the match, wanting to ask you out for dinner, kissing his knuckles, touching his hair... it feels too perfect.

Technically it is because it seems your fifteen minutes of heaven is up when the familiar face of your father approaches you both, your fingers fall from the red hair you had been playing with, "I've been looking everywhere for you, kid... and you've been here the whole time!" His hands go up in the air, urgingMark to stand up, "Turns out we are actually behind schedule, the guys who came for the match are here an hour early so we gotta get you changed and ready to go in thirty minutes. Understood?"

PoorMark looks like a deer caught in headlights, "H-Huh? I thought the matches weren't until later...?" Even you are a tad confused by the situation, the matches are always held later in the day, wouldn't it be inconvenient to start now when there aren't even any customers?

But it turns out everything happens for a reason, "That was the impression I was under, but it turns out the new kid I hired to put up posters and shit put in the wrong damn time. So not only are people expecting a match in the next thirty minutes, but I haven't even finished getting the beer and shit out." Your father seems to be off the walls, between the anger in his tone and the way his brows are knitted close together, you don't think now is the time to upset him.

"You, go get changed and ready." Your father pushes Mark in the direction to the dressing rooms, "And you," He smiles while taking your face in his palms, "If I see that redhead getting too friendly with you I will kick his ass, now go and get yourself something to eat from the back you look half-awake." That's your father for you, even protective when the nice guys are around.

Alas, you do not argue, now is probably not the best time to tell him you wanted to go to dinner with Mark later tonight. You follow his orders to go and help with the food and beverages, you're sure he wouldn't want you working, but you figured with all the stress of the times being wrong you could help even just a little bit.

This is the most chaotic you have seen the gym, people coming with nowhere to go just yet, workers running around with chairs and tables and mops, carrying cases of whiskey and soda and things alike. If you weren't used to such disorder, for sure you would have cracked under the pressure of everything. Working a gym that also happens to have a "secret" boxing system in itself is just a mess.

Deep down, you feel bad for everyone and seeing the boxers rush in and out half-dressed in their uniforms and still trying to help, but at the same time, the fact that everything has been pushed earlier simply means you not only get to go out with Mark sooner but most likely stay out with him longer. You only hope that the stress of this mishap and the fight doesn't ruin those chances and he forgets, or even worse, just doesn't want to go out anymore.

As usual, you know that is just your overactive imagination and the pessimistic side of you, always questioning your worth and whether or not an opportunity is real or not. A lot of nights you spend laughing at yourself, how silly you were for holding so much doubt and worry over nothing; now is one of those moments.

When you should be focusing on helping to carry this case of water to the back building, you're wondering how Mark is coming along. He looked a little under pressure the last time you saw him, what if he might need help? Probably not...

But he did say he needed a little good luck before the match.

Maybe visiting him will somehow ease his nerves, despite him being a big guy with a lot of confidence, you are sure even men like him can be on edge for something like a boxing match. It's like football in high school minus being in high school and the football, right? Before game adrenaline, eyeing up the enemy, mentally and physically preparing yourself for the fight of your life. Everyone wants to win.

The only difference is that you know Markwill come out on top, you've never had as much faith in anyone as you do with him... which is why your feed deters from the back door to the second building in favor of finding which room Mark may be holed up in. Every dressing room has a name on it, and there are only five being used tonight because most of the boxers being trainees.

Your father is a big perfectionist, and if he doesn't have one hundred percent faith in you, then there is no way he will have you representing him. You learned that a lot growing up, but you think that's one of the reasons you crave perfection over minuscule things like how the gym equipment is set up, and where the towels and waters out, how things are accessible. They do say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

As you make your way down the hall of vacant and occupied doors, your eyes finally catch sight of the familiar name done in the familiar striking handwriting you have seen thousand times over. Mark has this little within quirk that you can easily identify, always sharpening his letters and irregular capitalization. You've always liked coming to work to see his name on the sign-in sheet, always so bold and pop from the rest of the list of names. 

For a moment you almost hesitate to knock on his door, but it is either now or never that you speak to him. You bring your knuckles to the door, knocking three times before stepping back and waiting. You don't hear anything on the other side of the door, could he have already left? It is a possibility, out of everyone his costume has always been the most... let's just say revealing. Mark is meant to be the eye-catcher, he is young, has bold red hair, is big and intimidating all the while looking soft.

All the boxers have their teams, and Mark's just so happens to be a nice, scary piece of eye candy. Not that you mind at all, more for you to look at! But when the door doesn't open, you come to the conclusion he isn't there, turning on your heel to head back out and see if anyone needs help. You're disappointed to say the truth, having wanted to talk with him for a second before the match, but not everything can just fall into place.

You get about ten feet from the door before you hear the sound of a door handle turning and the squeak of its opening, "y/n?" The familiar voice stops you in place, you had thought the door belonged to someone else but turning to look into the crimson eyes of the person you had been hoping to see, "Hey, what's up?" He is only a little shocked to see you there, to be truthful he was hoping it was you on the other end of the door when he hurried to get to it.

But you standing there, he almost didn't believe it for a second, not until you scurried your pretty little self back the way you came to meet him at his door, "N-No! I just thought you could use a little help, you looked distressed when you had to rush out of there before." Your words sink in for a moment, you were worried. He finds it rather cute, you worrying your head over him and wanting to be a good helper.

"Is that so...?" He hums, smiling when you slowly crack under his gaze, "Can you help me get this shitty top on? Your father forgot to order a bigger size so we are trying to compromise." You're a little flustered to help him with his costume of all things, you'll be alone in a room with him and his uniform barely covers anything. Between the fact, his entire torso is revealed aside from the signature black arm sleeves, and you'll be dangerously close to him? You are melting and you aren't even entirely in his room yet.

No matter what, you refuse to turn him down, not now. You look both ways down the hall before quietly entering his room, the door shutting behind you both, "I'll be sure to order a resizing for you," You say and examine the rest of what should be a part of the top of his costume, "He must have gotten you mixed up with the new guy, but that's okay people aren't here to judge you for what you're wearing!"

Mark sits down for you, letting you adjust the arm sleeves on his arm, due to the collar and shoulder pieces not fitting him, they won't have anything to be held up with, "I find it kinda funny how big your dad is about image and impression, considering he has men beating on each other for like four hours straight." Your fingers feel hot against his skin, apply a makeshift tape to the inside of the hem of the sleeves so that it has a better grip on his biceps.

"I was thinking... maybe instead of staying for everything to finish, we could just go out as soon as my match is over?" Your heart leaps at the suggestion, you're starting to think that he can read your thoughts, that the entire time you were freaking out over that dinner date not working he heard it all and was now making sure you could rest assured. Again, once again your imagination going over the top, but it doesn't kill a girl to dream!

With nothing more to modify regarding his costume - which you realized he never needed help with it to start and he was giving an excuse for you to stick around - you circle to look him in the face, "I would like that, I don't really... I kinda only go to these matches to watch you." He knew that but you don't know that he knows, so he pretends he is shocked, "A-And because the matches are earlier than they were supposed to, maybe we have time before or after dinner to do something else?"

His mind wandered, he won't deny it, what could pretty y/n possibly have in mind for before or after dinner? He'd love for it to be you bouncing in his lap with your tits spilling out that top of yours, you'd probably love that, wouldn't you? Mark can just imagine how good you would look, squealing and gasping, doing your best to take his big cock, even crying a little because you don't wanna mess up and not be good enough for him.

Fuck, you look so tantalizing standing there, your fingers messing with one another in front of you as you wait for a response, "What did you have in mind?" Mark wants to know what sort of ideas you have brewing in your head. Here is he wanting to fuck you whenever he gets the chance, and poor you have no clue. Part of him wouldn't be surprised if you have fantasies of your own, it's always the one who acts all sweet and sugary that ends up being sour and spicy.

"I-I'm not sure... but we could figure it out later, right?" He is a little disappointed you didn't have anything specific you wanted to do, but he figured as much since everything is so last minute. Nonetheless, he can't wait to see what happens later, he knows you'll make it work just like you always do.

The silence that falls for a few brief seconds doesn't last long when a knock comes at the door, to which you look over in horror. You don't need someone walking in and seeing you here, especially if that is your father. But Mark has it under control, going over to the door and peeking out. You can't see who it is, but you can hear their conversation from start to finish.

"You're on in five, so get that uniform finished and get out there, 'kay?" You figured it was your father with how strict he is when it comes to time, "Also, have you seen y/n?" You freeze up at the mention of your name, you'll be dead if he so much as smells you in this room, which is the reason you sink further into the corner and as far away from the door as possible.

"I haven't, but I'll be done in a minute, don't worry." Less is more with your father, and thankfully you can hear the sound of him going on with whatever it was he was doing before checking on Mark. The door clicks shut and only then do you let out the breath you had been holding, "Shit, that was close..."

If only he knew how badly your heart was racing, and you wish you could say it was out of fear, but all you feel is hot, that adrenaline of your father finding his sweet little girl in the room of one of his scary boxers. What would he think? Sure he would tie you up in the tallest tower, but he would for sure hasMark's head on a pike in the gym. You almost miss that he is beginning to gather his things and ready himself to go out to the ring.

You still haven't given him any sort of good luck; no pep talk, no awkward friendship bracelet, no bouquet of cheap flowers. Why were you even here then? You wonder if he is disappointed, he did specifically say 'are you going to give me some good luck?' yesterday and here you show up empty-handed. But the last thing you want is to leave him with no sort of confirmation that you wish him the best.

Before he can leave, you are quick to make a move, "Mark-" You stop him with a grab to his wrist, crimson orbs look over broad shoulders to meet your own, "You said you needed good luck before the game..." What are you doing? You have nothing to give or show...

Markwaits in suspense, he had entirely forgotten the very words he said yesterday. He didn't mean it he was just teasing you a little like he always does. But the fact you remembered? He is flattered, albeit confused because he doesn't see anything in your hands and you don't have a bag or pockets on you... his head wanders, maybe a kiss? He would be more than just happy with that, through the roof even!

But as he watches you, tense where you stand and caught in some sort of conflict, the last thing he expects is to see you bend forward. He isn't quite sure what it is you're doing at first, but then your hands shimmy up and under your skirt.

What makes it even more of a smack to his face is when he sees something pink and lacy being slipped down your legs. Maybe it was how dumbfounded he was, but until you slipped your pretty legs out from the fabric and hold it out for him, does he realize that little pink lace is your panties, "A-A good luck charm for Red Riot from his... from his number one fan."

The two of you stand there for what seems like forever, did you kill him? He looks almost dead where he stands, his eyes wide, and locked on the bundle of fabric in your hand. You almost worry you did too much, "Kick some ass." You quickly take his hand and shove your panties in them, hurrying out the room with the most flustered yet satisfied grin on your face. You did it, sure it may have been a bit much, but your feelings are out there and the ball is in his field. Now it's his job to decide whether he accepts it or not.

You hurry out to the back building, knowing your father is most likely being driven up the wall by not knowing where you are. You concoct an excuse in your head, you were just in the bathroom because something you ate didn't sit right. He would believe that, right? He's always doting after you like you're still his little princess dressing up and walking around in sequins and glitter.

The building is a lot more crowded than you expected, but it is easy to find your father after shimmying through the crowd, "Where the hell were you, y/n? I was asking everyone and running around like crazy, I thought some psycho had-" You stop him with a gentle pat to his back, oh if only daddy knew what exactly it was you were doing, "Whatever, it doesn't matter, right? You're here, and you better be making sure you leeches don't go over and try to steal snacks."

Almost directly after, your father is surfing through the crowd to try and sell gym merch, memberships, popcorn, and peanuts. He has always been a businessman at heart, and you are anything but shocked to see him with his bag of random foods and trinkets to sell to customers.

The chaos doesn't last long, the familiar ring of the bell that calls attention to the crowd has the room quieting. You are familiar with the process of hyping up the crowd, when you were little and watching boxing matches on television with your father, you would imitate the spokesperson to make him laugh. You always wanted to do something like that, have all eyes on you as you do nothing but talk.

But you grew out of it inevitably, though it doesn't mean watching someone else do it makes it any less enjoyable, "Anyway, let me stop boring you all with meaningless conversation... let me welcome the man representing this very ring, Red Riot!" Everything else was a blur, Mark happily coming out, but if anyone could tell something was off it was you. The way his eyes wolfishly searched the crowds, as if he is expecting something or someone to be there...

Only after the spokesperson finishes introducing the redhead to the crowd of wild and returning fans, does he return to that strange behavior of looking around, he doesn't even pay attention to his opponent who is trying to antagonize and rile him up. What you least expect is for him to walk straight across the ring to where you are and lean down so you can get a good look at his face, "You're crazy," He whispers with one of the scariest smiles you've ever seen, "I think I figured out what we could do before dinner, you better be in that dressing room when this is over."

If anything could describe the things you felt right then, it would be both fear and excitement. Especially when he shamelessly reaches through the ring, knowing your father is completely distracted and grabs you by the collar of your shirt, and pulls you forward. You trip over your own feet, holding down your skirt when you remember you gave your panties to the crimson-haired man that has you in the palm of his hand.

Mark presses the sweetest kiss to your cheek, and if it weren't for the fact you both were in public, you would have grabbed his face and smashed your lips right onto his. But you take what you can get and flash him your prettiest smile before he has to let you go and return his attention to the man he is supposed to fight.

Everything feels surreal, your fingers constantly reaching up to touch the exact spot his soft lips had found your skin. God, if you were to die you would be totally fine with it after having that kiss, the match feels like a blur. Usually, you are ready to cheer him on, but now? All you can manage to do is watch and wait for it to be over, and with the way, the fight is going? You're certain the poor guy he is against is going to fall any second. 

Mark dodges the third punch the guy has thrown, you're starting to think he is growing desperate and exhausted. Why else is he just throwing random and uncoordinated punches? You've seen it a thousand times before, they always start going wild when they are tired and desperate. And you know Mark well, he isn't a fan of a sloppy opponent. This is why, although you flinched, you're also not surprised by the force he puts into his punch to humble the man in front of him. You hate how messy things can get, the sweat on them, blood... it's like watching two wild bears claw at one another's throats.

"Ouch! Looks like you're gonna pass out there, buddy... thinking of calling it quits and handing the win to Red?" You wish he would say yes, that he would just give up and let Mark have it for the night. You can barely find it in you to worry over some boxing match when he demanded you to meet him in his room. All of these scenarios are burning through your head, and even if it isn't what you want, you would be more than happy with another kiss.

Between the punches and swings, the blood you just noticed was dripping from Mark's nose and onto the lips he had kissed you with, it is all so overwhelming in addition to your hormones going crazy. You have never wished for a boxing match withMark to be over so badly, and it isn't even that you don't want to see him fight! You just want to see him elsewhere, specifically in private... specifically where he is undressed.

But when you see the man get Mark in a headlock, your heart drops for a second, he has this, right? You know he does, but you hate how long it's taking him to get out of that. You always get nervous for him when he takes a few seconds too long to take the advantage back, "Oh, do we have a possible turn around?" You can't stand him being stuck like that.

The only thing you know that could possibly give him the energy he needs to get out of that headlock is someone cheering for him. And sure the whole room is cheering from him, but he specifically told you, 'hearing you cheer is different from hearing everyone else, so use your voice!'

With all you have, you take a deep breath and cup your mouth to amplify your voice, "You got this,Mark!" And if anyone can pick your name from the crowd, it is him. It's like watching someone suddenly going through a drug boost, the way his arms coming up and tug himself free of the grasp around his head, all you can do is continue to cheer for him until he finally lands a good enough punch stun the guy. Red eyes find you in the crowd, and although he looks scary with the swollen lip and blood from his nose, you still get butterflies when he gives you that charming smile and a wink.

"Never mind, Red Riot has once again held his ground! Don't forget to place your bets in the back on who will win and possibly receive a free gym membership for two months!" It feels like you have been standing there for a million years, the snack table isn't even at the top of your priority list right now, you couldn't care less if they stole everything including the table!

The fight is already in the hands of the very man you have been cheering for this whole time, you didn't doubt it for a second. It is only a matter of either that man tapping out or Mark knocking him out and you don't care which it is. You are on the tips of your toes with how things are looking, Mark has insane stamina but you can tell he is getting a little fed up and tired, "Knock him out, Mark!" 

He lands a punch to the abdomen, the man curling over to armor his stomach, which anyone knows is the worst thing you can do. Right then and there, you knew it was over, especially when right after Mark knocks him directly in the nose and the guy goes falling back. He may not be unconscious, but his body language, the wooziness to his movements... you know he is finished.

"Aaaand~" Everyone counts down from three, "We have checkmate! But are we surprised with who is the winner? No!" You don't even listen to what the man has to say, not when the referee climbs the ring to hold Red Riot's fist in the air, a formal symbol that he has taken this week's fight. 

And when he looks right at you with that goofy smile of his, you can't help but to practically jumping in place with your biggest smile, blowing him a kiss. Of course, you didn't forget his demand for you to meet him in the dressing room. The moment you see him climbing out of the ring, you are high tailing out of that building. Could your father be calling for you? Maybe. Do you care? Absolutely not.

Not when you are holding down your skirt and running double-time right out of that humid building to get to where you need to be. Every muscle in your body is aching, every nerve aflame. If you could describe what it was you were feeling, it's like teetering over the edge right before you cum. To feel everything in your body working, like a thousand electric shocks straight to your core. 

You're so focused on getting down that hallway and into that room, your ears are deaf to the oncoming footsteps rapidly approaching behind you, "Gotcha!" A scream catches in your throat when you recognize the arms that wrap around your midsection and pick you up, no one else wears black arm sleeves like this, "C'mere." His hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look back at him just so his lips could finally meet yours.

And you should be disgusted by the blood from his nose rubbing off on your upper lip, or how you can taste the iron on your tongue. But you have waited so long to kiss him like this, even if it wasn't you imagined a hundred times over, it feels better than you could ever concoct in your imaginative brain. His lips are not at all chapped, they are soft and plush and perfectly mold with yours. 

Only when his tongue playfully swipes at your bottom teeth do the two of you break apart for air, eyes locked together in a moment of silence. You've never felt like this, as if you have a million and one little feathers moving around all inside of you, "I don't what I'm gonna do to you first." His voice is like a growl against your nape, the vibrations deep and rumbling into your sensitive skin.

He doesn't let you go yet, his arms remain tight around your torso as he carries you in front of him the rest of the way to the room with your toes barely touching the ground, "What are you going to- ah~!" Your eyes tear up when he sinks his teeth into your neck, slamming the door behind him with his heel, "M-Mark... mm~" He doesn't let up on your neck, sucking at the already darkening bite mark he has created. If someone were to tell you that you would be in this situation, with Mark Markholding you snug against his front and forcing you to bend over the vanity in his dressing room, you wouldn't believe them.

"Fuck, I was so close to grabbing you and dragging you right back in here when you gave me these," He digs your panties from his pocket, "You thought that was cute, huh? Tugging these off right in front of me like that?" You know he isn't expecting an answer, but you can't expect but to give him the smuggest nod you can while looking at him in the mirror, "You think you're so cute, don't you?"

The way he speaks with you, it's almost on the dot with every fantasy you have had. To feel like the perfect bittersweet brat just for him, if this is the reaction you will get then you plan to push his buttons more often. Every word that leaves him has you further hooked on his line and you will do anything just for him to keep whispering those things in your ear, for him to grab your face and make you meet his eyes.

"I wanna kiss again..." You give him your sweetest pout, doing your best to peer over your shoulder and trying to reach behind you to bring him closer, but he is having none of your little needinesses. Your hands are gathered easily in one of his big palms, pinned in front of you at the desk, "Mark, please~" 

He gives you a shake of his head, his free hand coming up to grab your chin and keep you still for him, "Nuh-uh, look at you..." His thumb swipes at your upper lip, "Got blood all over you, babe..." You felt it and tasted it the moment you kissed him, but you couldn't care less, your tongue dragging over your upper lip to clean it up. And you didn't miss the wolfish look in his eyes, watching your tongue drag over that blood and smear it even more.

Before your tongue can retract back into your mouth, he is quick to lean forward and press his lips to yours so his tongue can pry its way into your mouth. You don't fight it either, this is exactly what you had wanted and you are getting it. His tongue tastes like mint and a hint of iron from his busted bottom lip, but it is all good to you, if you could you would dance your tongue with his until you were on the brink of asphyxiation.

But you know that isn't possible, not when he is already pulling away from the kiss in favor of leaving a trail of them down your tender neck. It tickles, but you take it like you're supposed to, only somewhat flinching when he finds the bruise he had already left. It feels like needles, burning under the playful tracing of his tongue over the bite marks in your flesh. 

"Jerk..." You're silenced with a sharp spank, and you should be whining over it, but you've wanted this time and time again. You have no room to complain that it left your poor ass burning, not when it has you craving another. He likes your little resistance, how you give him something to dance around. As much as he enjoys the idea of you being his submissive little lamb, this little game you have going on is all the more interesting.

Without warning the bottom of your skirt is tugged up, your bare and wet pussy coming right into view, "Look at you, walking around with nothing under this... I bet you enjoyed that, look at how wet you are." Mark's hand is so hot on your ass, tugging it to pull your pussy nice and open for him to look at. You look so soft, so sweet, if he could he would take a nice bite out of you right now.

"Fuck, you think you can fit it?" You try to answer, you really do, but you can't stop focusing on his hand mocking you. The way it slowly circles your ass, the pad of his thumb barely grazing at your slit, "You want it, don't you?" You nod slowly while watching him through the mirror, how his abdominal muscles flex with every movement of his body, the sweat that sticks to his skin, not to mention the evident strain in his pants.

Everything feels hot, from the tip of your nose down to your toes, it's like you've been engulfed in hellfire... in a good way. Everything he does to you feels good, even if it's just locking eyes with you in the mirror, or readjusting your hips to take in every dip, curve, and roll on your pretty self. It doesn't matter what he does, and you know that the reason he has you so worked up is simply that it is him.

You are aware that the two of you are strapped for time, being here and like this is as unconventional as it can get. You know you can't be too loud, and you both can't take as long as you want, but you plan to make the most of it. If anything, you still have time to possibly exchange that dinner date for something else and you're sureMark wouldn't mind that, not with how you can feel his breath down your spine.

As much as you dreamed of your first encounter with him to be romantic, the moment you slipped off your panties and put them in his hand drew the line between a romantic night out and the potential that night you both won't be able to keep your hands to yourselves, "You're gonna watch me fuck you," He points at the mirror for you to look, not that you haven't been staring at yourselves through it this whole time, "I want you to see the slutty faces you make."

For a moment, you actually believed that he would finally fuck you, as foolish as that is, but rather than pulling off his own pants he is guiding you to sit on the vanity desk with your front showing in the mirror. The awkward position forces your pretty thighs open, giving you a look at just how ruined your pretty little cunny is, how your slick sticks to it and dribbles just a little onto the vanity you are sat on.

No words are exchanged between the both of you, his eyes are locked on your changing expression while yours are locked on his wandering hands. His fingers snake their way from your waist, gradually moving upward and under your shirt. His palms are rough and calloused, still wrapped in the gauze you had done prior to the fight, pulling at the sensitive skin of your torso. The fabric has the hairs on your neck standing up and when his large hands grope your tits through your bra you feel a familiar electric shock goes straight to your core.

"What're you making that face for?" You hadn't realized the way your face scrunched up in response to his hands, and the cocky smirk on his face only makes you all the more embarrassed, "Are you sensitive here...?" To test his intuition, his fingers push under your bra to feel at your bare tits, grinning at how soft they are and the way they fit so nicely in his palms.

You hate how it makes you feel, how every swipe of his thumb over your nipple has your hips bucking just a little, "M-Mark... mm- ah!" You're caught off guard by the mean pinch he gives your pert nipples, giving the sensitive buds an observant twist, watching your every reaction and every little twitch of those soft thighs. You look perfect, completely at his mercy and leaning back into him as his hands do what they please under your shirt, "Hah... y-you don't have to be so harsh..."

"No?" You shake your head in response, a cute little pout pulling at your bottom lip, "But I like how you react and look," One of his hands pull from beneath your shirt in favor of hiking up the bottom of your skirt to reveal your swollen and dripping pussy, "You seem to like it, too... making a mess all over yourself." He isn't wrong, you love it. You love the burn of your nipples with every painful twist, how your tits feel sore from his tight squeezes.

But simply touching them aren't enough for him, he wants to see them. You're already a pretty little thing, he doesn't doubt for a second your tits will only add to the list of things he likes about it. As well as to the list of things that turn him on, you being at the very top of that list.

You peer over your shoulder expectantly, eyes flicking from his down to his lips, you give him the only hint he needs to lean forward and slot his lips with yours. His tongue tastes just as good in your mouth as it did before, dancing teasingly and brush under your tongue. It's a wet, icky feeling but also one you wouldn't want to share with anyone but him. And with you so distracted by his tongue dancing with yours and tracing over your teeth, it gives him the perfect chance to do as he pleases.

One hand is swift with guiding your shirt up and over your tits, and it doesn't take much effort for his two fingers to get the clasp behind your back to snap open. The only obstacle being the straps that prevent him from completely taking the article of clothing off, but you're already on it, all without breaking the kiss you are sharing with him. While you work your arms out of the straps but also keeping your shirt on just in case you two have to make a run for it, Mark focuses his attention on your spread legs.

Opening just one of his eyes allows him to see the arousal that sticks to your cunny shimmers against the light of the room, all he has done was kiss you and play with your tits... you're a perverted girl, getting this wet over nothing, he bets you were thinking things that would leave even him a little shocked. Maybe later he will make it his mission to drag those fantasies out of you.

With the way you're situated on the vanity, feet planted on the desk as to give him the best view of your entire body in the mirror, it is easy for you to spread your legs impossibly wider for his hand that continues to slowly travel down your navel. The kiss breaks, only for you to little his jaw and neck with kisses, stopping right under his ear to begin sucking your own hickey into the sensitive skin.

Nothing could have prepared you for when his fingers finally met your throbbing clit, dragging over the neglected nerve, barely applying pressure with how he circles your clit and smears your arousal over your pussy, "You're a messy little thing, aren't you?" A pathetic hum of agreement passes your lips at his question, one you know he didn't expect you to answer. But he doesn't pay too much attention to that, not when he is dragging his fingers down between your folds to spread you open, "Fuck, you're so tight..."

Mark prods his middle finger at your not-yet-prepped entrance, watching how your walls suck his finger inside in desperation for some sort of relief. All this teasing and beating around the bush has your poor insides churning from the suspense. It's only one finger, but just as you expected that one finger feels a million times better than your two fingers. He knows how to curl them, to rub at the spongy patches inside of you, "Mm~! I-It feels good there..."

"Where?" He coos at your relaxed expression, "Here?" His finger rudely jabs at the spot he knows is making every muscle in your body go lax, to which you flash him a less than pleasant glare, "I'm just playing with you." His index finger is careful with how it slowly eases itself inside, pushing in with your middle fingers and getting you used to the stretch. It feels good, no discomfort in the slightest, and you can assume it's because of the way he continues to mess with that single spot that had your knees buckling.

His fingers push in as far as they can go just to mess with your walls, grinding and curling at the sensitive patches of nerves, only to remove both fingers entirely just to give your poor clit a few wet pats, "Ngh-Markiii, stop teasing it hurts..." He knows it does, he can see it in your twisted expression with every tap your clit receives, how you go from relaxing in his arms to flinching at the abuse.

But he can't help himself, not with how adorable you look bucking into his hand when he circles your clit, or your thighs twitching at the intrusion of his fingers. You look stunning, grabbing at his wrist when he is too rough, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. If it means seeing you continue to make such soft noises and to continue to breathe out his name like that, he'll keep doing what he has to do.

"If you don't want me teasing you, what do you want?" Oh, he can tell you weren't ready for that. It reads entirely in your flustered expression, and his fingers continuing to pump inside of you aren't doing anything to help... especially with the lewd squelching sounds your cunny just can't seem to stop making. It's humiliating, to say the least, how your pussy sucks his fingers inside desperately, the eroticism of watching his fingers disappear inside of you.

"M-Mark...: You don't even want to say all the things you want him to do to you, how do you tell him you've always wanted this? That night and night again you have touched yourself to the thought of him doing just about everything to you, from bouncing you in his lap, riding his face, bending you over, and having his way with you. You don't know where to start.

Mark can read it in your eyes that you have your words lodged in your throat, "If you don't tell me, this is all you're gonna get," He emphasizes his words with the pats of his fingers against your clit, "So be a good girl and speak up." You know he won't let you go until you give him exactly what he wants, the words are right on the tip of your tongue!

Your breath gets caught in your throat when his fingers slip out from your cunny, only to begin rubbing your clit back and forth, "I-I..." You squeak as he only seems to be rougher with you, purposely making you trip over your own words, "Mark~ fuck, fuck fuck-" Your fingers dig into his wrist, "I-I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-" A strangled breath gets caught in your throat when he quickly pulls his fingers from your clit, "W-Wait, I was close,Mark!"

"Answer me and I'll let you cum." 

His lips on your throat make it all the more difficult, but without the added pressure of his fingers abusing your poor cunny, you finally muster up the words to tell him, "I want you..." He gives you that look, the one that shows he expects more, "I want you inside me-"

"What do you want inside?" He coos, fingers brushing under your chin to bring your focus to him, "My fingers?" You shake your head with a subtle smile, "Hm... this?" He sticks out his tongue at you, only to earn himself another shake of your head. He feigns ignorance, pretending he has no idea what you could be possibly talking about. 

Your sneaky fingers reach behind you, Mark didn't even notice because of how absorbed he was with your cute tits, cupping at the bulge in his pants, "This..." He didn't expect you to be so bold, not after how stubborn you were just being, but he likes the playful squeeze you give him, "Does that answer your question?" Your snooty little comment earns a sharp pinch to your clit.

"Yeah, it does," Through the mirror you can see him undoing the belt that holds up his pants, watching the cargo material fall around his thighs and revealing just how strained his aroused cock is against his briefs, "C'mon, get down and bend over the desk." You didn't expect him to be so quick to give you what you want, but deep down you think he still has something up his sleeve.

Without arguing, you climb down from the vanity as you were told, watching Mark in the mirror as you lean forward and put your weight on the desk. As much as you were watching him, he was also watching you. His eyes dragging down the curve of your back to your soaked pussy peaking from under the hem of your shirt, he has imagined this very scenario time and time again, and here you are right in front of him.

Somehow the real thing requires so much more thought than if it were only in his head, knowing whether you're okay, making sure you're not uncomfortable. No longer is it all just him and his dirty thoughts, he has to worry about your feelings too. And he is fine with that, but he never expected himself to feel like he has two tons on his shoulders by simply looking at you. It's one thing for you to be in his head bent over, but for you to be bent over actually in front of him? Well, let's just say his nerves aren't cooperating.

Maybe you noticed this, enough that briefly stand up from your previous position to meet his gaze, "I'm kinda nervous..." If he knows it isn't just him that's a little fearful of the unknown, there is a possibility it could bring back his confidence, "We can start slow and find our flow, right? that's how it's supposed to be." You're right, and he knows you are, maybe it was the thought that you had these high expectations that were making him nervous.

Little does he realize, as much as you want to be pretty enough and good enough for him, he wants to be just the same for you. But seeing the way you look at him, no sort of judgment or expectancy behind your eyes, giving him your signature smile, helps to melt all of that frustration and uncertainty away. You've always been good at doing that.

He isn't sure what came over him to cup your cheeks like that and pull you into a kiss, and sure the two of you knocked teeth from how urgent the kiss was at first, but the passion behind the kiss seemed to cast every sliver of doubt and second-guessing aside. All of your focus is on him, and his focus is on you in that very moment. 

The electricity that surges through you with every push of your lips against his, tugging at his lip only for him to bite back and do the same to you. It's like you two found a middle ground, the kiss connecting you both in a way nothing else could, blindly guiding you two in the position you both need to feel comfortable. Somehow you finding yourself seated on the vanity desk and his hips between your spread thighs.

You break the kiss, lungs burning from holding your breath for as long as you could, eyes falling down between your spread legs, "Ah..." Your breath catches at the sight of him beginning to push inside, you didn't get a well enough look at how big he is, but the feeling alone is a little unnerving. You aren't even sure how much is in, but it feels like more than you truly think it is.

"Don't pay attention to that," His voice is hushed, grabbing your attention and making you pick your head back up, "Does it hurt?" To be honest, it doesn't, it's more like this full stretch that is only slightly discomforting. Something you weren't prepared for but believe you can handle. You shake your head, not wanting him to think he is doing something wrong, which he isn't.

His hair looks so soft, albeit messy because of the fight, but nonetheless still silky and you can't keep your fingers from combing into it, "I want another kiss," Your fingers tug the tie from his hair and watch the red locks fall to lay over his broad shoulders, "Unless you're too nervous to kiss me, hm?" 

Your challenge ignites a fire within his chest, you sure know what things to say and when to get him riled up. And what you just said about him being too nervous? Oh, he isn't having it. Mark doesn't even need to speak for you to see the "game on" look in his eyes, and it doesn't make you any more shocked when his hand finds your throat and uses it to pull you forward.

The air is knocked from your lungs at the jerk of your body forward to meet him halfway, but you don't complain for a second, not when he gives you the confidence you had thought disappeared. It feels good to have that authoritative role back in him, for him to be taking back control with how he wants you and what he wants to do to you. Through the sloppy kiss that he has you locked in, you can feel your body being laid back on the vanity.

To your surprise, you have enough room to properly lay back, and with that Mark takes advantage of it. The desk perfectly supports your weight, allowing him the chance to grab your right leg and hoist it over his shoulder to create a more open angle for him to have you in. Immediately you can tell the difference in the feeling with this position, it pushes deeper at your walls rather than just rubbing past those spongy patches.

"Ngh... fuck, th-there it..." You can't form the right words to tell him how good it feels, even with the slow and controlled pace he has set for you, "Mark, I can take more. Please." You don't even try to hide the need in your tone, how it comes out as almost a whine rather than a polite little request. And he doesn't mind the demand, if you need more he is going to give it to you. After all, you're used to being daddy's little princess.

"You really think you can take more?" You nod your head, your hum of affirmation coming out as a moan, "Yeah? I don't think you can." His words contradict his actions, his back arching forward as he picks up the pace. No longer is the room echoing with nothing but moans and the obnoxiously wet sounds of your overwhelmed cunny, but the added volume of skin slapping skin makes what you both are doing here all the riskier. 

His cock is ruthless, no matter the pace he uses you can feel every vein and the slight curve of his member, it feels too much even if he isn't giving you enough. The size itself is a problem, and he likes to use that to tease you; you're too small, you can't take it... it doesn't matter. If he finds a way to make you feel little and weak in comparison to him? He goes for it.

And you don't mind, you like the dominance, how he keeps you pinned down with one hand on your throat and the other pinning your left thigh down. You feel completely at his mercy where you lay, unable to do anything but take it, "Mark, fuck, fuck-" 

"Shh," He warns you, "Don't forget where we are." And you haven't, the whole time you two have been doing this all you could do was worry over someone walking in or by or something, "Don't need your father finding out his little girl is getting her sloppy pussy stretched open... and it'll make it worse if he finds out I'm the one doing it." You know that, but you're a big girl, you don't need your father's permission to get laid!

Unfortunately, you keep that attitude too. Why should you have to keep quiet? You're having fun, that's no one's business but yours and Mark's. "B-But... but I like it-" You gasp when your right leg is brought down from your shoulder in favor of both knees being pinned to your shoulders, "Ah- too much, too much, too much~!" 

Mark, as much as he loves your sexy moans and cutesy whimpers, he doesn't love the idea of either of you getting caught like this, and what better way to fix the noise problem than shoving the panties you kindly give him right in your mouth? And it's only better that the pink of your panties looks nice hanging from your glossy lips. 

"That's what you get, babe..." He pants out each word and adds salt to the wound by flashing a cocky grin, "Bad girls who can't keep quiet when they're told get dirty panties in their mouth." If only he knew the things he was doing to you, the strikes to your core his cock cause, how his intimidating dominance over you has your insides turning, "But you don't need your voice to make you feel good, right? Look at you..."

It's ironic that he asks you to take a look at yourself, a mirror is just behind you and you can't see yourself from this angle. Luckily for you, your redhead is one step ahead to make sure you can really see how slutty you look right now with those panties shoved in your mouth. Mark takes your hips, wordlessly guiding you to turn around onto your stomach and plant your feet back on the ground.

You are forced to look yourself in the eyes, to see the little tears pricking the corners of your eyes, look at your swollen lips and your panties, and to make it all the more humiliating, Mark is standing right behind you. He is staring right at you, making sure you know he is there and watching you, and if that doesn't make you nervous... you aren't sure what does.

A hand comes down to grip your chin, fixing your head to look straight at the mirror and more specifically yourself, "Don't look away from that mirror, understood?" His voice is at least two octaves lower than before, rumbling in the pit of his chest and vibrating against your back. It shakes your core, but in the best way possible, tingles running up your spine and back down.

It isn't long before the warmth and fullness of his cock is sinking back inside of your gummy walls, making itself comfortable deep inside of you to the point his tip kisses gently at your cervix, "It's all the way in, y/n..." He whispers into your ear, "You ready? You think you can take all of it?" The only right answer is to nod your head, humming desperately and letting him know you're ready, you want it. And who is he to deny that? His pretty girl wants her cunny stretched, why shouldn't he give in and let her have it just how she wants? 

Unlike before he doesn't let you prepare yourself, oh no, the pace went from zero all the way to one hundred in exactly one second. It was like being plowed into, the force of his hips bouncing you off and into the desk. And if you looked horrible and worn out before, you looked twice as bad now. Your sparkly eyes rolling back to make way for the oncoming flow of tears, your entire body trembling with his thrusts.

"Mmph~! Nngh-" Even through the panties he can hear you, muffled and incoherent but still like music to his ears. You take him so well, struggling maybe, but you don't complain for a second about him being too big... and it probably is because your panties are down your throat. But if you really did need him to stop, he is sure you would find another way.

"Feels good, right?" He can't tell if you're nodding or that's just your head moving in sync with his forceful jerks, "Having this little pussy nice and filled... bet you couldn't wait for this the entire match, right?" If you were able to answer, you would be screaming yes from the hills! But instead, you can only stare him in the eyes through the mirror, tears and all, and he can see just how drunk you are on his cock. A pretty whore for him to fuck.

If he had known you were such a perverted slut, so needy to have a dick train you, he would have grabbed you by your cheeky yoga leggings and made you ride his dick while he did bench presses. And seeing you like this? You would have done it without question.

"You're getting all tense, y/n..." His eyes trail down to watch himself disappearing inside of you, and the ripple of your ass smacking his hips, "You gonna cum? This pretty cunt gonna make a mess for me?" You're more than just close to cumming, it's like a fire in the pits of your core, and every pass of his member inside of you has your thighs jumping and twitching, "Yeah, that's it, babe."

Oh, you wish he wouldn't call you that, the things it does to you... and the overwhelming pleasure of his tip plunging into your poor cervix? You feel like you're on the verge of passing out, "Don't look away," He keeps your head straight and makes you look straight ahead at yourself, "Watch yourself cum." You aren't even sure if you have it in you to hold it in long enough to properly look at yourself, let alone the energy to keep your head up.

Your eyes are locked on the mirror, your breath fogging it up with the forceful pants your lungs push out. If you were wearing makeup, you're sure it would be leaving streaks down your cheeks from the tears. They aren't tears of pain, not even close, but rather ones of overstimulation. You aren't sure how much longer you can last, but you don't have time to dwell over it, not when you watch the hand not pinning your waist to the vanity snakes down between your legs.

If the panties weren't in your mouth, you would be protesting and begging him not to. You aren't sure you could handle it! His cock is already tearing your poor cunny in half, his fingers will surely break you. But you can only watch in fear, and anxiously wait for his fingers to meet your throbbing pearl between your legs.

"Mmph~! Mm-" Your nails dig into the desk and back arches to try and get away from his fingers, but Mark doesn't give up, "Mm! Mmm~!" He knows you're protesting, he knows it's too much for your sensitive little cunny. But he wants to see you come undone, to see more of your pretty tears and those sparkly eyes roll back in absolute bliss. And with the vicious pace his fingers inflict on your burning clit, you aren't far from that edge.

"That's it, babe... that's it, I wanna taste this pussy when finish. I bet you taste so sweet, just as sweet as you look right now..." And he isn't lying, you've never looked as stunning as you do right now. No angel could compare to you, nothing. The sweat coating your skin and your juices tainting the apex of your thighs, "I got you, baby-"

He doesn't have the chance to finish his pep talk before he feels you come undone beneath him, your squeals and whimpers completely muffled by your stuffed mouth. Your poor nerves going off of the wall, thighs jumping and nails digging at the wood of the vanity, and your pussy squirting all over his cock and onto your thighs. You're embarrassed by the mess, but to Mark? It is the biggest ego stroker he could have encountered... he got you to squirt.

"Fuck, good girl, good fucking girl..." Mark slows the thrusts, as much as he wants to cum he can see how worn out you are, "Take a deep breath, princess. Just like that," You try your best to do as he asks, but it's so difficult with how quick your climax comes and the panties being in your mouth. You put all of your weight on the vanity, fingers clawing at it as if it could help ease the electricity shooting through every inch of you.

Mark sees you and he thinks he may have been too rough, "Shh, c'mere." The panties are taken from your mouth, saliva soaked into the thin fabric and sticking to your chin, "You okay?" Fingers, although rough and calloused, gently brush over your cheek to gather your tears, he worries he may have forgotten himself somewhere and been too hard on you. 

And your expression, weak and twisted, for a moment makes him feel horrible. What had he done? This was his first time having sex with you, something he has wanted for so long, and he just screwed it up. His eyes watched your every move, lips opening to say something and hesitating for a minute, you were probably pissed at him.

"Y-You..." Little tears prick at your eyes and he panics, "You didn't even cum inside of me, was I not doing enough?" For a moment, silence befalls the both of you other than your pathetic little sniffles. Were you really... that worried over him finishing? Is that really what has you on the verge of crying? If he could, he would eat you up right where you stand in front of him, you're too cute.

Two hands cup your swollen cheeks and bring your face close, "You want me to cum inside of you? That's what you worked up?" You nod your head all while leaning into his hands, "You're so cute, but I think you need to take a break, babe. You're shaking." He can tell you're teetering right at the edge of too much, he fears if he does anymore he may actually hurt you.

"But I want..." He shakes his head and kisses the tip of your nose, "Then... Then I'll suck it off." You won't let up so easily, he just gave you the best climax of your life, and if he thinks you'll let him walk out of this room with blue balls he is more than just wrong. 

Mark wants to argue, he knows you should clean yourself up and you both should get out of here. He isn't even sure what time it is or how long it has been, the fights could very well be over and neither of you has any clue. But what harm can you getting on your knees do? Maybe give you a sore throat, but he is sure with how loud you were, muffled or not, you are already on the train to a strained voice.

"Make it quick, I still wanna take you to dinner." Even after all of this, somehow taking you to dinner may just be the highlight of the night. Sex is great, but for Mark Markit is the intimate, quiet moments that mean the world to him. All those times you would open early or stay late with him, he cherished those memories. Unlike him, you could not care less about dinner or memorable moments or anything, you're far more focused on what his cum might taste like. You've thought of it a million times, and finally, you will be able to know. 

You ease yourself onto your knees in front of him, Mark fixing his pants out of your way and leaning back against the desk as he watches you make yourself comfortable. If he thought you looked beautiful lying underneath him with your knees by your ears, he isn't sure what to call you on your knees. Your gorgeous eyes looking at him through those lashes of yours, tongue dragging out and over your lips.

"Don't hurt yourself, pretty girl... I saw you struggling before when I started picking up the pace." You don't like being talked down to, but you know that's just him trying to get you worked up and you won't let him have that satisfaction. 

All of your weight is put onto your knees as you lean forward, the tip of your warm tongue licking your own cum from his cock, "Be nice to me or I'll use my teeth." He can't argue with that, and he knows you will do it. Your tongue drags over the veins, tracing them carefully, breath hot and fanning over his ready-to-burst member. If he had it his way, he would grab your pretty face and fuck this squishy mouth of yours, but he already pushed it and he wants you to go at your pace now.

"Fuck, that's good... tap it on your tongue for me," You stick out your tongue and do as he says, "Shiiiit, you look so hot right now." You know you do, if anyone could see the hearts in Mark's eyes, it's you... and those hearts are practically jumping out while he watches you rubbing your tongue over his messy dick, doing everything but putting it in your mouth, "C'mon, y/n... please."

"You want me to put it in my mouth?" You feign innocence while looking up at him, giving him puppy eyes and suckling at his tip. Mark nods breathlessly, even so much as adding an extra, needy please to really show you how much he wants it. He was so kind to give you exactly what you want, it would mean not to do the same for him!

Making yourself comfortable, you open your mouth wide enough to fit his tip inside, tasting that sweetness of your juices on your tongue. Is this what heaven feels like? For him to be guiding your mouth on his dick, cooing words of praise every time you successfully ease the tip in your throat without hurting yourself or choking too much.

The two of you see, hear, and know nothing but each other at this moment. Eyes locked together and no sound other than him breathing shakily and the rare pass of your name on his tongue, mixed in with the disgusting wet sounds of your throat stretching over him. You two wouldn't have been able to pick up on the footsteps coming down the hall, or the call of two very familiar names who just so happen to be missing at the same time.

And neither of you would have been prepared for the door to open, let alone, for the one person both of you feared catching you to be standing in the doorway in shock, horror... and Mark locked eyes for just a second, a second that allowed to see the seven layers of hell in your father's eyes, before the door slammed shut and feet moved down the hall faster than you could pull off of Mark's cock. 

"I... I think we should get out of here before he comes back."

[andavs]

Seriously, does Eddie know what Kim unintentionally did to him?

I'm not trying to absolve him of everything that just happened because he was the one to go back to the store and talk to her in the first place. He continued to see her at least a few times, so that part is entirely on him—but he also came clean with her and ended it. It was over and done with.

But he brought her to his home to explain and she came back later to ambush him. She used the photos he showed her to dress up exactly like his dead wife—maybe it was just some careful styling, but it looked like she even dyed the white streak in her hair. He opened up about the faults in their marriage and she threw his own words back at him to push him into engaging with her. Everything he shared with her, she twisted and used against him.

Even with nothing but good intentions, Kim is a fucking actress! She is not in any way qualified to guide him through something like that! She broke him open while he repeatedly asked her to stop, unintentionally blew his life up, and then left him there in pieces. And he couldn’t even begin to process what just happened because Chris walked in.

Yeah, Eddie could’ve slammed the door in Kim’s face from the start or told her to get out, but even if he had, would she have left? She was determined to do this “for him” and didn’t take no for an answer. He could barely even look at her, but she kept pushing until she struck a nerve. 

That was such a fucked up thing that Kim did, yet Eddie defends her and blames himself completely in the aftermath. He was so messed up and wracked with guilt and worry about Chris that he couldn’t even properly explain what happened. He talks around it while blaming himself for everything, to the point where it sure as hell seems like Buck thinks they had sex while Kim pretended to be Shannon, and Eddie was fully into it.

In the episode before when he first confronted Eddie about her, Buck specifically clarified, “You haven't had sex.” And Eddie said, “Exactly, that’s not even what I want from her.”

And then when Eddie’s trying to explain, Buck says “And what wasn't happening between you two ended up happening.”

Buck thinks they had sex—or were at least making out—and Chris walked in when in reality, Eddie was pushed into a breakdown by the ghost of his dead wife about how he's broken and unfixable and alone. And I don’t know what that misunderstanding means, or if it’ll even end up being relevant! Will Eddie actually tell him what happened, or will he lock that away too?

Eddie’s made so much progress with opening up to people since his breakdown, but this time every single thing he shared got used against him and started a chain reaction that has left him completely alone with nothing. His son is gone, and his parents were there just long enough to convince him that he’s a terrible father screwing up Chris like they screwed up Eddie, which is what Eddie’s always worked hardest to avoid. The one remaining good thing in his life was the 118, and even that’s going to be terrible under Gerrard.

Either next season is going to be equal parts brutal and magnificent on the Eddie front, or it’s going to be incredibly disappointing.