#just red marks around my entire throat/neck and on my face
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bro i’m going absolutely INSANE over alastor 😻😻
so, how about when lucifer comes by the hotel, he subtly flirts w alastors girl. alastor is on the verge of going apeshit and almost leaves charlie fatherless.
instead of murdering anyone, he decides to take his frustrations out on his darling, leaving bite marks and hickies on spots just visible enough for lucifer to notice next time he comes by..
a/n: im OBSESSED 😍😍
alastor immediately recognized lucifer as competition on multiple fronts. obviously, the king of hell was a threat in terms of power level, and alastor hated that. but alastor also quickly hated how charming the devil was.
upon meeting you, lucifer takes your hand and bows, placing a kiss on your hand as well. alastor's eye twitches, watching someone else put their dirty little hands and mouth on what is his. "my, what a pleasure. you're helping charlie? that's lovely! means i'll get to be seeing you around more, huh? she didn't mention such a pretty little thing was her hotel manager." lucifer speaks to you, a cool smirk on his face. he's clearly interested in you, and while alastor can't blame the man, he's seething with rage. clearing his throat, alastor takes a step towards you and reaches a hand out to lucifer in an attempt to shift his attention.
"alastor." he speaks, barely containing the anger in his voice. "it truly is an honor to be meeting you, sir." you raise a brow at the tense interaction going on in front of you but pay it no mind. lucifer gives alastor a tight lipped smile and shakes his hand. "ah, you as well. charlie has talked about you." you notice the way alastor glares at lucifer, yet keeps a smile on his face the entire time. lucifer turns back to you, putting a gloved hand on the small of your back. "now how's about a tour, hm?" he leans into your ear to whisper, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.
behind you, alastor's horns grow and eyes redden, ready to risk it all in a fight with the devil and take out this whole god damned hotel if it meant lucifer never touched you again. "o-oh um, that's typically done by-" you start, but suddenly, charlie is running down the stairs with a panicked look on her face.
"heeyy dad! let's go this way, towards your room! it's late, you should rest." her smile is clearly fake, and you see her eyes dart from you to alastor and back to you. luckily, alastor reeled in his rage when the princess showed up and was back to his normal self on the surface. you can feel the energy coming from your partner, malicious intent painted all over his aura and you gulp. "al, c'mon... charlie's right."
alastor doesn't speak, but he follows you to your room for the night. the door is barely shut before alastor is lifting your legs and tossing you onto the bed. "care to explain why the fuck that little slimy king of hell was all over you?" he doesn't give you another moment to process before he's tugging your shirt over your head. "it's just harmless, al. you know i don't want anyone but you." you assure him, but alastor's teeth find your neck.
"i may trust you, darling, but i do not trust lucifer." his voice has a low growl to it that ignites your core. "but-" you gasp when alastor's mouth closes on the skin behind your ear, nipping it with sharp teeth. "no, because he and everyone in this place will know who you belong to." you shudder underneath of him, slight tinges of pain shooting down your spine at every nip and pull of your skin. alastor moves down your neck, leaving a trail of angry red and purple spots in his wake.
his tongue circles every bruise in an attempt to soothe your inflamed skin, but the marks just darken by the second. you hands dive into his hair, holding onto the silky strands. you feel alastor's body shudder as you circle the tufts of hair by his ears, making him press his hips to yours. "everyone in hell, my dear, is going to know that you're mine. not a single soul will ever try to touch you again." his breathing hitches, grinding his quickly hardening cock against your leg. you whimper when his teeth latch onto your collarbone, sucking hard and adding another welt to your skin.
"i want him to hear you." he hisses as he tugs your pants down over your ankles. its hasty, the way alastor frees his cock and pushes into your pussy, but you were more than ready for the intrusion. you cry out, suddenly being so, so full and alastor groans. "yes darling, just like that." your legs wrap around his waist, forcing every thrust just a little further until he's pounding at your cervix.
"d-don't stop sir." you gasp, eyes rolling into the back of your head while alastor's mouth latches onto the other side of your neck this time. "who do you being to?" he asks, hot breath fanning your skin. "y-you, alastor!" you whine, flexing your hips up to his in an attempt to build friction. "please, make me cum. only you feel so good." alastor peppers you in soft kisses now, ever grateful that you're willing to entertain the idea of letting lucifer know just who makes you feel like this.
alastor sneaks a hand between your bodies to rub skillful circles around your clit until your legs start shaking. "good, good girl. scream for me." he smirks when your tone shifts and he can tell by how tight you squeeze around his cock. "a-alastor fuck!" your body spasms, waves of pleasure rolling over you as you cum. alastor's orgasm follows shortly after, his teeth finding your skin once more as he spills deep inside of your pussy.
you have a brief moment of embarrassment when you think about just how loud you just were, your hand flying up to your mouth. alastor just laughs, placing a kiss on your forehead. "don't panic, my sweet. i think this little display will prove quite effective in keeping lucifers grubby little hands off of you." alastor pulls out slowly and carries you to a nice warm shower before tucking you in for the night.
---
"jesus christ, did you get into a fuckin' fight with a bear?" angel laughs when you walk into the kitchen the next morning. you were covered in hickeys all the way down your neck, and you were barely walking straight. lucifer refuses to make eye contact with you, especially after alastor walks into the room shortly after. "good morning everyone!" alastor chirps, smirking at lucifer who rolls his eyes and sips his coffee.
"well, there's the bear..." husk mutters, earning a cackle from angel.
#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x you#alastor x reader smut#hazbin alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel smut#alastor smut#alastor imagines#alastor x you smut#hazbin x you#hazbin hotel imagines#hazbin hotel lucifer#alastor hazbin hotel smut#alastor x reader imagines#hazbin hotel alastor smut#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin alastor x reader
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LIFE LESSONS ft. BULLY! SATORU
— minors dni, hair pulling, one mention of biting, slight dumbification, bully! satoru x fem! reader, meandom! satoru, degradation (reader called a slut and a whore), gagging, possessiveness, spanking
wc 1k
Gojo claims a lot of things. That he’s the strongest, the hottest, the smartest, the most sought after, all things you believe are up for debate. He’s annoying is what he is. Loves to poke at you, literally and figuratively, and spout random shit just to get under your skin. So when Gojo’s in the middle of his daily harassment routine, and he growls “You’re mine” before walking away, you don’t take him seriously. You haven’t before, so why should you now?
“Stupid slut.,” Gojo jeers into your neck. “Did you think I was joking?”
You gag again around fingers bullying their way in your mouth, almost touching the back of your throat, the taste of yourself still lingering on them. Salty tears prick the corner of your eyes and spill over your lash line; you can feel the burning redness in your eyes, such a faint sensation compared to the sloppy drags of Gojo’s heavy cock in your cunt. He throws down another blow to your bruised ass, tinted red and decorated with dark blemishes and bite marks. Your pussy spasms around his length which continues to batter your velvety insides; Gojo’s hand jumps from your waist to your hair, grabbing a fistful to snatch your head level with his.
“Answer my fucking question.,” he grunts against your cheek, licking and nibbling at the tear-stained skin. “What, you thought I wasn’t serious?”
Of course you didn’t, who was Gojo to make a claim over you? Calling you his when he knows how much you can’t stand him? His words were mostly forgotten the second he was out of view and, just to be spiteful, you flirted with some random guy right in front of Gojo’s face the next day. You’re his? You’ll show him who you belong to.
A shaky whine dribbles out from your kiss-swollen lips as he rips another orgasm from you, walls convulsing around him as your eyes roll back and your juices sloppily squirt all over his pants. You can’t help admit you’re definitely eating your own words right now. Yeah, you’re really showing Satoru Gojo who you belong to by letting him have his way with you in your own dorm room.
“Wanna tell me who that fucking loser was, hm, princess?,” Gojo demands, low tone in your ear making your dripping walls flutter.
He pulls his fingers back to rest on your tongue; drool pools around the digits and messily leaks from the corners of your mouth.
“I-I don’t know hi–“
He drives forward a hard thrust, cockhead slamming your g-spot and you senselessly wail out a Satoru!
“Oh, so this was some kind of game?” Satoru shoves you into the mattress again. One hand between your shoulder blades and the other digging nails into the fatty flesh of your hips. He forces your back into an arch and readjusts his hips to fuck deliberate, hard strokes into your pussy, new angle allowing him to continue pummeling the sweet spot of your insides. You bury your face in one of your pillows in an effort to muffle the numerous moans tumbling from your lips, clawing at baby pink sheets now soaked with spit and cum. Drool smears against your face, and your tongue hangs over your bottom lip as each thrust propels you forward.
“What part of you’re. Mine,” You cry out as Gojo punctuates the words with two harsh slams of his hips, “did you not understand?”
He rolls his hips against your ass in short, quick thrusts, effectively grinding his cock into the spongy spot of your walls and you whimper in complaint as Gojo reaches around to rub at your clit. Fast, vicious circles on your soaked nub, shooting agonizing pleasure throughout your entire body as you mewl his name again. Shirt caught between his teeth, Gojo watches in awe at the way his dick easily disappears within you. Thin, messy strings of past orgasms coat his cock in a translucent sheen of white. Sticky and wet to form a natural lubricant so he can continue fucking your little hole.
“You think some asshole like that could ever get you to feel this way?” He grunts, pressure on your clit building as he grows even more angry with you. He curses, sinks his fangs into your neck before his lips brush over the mark. “You think I’d ever let them try?”
His voice is strained, thrusts growing uneven and you can tell he’s close. Gojo runs a hand up your sides, grazing the sheets, and laces his fingers with yours next to your head. He squeezes your hand, still thoroughly pounding into your creamy pussy, drinks in the desperate moans and whimpers of his name you can’t help but let out.
“Tell me you’re mine.,” he demands. “Shout it, so everyone can hear.”
“I’m yours.,” you pant immediately between sobs.
Gojo lands a smack on your ass. “Not loud enough.”
“ ‘M yours–!,” you can’t even fully get this one out before he’s slapping your raw behind for the second time.
“Louder.,” he hisses through clenched teeth.
And Gojo does it again, smacks your ass, makes you repeat just who you belong to until you’re screaming it out. Over the sound of his pelvis slamming against you, over the wet squelching of his dick ramming your cunt, over his final, drawn-out groan as you gush on his cock again, pussy milking him as Gojo marks your abused insides with his cum. Your legs go numb, limbs now limp on the bed and he hovers over your exhausted body. The ticklish feeling of featherlight kisses travels up your spine, up to your neck and over your warm, wet cheeks. Gojo gives your hand another firm squeeze, and then takes both hips in his hands to massage your skin under an unfamiliar, soft touch.
“Now, what did we learn?,” he hums and presses another kiss to the corner of your lips.
Your eyelids flutter open to peek at him, and you catch bright flecks of blue in the corner of your vision. Between heaved breaths, you pant out, “I’m…all…yours…”
You tense for a second as Gojo gives you another slap on the rear, though not nearly as rough as before. “That’s my girl.”
#bully!satoru#gojo satoru smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x reader smut#satoru gojo smut#satoru x reader#satoru x reader smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader smut
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hi! could i request track one with spencer reid where reader gets drunk and needy for spencer 😭 but he denies (cuz yk shes drunk) and just takes care of him please? thank you!
off my face — spencer reid
summary: “i’m off my face in love with you.” in which reader gets drunk and spencer has to nurse her back to health.
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
genre: established relationship, fluff
warnings: rated 16+ for allusions to smut, reader gets drunk, reader wears lipstick and a dress, mentions of throwing up [not in detail], spencer being sickeningly perfect, lots of pet names, inspired by that one video of matthew. you know which one i’m talking about.
a/n: i er… got carried away because i love this trope 😔 i am in fact obsessed
wc: 1.23k
It’s too loud. Granted, it’s a club; it’s supposed to be loud. Spencer cringes a little as the music somehow manages to get even louder and he sips at his coke. He has your purse in his lap and he’s also manning your drink like a guard dog; moving himself to the furthest seat in the booth that is away from the crowd. Your inevitable return is a lot sooner than he expected, and he watches with amusement as you slide into the booth and curl into his side, reaching for your drink.
“Have fun?” Spencer asks with a soft laugh, one arm wrapping around your shoulders as he presses a kiss to the top of you head.
“Mm,” you hum in affirmation, eagerly sipping at the sugary concoction in front of you. “Would’ve been funner with you, baby.”
He laughs louder at that, rolling his eyes teasingly and squeezing at the flesh of your waist. “You know it wouldn’t have been.”
“Bet you’d be real sexy with all that sweat dripping off you,” you coo, your voice sickeningly sweet as your fingers move to toy with the buttons of his shirt.
Your fingers are wet with the condensation from the chilled glass of your cocktail and they brush against the sensitive skin of his collarbone. A shudder runs down his spine at the contact, and his cheeks grow hot. His hand finds your wrist and he holds it firmly, but not enough to hurt.
“Don’t,” he says, half jokingly half seriously as he moves his head to track your gaze. “How much have you had to drink, angel?”
You ignore the question, moving your fingers upward to brush against a blooming purple mark near his collar. A pout rests on your lips as you gesture to it, a frown forming on your face. “Who gave this to you?”
He bristles, moving the flap of his collar to cover the bruise. “You did. This morning.”
“Oh yeah!” The smile returns to your face awfully fast and a giggle bubbles up from your throat. “You love me.”
“I do,” he agrees, kissing your head again.
Your expression is all too gleeful as you move your head just at the right time so that he lips would meet yours. He pulls away after a brief moment, about to say something else, when you effectively cut him off by pressing a wet kiss to his cheek.
“Angel– sweetheart, you’re very drunk,” he says gently, prying your needy fingers away and holding them firmly in his hand.
“Nuh uh,” you deny, leaning forward again and kissing his neck right where you left a mark earlier that morning.
He jolts at the contact, pulling away as pink rises to his cheeks. “We’re not doing this while you’re drunk, honey.”
You blatantly ignore him, maneuvering yourself so that you’s practically half on his lap with your arms wrapped loosely around his neck. He doesn’t mind the attention, per se. He just feels incredibly guilty about enjoying it when you’re loopy from all the cocktails you have had. You’re pressing kisses against his cheeks while your hands play with the collar of his shirt, tugging at the purple tie you chose earlier that day and there are lipstick stains all over his skin. He’s well aware of it; bright red with a sticky residue and he will forever not understand how you can wear it all the time.
His tie has come undone entirely and you pull at his shirt to kiss dangerously close to his collarbone.
“Okay–” he’s flushing scarlet and he doesn’t dare meet the eyes of anyone in the team. “Okay, baby, that’s enough. Let’s get you home.”
“Ooh,” you giggle, wiggling your eyebrows with insinuation.
“You need sleep.” He says it sternly, although you don’t seem to grasp the concept.
“What kind of sleep?” You ask, winking.
He shakes his head, amused and exasperated, as he rebuttons his shirt and reties his tie. “The REM kind. Come on, angel. Say good night to your friends.”
You giggle tiredly, waving goodbye to your friends. Penelope looks absolutely hammered, wiggling her eyebrows at you with an expression full of insinuation. Emily is smirking in your direction, swirling her martini around before taking a sip. JJ looks equally elated, snickering softly as she holds onto Will’s arm.
Spencer ushers you gently into his car, leaning over the console to open the glove box on your side and brandishing a packet of micellar water wipes. He takes out two for himself before passing the rest of them to you.
“For your makeup,” he explains, wiping the lipstick marks off his cheeks. “I’ll help you with your skincare when we get home, alright?”
You’re in love. It isn’t long before he’s helping you up the stairs of his apartment and sitting you gently on the couch. Your eyes are droopy and it seems like the sugar high from your cocktails is wearing off. Spencer runs his fingers through your hair gently while he holds a glass of cold water to your lips, urging you to drink. You only do it to appease him and once he’s satisfied with your water intake, he’s reaching for the zip of your dress.
“Someone’s needy,” you coo, giggling as he pulls it down to just below your ribcage. “Gonna rough me up?”
“No.” He answers it swiftly, and had you been sober your heart would have split in two. He continues, “I’m going to put you in something more comfortable and then you’re going to sleep.”
“Boring.”
“No, it’s not– it’s not boring,” he flounders, his cheeks growing hotter at your words. He can’t believe he’s arguing with a drunk person. “It’s not boring, baby, it’s safe. Alcohol is a neuro inhibitor. There’s a reason why you can’t drink and drive and it’s because the brain’s neural activity patterns are suppressed or blocked. That’s also the reason why you can’t ask a drunk person for consent; they don’t know or understand what’s going on around them.”
You’ve half fallen asleep at his explanation, the sleeves of your dress falling down your arms and a shiver runs down your spine. “So we’re not going to be partaking in passionate steamy love making?”
“No, we’re not,” he confirms, pulling your favourite pair of cotton pyjamas over your head. It’s a pale pink set with little bows prints all over it and a lacy collar. “Lift your hips for me, angel, I need to get the shorts on you.”
You comply, kicking the dress off into some forbidden corner of the room and Spencer takes this chance to slip the matching shorts onto your legs and up your thighs. The rest of the night is smooth sailing from there– he has successfully applied your skincare in such a way that you would be singing his praises. He has also managed to get you to drink another cup of water, and even though you’re going to wake up complaining about the fact you need to pee. He’d rather you complain about that instead of some raging headache.
Spencer climbs under the covers next to you, pulling you into his chest and kissing your shoulder. A soft snore leaves your lips and he can’t help but chuckle. Passed out, as expected.
“Good night, angel,” he murmurs into your ear, holding you tight. “See you in the morning.”
reblogs are always appreciated !!
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#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid smut#golden : a milestone event#matthew gray gubler#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds smut#writers on tumblr#matthew gray gubler x reader#matthew gray gubler x reader fluff#matthew gray gubler x reader smut#mgg#matthew gray gubler fluff#matthew gray gubler smut#mgg fluff#mgg x reader
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kinks i think skz would have (part 3)
SKZXFEM READER
cw: smut obviously (MINORS DNI) the tw’s are kinda obvious with the sub header but read at your own discretion babies 🤍
a/n: not proofread sorry for any mistakes. also i’m so happy to be writing again! lets be delulu together xox
part 1, part 2
bangchan; hair pulling
oh my lord this man is relentless,
he’d be grabbing fistfuls of your hair and yanking your head up to look at him when you’re on your knees underneath him
“you look so pretty on your knees for me doll”
will literally snatch your hair as he’s fucking you in missionary and growl like an ANIMAL down your ear as he’s so deep in your pussy
“f- fuck baby, ah- feel so good around my cock”
the way your mouth drops open at the sting on your scalp as you stare up at him with mascara down your face from him deep-throating you omg you look devine babygirl!
“don’t cry angel you’re doing such a good job for me” *continues to FACE FUCK you*
lee know; edging/ overstim
we all knew this one was coming
you best believe lee know would make you BEG for him to let you come every. single. time. without fail. you would be a whimpering, sobbing mess
“if you want to cum, what do you say baby? … hmm i don’t think think you want it that much” GOD
he would be holding the vibrator to your clit for ages! smirking at your face contorting as the pleasure just builds and builds in your pussy.
“such a good girl for daddy hmm?” HELP (i am simply a dog)
“that’s it, keep begging sweetheart” AHH
and when he does let you come oh. god. he would make you orgasm over and over again until you’re crying! your pussy would be so red and swollen afterwards and he lovessss to see it
“no no doll, you begged me to come so take it like a good girl”
changbin; pussy slapping
hear me out-
so, changbin would be on top of you fully clothed whilst you’re bare naked underneath him and even the sight of you alone is enough to have his cock digging into you from his pants
he’s the type to play with your clit until you’re mewling but would SLAPPP your pussy once he hears you beg to go faster
“you don’t tell me when to do with your pussy darling”
the way he would smirk slyly as your body jolts up and your legs shake in surprise at the sudden impact o.m.g!
each slap would have you groaning from your whole chest as he continues slapping your sensitive clit again and again and he would even have the AUDACITY to chuckle down your ear at your reactions
“you’ll get my cock soon enough baby, don’t worry”
hyunjin; praise kink
i feel like this one being on the list was inevitable. hyunjin and praise kink just go hand in hand
the way he would trace your entire body with his hands leaving kisses on your exposed skin with his eyes full of adoration i’m CRYING
“you’re actually ethereal y/n..”
each time he would kiss the inside of your thighs, he would look up at you with your head thrown back in bliss and smile lovingly at the sight of you enjoying yourself. (all he cares about is your pleasure i SWEAR)
“that feel nice baby?” um YES
none. stop. compliments of how beautiful your body is and how he’s the luckiest man in the world
lots of make out sessions because trust me, this man is drunk on you!
“so fucking beautiful”
han jisung; marking
because han AINT SHARING
the thought of anyone else looking at you has han feeling the need to mark you as his own. you’re his and he’s yours. done!
seriously bestie, the amount of hickeys he gives you is crazyyyy! but would absolutely kiss each one after making them
“my gorgeous girl, aren’t you? only mine” the POSSESSIVENESS i love urgh
the way he would have you moaning underneath him as he sucks on your neck again and again and the way you would sound so sexy he would be lowkey going feral for you.
“fuck baby, i love you so much”
felix; pain play
because, in my opinion, felix can’t contain his dom side around you…
as in he would be shoving his fingers down your throat whilst pinching and twisting your nipples just to hear your choked moans whilst you writhe under him
and the way he would chuckle smugly af at the state he would put you in every time. (his deep laugh has me on the floor)
“is it hurting baby? aww… good”
SLAPPING. EVERYWHERE.
the lasting bruises of his hands all over your thighs and ass for dayssss
the way he would nip his teeth against your clit just to see you jump and buck up into his face when you feel a sharp sting onfbsjsn
*deep voice* “good girl” — AHHHH i’m sat!!
seungmin; objectification & humiliation
this one is my personal fave… stay with me !!…
i know for sure that seungmin is a super soft lover but you can’t tell me this man doesn’t respectfully disrespect you to the point of orgasm !
the way he would tease your clit forever just to look into your desperate af eyes and laugh at you for being “such a needy fucking puppy yeah?” and the way he would call you a whore and slap you in the face afterwards IM WET
“can’t speak now pup? aww are you so dumb on my cock that you’ve turned into nothing but a doll for me to fuck? yeahhh…”
and the way he would choke you until your eyes roll back in bliss just to laugh at how pliant you are O.M.G
the aftercare though! he would give you so so many face kisses and cuddle you so tightly only to do the exact same thing the night after
jeongin; Msub
look, i’m constantly torn between wanting innie to rail me and wanting to corrupt him but this oneeee…
WHINEY JEONGIN.
when i tell you the whimpers this man lets out whilst you tease the top of his cock is heavenly, i mean dangerously
“y/n- mistress! please!” oh my
his eyes would be focused on YOU, never taking his eyes off his beautiful girl
so much begging and pleading and the way he would moan even louder in desperation when you smirk at him because he knows it gonna be a long night
“i’ll be good! i’ll be so good for you! please y/n!”
the way he would grab your face once he comes down from his high and just kisses you for so long with SO much passion. i will cry
#skz smut#stray kids smut#stray kids x y/n#bang chan smut#leeknow smut#changbin smut#hyunjin smut#han jisung smut#lee felix smut#felix smut#seungmin smut#jeongin smut#stray kids x you#stray kids oneshot#stray kids imagines#skz hard thoughts#skz hard hours
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Let's see if I've been shadowbanned by tumblr for not posting in forever. Also, let's see if this gets flagged for me not knowing the TOS anymore LOL. I know most of my followers are here for Naruto content and I am so sorry that this fucking vampire elf has taken over my brain so much that he's the first thing I've written about in forever!
Title: A Bloody Affair
WARNINGS: NSFW beneath the cut. Period oral. F!reader. Astarion goes feral. Fem!reader. Established relationship and slight Act II spoilers. This is just a drabble(ish... I got carried away lmao), but I haddddd to. I’m aware this has been done to death (no pun intended).
His vermillion eyes were darker than usual as you all sat around the firelight, enjoying a hot meal after an unusually hard day of travel. Specks of orange flickered in his gaze like shooting stars through Avernus’ red-hot sky. His hands were tightened into leadened fists by his sides, his lips formed together in a thin line. He’s hungry, and he’s not even trying to hide it.
Amused, you tilted your head to the side, exposing the faded bite marks from when you last allowed him to feed on you a few weeks ago.
“Everything alright, Astarion?” You hummed. “You look pale. Well, paler than normal.”
Astarion laughed, a dark and twisted thing that left your stomach in knots. Would you ever learn to stop teasing him? It only ends badly for you. Every. Time.
“Me? Oh, I’m just fine.” His eyes slowly trailed down your body, locking onto your midsection before flicking back to your face. “You, however,” his fangs glistened in the pale moonlight as he smiled. “You look a little… hot. Too close to the fire, perhaps? Your cheeks are absolutely flushed, my dear.”
And they were. Knowing what the two of you had agreed to out on the battlefield earlier. Awaiting the moment everyone else fell into a deep slumber while you had to sit there, your thighs clamped together as thoughts of Astarion’s tongue ravishing at your core filled your head… It was torturous. Worse than anything Loviatar could come up with.
Karlach scoffed and playfully covered her ears. “Guys! No flirting around the bonfire, pleeeease. It’s hard enough I’ve gone so long without touching someone. I can’t sit here listening to you two flirt all night on top of it.”
You laughed and whispered a soft 'sorry' while Astarion merely hummed his acknowledgement. The rest of the evening was a blur, your mind occupied elsewhere entirely. Finally, when the sounds of snores filled the air and the last of the firelight flickered away, you got up from your bedroll and slowly made your way to Astarion’s tent.
The flap was left partially open and you found Astarion fumbling with a book. He looked distracted, almost like he wasn't reading it at all. The moment you got to the tent entrance, his eyes were upon you - dark, hungry, lustful. You smiled, heat creeping its way up your neck and cheeks, as Astarion swiftly closed the book and tossed it aside.
“Don’t tell me I have to invite you in, darling,” he drawled. “Come here.”
He reached his hand out and you took it gently as he guided you to sit down in his lap. He sighed and nosed his way up the side of your neck, gently swiping his tongue along your still-healing fang marks. His arm wrapped around your midsection, pushing your back against his chest. He's cold, and a small shiver snaked its way down the entirety of your spine as he chuckled a low, "Sorry, pet."
Sweet kisses made their way from your neck to your jaw, until Astarion gently nipped at your earlobe, his free hand slowly roamed up and down your body, squeezing and grabbing at your stomach playfully.
You moaned gently, running your fingers through his silver locks. Astarion's breath hitched in his throat and he slid his hand down to your thigh. His arousal poked into your ass and you rocked in his lap gently; teasingly. His hand became more desperate as he grabbed at your thigh, thrusting his hips gently. You turned your head and ghost your lips over his, meeting his gaze.
His tongue clicked against his teeth as he stared at you. You twisted his hair round your index finger and smile up at him wantonly. The two of you hadn't been intimate since his confession a few weeks ago. You have let him feed on you since then, but never initiate anything sexual. You wanted him to do it. Wanted for it to be organic. He was the best thing that had happened to you in a long time, and you wanted him to know it; to feel it; to be unable to deny your love for him.
Astarion kissed your forehead tenderly, his sweet mouth cool to the touch against your heated skin. He had been surprisingly gentle with you since his confession. Weary, you knew. He had to fight against his instincts every day, doing what he could to unlearn his past behaviors of doing someone else's bidding. It was going to take time, you knew that. You were okay with it. But when he looked at you like this, when he kissed you softly, it made your heart melt completely. You loved him. You'd never say it first, of course, but the feeling was undeniable to you now. Gods, he was going to fucking ruin you.
His mouth captured yours in a searing kiss. His tongue parted your lips and hungrily dominated the kiss as Astarion flipped you over, pushing you down onto his bedroll. His hands were everywhere - in your hair, on your stomach, rolling down your sides. Yours did the same, needily pawing at his body as you wrapped a leg around his waist and gently clawed at his shirt trying to get it off.
He broke away, his tongue sliding from your mouth slowly. His breathing was ragged, not as controlled as it had been in the past. You realized he's letting go, not forcing himself with you. He's being... real. It's so sweet you nearly ruined the moment by blurting out a stupid confessional right then, but as if sensing your anxiety, Astarion simply smirked devilishly.
"You look beautiful," he whispered. "And you smell even better. I'm going to enjoy tasting you tonight." His voice was sultry and hypnotic, practically intoxicating. You squirmed under him nervously as he adjusted to his knees and leaned over to unhook the latch of the tent, leaving you both immersed in nothing but the flickering candle light.
He was back over you in an instant, untucking his shirt from his trousers and over his head, tossing it to the corner of the tent. His body never ceases to amaze you. His skin is made of pure moonlight, pale and annoyingly perfect, with abs that would put even the most acclaimed gods to shame. Astarion winked and pushed his knee to your inner thigh, spreading you open like a tome as his hands glided across your body.
Your heart thundered within your chest as he stripped you of your undershirt, delicately removing the straps like a present. The sting of the cold night air hit your exposed nipples and they puckered from the temperature change. Astarion's practiced hands moved up the length of your arms, guiding them up above your head and he captured your wrists together in his grip, trapping you under him.
He kissed his way down your temple, your cheek, your neck; gently licking his way down your exposed flesh until his tongue rolled around your areola teasingly.
You glanced down and met his burgundy gaze. His pupils were completely blown out with lust and he continued watching you as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, allowing his tongue to swipe over it gingerly. With a loud gasp you closed your eyes, letting the sensation of his tongue completely overwhelm you. His hand dragged its way from your wrists and his thumb and index finger grip your other nipple as he suckles hard, causing your hips to buck and another garbled moan to fall from your traitorous throat.
A wet 'pop' echoed through the tent as his mouth released you. Astarion growled, actually growled, as he slid his hands up your arms again and gripped your wrists, harder this time.
"Hush now, my sweet," his words were sugary but his tone commanding. "I don't want you waking the whole campground. If you do it again, I'll have to force you to be quiet. Understood?"
You nodded in response.
"Sorry, Starry," you whispered.
He had started making work of dragging your trousers down the length of your legs but stopped abruptly at your apology.
"Don't be sorry, love," he said. "Just don't do it again."
You were way past the point of being turned on - you were practically going mad with arousal as he removed your pants and slowly kissed his way down the length of your stomach. You kept your hands placed above your head, nervous about what he may do if you dared to touch him. It was exhilarating. Filthy. The blood at your core was dripping to the rag placed between your thighs and your pulse quickened as Astarion's mouth worked its way towards your cunt.
Lust-stricken and dizzy, your vision blurred as he gently pulled down your panties with his index fingers, testing you. He was working slowly, playing with his food. Such a tease.
You squirmed beneath him and clenched the muscles in your thighs, eagerly anticipating his mouth against your sopping pussy. A chill ran down your spine as your panties were fully removed, and you suddenly became all too aware of what was about to happen. You peered at the silver-haired man above you through your eyelashes and were pleased to find him entranced by what you were sure was a bloodied, messy affair and your panic decreased ever so slightly. Of course a vampire spawn wasn’t going to shy away from some blood… no matter the source.
"You know," you did your best to keep your voice calm and gentle. "That we don't have to do this if it's too much, right?" Even though Astarion was the one to propose this little midnight rendezvous, you couldn't help the small sting of fear from creeping its way to the forefront of your mind. You didn't want him to feel any pressure. And you now knew how hard intimacy was for him. You couldn't believe how blind you had been before; how obvious the façade he put on for you was in hindsight, and you weren't going to allow him to put himself in a position like that again. Not ever.
A low chuckle rumbled from the man below you and you almost passed out from how good his breath felt against the thin veil of fabric covering his mouth from where you needed him most. You tried to shut the thoughts of your arousal out as you waited for his answer, but it never came. Instead, he responded with his tongue gently sliding filthily down the blood-stained cloth that was slowly being removed by his deft hand. Astarion’s voice was nearly indistinguishable to you as he ripped the cloth away, pure gravel.
“If I didn’t want to,” he murmured, placing a kiss on your entrance. “Then you wouldn’t be naked in my tent, love. No more talking now.”
His tongue zig-zagged its way through your pussy before you had a full chance to take in his response, and a loutish moan escaped from deep within your throat as the air was filled with a symphony of lewd slurps. His breath was icy from how aching and seething your cunt was for him, and chill after chill overcame your body with each swipe of his practiced tongue.
He moved your legs to his shoulders as he continued lapping at you like a dehydrated mutt, completely feral for you. Your thighs clamped against his head and you dug your nails into the pillow, clinging desperately onto something to give your soul purchase to the Earth lest it be transported to the fifth dimension. His arms looped under your thighs and he sunk his nails deep into your flesh, marking you as his while he continued licking you desperately. His mouth was rolling over your folds and sucking at you raunchily - every single move he made was audibly wet and absolutely filthy. It was amazing. You were afraid he might lose control, and you almost yanked at his hair to rip him off you, but his tongue slowed then and rolled up the length of your cunt before circling your clit.
You whined greedily as you rocked your hips, trying to maneuver his tongue to your engorged nub without permission. Astarion immediately withdrew his tongue then, licking his way down to your inner-thigh and kissing your slick skin before piercing you with his sharp fangs. A frosty sensation shot through your bloodstream and you gasped loudly, tangling your fingers into his hair just as the frigid pulses from where his fangs sunk into you melted to an almost unbearable fever.
Astarion’s nails were embedded into the soft skin of your hips as he drank from you. Your heart banged against your chest like a prisoner trying to escape from their cell and you were certain it was loud enough that it could be heard by the entire camp. Just as your grip started to loose on his hair, his fangs were replaced by his tongue swiping at the small punctures on your thigh.
“Such a lovely little treat you are,” Astarion hummed, punctuating it with a final kiss to your thigh. “Thank you.”
Thank you. It was so sincere. So intimate. Two words, yet they held such power over your heart. His mouth was against yours again and your core was burning for him. You were needy. Desperate. Your hips thrust up towards him and he pulled away with a hum.
“Greedy little thing tonight, I see,” he teased. He smirked down at you and kissed your cheek before moving his mouth once again to hover over your entrance. Two nimble fingers pushed into your core as Astarion’s tongue glided swiftly over your clit. An unfamiliar sound erupted from your chest, a high pitched whine, before his free hand was clamped over your mouth.
“Shut up.” He commanded, and you were done for. Your hands tugged at his hair hysterically as his tongue circled your clit with a brutal slowness. There was no decency left in you. You were nothing but a husk, awaiting Astarion’s mercy of allowing you the pleasure of coming all over his sweet tongue.
Your teeth sank into the skin of his hand while he fucked you with his mouth. He was loud; slurping and sucking at your pussy like he needed it to survive. The air in the tent was unbearably hot. Your skin was sticky with sweat and your lungs hardly had any oxygen left. Astarion pulled back slightly, his fingers pushing in and out of your entrance with lewd squelching sounds as he demanded, “Look at me.”
Without hesitation, your eyes fluttered open and you watched as he dived his face into your cunt again, his gorgeous eyes locked onto yours. You tried to speak but he only clamped his hand harder over your mouth as he continued lapping at you, the flat of his tongue firmly planted against your clit. The familiar coil in your stomach tightened and then released harshly as you orgasmed, your entire body squirming in delight. Astarion moaned through your orgasm, the timbre of his voice sultry as he drank you in like the most lavish of wines.
“Fuck,” you groaned when Astarion released your mouth. He seductively pulled his fingers out of you and licked off the mess you made on them with a smile before he maneuvered himself to spoon you.
“Wait,” you said, “I wanted to-”
“Hush, love,” he assured. “I promise I’m content with everything. I want you to be comfortable now. Will you stay with me tonight?”
He nibbled at the top of your ear as his arm wrapped around your middle and brought your body close to his. You hummed and nestled into him, allowing him to be your protective barrier. Being this close to him wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed to be this close to him forever. He was security. He was warmth. He was home.
You nodded as you felt yourself start to succumb to the unbearable drowsiness from the day, but you clung to his hand in yours as his finger painted pretty pictures on the skin of your stomach.
“Goodnight, love,” he whispered. “And thank you.”
“For what?” You mumbled, doing your best to fight against the fade of sleep.
There was a brief moment of silence as you listened to the sound of your heartbeat steady itself. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump. Astarion nestled his face closer, placing a chaste kiss to your cheek and right as you started to drift away, he said the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.
“For being mine.”
Thank you for reading! If you made it this far, be sure to drop a like or a reblog to support my work <3. I have tons of other stuff on my page if you want to give it a read. This was my first Astarion piece, but I'm sure they'll be plenty more to come because this man singlehandedly got me out of my writing slump!
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pretty in pink; m | jjk
pairing: jungkook x reader
word count: 2.6k
rating: 18+
genre: dilf!jungkook, f2l, established relationship
warnings: 69, marking, dirty talk, bewb obsessed jaykay, sum spanks, multiple orgasms, clit play, fucking in a cute lingerie set <3, creampie, breeding kink, kinda strength kink i dunno, he gifts her a necklace w his INITIAL m actually sick 😐, overstimulation, no condoms must nut inside my gf's pussy then😁, two (2) nipple pinches, they're saur in love i hate them <3
summary: your first valentine's day with your boyfriend.
a/n: happy valentine's day my friends !!!! <3 our fav couple is back !!! w their first smut drabble 🤭 read their entire story here though it's not necessary to understand this drabble cos this is just plain pwp 😋
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
“You gotta be quiet.”
“You’re telling me that?”
Jungkook’s scoff is laced with incredulity.
“You’re the one who hasn’t stopped groaning and moaning since we got in the bedroom!” you fire back in a whisper.
Jungkook is momentarily speechless. He eyes you up and down, open-mouthed. “Have you looked at yourself?”
Warmth spreads on your face. Okay, your body might be clad in nothing but a dainty, soft pink lingerie set, adorned with tiny pink and red roses everywhere, accentuating your curves, but that still
doesn’t give him a free pass to be loud and possibly wake up Nabi.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were wearing this?” Jungkook’s palm smooths over the expanse of your ass, his eyes trained on your boobs. “Would’ve spent the whole day with you in bed.” His lips are absentmindedly shaped in a pout, fingers exploring your body as he thinks about all the ways he’s gonna have you.
“That’s not the point of a surprise.” Your palms are against his chest, the white t-shirt warm on your skin. While Jungkook made sure to undress you – awed gasps and ardent moans escaping his throat with each piece that he discarded on the floor, your pretty skirt and top he complimented you the entire day for, suddenly no longer worthy of his attention – he remained in his clothes.
The gold necklace with his initial on a little pendant around your neck shimmers in the dim light of the room.
It’s a tiny present from Jungkook. Your rule for today was clear, or so you thought – no presents. You should have known that Jungkook wouldn’t stick to it. You’re not complaining per se, you love the chain, but you feel a glimmer of regret that you didn’t get him anything.
“You look so pretty.” Jungkook’s eyes travel up to your face, briefly stopping at the necklace before the faintest hint of a smile settles on his face. He’s so soft. “My pretty baby.” His fingers are on your waist, drawing you closer.
You tug at the flannel shirt he’s wearing over the plain white t-shirt. “Take it off,” you mumble.
His flannel shirt hits the floor within a second. Your teeth sink in your bottom lip when Jungkook pulls his white tee over his head.
You swallow involuntarily at the sight of Jungkook’s chiselled chest. “Better like this.” Jungkook laughs at your hushed comment, but you ignore him and press light kisses along his broad chest.
Your hands move on their own, brushing past his abs, finding the taut muscles on his back.
He sighs above you, hands anchored in your ass. Your kisses lead you to his face, small, lingering smooches pressed on his sharp jawline, the corner of his lips, and then on his mouth. His lips are still
plump from making out earlier. His tongue darts out, dancing around yours as he delivers a spank to
your ass.
With a moan you pull off, nuzzling your face in the crook of Jungkook’s neck. Your fingers work on his belt, pulling down his pants and boxers once you’ve managed to unbuckle it. He steps out of his clothes, getting rid of his socks as well.
You slowly sink down to your knees.
“Fuck,” Jungkook curses at the view of you. In that pretty, innocent outfit, looking up at him beneath those guileless lashes. You wrap your hand around his already rock-hard cock, his veiny flesh twitches at your grasp and a breathless groan falls from Jungkook’s lips. “Spit on it.”
You gather saliva in your mouth before you let it hit his dick. A hiss follows. Your pump his cock, your mouth wraps around his tip and you begin to swivel your tongue around it.
“So good, baby.” Jungkook tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ear.
His praise makes you take more of his cock and you swallow him deeper. Your eyes sting at Jungkook’s size, but through slow bobs of your head your throat gets accustomed to it.
“Just like that.” His fingers comb through his long locks, falling back like dominos. It’s a pretty picture, animating you to go faster. Jungkook grabs your hand at the base of his cock. “Think you can take it deeper?”
You rest both hands against his thighs and relax your jaw as you push his cock further down your throat. A restrained moan echoes through the room as you stay like that. His heavy palm lies against the back of your head, but he doesn’t force you down on his dick. It’s just there, weighty, possessive.
When you pull his cock from your mouth, your chest is heaving deeply. A thin string of saliva connects you to his dick. You stroke his cock, wet and sloppy sounds filling the air again. He pats your hair, his eyes pools of fulfilled satisfaction.
“Come here.” Jungkook drags you up by your elbow. “Your knees will hurt.”
You’re barely on your feet when Jungkook hauls you onto the bed. A tiny squeal flies past your mouth as Jungkook straddles you. His face is pressed into the soft mounds of your boobs, little kisses skittered across the swell of your tits peeking out from the bra.
You giggle at Jungkook’s sudden shift in demeanour, his palm kneading your boob roughly.
“I love your tits.” His voice is muffled. He doesn’t bother to lift his head to talk.
“I know.” You run your fingers through the fluffy chaos on his head.
You gasp when you feel his other hand sneak in between your thighs. His pad runs up and down your clothed pussy.
“You’re soaked, baby.” He sucks on your skin as he continues to play with your pussy. You can’t stop the little whimpers escaping you. Jungkook’s finger teases your clit and your hips uncontrollably buck into his hand. “Gonna make you feel so good.” His bunny teeth graze over his freshly made mark on the swell of your tit.
“Jungkook,” you mewl. You can’t endure his teasing. You need more.
“Sit on my face.”
“Huh?”
His face looms over yours. “Want you to sit on my face with that pretty pussy of yours.”
He rolls onto his back next to you.
“Come here, baby.” He gently coaxes you to sit up.
“Jungkook, I dunno if-”
“Shh.” His hand reassuringly brushes over your thigh. “The only sound I wanna hear is you cumming on my face.”
His soft, gentle fingers are a stark contrast from Jungkook’s dirty words. But that’s what pulls you to him. You throw a leg over his body, pussy just above Jungkook’s face like he wanted.
“That’s it.” His breath fans over your skin and shivers rise, a trembling and anticipating moan leaving your chest.
Cold air hits your pussy when Jungkook flicks your panties to the side. But only for a second because Jungkook doesn’t let much time pass before his tongue dives between your folds.
You cover your mouth with your hand to suppress the moans that were about to elicit from you.
One hand is on your ass to spread you open as his wet muscle explores the depths of your aching pussy.
“So sweet,” Jungkook murmurs, voice low, desperate even. “Always so fucking sweet.”
He circles your clit, shocks of pleasure spark everywhere. Your head hangs low, lips tightly pressed shut to keep the moans away. You wanna scream his name, tell him how good he makes you feel, but all you can do is reach for his cock and stuff your mouth with his dick to keep you quiet.
The startled moan against your pussy sends you closer to the edge. His cock is heavy on your tongue as you suck him, his precum a familiar taste that fills your mouth. The noises ricocheting off the walls are utterly obscene and filthy, they make you fall into a haze of absolute lust and need for more, please more.
“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper against his cock. You suck on his angry red, mushroom tip to hinder more sounds coming from you.
Jungkook hums, his devious tongue lapping against your clit. He smacks your ass, a throaty rasp bubbling between his lips. It has you pinching your eyebrows together, your body teetering on the brink of the abyss, right before bliss is going to engulf you altogether.
With another sweep across your pulsating nub, your legs begin to shake. You nuzzle your head in
Jungkook’s thigh, emitting uncontrollable breathy whines as every part of you gets swamped by excruciating glee.
“That’s my baby.” Jungkook plants a kiss on your ass, his hand roaming over your back.
You catch your breath, slowly rising again. Your breath shudders when Jungkook’s finger skips over your wet folds. “Sensitive,” you whine. You turn around to straddle him.
His rosy cheeks are tinged in a darker shade, lips and chin glistening with your juice. Jungkook’s hands naturally fall on your waist. He shifts a little so is back is flush against the headboard.
“You’re a little messy.” A shy smile plays on your lips. Jungkook grins knowingly.
His tongue peeks out to gather the remnants of your taste. You lean down to give him a chaste kiss, pussy brushing over his cock in the process.
You’re still sensitive because of the intense climax Jungkook pulled from you, but the feeling of his hard length rubbing against your folds has you grinding your hips.
“Oh, fuck, baby,” Jungkook curses at your wet pussy on his cock. His dick is prettily lying against his abdomen and you gently rock your pussy against it, his mushroom tip leaking with precum.
Jungkook leans toward the bedside table and opens the drawer. He comes up empty handed.
“There are no condoms left.” You’re on the pill, but sometimes Jungkook likes to be extra careful.
Habitually, Jungkook grabs a pillow from beside him and stuffs it between the headboard and the wall. It wouldn’t be the first time that you woke little Nabi up with the inconvenient sound of the headboard banging against the wall.
“As if you would mind.” You lift your hips to point his cock at your entrance, panties pushed to the side.
“I shouldn’t nut in you every time we fuck.” He helps to align his cock.
“I mean, you don’t have to.”
Jungkook remains silent. You giggle when no words leave his mouth. He loves to cum inside your pussy. Can’t help himself when your warm walls wrap around him in a tight hug.
You take his cock inch for inch. No sounds leave both of you, but the blistering pleasure contorts your faces. His entire length vanishes inside you. Your palms are on his broad chest, hips gingerly starting to sway back and forth.
“Jungkook,” you mewl in a small voice.
“Pussy so good,” he mumbles dreamily, eyes attached to the gold necklace around your neck.
It bounces with every move, the little initial on it sparking something in Jungkook that makes him want to have you like this forever. It’s a tiny twinkling J between your collar bones, but it unravels possessiveness across his chest, something fierce and stormy that forces him to dig his fingers into your skin.
You grind your hips faster, clit rubbing against him in desperate attempts to cum again. His cock is nestled deep inside you, stretching your little pussy wide open.
Jungkook’s eyes travel to your tits bounce within the confines of your bra. His hand reaches forward to tug one cup down, thumb tweaking at your pebbled nub, drawing a sharp hiss from you.
You teasingly flick at his nipple in return, making Jungkook twitch beneath you. With a smile on his face, he catches your wrist before you can repeat it.
A silly giggle flies past your lips. But it quickly fades when Jungkook’s finger rubs circles on your clit. “Oh!” Your brows knit. “That’s not fair,” you utter through a pout.
A wicked smirk tugs at his mouth. “Want you to cum around my cock.” His filthy words spur you own. “You can do that, right?”
“Yes,” you immediately say in a breathy tone, eyes fluttering close when Jungkook latches his mouth on your nipple, tongue wet and warm as he swirls it around.
With one hand he guides you along, your fingers grasping for his shoulders as you go faster.
“You look so fucking pretty.” The way he looks up to you beneath his eyelashes, face pressed
between your tits, pulls a prolonged, desperate whine from you.
“So close.” It’s barely intelligible, a mumble of high-pitched words.
Everything’s too much and you come undone on Jungkook’s cock, walls clenching around him as your high overtakes you wholly. Your forehead falls against his shoulder, hands diving into his raven hair as you try to keep your moans at a low volume.
His palms grab handfuls of your ass. “That felt so good, didn’t it, baby?”
You nod against his shoulder, the aftershocks of it clouding your mind. You feel so weak but
Jungkook’s sweet nothings are like a fuzzy blanket comforting you.
Jungkook rolls the both of you around. You’re on your back, the soft duvet an inviting comfort.
Jungkook hovers above you, cock still buried deep inside you. Having his sweaty, ripped body dangling in front of you makes you salivate.
While he gently cups your head in his palm, he thrusts inside you harshly. His thumb strokes your bottom lip. Instinctually, you wrap your mouth around it, gently sucking on the pad of his thumb.
“Gonna fill you up,” Jungkook says, a restrained groan following. “Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Want your pussy full of my cum.”
“Please,” you whisper. “Want it so bad.” Jungkook’s hair sticks to his face. You tuck his wispy flyaway behind his ear.
Mindlessly, your fingers reach for the small pendant on your chest. You play with it, legs wrapping around Jungkook’s body.
A breathless rasp leaves Jungkook as he watches you toy with his golden initial. “All mine.”
Jungkook’s eyes are pools of determination and love. “You’re all mine.”
A crazy, lovesick, smile appears on your face.
Jungkook crashes his mouth on yours. It’s messy and uncoordinated, but your heart flutters.
“Cum with me.”
“Jungkook, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
His finger is back on your overly sensitive clit. You shake, nails digging into his back.
“Jungkook.”
“You’re gonna cum with me.” His pushes are relentless, driving his cock into you in fast paces. He puts pressure on your clit just the way you like it, drawing little circles on it.
Jungkook sneaks one hand on the back of your thigh and pushes your leg up. His dick reaches deeper and you’re sure you’re actually seeing stars.
Your high comes crashing down on you with full force, it’s unexpected and pulls a loud moan from you. Jungkook’s hips stutter as he spills inside you. He forces a few more deep pumps before he stills.
“Fuck.” Jungkook pulls his cock out of you. With one finger he keeps your panties to the side to see his cum stuffed in your pussy. “Love you with my cum inside you.”
You nudge his shoulder with your foot. “Go away.”
“I love you.” It’s a gentle whisper, sparks shining in his doe eyes as he watches you.
“Love you too.” You lift your head to give him a sweet kiss. Jungkook gives your boob a kiss in return, tugging the cup back up he had greedily lowered earlier.
Jungkook plops down beside you on the bed. He softly kisses your forehead.
“You should pee.”
“ ‘m sleepy.”
“Baby.” His voice is stern.
“Mhmm,” you sulk, but nonetheless, you stand up.
Your legs shake when you stand on your feet. Jungkook’s arm stretches to catch your hips.
“You good?”
A timid smile crosses your face. “Yeah.”
With wobbly legs you throw his flannel shirt over your skimpy clothed body on your way out.
“I can’t believe we were quiet enough for Nabi not to wake-”
A high-pitched scream reaches the bedroom.
“Nevermind,” Jungkook mumbles, rising to his feet.
You giggle as you watch him fetch his briefs.
Some things might never change.
#dilf jungkook#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook#jungkook fic#jungkook drabble#jungkook x reader#jungkook imagines#jungkook x you#bts smut#bts imagines#bts x reader#bts fic
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mr. gorgeous
=͟͟͞♡ felix × fem!reader
=͟͟͞♡ runway felix
word count: 1.1K
content warning: explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, deepthroating, balls slapping (just once)
a/c: i wrote this in 45 minutes and i honestly don't have much to add except that this is what i want to do to him for the rest of my life
=͟͟͞♡ please, consider reblogging if you like my works!
"Please. Please, m-more."
Felix is panting heavily, perfect face flushed with a thin layer of sweat and lipgloss impercettibely smudged on the corner of his lips.
You couldn't even wait to the end of the evening for this, your legs rubbing viciously to ease the tension of seeing Felix, the Felix, walking the runway. And that's why you pulled him with you to the bathroom, not even giving him the chance to repost every single sponsor on his instgram page.
And here you are, tongue lolling out of your mouth, kneeling on the most fancy restroom you will ever have the chance to see in your entire life, easing Felix's pink and chubby cock into the heath of your throat.
Felix is still completely dressed up, gorgeous silver pants hugging his perfect slim legs and white shirt just a litte too tight for the deep breaths he is taking. He brings his hands to the back of you head and you can feel the fluffy sleeves caressing the frame of your face.
"You were so fucking sexy, my angel." you whisper on his groin as you bite a little red mark on the sensitive skin near his base. The sweet scent of body lotion and sweat tangled up in his thick pubic hair is making your head spin.
"Love, baby– ah, fuck. We have n-no time." he moans painfully, slender back arched deliciously against the door of the bathroom you sneaked in. "C-cannot make a mess in these."
Your legs are hurting in this position, your short dress not giving you any help in easing the sting of being on your knees. But you love it nonetheless. You feel like worshipping him, and being like this is the only way you can show him how much you love him, how much you want him.
"Better be quick and clean, then." you mutter as you take Felix's hands and bring them to your hair in a makeshift ponytail. "Wanna feel you all deep, angel, don't hold back."
You lower you face, sniffing at the freckled skin and mouthing at his shaft before grabbing the base of his cock with two of your fingers. Felix hisses your name in a raspy tone, and you cup his balls with your other hand.
When you suckle on the tip you can feel Felix's thigh muscles contracting, and a generous dribble of precum gushes out of his slit to coat your tongue. You take the hint and you allow the whole head in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and slurping the warm liquid down your throat.
"You taste amazing. Been pent up as soon as I saw you coming in." you admit, rolling one humid ball in your hand and nosing it before you can suck that in your mouth as well. Felix keens and his head bumps against the door.
"Do you know how hard I had to press my legs together to avoid wetting the fucking chair, my love? Thinking about you coming down my throat and giving me all of your cum until it spills out of my mouth?" you say warmly, taking his cock in a firm fist and letting the red tip hit twice your cheek.
Felix gulps and you think you want to suck his neck as well. But you can't now. That is for later.
You force your tongue out of your mouth and you present it to him, keeping it still and firm.
"Oh f-fuck. Can I? C-can I really?" he asks with his eyes glassy.
You nod accommodatingly, sticking out your tongue as much as you can and feeling your pussy throb and pulsing around nothing. You would give anything in the world to slam Felix down and ease his cock into you, but this is not the time. Now it's for him.
Felix gulps again and gives you a few taps on the hand holding him, letting it fall neatly on your thighs. He looks at you in the eye and curses softly at the view. "Thank you." he pants out, teeth biting the fat of his bottom lip.
And then he grips his length and he slaps his cockhead against your tongue. He does it once, twice. A spurt of white liquid shoots out of him and he uses his engorged tip to spread it on your lips. You moan at the sticky sensation and another gush of slick coats your panties.
He slaps his cock on your wet muscle a few more times before his hips buck forward and you curl your fingers around the base of his length once again. Felix lets out a shuddering breath, and with a quick movement you sink your head down to engulf the entirety of him.
"Baby, please. Please, I am almost there." he whispers as you go back to suckle on his tip and you use your hand to pump the rest.
"Wanna shoot in my mouth, angel? Make me drink your cum as it was a fucking cocktail?" you ask, continuing to bob your head and swirl your tongue around the underside of his heavy cock up to the head.
"Y-yes," he slurs out. "Wanna fill your stomach, please baby. P-please let me."
You smile around his girth and you take him down your throat once again, letting it reach the back as deep as you can and forcing yourself to swallow. Felix hips jolt and you relax yourself to accomodate his entire lenght inside of your mouth, your hand coming back to cup his humid balls and give them a gentle smack.
It takes just a few minutes of you gurgling around Felix's cock for him to start blabbering nosense, and as you feel him hitting the back of your throat with a decise thrust, you swallow again, choking his lenght with a tight heat.
"Oh, fuck, baby, that's it– G-gonna cum." he manages to whisper as his hot white cum starts to shoot in your mouth and leak down your throat. You keep hollowing your cheeks and milk him by squeezing his balls until you feel the last drop of his seed gushing out of his slit.
"Oh my God." he moans, back hitting the door for one last time and cock beginning to soften in your mouth.
You give him one last kitten lick to clean him up and then you tuck him back inside his shiny expensive pants.
"You don't even know what I am gonna do to you when we'll be back home, Mr. Gorgeous".
©️ jilixthinker, 2024. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.
#skz smut#stray kids smut#skz imagine#stray kids imagines#skz hard thoughts#stray kids hard thoughts#lee felix smut#felix smut#lee felix hard thoughts#felix hard thoughts#lee felix x female reader#lee felix x reader#lee felix x you#lee felix x y/n#felix x female reader#felix x reader#felix x you#felix x y/n#lee felix fanfic#felix fanfic#skz fanfic#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fanfiction#felix fanfiction#sub felix#lee felix sub#sub lee felix#felix sub#skz sub#sub skz
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Having dirty thoughts about Eddie letting reader wear his guitar pick necklace for good luck at a job interview or something and later on when she’s riding him he can’t stop starring at his necklace dangling on her bare chest in front of him 🥵
i just ran with this hehehehehe hope u enjoy
18+ piv sex, slight choking, hickeys
“Fuuuuuck, baby. Takin’ me so well,” Eddie grunts, bottoming out inside of your wet cunt.
All you can do is whine, the air nearly knocked out of your lungs. The euphoria that takes over your body when Eddie fills you is like no other, your hands gripping onto his shoulders to sturdy yourself. You’d gotten a new job today, a great offer at a place you’ll be truly happy at, and this is how you’re celebrating - with Eddie’s cock stuffed deep inside of you. You’d been so nervous for the last week in anticipation for your interview, pacing the house all last night and barely able to sleep. Eddie had been nothing but reassuring the whole time, soothing your every worry. This morning he’d even given you his necklace to wear, calling it a good luck charm. “So you have a piece of me cheering you on the entire time,” he’d said when he clasped the chain together at the back of your neck, placing a kiss on the soft skin there.
It was the perfect reminder of him as you sat in the waiting room for your interview, heel bouncing nervously on the floor. And it was the perfect piece of comfort as you rattled off well-prepared answers to the questions they’d asked you, your fingers finding the guitar pick and squeezing it tight when you needed an extra bit of encouragement and confidence. When you left the interview, one new accepted job offer under your belt, you’d grasped the red plastic pick, holding it to your heart as you let your smile break loose. Eddie had been elated when you got home and told him the news, picking you up and spinning you around and kissing you all over till you were out of breath from giggling so much. “My perfect, amazing, badass baby girl,” he’d praised, making you flush with adoration.
One thing led to another, and now he has you split open for him, celebrating your win by giving you the best treatment he knows. You pull off your top, putting your breasts on display for him. Eddie’s hands immediately cup them over the silky fabric of your bra, groaning as he squeezes the flesh. His eyes rake up and down your frame, and he notices something he nearly forgot. His guitar pick necklace, the pendant resting perfectly in the valley between your tits.
“Fuck,” he breathes, the shiny silver chain enticing him.
He removes your bra slowly, gliding the straps over your shoulders, letting them droop. Skilled fingers unclasp the garment at the back, pulling it off of you and discarding it onto the floor. The necklace looks even better on your bare chest, and his mouth waters. He thrusts up into you harder, making you cry out his name. One of his hands grips the chain of the necklace, tugging just enough to make you pliant but not enough to break the chain.
“You look so fucking gorgeous wearing my necklace, baby,” he purrs, rolling his hips up again. “Love marking my fucking territory,” his voice turns to a growl, his other hand squeezing the flesh of your hip.
“Fuck, Eddie,” you whine, gasping when his hand climbs upwards and his thick fingers clasp around your throat, applying enough pressure to make you blissfully hazy.
“D’you like wearing my necklace, sweet girl?” he asks, twisting the chain and tugging again.
“Y-yeah, fuck, reminds me who I belong to,” your voice is airy, bordering on a whimper. You couldn’t help but find your thoughts trailing off on your drive home earlier, thinking about the way this very necklace sways in your face every time Eddie fucks you. You’d managed to keep those thoughts at bay during your interview, but they’d been rampant in your mind since.
Eddie releases your neck, gripping your hips with both hands now as he holds you steady. His hips buck into yours, setting a brutal pace as you bounce atop him. He watches your face, watches it contort into expressions of pure bliss, watches his necklace dangling as it hits your skin and then bounces away again with each of his thrusts. He tilts his chin up, his mouth pressing messy kisses to the base of your neck. He sucks hickeys into the skin there, leaving a trail of bruises that decorate the curve of it . You can feel what he’s doing, panting his name as his tongue soothes the sore skin. He pulls back, admiring his work, his cock still spreading you apart in delicious strokes. He pulls you even closer, his lips close to your ear as a low groan escapes him.
“There, sweetheart,” he drawls, “I think I like that necklace even better.”
#leah’s got mail 💌#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson blurb
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By complete accident I somehow have the autopsy scar mod on top of the bhaalist tattoo mod, don’t ask me how they’re both on my durge I have no idea how it happened. But it got me thinking how would the origin characters (+halsin) react/barely react to a lover that is heavily scarred and tattooed? (Set in Act 1)
Read more for the full brainrot
Astarion: The first time Astarion saw your body for himself was when he walked past your tent late at night, through the flaps in the entrance he saw all those scars, he couldn’t tell what had you awake this late in the night, especially mostly naked with your back turned. The vampire simply continued on his way to hunt for the night. He dropped it there, until that is, the second night in the clearing you two spent together. He was lying down leaning his head against his arms as his red eyes stared at your naked body. His eyes flowed down every scar that littered your body, he barely seemed to look at the tattoos but that’s what he asked about first “So, can you translate that one?” - he points to the tattoo across your left arm, lifting up the limb you pull your skin to take a proper look at it. It’s been a while since you properly saw it, because just out of sight enough to make it annoying to stare at. When you tell him Astarion seems content with the information. His fingers drift across the tattoo. It’s a tender moment until the elf’s hand floats toward your neck. His ice cold fingers dancing across the lingering puncture wounds on your neck - “But these are by far my favorite mark on you,” You lean into Astarion’s touch releasing a chuckling sigh before calling him the weirdest flirt you have ever seen.
Gale: He really didn’t mean to go to the river at the same time he truly meant to go two hours early when he said he would, but that tome was particularly interesting - the effects of adrenaline on libido, certainly important for a man so restricted by his netherese orb. But now it was two hours past and he definitely had a musk going on. Taking an extra robe and rag Gale went to the nearby river, only you were there too. Illuminated in moonlight you were bare in front of him. Gale cleared his throat loudly, trying to let you know he was there. What he did not expect was for you to whip around and get out of the water to say hello. He tried his best to only look at your face, he did not succeed. Your skin was glowing with a vei of water cascading down in droplets. Gale’s eyes followed one droplet from your hair, down your neck, across your chest until a certain tattoo caught his eye, infernal script. Trying to keep his focus on the tattoo rather than the flesh its on he asked you if it meant what he thought it did. He was right in fact, and you told him the story behind why you got it, quite the nice tale. The wizard relaxed enough to notice another scar across your soldier “Is that from a magic missile?” He asked without thinking. Nodding in confirmation you turned to show your shoulder blade where the other two missiles struck. As you turned around the coldness of the night hit you like a thunder wave, a massive shiver shook your entire body spraying tiny water droplets around. “Gosh you must be freezing,” - Gale wrapped you in his towel-rag before stressfully ushering you back towards the camp. Once you got back to your tent you realized you left your towel and clothes on a nearby rock, you could return the peeping Tom favor.
Halsin: Halsin adores you long before he ever saw your birthday suit, sure he thought about it, quite a lot, but with his focus deep on the shadow-curse he doesn’t have time to do much other than think about out. But the first time he does see you was far from romantic or sensual. A hook horror had slashed your entire back open when you got to close, and Halsin watched it all happen. Before the beast even hit the ground he was rushing over to you, he didn’t think, he just ripped your armor right off of you to get to the wound. You might have been screaming but his ears were ringing too loud to tell one noise from another. Halsin couldn’t even see where scar ended and fresh cut began, your tattoos were doused in enough blood to make them impossible to see against your skin. The bear of an elf’s hand floated above the wound with the same glowing blue light the hook horror’s body was basking in, thank silvanus he was far enough from the sussur tree for his magic to work. Even with his healing a scar in the same place as the monster's claw marks stayed. Halsin’s druidic skills must be faltering, that’s what he determines at least. Until the next day, you’re healed fully up and about getting ready to leave camp for the day. Halsin calls out your name - “I’m sorry I could not heal you fully, I tried best I could but the scar persists” to his confusion you begin laughing. The scar he’s so upset about has been on you for so long now, and you tell him such. His healing left no scar, in fact he healed you so well an old scar was able to show.
Karlach: The first time she saw you naked you were bathing next to each other after a battle. Even with Dammon’s initial upgrade you can’t touch each other, but you swore to find ways to be intimate without touching, just like this. However you neglected to inform her about what lay under your clothes until now, scars covering you head to toe interlaced with tattoos of varying quality. “Hey Soldier! How come you didn’t tell me before stealing my aesthetic!” You didn’t even register this was the first time exposing yourself in such a way, a brief moment of panic before you burst into a smile. “Come here, let me see them” Karlach makes you twirl around, using the faintest touch of her fingers to pull your arms out and see the tattoos wrapping around them. Her eyes continued to trail down your body, after a gasp she jumped back up to your face - “That burn scar looks like mine!” She said before pulling down her trousers to show you the near identically placed scar on her thigh. But Karlach didn’t ask about the obviously fresher stab scars, she continued to smile at her new discovery but lets the two of you properly bathe for once.
Lae’zel: Even when pinning you against a wall the githyanki warrior wasn’t particularly gentle. It’s not like you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into tonight, she had said pretty explicitly she seemed carnal pleasure. Somehow Lae’zel was even more assertive in such a scenario than during your adventures. You couldn’t even take your own armor off, she practically ripped it off of you. Your body is exposed to her in an instant, she doesn’t react, her hands go immediately to unlace your trousers and undergarments. The night is enjoyable even as exhausting as it was. Only much later does Lae’zel ever comment on them, and its in a conversation praising you two’s battle prowess “Each scar is a battle fought, a battle won.” You try not to tell her you have at least two scars from dropping the knife while cooking with Gale. She’s sweet in her own way.
Shadowheart: Shadowheart first saw you naked while healing a particularly cruel wound, goblin had snuck up on you and slashed your torso deep. You stabilized yourself quick enough with a healing potion but the wound persisted. After the battle you wandered your way over to Shadowhearts tent, asking for help. She laid you down atop her bedroll, sliding your shirt off as you let yourself relax into the makeshift bed. And then you caught it, Shadowheart’s eyes widened, shit. But she didn’t say anything; she pressed her warm hands towards your open wound as they lit alight with magic. Radiating from your gash the warm feeling washed over you, your eyes closed softly breathing out in relief. Shadowheart quelled her magic, looking over you for a fat moment. You can feel her eyes wandering over you, up and down your chest, down your stomach and across both your arms. The relief of healing has left you now but you’re still too scared to open your eyes. And then a soft hand traced along your largest scar, her fingers were so light it tickled. “I like your tattoos.” The half-elf’s voice was soft, her eyes focused back on your large scar, “How’d you get that one.” Whether or not you tell the story she’s content, happy to have this extra piece of you in her memory.
Wyll: Poor Wyll just wanted to ask about the plans for tomorrow, but not only did he smack his horns on the skeleton of your tent while entering but you’re also as naked as the day you were born. The man nearly shrieked like he saw a ghost, his entire chest swelled up with his shoulders shooting up and he looked like he just swallowed a frog. Without a word Wyll turned on his heel and left your tent, only after trying to cool his blushing face off did he even process all your markings. Upon the log he sat on he dragged his hand up and down his face trying to process what the hells just happened. And then you exited your tent, completely decent this time. You greeted Wyll and sat beside him wondering what he had barged in about in the first place. But the poor man can’t even look at you. He as calmly as he could gave you the sincerest apology you’ve ever heard. After your acceptance he finally turns to you “So what does that tattoo across your back mean?” You pause for a moment, then explain as best you can. And that conversation continues just like that, he’d ask how you got a certain scar or tattoo and you’d answer him. In return he showed you one particularly nasty scar on his arm from a monster he fought while traversing the sword coast. What may have started as the most embarrassing moment of your partnership ended with you closer than before.
#bg3#baldurs gate 3#astarion#astarion acunin#gale dekarios#astarion x reader#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 x reader#lae'zel#daddy halsin#halsin#gale x reader#halsin x tav#halsin x reader#bg3 karlach#karlach#gale x tav#karlach x reader#laezel x reader#shadowheart#shadowheart x reader#wyll ravengard#bg3 wyll#wyll x reader#gn reader#bg3 x fem!reader#bg3 x male reader
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desperate | luke hughes
summary: luke’s girl has never had someone go down on her and he’d be damned if he didn’t change that
i believe this was a request but has been in my drafts for months...oops
warnings: smut, oral (f. receiving), teasing, begging, swearing
“Fuck, Luke.” You moaned into his lips. His hands gripped your thighs, perched on either side of his lap. You tugged at his thick curls as he trailed his lips down your jaw. He placed hot, wet kisses, making sure to leave a mark.
Luke’s hands traveled up your legs, grasping at your hips. He pulled you further into him, the feeling of his throbbing cock pressed against your core. His lips continued their assault downward, sucking between the valley of your breasts.
You tightly grabbed Luke’s broad shoulders, nails leaving angry red crescents in their wake. His light groans echoed in your ears. He began to work his way back up, dragging his tongue up the column of your neck. Luke pulled away to meet your blown-out eyes with his own. His chest was heaving with anticipation.
“I want to go down on you.” He blurted. Your eyes widened in shock, but the surprise was soon replaced with the timid batting of your lashes. Luke took note of the flush that covered your cheeks and ears. You swallowed thickly.
“I’ve, uh, I’ve never had someone go down on me.” You hushed out quickly. It was now Luke’s turn to be shocked. His eyebrows furrowed.
“So you’re telling me no one has ever made you cum on their tongue before?” His crude words made your skin ignite with new desire. Fantasies of Luke’s tongue deep in your cunt flashed through your mind. Your breath picked up, which did not go unnoticed by Luke.
A comforting smile made home on his swollen lips, “I promise I’ll take good care of you, baby. I just want to taste you, I bet you taste like fucking candy.” Luke swiftly flipped you over, laying you down gently.
Sensing the uncertainty in your eyes, Luke reached to lock your fingers with his. “We don’t have to do anything, angel. Not if you aren’t comfortable.” You shook your head.
“No, I want to. I-I’m just a bit nervous, that's all.” Luke placed a long, reassuring kiss on your lips.
“Okay, but if you want me to stop, tell me immediately.” He gave you a slight stare, before quickly removing his shirt. You just nodded in response, mouth going dry at the sight of his toned abdomen. You reached up to drag your hand over the ripples of hard muscle, taking note of every freckle and mark he had.
Luke’s heavy-lidded eyes bore into your own, an unknown flame dancing within the dark pools. He let his fingertips graze from your breasts down, goosebumps rising through each pass. Your hands gripped the sheets by your sides as he reached your panties.
He hooked his fingers through them, slowly slipping them down your legs. He didn’t fail to let his hands drag along the naked skin, sending volts straight to your core. After drawing your feet through, he placed a chaste kiss to the top of each ankle, marking his ascent up your calves.
Luke’s lips dragged teasingly up your thighs, which began to clench out of desperation.
“No, no, angel. Gotta keep those pretty thighs open for me.” He sucked in a harsh breath as you obeyed his demand, eyes glued to your glistening core.
“Fuck me.” You heard him growl lowly, “Such a pretty pussy, all wet for me.”
His words sent waves of electricity through your entire body. Your weeping hole pulsated at the lack of attention, wanting nothing more than Luke to bury his tongue deep inside. Your hips bucked pathetically, begging Luke to help.
“Please, Lukey. I need you so bad.” You whined, becoming restless at his hands that traveled in dangerous patterns around where you needed him most.
He took his lip between his teeth, burying a deep groan that threatened to escape his throat. The sounds of your whimpers making his cock twitch against his shorts.
“Why don’t you ask me nicely, angel. Tell me what you want.” He lowered his face to your dripping core, as more whines left your mouth.
“Please, please Luke! I, fuck,” you panted, “I need your tongue inside me.”
“See? Now that wasn’t so hard.” Luke wasted no time before attaching his lips to your swollen clit. Your back arched as searing pleasure plagued your mind.
“Shit! Lukey,” Almost pornographic moans left your body as you became unable to control your voice.
The sound of Luke’s mouth slurping at your aching cunt filled the room. His tounge danced in circles around your slit, sucking with just the right amount of pressure to drive you insane.
Your eyes rolled back as you brought your hands to Luke’s hair, gripping onto the curls for some grounding. His hands wrapped around your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer. His tongue brutally plunged in and out of your entrance.
Your slick pooled around his mouth, causing him to move with ease. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding into his mouth, helping to ride his tongue.
Luke lifted for a moment, chin covered in arousal. His darkened eyes met yours in a heated match, before he returned his swollen, damp lips to your puffy clit.
Fire swelled in your lower belly, signaling the build of your impending orgasm. You dug your heels into Luke’s lower back as you trapped him between your legs.
Luke reached up with his right hand to intertwine it with your own.
Teetering on the edge, your cunt spasmed around him.
“Gonna cum for me, angel?” He looked up, gazing through his lashes while continuing his abuse to your clit, “Make a mess on my face, pretty girl. I know you can.”
The vibrations of his words were just enough to tip you over. The grip you had on his hand got tighter as your hips arched into his face. White-hot pleasure blinded your senses. Your ears rung as you felt your climax hit you.
Your eyes rolled back once more as your body twitched with orgasmic bliss. Luke continued to devour your cunt until you began to whine from overstimulation.
He pulled back, panting as he sat on his feet. Luke rested his hands on your knees, rubbing soothing circles into your, now sore, legs.
“You’re okay, angel.” He moved around to lay next to you, “Come back to me, baby.” Luke cradled your body, placing sweet kisses on your head until you came down from your high.
As your breath began to even out, you could only say one thing, “Holy fuck.”
#luke hughes#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes smut#luke hughes blurb#luke hughes fic#njd#new jersey devils#leawrites💋
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cw/tw: NSFT, GN reader (no mentioned anatomy, no gendered pet names), size kink, rough sex, dacryphilia, predator/prey undertones, overstimulation
there’s just something about a big beefy man who doesn’t realize how rough he is with you, doesn’t realize that you’re so much smaller and more fragile than him, so easily breakable if he loses even a smidge of the self control he’s holding on to with shaking hands, a little helpless lamb next to a starving wolf trying to get a taste for something other than pretty prey with big, trusting eyes
he grabs you by the throat to pin you down underneath him and can feel your heartbeat in his palm, erratic and deliciously desperate, and it stirs a predatory roll in his guts, causes his mouth to salivate and his pupils to dilate because you’re just so...vulnerable. so needy and delicate and the world’s most precious meal and god, he needs to eat, eat, eat. he needs to see how pretty you look begging for him, needs to hear how sweet you sound crying for him, needs to taste how good you are with his name sitting behind rows of ivory. and when he kisses you, it’s all hungry teeth and deprave tongues as he swallows down all of your noises and tucks them away in his pitiless stomach, all for him, him, him and no one else
he effortlessly pins you down beneath him, his broad chest to your back as your face is buried in the pillow and his strong hips slam against your ass at a spine-breaking pace, groans and whimpers and praises huffing from his mouth as he chases his high. “s-so fuckin’ good, you feel so fuckin’ good under me. god, just like that. c’mon, little one, you can take it, right? be good and take it for me? so good for me.” and he can hear all of your pleas and cries, can feel your body trembling and shake beneath him, and it drives him absolutely wild, a predator high on his celebration of finally catching the prey he's sought and pined after so patiently. he tries to go slower, to savor all of your tears and sobs the way something as delicate as you deserves, but you’re pulsing around his cock and crying out his name so sweetly, all he can possibly think about is how good it’ll feel when he fills you to the brim with his thick cum
or how he easily places you in his lap, grips your hips in his strong hands and moves your body as if you're his favorite fuck doll, bounces you on his cock without any difficulty, hypnotized by how your fragile body can swallow his cock whole, how you drool and cry and sob and beg as he continues to drill inside of you. “there ya’ go, sweet thing. takin’ me so well. look so pretty doing it, too. gonna fill you up so everyone knows who you belong to. you would like that, yeah? want everyone to know you’re mine?” and the way you squeeze around him elicits a growl from him, a low rumble in his chest as he slams your body down with new fervor, delirious with the need to mark you in a way no one else has been allowed to. he's desperate and vocal and messy, moaning and groaning and whining as he feels himself teetering closer to that sweet edge he loves to nosedive off of with you
and finally, finally, with his lap completed coated in a mixture of both of your arousal and his ears full of all of your sweet babbles, he cums deep inside of you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his teeth buried in the sensitive skin, a strangled groan heavy in his throat as his hips slam up against you and wrack your entire body. you go limp against him, and he holds you for a moment, indulging in how good you smell coated in his lust, kissing all of the places he bit and squeezed too roughly, whispering how good you are for him, how proud he is of you, how sorry he is for being so rough but he can’t help it, how much he loves and adores you and how pretty you look with tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. “my pretty little thing, hm? always so good for me. look so pretty covered in my marks. i love you s’much, baby. let’s go get you cleaned up, yeah? i’ll be gentle this time, i promise.”
Reblogs/comments are always appreciated! ♡
#❀.mine#personally i was thinking of jason todd and könig and choso as i wrote this#but feel free to substitute anyone you’d like <3#jason todd x reader#könig x reader#choso x reader#choso kamo x reader#dc x reader#cod x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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Part 2: explicit version of Captain Price and Commander Graves fighting for your affections, only this time they came to an agreement to please all parties involved, especially you.
Though with two possesive men lusting after you, it's unlikely for said agreement to last..
CW: NSFW content, Afab reader, explicit language, possessiveness, jealousy, angry sex, oral sex.
Part 1 here.
Song recommendation
Notes: I'm not a writer! These two make me absolutely insane.
Both of them being so entirely different from one another was what made it so difficult for you to direct your desire to solely one.
Price was your Captain, he knew you through and through, your feelings and thoughts were his top priority, his lust was accompanied by his heart and genuine infatuation.
Graves, on the other hand, was a wildfire. Burning everything in his way just to get his hands on you, no matter the consequences.
➳ Graves would be the first to come to you after the agreement, ignoring Price's request to talk to you first as to have a more discreet discussion. His eagerness wouldn't even let him explain things properly, only muttering a
"Fine, you want us both? You'll have us both." Before smashing his lips onto yours with such force that would make you hit your back against the wall. His hands would be everywhere, roaming from your thighs to your breasts like a starved man.
"My greedy, little slut. Let's see if you can take what you've been asking for." And so with one swift move, you'd find yourself chest pressed against the wall, his erection readily felt between the globes of your ass and through the thick layer of his jeans, making you quiver instinctively.
➳ Price would approach you with caution, explaining to you that you wouldn't have to do this. You wouldn't have to risk the strong bond the two of you have for this. His wariness would wash away the second he'd see the hickeys trailing from your pulse to your neckline. You'd have never seen such a shade of possessiveness colour someone's eyes so dark.
"He did this? Come here." He would pull you on his lap, straddling his muscular thighs as his hand would wrap around your throat, leaving sloppy kisses all over it.
"Remember that you are mine first, Y/N." The heat of Price's clothed cock would be getting even more intense, pressed against your throbbing core, leaking, rubbing insistently with every torturous roll of your hips against him, his tone ouzing of authority and dominance.
➳ Graves would throw snickered remarks at Price with every given chance, especially if your Captain would catch him coming out of your room at the temporary base.
"I don't think she'll be able to take more tonight, Price. I've tired her out enough."
➳ Price would try his hardest not to visit you after Graves, taking your wellbeing into account. That would last minutes until the realisation that you'd go to sleep with his scent all over you and he'd find himself knocking on your door late at night to cleanse that asshole out of your system.
➳ Graves' favourite position would be anything in front of a mirror. Cowgirl, doggystyle, you name it. It wouldn't take long for you to realise that this man gets off of degrading and corrupting you to the core.
What better way to do it than having you stare at your own reflection, mascara running down your face as he'd pound into you merciless, one hand wrapped around your neck and jaw to keep you from darting your gaze elsewhere and the other either fondling your breasts or your clit like a madman.
"What would your Captain say if he saw you like this, hm? If he saw me fucking you the way you deserve to be fucked. Bet he never gets to have you like this. Such a good little whore for me." His mouth would be pure filth against the shell of your ear, every word spitted out with a rough thrust and the promise of many red marks on your rear and thighs.
➳ Price's favourite position would be missionary, classic, and powerful, just like him. He'd wrap your legs around his torso in order to fuck into you as deep as he could, so you'd feel every inch of him filling you up as his hands would hold yours firmly against the mattress.
"Keep looking at me doll, fuck, you take me so well." His grunts and gravelly timbre would be enough to send you over the edge, his lips everywhere on your face.
He would bring your own fingers to your mouth to have you suck on them while maintaining eye contact before instructing you to rub your clit so he'd have the freedom of his hands to cup your breasts and massage your nipples, pinching them and fondling them to have you see stars.
"You're being so good for me. That's my girl." His intensity and desire to claim you would spar out of control towards the end, his arms would grab onto the headboard, banging it hard against the wall as to burry himself even deeper, his thrust picking up the pace to send you into a euphoric trance.
➳ If Graves felt jealousy taking over him whenever another man would be near you before, nothing would compare to the anger clouding his mind after getting to taste you. He would give his Shadows 'the talk'.
"Don't talk to her, I don't even want your fucking eyes lingering on her for more than a second." Having to share you with Price would be so torturing for his ego that would make him paranoid. Even your fellow 141 members would have the privilege of earning quite a few death stares for interacting with you. He wouldn't dare to voice it to them though.
➳ Price would feel his heart ache whenever he'd see you laugh with Graves. Sex was a natural need, an action that would end the second he'd walk out the door, but the thought of you developing feelings for the other man? That would push him over the edge.
"Back to your Shadows, Graves." The way he would speak to the arrogant Commander would make you think that he'd be about to commit murder and you'd be a liar if you were to say that you didn't like your Captain claiming you in such manner.
Of course Graves would ignore him, sending him a look of pure intent as he'd put a hand on your shoulder without breaking eye contact.
"Get back to your fucking team, Commander or I swear to God, I'll send you there face first." His body would conceal yours behind him, showing the other man where your place was before watching Graves roll his eyes and take a few steps back to take another look at you "I'll see you later, sweetheart."
He wouldn't see you though because when he'd try to enter your room later that night, the door would be locked and your obscene whimpers so vocal behind it like they were meant for anyone close by to hear.
"Say it. Tell me who you belong to, soldier." Price would let his title take over, his possessiveness leading you face down on the pillow, fingers firmly tangled with your hair before tugging your entire body upwards like you weighted nothing to press your back against his chest.
"I'm yours, Captain." He'd have you say it again, and again.
➳ Ah, Graves and his tremendous ego. How dare he leave marks on your soft skin? Only your Commander gets to do that. Of course he'd be under the impression that Price would never give it to you the way you wanted, his arrogance would be cut short the minute he saw handprints on your hips.
"My good mood is ruined now, Y/N. You have to make it up to me, don't you think?" He'd mutter the words with venom, undoing his belt with one hand and his gaze never leaving yours.
"On your knees. Now." His demeanour would be intimidating, cold like you were only meant to be used and solely by him. He'd use his belt to restraint your wrists behind your back as your knees hit the cold floor before sliding down what was concealing his erected length that was now only inches away from your mouth.
"Let's see how well you can use that mouth of yours." With your hands behind your back, your body would start to tremble as you'd try your best to fit every inch of naked skin in your mouth, tears coating your cheek to the sensation of him hitting the back of your throat.
"God, you look so pathetic like that, baby. So desperate to take all of me." He'd tug on your hair, his grip firm as to not let you slip him out of the warmth of your mouth, slowly fucking into it with his blue eyes piercing into yours.
➳ Price, on the other hand, would set you down on his wooden desk right in front of him, panties long forgotten on the floor as his grip would tighten on your thighs to keep them open. He would take a few seconds to take in the sight, your soaked cunt wetting up even more by the second, leading your slick to coat your folds so mouthwatering and all for him to taste.
"Use your words, doll. Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you." He wouldn't move an inch unless you'd describe to him exactly where you wanted him, hearing all those improper words coming out of your beautiful mouth would fuel his desire even more, lapping onto your clit the same way he'd kiss you, intensely, so you'd feel all the fire burning him alive for you.
"Don't hold back, love, let me hear every fucking sound." His long girthy fingers would fuck into you slowly, agonizing, matching the pace of his tongue flickering every inch of you and the way his beard would graze against your skin, would promise you feeling his touch for days afterwards.
➳ Graves would soon regret this proposition when he'd walk in the armory to find you on Price's lap, sliding up and down his cock torturously slow, your Captain's hands gripping on your hips to guide you on his length in a pace that would allow you to feel every inch of him inside.
The sight would pull him to walk further inside, making his presence clear by clearing his throat and leaning against the wall opposite of you.
"Don't mind me here, I'll take over once Captain here manages finish the job." His tone would be challenging, disrespectful towards the older man fucking into you so intimately. You'd think that Price would take you elsewhere to continue, but no. The second Graves' insulting tone would register in his brain, he'd go feral.
"Suit yourself, Commander." He'd spit out the other man's title like he was talking to a nobody, focusing on slamming your skin down on his length repeatedly as his lips would find occupation on your breasts, sucking the skin to leave purple shaded marks.
Your obscene moans filling the room with Price's name falling out of your lips like desperate calls for salvation would be enough indication that he was managing you just fine. Not to Graves, though, who would be fuming like a volcano about to erupt.
After you'd come down from the overwhelming high and ecstacy John put you through, Graves would walk over to you shamelessly. He'd help you to stand up from the cold bench to your feet, only to swiftly scoop you up so he'd wrap your legs around him and press you up against the nearest wall.
"Now watch here, Price. Maybe you'll learn a thing or two."
#this is part 2#captain price#captain price smut#captain price x reader#captain price x you#phillip graves#phillip graves smut#phillip graves x reader#phillip graves x you#cod smut#cod#call of duty#cod x reader#cod x you#task force 141#141 x reader#warren kole#barry sloane#ghost smut#könig smut
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I keep imagining the first time Luke and Mr. D met after Luke's hickeys/scratches went viral
LMFAOOOOO ANON THIS IS SENDING ME
here is how i think that conversation played out (suggestive content ahead):
"shit, five star, your dad is calling me," luke mumbled, eyes wide as he looked down at his phone. "he never calls me."
connor snicked from his bunk in the tour bus, "well, given that the whole internet is talking about you right now after the show you gave them last night, i'm not surprised."
"ha!" travis exclaimed, sitting up on his bed. "put it on speaker. i wanna hear him yell at you."
you rolled your eyes, "he's not gonna yell at you."
luke turned to you with hopeful eyes, "you think so?"
"well, he's probably not gonna yell at you," you scrunched your face up, rethinking your words, "like 55% chance he won't yell at you."
"i don't like those odds, babe."
"answer the fucking phone, luke."
luke clicked the green button on his screen, chewing on the nail of his thumb. he rolled his eyes, pressing the speaker button as travis kept egging him on. chris and clarisse opened the privacy curtain of chris' bunk to listen in on the drama.
"hey, mr. d," luke cleared his throat, ignoring the quiet giggles from the boys when his voice cracked. "what's up?"
"is my daughter with you?"
"say no," you whispered. so you were wrong about the odds. your dad was 100% about to yell at luke and you selfishly didn't want to get your ass handed to you just yet. you were going to avoid your dad's calls for as long as possible.
"uhh... no?"
"oh jesus fucking christ," you sighed, smacking your palm against your forehead, "that was soooo convincing."
you heard your dad type on his laptop before shutting it. there was some background noise that subsided after you heard the shut of a door. it seemed like your dad went into his office to get some privacy.
"hey, kid," your dad said, no doubt addressing you now.
"hey, dad," you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, leaning down to speak into the mic of luke's phone. "how are you?"
"don't start with me," he said, "would it kill you both to not do whatever it is you do that results in those pictures? pictures that are all over the internet by the way!"
a snide remark was on the tip of luke's tongue, because yes, it would kill him to not do the things that resulted in the pink marks on his neck and the healing scratches on his back, but that didn't seem like the right response.
"dad, you never had an issue with them taking their shirts off during shows before. and luke has gone out on stage like that before."
luke cringed, remembering one too many instances where he'd gone out on stage with hickeys all over his neck. it felt like a lifetime ago now, as if ever since you walked into his life that past version of him was someone he didn't recognize anymore. he much preferred remembering the name of the girl who left him marked up, especially preferring that it was only you who did that to him.
"that was before he started dating my daughter!" he replied, "i don't want to know anything about your relationship, but i'm in an unfortunate situation where i happen to manage the career of your boyfriend's band so i have to deal with it sometimes. so for the love of god, please please, stop."
"i'm so sorry mr. d," luke mumbled, "i completely forgot about them and by the time i realized, it was too late."
you could practically see your dad pulling at his hair, a habit he had when he was in stressful or awkward situations. he didn't speak for a good thirty seconds and then he sighed, "just keep your goddamn shirt on."
luke gulped, "got it."
when your dad ended the call, the entire bus erupted in laughter, including you. luke's face was as red as a tomato as he groaned and buried his head in his pillow. your shoulders shook as you giggled, laying on top of him. he instantly turned his body to wrap his arms around you.
"that wasn't so bad," you cooed, running your fingers through his curls, "and that was a shit apology, baby. you were smug as hell on stage when people pointed out the scratches."
"i wasn't thinking of the consequences of my actions," he said, "i was caught up watching people connect the dots that my girlfriend is not only hot but a fucking animal in be--"
"okay, that's our cue," travis cut off, closing his curtain. connor followed his head, popping in his airpods. clarisse sent you a wink before she disappeared behind the curtain with chris.
"i'll stop leaving hickeys on you," you kissed his face, enjoying how flustered he got. "but i can't promise too much on the scratches."
"i'm gonna stop taking my shirt off at shows, i think," he mused, toying with the hem of the shirt you wore. "i don't think i can take another surprise call from your dad. i think it took years off my life."
"your fans will be highly disappointed," you teased, leaning over to his ear, "but if you're gonna keep your shirt on, does that mean hickeys on your abs is fair game?"
luke licked his lips, tugging on his own curtain to give you two some privacy, "absolutely."
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olive. can’t rmb if u did smthg like this before but i need breeding kink w carmy ok.
like ur almost definitely on the pill and he’s lowk (highkey) terrified of being a dad/having a kid but the thought of filling u up… yes! ok lemme stop being filthy now
TEA. AHH. yes. Okay.
Carmy doesn’t realize he has a breeding kink until quite a bit into your relationship. Him finding out he has one is a complete accident.
You’re on the pill, but you two have always been careful. Carmen always uses a condom or he pulls out.
This night, he has you on the bed, pounding into you. Your legs are locked around his waist while your hands claw down his back. You’re close and over sensitive; he had already given you two orgasms.
He isn’t wearing a condom. He was in too much of a rush to get inside of you after a horrible day at work. “Carm- fuck. Close-“ you whine into his ear. Gasps leave your throat with every thrust. He’s hitting that spot inside of you. The pace is dizzying.
“I know, baby. You can take it. You can give me one more, yeah? Need you to cum for me.” His lips nip at the skin on your throat, leaving red marks behind. The rhythm of his starts to falter from the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him.
“Feels- feels so good. You feel so good, Carmy. Shit-“ The praise from your lips brings him right to the edge. He’s a goner when you start to praise him.
“Baby- I’m gonna cum-“ His piercing blue eyes meet yours.
You tighten your legs around his hips in response. "Carm- cum inside of me. Want you to fill me up." You see his eyes widen at your words before his entire demeanor changes.
"Yeah? Want me to fill you up and make you mine?" His hips speed up up as he nears his climax, never taking his eyes off of your face.
"Please Carmy- please, please, please." His thumb circles your clit and you see stars. It's only then that he takes his eyes off of you and buries his face into your neck. his groans are muffled as he spills into you. You can only make out bits and pieces of what he's muttering.
"Good girl- so good for me-" his voice is ragged. "Mine. Completely mine." When he finally pulls out of you, he quickly brings his fingers up to the cum dripping out of your cunt. "Can't let this go to waste." His pupils are blown wide as he presses his cum back inside of you.
That is only the very beginning of Carmen realizing just how into the idea of breeding he was. The next time he has you in the same situation, it's much different.
He's hitting inside of you deep. Your knees practically press against your chest. The position is mind numbing. Just then, Carmy starts talking.
"Going to fill you up again. I'll put a baby in you this time." His hips speed up with his words. "You'll look so pretty all swollen with my baby." Carmen's hand on your hip tightens in a bruising hold.
"Fuck- Carm- Carmy-"
"Oh, yeah? Does that turn you on?" He groans. "Fuck- can feel you clenching around me. You just want to be a cum dump for me don't you?"
"Please, Carm," you whine as goes to circle your clit with his thumb. "W- want your cum. Need you to fill me up. Please-"
"Go on, baby. Cum for me. Cum for me and I'll fill you up. I've got you, let go for me." His words send you over the edge as pleasure overwhelms you. Electricity pulses through your skin. Carmy cums inside of you as soon as you release around him. His groans of praise are loud in your ear.
"Fuck, Carmen. T-thank you." You didn't know what else to say. He's left you totally speechless.
"Let's stay like this for awhile. Gotta make sure it sticks this time," he mutters, settling on top of you.
WHEW- I need Carmen to breed me right now BYE.
#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto#the bear#the bear fanfiction#carmen berzatto smut#carmy berzatto smut#brain rot
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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."
#nct dream#kpop smut#nct#nct haechan#haechan hard hours#nct imagines#kpop#haechan#nct dream smut#nct smut#mark lee smut#mark lee#mark smut#mark lee hard hours#nct dream masterlist#nct masterlist#nct 127#czennie
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Eddie Munson x Best friend!reader | ~1K
Summary: It's the perfect solution. You need a place to stay, he needs someone to help with the rent.
*There be some male masturbation below.
A/N: I don't know. I was supposed to be writing something else. I just think they're neat. Will there be more? Who fucking knows, I certainly don't.
---
It was a stupid idea born out of necessity. All of the most memorable things in life begin that way. You needed somewhere cheap and immediately available and his roommate ran off with the bartender he met less than a month ago. These are the days to remember - early 20s when life can change at the flick of a zippo in a dark alleyway. That’s what got Gareth, the girl that lit his cigarette. He never stopped seeing her in the soft glow of that low flame, and it left Eddie without someone to pay the other half of the rent.
And there you were, broken hearted and bleeding in front of him. In need. And he could push away those thoughts that linger in his quiet and empty bedroom in the privacy of the night. He could make a space for you, he could help you. So he did. It all came together over the hashbrowns and pancakes seasoned by your tears. Your best friend, Eddie, made a proposal that would save the day and be perfect for both of you.
Eddie Munson - your hero with a spare room and the promise of an escape from that motherfucking dickhead that stained your sheets with that girl from his office.
—
It’s the first full day, and Eddie is standing in his own kitchen with his cock pressed painfully hard against his fly at the sight of you bending down to fish the griddle out from the low cupboard next to the oven. He bites the inside of his cheek until the taste of metal hits the tip of his tongue. He adjusts himself and clears his throat while he watches your hips jiggle. The blue and purple wings of the butterfly on the soft love handle above your left him seem to flap with the movement of your arms.
“Uh, when the fuck did you get that?” Eddie’s question startles you. Your head bangs against the shelf in the cupboard your elbow deep into. “Oh shit, are you ok?”
“Yeah,” you back out of the small space and stand with your hand on the top of your head, “I think I’ll make it.”
The first thing you notice when you look at Eddie is the red at the top of his ears. This is something you rarely get to see because of the way his shaggy curls hang around his face. This morning his hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck, and those hot ears are on full display. You think, I wonder what they would feel like against my tongue,
These are the kinds of thoughts that you’ve been having for Eddie for a long time. Months. Years maybe. These are the kinds of thoughts that make this entire arraignment the worst idea. These are the kinds of thoughts that keep you company in the dark when you chase after secret pleasure in the privacy of your own touch.
“So.” Eddie’s hands are gripping the back of the vinyl chair on the opposite side of the small kitchen table from where you're standing. “So, when did you get that tattoo?”
Your eyebrows pinch together in thought, but your hand travels back to touch the marked skin before your mind catches up. It feels hot at the thought of his gaze scanning across it. You can practically feel the inked skin dancing against your fingers.
“Oh! God, I forget it’s there.” You smile and can feel heat creep across your skin at not only the question, but also in the way his eyes look black. The way he shifts from foot to foot. You can’t help but let your own eyes scan across the inked skin of his arm while you think of how to answer. “I got it a few months ago. It’s stupid. A butterfly? It’s embarrassing.”
Eddie sighs and smiles. He turns his head a little. It’s a shy kind of gesture you’ve seen him do before, but without his hair to obscure his lips you can see that secret lift of his lips. It makes your knees feel weak to see it, and you think about running your fingers across his cheek. You think about his eyes fluttering at your soft touch.
“It suits you. You shouldn’t be embarrassed.” Eddie clears his throat again and turns his head to look out of the small window above the kitchen sink. He doesn’t know that this gives you the perfect view of his long neck. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”
“Oh, ok. I’m making some homefries,” at your words, Eddie meets your gaze again and it knocks the breath out of you for a beat. Your next words come out on an exhale, and you want to shrink to the size of a grain of salt so he’ll stop looking at you, “how do you like your eggs?”
��However you make them, Sweetheart. I’ll be back soon.” You watch Eddie spin on his heels and walk awkwardly down the hallway before returning to the task at hand. Coffee, homefries, and eggs as a thank you to Eddie for letting you move in so quickly. You laugh at the shake in your hands and think about how stupid you are for letting your imagination run wild like this. This is Eddie, your Eddie. These foolish fantasies need to chill out. You can’t live like this.
—
Eddie’s head is pressed against the tile in the shower, warm water flows down his body in rivulets. He thinks about the way the purples and blues danced on your skin. The way those pretty lined stretch marks bracket around it. He thinks about the way his fingers would feel pressed into that skin, and squeezes his aching cock the way he wants to squeeze you.
The water runs down his face. Warm water runs into and out of his open mouth while he imagines the way those purple and blue marks dance under him. The way his fingers feel holding your hips still as his cock reaches deeper and deeper inside of you.
This was the worst idea he’s ever had, but he can’t care right now.
#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fic#eddie munson blurb
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