#mma fight shirt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

evergone · 1 month

Text

Sleepless

Rindou Haitani x Reader

Warnings: 18+ content (allusions to sex), swearing

Description: The reader can't sleep because the Tenjiku members are being far too loud.

You had tried so hard all night not to disturb your boyfriend and his friends as they celebrated their recent successes in your lounge room, but as your eyes fluttered open for the fifth time that night, you knew you had to go and ask them to be just a tad quieter. Of course, you felt terrible because Rindou was being so considerate already. You couldn’t even hear the crappy rap music they were playing, just the echo of the bass through the walls, and both of the times that you were woken up by their chatter you heard Rindou frantically scrambling to hush them.

With a yawn and a small stretch, you pulled your throw blanket over your shoulders and shuffled across the carpet until you found your ugg boots in the complete and utter darkness. After a pained “fuck” slipped past your lips as you hit your knee on the edge of your bedframe, you slowly opened the door and stepped out into the lounge room.

It wouldn’t have taken more than a second before the boys noticed your meek, sleep-deprived frame cringing at the power of the lights while your eyes took their time to adjust. Most of them were strung out across the three grey couches in front of the television which was tuned into an MMA fight on mute, while the younger members (that Kisaki kid, his friend Hanma, Kokonoi, and Sanzu) were awkwardly sitting around the dining table behind them. Madarame offered you a short wave to which you responded with a tired frown, then you finally caught sight of Rindou sitting in the corner of the middle couch with his hand outstretched towards you.

“Rinnie…” You whined as you made your way into his lap with his arm lazily draped over your waist. Ran, your brother-in-law for all intents and purposes, snickered at the nickname, and the tone of your voice which was laden with exhaustion.

“Sorry, did we wake you up?” Rindou asked quietly, and then turned to the rest of the group, “I told these fuckwits to keep it down.”

Rindou wasn’t ignorant of the fact that you were wearing nothing but his shirt as pyjamas, and he knew well from the night’s earlier — and more private — events that your underwear were the barely-there kind. So, he was cautious to make sure that one of his hands was sitting firmly under your bum at all times, holding the shirt against your skin.

“If you guys stayed quiet I would’ve made you pancakes for breakfast as thanks,” you teased. Mocchi’s shoulders tensed in clear disappointment at your words. While all of them were fond of your cooking, Mocchi was always the biggest eater.

You pressed your lips against Rindou’s neck while they continued their discussion. His voice vibrated into each kiss you bestowed upon his neck and collarbone with a kind of intimacy that made you feel as though you were melting into one another. After a while of this, you began to doze off, your mind stuck in the in-between state of being oddly aware of everything around you, but not quite awake.

Rindou took one glance at the state of you, nearly asleep despite the volume of the room, and hooked his arms under your thighs to carry you back to the bed you shared. He folded the throw neatly at the end of the mattress, then placed you down on your preferred side, and admired the irritated look on your face which was made possible to see by the slightly open door.

As he made a movement to leave and rejoin his friends in the lounge room, you groaned, grabbed the cuff of his shirt, and pulled him back towards you. He was much stronger than you, strong enough not to be even slightly moved by your pull, but he was never the kind of boyfriend to fight your affection. He knelt down on the floor beside you with his hand rubbing circles on your cheek, already feeling terrible about how you couldn’t get to sleep because of him and his friends.

“What’s wrong, N/n?” He said lovingly.

“Come to bed. It’s cold. I want you in here with me.” You saw how Rindou’s eyes flicked back to the light emanating from the doorway, so you pouted in the sexiest way you could given how tired you were. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

The sleeve of the shirt you were wearing had — at some point, unbeknownst to you — fallen from your shoulder to reveal the lacy strap of a new bra Rindou had bought you. It reminded him of your underwear. Of how nice it felt to take them off earlier…

“You’re too tired for any of that, babe. Just go to bed, and I’ll come join you in no time, promise,” he said as he shook the images from his mind, knowing you were one blink away from falling asleep again.

“You hate me,” you huffed, and turned away from your boyfriend before adding, “You’re just gonna end up passing out on the couch like you do every time they come here. I’m gonna wake up all alone. You’re such a bad boyfriend.”

Rindou smiled softly, “Are you trying to guilt-trip me right now?” You turned back to make eye contact with him and nodded. “Fine.”

For a moment, he disappeared into the lounge room. You could hear Ran making fun of him for being “absolutely whipped”, and Izana telling him to “man up”, but you were already beginning to feel your eyelids getting heavier, so you didn’t care much to go out and defend him. When he returned, he took off his shirt and pulled on a pair of trackpants, and then crawled into bed beside you.

Content to have gotten all you wanted from Rindou, you traced the tattoos on his torso until you were so exhausted you could no longer hold your hand up.

“I will make it worth your while,” you yawned as you rested your head on his chest and let him run his hands over your hair, “Just… In the morning when I’m rejuvenated.”

You closed your eyes and Rindou felt your heartrate slow down along with the frequency of your breaths. You were snoring ever-so-gently, and he stifled a laugh at the irony of the fact that he wouldn’t be able to get even a second of sleep because of it.

1K notes · View notes

yandere-writer-momo · 3 months

Text

Yandere Baki Head Canons:

Struck By Cupid

Yandere Various Baki Men x Fem Fighter Reader

TW: Reverse Harem/ aged up AU, uncomfortable themes, yandere behavior, drugging, creepy love letters, stalking, Kiyosumi Katou, and non consensual touching (hugs and kisses)

You’re a female mma fighter who was personally invited by Tokugawa to fight in the tournament. A shame most of the competition has taken a little too much interest in you…

Jack Hanma

You became his acquaintance in the ring just like the others. At first he didn’t think much of you until you gave him some advice for strength and technique after you defeated him. He had never felt such warmth in his life. To not only be seen and acknowledged, but to receive praise and advice rather than insults for his loss. For the first time in a long time, he blushed.

Jack doesn’t like the way his heart pounded in his chest when he sees you or how his palms sweat. It’s so strange… he’s never felt like this before.

You’re very polite and you have a welcoming aura to you. People are automatically drawn to you since you look trustworthy and friendly. Even if you aren’t, people adore you. It honestly annoyed you, but you did your best to try to be nice to everyone (a huge mistake).

Jack insults you all the time. This man has no idea how to flirt so he’s extremely rude to you. He truly means well but he’s not a man of many words. His actions will show you his true feelings but you’re quite clueless on those matters since you’d rather focus on martial arts than a relationship of any kind

“Your hair is down today… it makes you look strange. (Your hair is different today, I like it).” Or “You look pale and malnourished. How are you so incapable of taking care of yourself? (Have you eaten today? Why are you not taking care of yourself properly?)”

“Your outfit is unflattering and inappropriate for this weather. (You look cold).”

Jack will throw his jacket or shirt over you if you shiver, but the garments usually reek of his sweat and musk (and the stench of urine). He acts unphased by your refusal to wear his clothes but it actually deeply upsets him. He’s trying, okay?

Jack is painfully awkward. It’s so sad for Baki to watch his brother try to woe you and you turn him down (since you don’t speak ‘Jack’ nor look past his nagging).

Baki is the one to tell him that he smells and Jack is mortified. No wonder you constantly turned down his clothes… Hygiene after training was never on his mind but he made sure to bathe more often and to no longer reek of sweat and incontinence. He now smelled of pine and musk, a scent you didn’t seem to mind as much.

Jack is even more insistent on you wearing his clothes since the colder season still isn’t over and you still turn him down from time to time. He’s just a bit too overbearing for your taste and extremely difficult to talk to (he’s terrifying)

Jack often inserts his awkward presence between you and the other fighters. In his eyes, he’s keeping you safe from those weirdos. In yours, he’s rudely interrupting conversations you’re trying to have. But in all actuality, he is protecting you. Jack has kept you safe and you’re completely unaware of just how dangerous the others are…

Jack just wished he was able to explain his muddled feelings for you. He’s never had a crush nor has he ever touched someone intimately, he was new to all of this. He just wanted you to understand him.

Jack will eventually tire of your rejection and may become more aggressive with his advances. Especially if you’re more receptive to other’s advances. What does Katsumi have that he doesn’t? Jack is much bigger than him in every way. Just look at him… please look at him. Pick him. Love him.

You’ll eventually be cornered by him once you’re finally alone.

His large arms wrapped around your smaller frame as he pulled you close to his body. You could feel Jack’s heart hammer in his chest, his nose buried into the top of your head. You shivered when Jack deeply inhaled your scent.

“Oh um… can I help you-“ Jack suddenly flipped you around. His cinnamon eyes were wild and his palms were covered in a light sheen of sweat. Was he okay? “Jack.. are you alright?”

“I don’t mind your presence.” Jack furrowed his brows and sighed in agitation. “I… I can’t explain how I feel with words.”

“What do you mean-“ you words were caught in your throat when he leaned down to your level, his hot breath mingled with yours. He then pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his entire body trembled like a leaf from the touch.

“I like you, no.” Jack shook his head. “I love you.”

You can’t even utter a word before he placed his hands on either side of your shoulders. His cinnamon eyes brewed a powerful storm of emotion behind him. He meant it, this rude man was madly in love with you. “So pick me. You don’t need anyone other than me in this world. Only I can keep you safe.”

Katsumi Orochi

Katsumi was frustrated with his loss at first. He couldn’t believe he lost to you, an individual who appeared out of literally nowhere. He’s trained most of his life! His entire life was karate and you easily defeated him like he was some sort of beginner!

Yet you didn’t boast to him when he laid in the bloody sand. No, you helped him up and gave him a smile so sweet, his teeth could rot. And you told him that if you hadn’t reacted fast enough, he probably would have defeated you.

“I think you’re really talented. I think you’ll go far in life with your work ethic!” How could someone openly admit that? Most opponents would gloat in his face and yet you didn’t. Your optimism and kindness made his heart flutter. Congratulations! You’re Katsumi’s first crush.

Katsumi invited you to train at Shinshinkai where you often interacted with him, the karatekas, and Retsu. He often found himself admiring you whenever he thought you weren’t looking, which caused him to be teased by the karatekas. Everyone in that dojo knew he had a crush on you… except you.

Katsumi is incredibly sweet. He often compliments you or asks you for a demonstration. Katsumi is eager to learn anything you’d love to teach him.

It’s when you express an interest in learning karate that truly sets his heart ablaze. He gives you a uniform and offered you private lessons. He truly didn’t want any teasing from his students. Plus the two of you could spar to your heart’s content.

But seeing you in a karate uniform really made his mind wander to filthy places. The way the uniform stuck to your sweaty body and how he could almost see into your shirt when you pinned him to the mat. It was entirely too much.

Katsumi will start to ask you out to eat after every training/ sparring session. And how could you ever turn down free food? Your clueless self had no idea that these were dates since the two do you were in casual wear as you explored the town for little treats.

The two of you got along swimmingly. Katsumi found you incredibly easy to talk to… your relationship with him reminded him of Doppo and Natsue’s which made him believe the two of you were romantically interested in one another.

Katsumi never got around to dating due to his devotion to karate. He was inexperienced in every aspect of love other than what he’s seen between his adoptive parents. And he knew that he loved you. Katsumi has never felt this way before in his entire life.

His cheeks flush cherry red when you wipe some crumbs off his face. His words shaky when you give him your utmost attention. Your eyes never left his as he spoke, which only made him all the more nervous. Katsumi believed you were made for him. You’re his soul mate. You were interested in martial arts too and you always made him feel important. Katsumi had to tell you how he felt… he didn’t want to lose his chance.

And it was even worse when he noticed that he wasn’t the only one who held a torch for you. It made him even more competitive to have your hand. Katsumi swore he would be the one to be your lover and eventually, your husband!

So Katsumi began to hog as much of your time as he could at the dojo. He’d ask for more demonstrations and even for your help with his kindergartner class. Katsumi constantly had to adjust his pants whenever you’d affectionately lend a hand to one of the kids. You looked so natural with them… would you want to have kids? Katsumi would love to be the one to father them if you did.

Katsumi’s mind often wandered to fatherhood and marriage with you. You’d look so perfect all plump and round… he had no doubt that your children would be prodigies in martial arts as well. Katsumi looked forward to those blissful, idyllic days. It was guaranteed if you married him!

A shame Katsumi failed to realize that you only saw him as a friend and nothing more…

You jumped when Katsumi’s hand held yours at the dinner table. Your brow quirked at his red cheeks as you slowly chewed your ramen.

“I have something to tell you…” Katsumi blushed while his hands gave yourselves a firm squeeze.

You give him a smile and swallow, your head tilted off to the side. “Of course, Katsumi. You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Katsumi felt his heart flutter and his palms start to sweat a bit. He sucked in a deep breath and gave you the sweetest at you..

“I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.” Katsumi told you, his eyes searched yours for a reaction. His cheeks remained hot when you didn’t move away from the grip he had on your hand so he took the opportunity to run his thumb over the back of your hand. “Please… I need to know if you feel the same. My love for you keeps me up at night, I can’t help but imagine a life with you.”

You’re at a loss for words as you hesitatingly try to pull away from his grip. Sadly, Katsumi only held onto your hand tighter. “Oh Katsumi, I-“

Your eyes nearly blow out of your head when he pressed a hesitant kiss to your lips. A few tears fell down his face as one of his hands tenderly held your cheek.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything…” Katsumi gave you a loving smile. “I know you love me too.”

Hanayama Kaoru

Hanayama suffered a surprising defeat by your hands, one that would have been shameful… if you had let him lay on his back. Imagine his surprise to hear that you didn’t let him fall over when you knocked him out with a roundhouse kick to the head? That you helped him stand up… he was flattered.

And so, Hanayama bought you a bouquet of roses as thanks. The crimson petals looked flattering against you as you curiously tilted your head off to the side at him.

“You didn’t have to get me anything... I just had a lot of respect for you as an opponent! I can’t believe you were able to tank so many blows from me… you’re really strong.” You gave him a bright smile which made Hanayama shrink back a bit in shock. Did you just compliment him?

Hanayama wasn’t quite used to genuine praise. Sure he’d be praised by his peers, but not from his opponents. Especially not an attractive opponent of the opposite gender.

Hanayama has had his fair share of flings. Most women approached him for superficial reasons, but not you. You were a shining star that shared its warmth with the moon. Someone unattainable yet within reach.

Hanayama simply gave you a bow before he left. He was a man of few words, fewer than the other… but his actions were the loudest.

Hanayama doesn’t actively seek you out, quite the opposite. At first at least. The two of you occasionally bump into one another, which made the gears turn in his head. Perhaps this was a fated meeting. Yes… this was the work of the red string of fate.

And so began his fascination towards you. A small crush that slowly grew into a full blown obsession. One that became overwhelming to him.

It started off with small gifts (at least to him). Jewelry and bouquets of roses. Hanayama adored the flower of love that his mother once loved. He bought dainty jewelry with elegant designs so he had the excuse to see you be adorned with accessories he personally picked out (Kizaki actually picked them out)

Hanayama wasn’t much of a romantic but he was willing to try if it meant he’d earn your affection. He’d wear better cologne and make sure his suit was always clean. He genuinely wanted to impress you, by any means necessary. No cost was too great if it meant you’d belong to him.

He began to write you love letters with surprisingly neat, tiny characters. Poor Kizaki had to help him with the right words at first, the right hand man now officially a wingman. Kizaki would do anything to ensure Hanayama’s happiness.

At first you were flattered, it was so cute to watch Hanayama hang you the letters with rosy cheeks. Who knew he had such a cute side to him? He’d even gift you small clothing articles if he noticed your clothes were too baggy/tight.

But then they began to get darker. The clothing became more revealing and were your exact measurements. You never told him your size! His fantasies began to take hold of him since he wasn’t getting through to you at the same pace he was falling for you. And it was especially worse since the other fighters all hovered around you like flies to honey. It upset him. You were his. You belonged to Hanayama.

Sweet words of innocent love soon turned to the ramblings of an obsessive madman. A fact that even someone as clueless as you understood. You were terrified. Hanayama was now using any means necessary to get you into his arms. It didn’t matter what extremes he had to go to, he has loudly staked his claim on you. What the boss wanted, the boss got.

You nervously smiled at Hanayama who placed a bouquet of ruby roses in your hands. The bouquet nearly swallow you whole with its sheer size. Yet another loud declaration of his love for you. A love you were terrified of.

“Thank you, Hanayama… you don’t have to give me so much.” You shrunk back at the stern look he gave you, you hoped you didn’t come off as ungrateful.

“I can buy you grander gifts if you don’t like them. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do-“

You shook your head and tugged on his sleeve, an action that made his face explode in scarlet. “No, I just feel bad since you’re always going above and beyond. I do appreciate your gifts, I think you’re incredibly sweet.”

Hanayama bowed his head as he adjusted his steam filled glasses. You willingly touched him… did this mean you felt the same way he did? That you had a love for him that burned as much as his? God, he wanted to kiss you so badly… but he had another gift for you.

Hanayama reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a neatly wrapped black box. His obsidian eyes expectantly flitted to your face to see your reaction to his gift. It wasn’t difficult to size you in your sleep since you were such a heavy sleeper, but he needed to ensure this would fit!

You felt your blood run cold when Hanayama got down on one knee. What was he doing? The two of you weren’t even dating!!!

“Be my wife… or I can’t guarantee the safety of your friends and family.” Hanayama gave you the smallest of smiles as he revealed the dazzling diamond ring in the box. His predatory gaze never left your form for a second. “What do you say? Yes or yes?”

Baki Hanma

Baki and you were tied in the finals, a fact that blew his mind. The two of you were even in strength? How was that possible? This was thrilling to him!

Baki began to harp you in public to challenge you to a fight. It didn’t matter where you were. In a restaurant, at a cafe, or at a hot spring, it was on sight!

It was when you mopped him on the floor at a hot spring that he realized how inappropriate he was being. Your eyes filled with a fire he’s never seen before while you put your hands on your towel-clad hips. The towel tied firmly in place over your chest.

“Look, I know you’re still not over the tournament results but I have a lift outside of fighting.” You ran a hand through your hair in annoyance. “We could schedule a fight, but I can’t keep brawling with you on the street. I’m not trying to get arrested for fighting some… kid.”

Baki probably looked like a fish out of water. “I’m not a kid! I’m twenty!” His cheeks flushed pink when you giggled at him. What was so funny?

“Well, you’re a kid to me.” You laugh as you ruffle the short man’s hair. “You have a lot of heart, I think you’ll go far, kid!”

“I am not a kid!” Baki blushed when you just waved him off and walked away. A kid… you thought he was a kid! Baki would show you… he’d show you he was a man… but why did his cheeks feel so hot from your teasing?

You often bump into the red head whose cheeks would always flush red when your eyes would meet. It was really adorable. You always made sure to wave and smile at the younger man. There was something about him that seemed incredibly lonely to you…

And so began a friendship with Baki. You’d go out to eat with him and keep him company. Baki wasn’t used to someone asking him about his day or making sure he ate. He wasn’t used to such genuine care that he melted into a puddle from it.

You were welcoming and bright like a ray of sunshine. You’d listen to his woes and offer him your guidance. It was a stark contrast to the last relationship he had once it had fizzled out. Except there was no nagging on your end, you understood his rigorous training.

The first time you hugged him, Baki nearly cried. You were so soft and warm… like a mother.

It took another month for Baki to realize he had a crush on you. He began to seek out your touch more and would try to spend the night in your home. Baki adored being little spoon and he adored how you took care of him. Baki wanted so much more than this friendship

And as time went on, he noticed how the other fighters hovered around you. Each one of them made attempts to get you to be theirs but Baki began to interfere. He didn’t want to be alone again! He didn’t want to live without your loving warmth.

Baki would insert himself between you and the others. He’d interrupt your food outings with Katsumi, he’d stand between you and Jack (or Hanayama), he’d interrupt Retsu before Retsu could talk to you, etc. Look at Baki and only Baki!

So Baki began to cling to you even more. You couldn’t go a day without the redhead by your side. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he clutched onto you like a tick.

The more you tried to avoid him, the worse Baki became. You didn’t want to abandon him, right? He’ll be good to you, he’s just as eligible of a bachelor as the others. He’s also a man despite being younger than you!

“I love you.” Baki whispered into your shoulder before he pressed a soft kiss to the soft skin. His crimson eyes filled with adoration for you. “And I know you’re being hounded by the others, but don’t you think I’d be a better choice?”

You tried to shimmy out of his arms but his muscular arms only tightened around you. It was useless to try to escape the hold of this crimson anaconda. You sighed and placed your hand on his forearm. “Baki, I only see you as a little brother-“

You’re suddenly spun around to face the younger man, his eyes a bit teary. His hands tightly held your arms to your side as he shook. “Is this because I’m younger? I… I can prove to you that I’m a man-“

You reached forward and held his cheeks in your hand. “Baki, it’s just the way I see you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. Sometimes you just get to be a bit too much.”

Baki melted into your touch, his hands hold yours while your thumbs stroked his beautiful face. Couldn’t you see that this was meant to be? That this relationship could be so much more than platonic?

Baki leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours. His eyes fluttered shut as he softly peppered your lips until he was out of breath. “I love you… I love you so much. I’m willing to fight for you.”

Kaioh Retsu

Retsu had seen you defeat Katsumi with ease. He didn’t get to face off with you, but he was impressed. Especially when he saw that you knew a bit of Kenpo. He didn’t think an mma fighter would incorporate the ancient Chinese martial art, but you had proven him wrong.

The first official meeting with him was at the Shinshinkai dojo. Polite exchanges of one another’s names turned into a deep conversation of martial arts.

“You’re a practitioner of Chinese Kenpo, right?” Your eyes are filled with stars when Retsu nods. “Wow! That’s amazing. I envy your dedication to the craft, you must have been in a temple for years…”

He couldn’t help the butterflies that stirred in his stomach when you express an interest in Kenpo (and an interest in him). You wanted to learn Kenpo over karate? How could he say no?

Retsu taught you the basics of Kenpo and he was amazed with your natural talent for it. It made the butterflies explode in his chest whenever you gave him a bright grin once you caught onto the demonstration he showed you.

Retsu has no experience with women due to being n a temple for so long… so it’s the first time he’s ever been particularly excited. Retsu is so terrified of these new feelings that began to develop for you. But he’s too afraid to ask anyone about what he’s feeling so he does his best to mask the blush on his cheeks.

Retsu found himself making you meals and talking with you about anything and everything. He genuinely enjoyed your company… more than anyone he’s met before.

And so Retsu was in a constant battle with the overwhelming feelings that started to bubble over to the surface. And you trusted him.

“I just feel so safe with you, Retsu. Like nothing bad would ever happen to me if I’m by your side.” You give him a big grin while the two of you sat side by side in a botanical garden. “Thanks for always being so kind to me.”

You’d vent to him about the strange happenings of your peers. Retsu hadn’t realized how troubled you were so he made sure to brew you tea to calm your nerves.

It’s when your hand accidentally brushed against his that made his mind wander to places it never had before. There was no denying how attracted he was to you. How he wanted to pull you into his arms and never let go. How he wanted to keep you safe and far away from all the other fighters who made you uncomfortable. Would you like China? He’d be willing to take you to his home county- no! What on earth was he thinking…

But he refused to succumb to it! He didn’t want to lose you… he didn’t want you to be scared of him or uncomfortable in his presence because he became some animal like the others. Retsu was better than them… because you trusted him.

You lean your head on Retsu’s shoulder, your eyes felt heavier than usual after you drank the tea he brewed you.

“I’m sorry, Retsu.” Your words are a bit slurred but Retsu pet the top of your head in a comforting manner. “I don’t know why I’m so tired…”

“It’s perfectly okay. I can carry you to my room, you can have my futon.” You’re too sleepy to protest when Retsu scooped you up into his arms like some sort of fairytale princess. “I’ll keep you safe, okay?”

You give him a dopey smile and nuzzle your head into his shoulder. Your breathing now steady once you finally succumbed to sleep.

Retsu felt a bit guilty that he had slipped sleeping pills in your tea, but you had such heavy bags under your eyes… which was unacceptable! He could not believe the others never took your health into consideration. What if you fell ill? This was all for your own good.

Retsu brought you into his room and laid you in his futon. His thumb brushed a few hairs from your face in thought. One kiss wouldn’t hurt, right?

Retsu bent down and pressed a shy peck to your lips. His breathing ragged and his cheeks a bright red. That was enough to satiate him for now… he just wanted to keep you safe and healthy.

“I love you more than they ever could.” Retsu whispered while he tucked you in. “I’ll always take care of you. Sweet dreams, Bǎobèi.”

Kiyosumi Katou

Katou was not pleased about your arrival to the dojo. He was humiliated when he lost to you in the first round at the tournament and he hated how everyone crowded around you like you were some gift sent from the heavens. You were just some woman, nothing more.

Katou usually ignored you when you’d train with Retsu or spar with Katsumi. He’d ignore the way the karatekas teased Katsumi or how Retsu’s eyes lingered on you for too many seconds. Katou didn’t understand what was so special about you.

So Katou did what he did best, he insulted you. At first it started behind your back but eventually he grew enough confidence to say it to your face… a mistake on his part.

“How about we settle this with a spar?”

You ended up mopping the floor with him. His arms flailed as he tried to free himself from your rear naked choke. Your feet were way too close to his most sensitive areas than he would have liked and there was no doubt in his mind that if your feet came any closer, he’d cream his pants.

Katou eventually admitted defeat and gasped for air like a fish out of water. Drool and snot fell down his face. He couldn’t believe how pathetic he was- Katou was shocked when you used your sleeve to wipe his mouth and nose off. He didn’t understand why you took the time to clean him up and check on him when he had been horrible to you

“You should really focus more on your karate. You have so much potential.” You offer him your hand which he hesitantly took. Katou marveled at how soft your palms were compared to his… how small your hand was. “Perhaps we’ve gotten on the wrong foot, but I’m willing to start over.”

Since that day, Katou now understood why the other men flocked to you like sheep. You were strong and yet you were kind. You were confident yet humble. You were everything he wasn’t and rather than be envious of you, Katou now desired you. He yearned for you more than anything.

Thanks to you, he took his karate more seriously. Katou sought out your praise. His eyes filled with greed when he gazed upon your sweaty form. He felt his pants tighten and his palms sweat whenever you led give him a smile and a few words of praise.

“You’re doing amazing. You’ve improved so much, Katou.”

Katou’s heart flutters whenever you say his name and he just can’t get enough of you. He has to have you. Even if not fully, he’s happy with crumbs… which is why he began to steal your soiled undergarments from your gym bag. He needed this… he needed a piece of you. Katou needed more than what the dojo provided him.

Katou began to stalk you. In his mind, he knew he didn’t stand a chance to work his way into your heart so he followed you in the shadows. He was voyeur to how all the other fighters fought for your attention. Katou wished you would look his way more… he may not have been as strong as the others, but he was willing to be completely devoted to you

He began to write you notes (that he kept to himself), he took pictures of you when you weren’t paying attention, pictures of you sleeping, and he’d even dig through your trash. Which was only when he’s been without your attention for a few days. Katou knew he was sick. That the way he felt wasn’t normal, but he had no intention to stop. A part of him even wanted you to catch him in the act so you could call him every name in the book.

Yet the more rational part of him was sickened with himself so he’d drown himself in booze once a week. A vulnerable time where you finally ran into him outside the dojo…

“Katou? Are you alright?” You furrowed your brow at Katou who sat on the side of the road. His cheeks were a rosy red and he reeked of cheap cigarettes and beer. There was not a doubt in you that he was drunk out of his mind.

“D-don’t look at me…” Katou slurred his words as he pulled his jacket up to try cover his face. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

You frown and bent down to hold his cheeks, which made more color bloom to his face. Katou’s breath hitched when you checked his temperature. “Katou, I’m a bit worried about you. Have you been eating properly? Please tell me you didn’t drink on an empty stomach…”

Katou sighed dreamily as he leaned into your hands. He felt as if he was on cloud nine since you finally paid him some attention. “You always worry for me and care for me even though I don’t deserve it.”

“Everyone deserves care-“ You’re shocked when Katou began to pepper your palms with kisses. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and feel his heartbeat through each featherlight peck. “Katou? What are you?”

“I love you.” Katou’s eyes studied your face for a reaction, his heart hopeful that you wouldn’t reject him like you had the others. “I know I’m not the strongest or the best looking, but I love you. I’m willing to do whatever it takes for your eyes to be on me.”

“Katou-“ You gasped when he glided his tongue across your palm. You tried to recoil your hands but Katou firmly held them in place.

“Please, just indulge me once.” Katou begged as his body shook like a leaf. “Please... You don’t even have to do anything other than let me adore you.”

Part 2 coming soon…

I’d love to write more and tips would be appreciated. Please buy me a coffee?

459 notes · View notes

13uswntimagines · 4 months

Text

I'll Take Care of You (Alessia Russo x MMA!fighter R)

Request: Could we maybe see some slightly more stern dom alessia dealing with r (doesn’t have to be smut) in front of the team because reader starts acting bratty with them?

Part of the same universe as the come down.

Warning: Slight touching but not actual smut. Also D/S fic

Author's note: Hey Y'all, i really hope you enjoy this. I want to point out that D/S dynamics are based on trust and communication, so that's what I chose to focus on. Alessia is a soft dom, and chooses a punishment that she knows will be effective. If you want to chat or have any ideas or comments, feel free to hit me up.

Gearing up for a fight was the equivalent of stretching out a rubber band to its limit. It was 8 weeks of nonstop training, 4 weeks of conditioning your body to shed water so you could make weight, 2 weeks of cameras following you around for UFC embedded, and 1 week of media bombardment where you had to listen to grown men act like 5-year-olds talking about who was going to beat who.

It was utterly exhausting.

The only upside was that at the end of it, you got to step into the octagon and do what you did best.

You got to put the plan your coaches drilled over and over into your brain into place. You got to release all of the built-up anxiety and frustration from camp.

You got to fight.

It was like coming up for oxygen after being trapped underwater. Sometimes the cage felt like the only place you could really breathe on your own.

It had been your safe haven for almost as long as you could remember, which was kinda strange considering your health was put at immediate risk every time you stepped inside. It had been your escape from your family, and your only coping mechanism for as long as you could remember.

To go through training camp, and fight week and the weight cut, only to have your fight pulled at the last minute was fucking devastating.

It was like when Alessia brought you all the way to the precipice of an orgasm and then pulled away just before you could tumble over it, except far far far worse.

It made your blood boil. It made the monster in your chest roar that your opponent couldn’t do his end of the job to make the fight go on after all of the shit he was talking. And there was nothing anyone could say or do to make it better.

Dana promised that the fight would be rescheduled. He even threw in that if you won, you would be next in line for a title shot.

But it didn’t help.

The fight was set to be at the O2 arena, meaning your girlfriend and all of her teammates had been set to see you, and now they couldn’t. You couldn’t get your 10 training weeks back and you would have to do the weight cut all over again.

It was a shit sandwich, and it made you feel completely out of control. It made you crave for someone else to put you right again. For Alessia to remind you that she had control always.

Maybe that’s why you chose your satin button-down shirt to go to dinner with your girlfriend and her teammates and paired it with tight black skinny jeans.

It wasn’t often that you liked to push Alessia’s control. That you toed the boundaries that she set, but tonight it felt like the prize comparable to stepping into the cage.

With the little black dress she had worn, you really couldn’t blame yourself either. You could never resist when she showed off her legs. You were obsessed and she knew it. It was probably why she had chosen the outfit, to begin with.

It was probably designed as a reward of sorts for after your fight, except you weren’t having a fight. So you supposed it was kind of like a consolation prize.

Except you felt wound too tightly to really enjoy it.

“So that’s it, they just call the whole thing off?” Ella asked leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand.

“Yep,” You popped the p, your finger running a gentle circle on Alessia’s exposed knee. “I can’t even sign a paper that says I’m fine fighting him despite the failed drug test, and it’s too late to find a replacement even if we allow a catchweight,”

She let the movement continue, the hand wrapped around your shoulder gently squeezing the arm furthest away from her.

While she was relieved that the rules prevented you from fighting a man on steroids, she knew how gutted you were about the cancellation.

“Probably for the best mate,” Leah said, sipping her wine.

You shrugged, letting your finger trail a little higher on Alessia’s leg.

It was slightly too… forward for the steakhouse her teammates had chosen, but with the dimmed lights you figured no one could see your hand under the white tablecloth anyway. Not with how close you were sitting to your girlfriend.

“I already made weight, so it’s kind of a waste,” You muttered, dragging your nails up the inside of her thigh to just below the hem of her dress. “I’ll have to start camp all over again unless I take something short notice,”

“Can you do that?” Mary asked, from your other side.

You shrugged again. “I told Dana I was game if he needed someone to fill in, so we’ll have to see,”

Alessia’s eyebrows pulled tighter together “You didn’t tell me that, love,”

“Didn’t I?” You asked, feigning dumb, as your fingers finally made it past the hem of her dress. “Must have forgotten. I’m excited to see you all play on Tuesday though,”

You ran your nail across the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh, dangerously close to her center. But before you could make it any further, her free hand caught your wrist, and repositioned you so your hand was resting very innocently near her knee again.

“Ireland is always fun to face,” Ella smiled at you. “Should be a bit chippy,”

“I’ll definitely be rocking my MacCabe jersey,” You matched her expression, your thumb again beginning to rub circles into Alessia’s skin.

Leah frowned, dropping her menu. “You will?”

“Absolutely,” You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows and slyly trailing your thumb back up Alessia’s thigh. “Gotta support my favorite foul-mouthed Gooner,”

Leah’s eyes went wide, and Alessia squeezed your shoulder.

“And what about me?” Your girlfriend asked, a pout pulling at her lips.

You wiggled your eyebrows, a witty remark at the tip of your tongue, knowing it would piss her off, but the tension in your chest made you unable to stop yourself.

You wanted to push her. To force a reaction, even when you knew all you had to do was ask for what you wanted.

“Are you ladies ready to order?” A waiter asked, appearing behind Leah before you could let it fly.

You let your smirk widen, closing your menu with a thud and making eye contact with the waiter.

“Since she’s not on the menu,” You started, leaning closer to your girlfriend for just a second, edging your hand even further up her thigh until it was again past the hem of her dress. “I think I’ll have the tomahawk, medium rare with a Yorkie and the roasted carrots please,”

You winked at the waiter for good measure as the table giggled and Alessia’s cheeks turned bright red.

The waiter cleared his throat, turning his attention to your girlfriend. “And for you ma’am?”

Alessia opened her mouth, probably to order, but you cut her off instead.

“She’ll take the sirloin, medium with the Orzo and kale salad,” You said, reciting her normal order with perfect precision. “And she’ll be having me for dessert later,”

More giggles erupted from your friends, and you dragged your hand impossibly higher, extending your pinky so it brushed against her underwear.

She inhaled sharply next to you, sending you a warning side eye as the rest of the table continued to order, but she didn’t immediately remove your hand.

You ignored her warning, letting your pinky slide over the satiny fabric of her underwear.

It wasn’t what she normally wore, and you couldn’t help the wolfish grin that took over your features.

She had worn lingerie for you.

Maybe that should have stopped you. Made you consider that you wouldn’t get anything if you kept pushing, but again you couldn’t seem to help yourself.

“Will you be in the Ireland friends and family section then?” Leah asked, wiggling her eyebrows at your girlfriend. “Cause I don’t think my family or Less’ will enjoy you wearing the opposing team’s jersey,”

You made a noise like you were considering it as you finally slid your hand up and cupped your girlfriend’s heat. “I don’t think I’d feel at home though. Surely your family can deal with it right Less?”

Alessia nodded once, very stiffly. “My family loves you no matter what you’re wearing,”

You smiled impishly at her, adding just a little more pressure to her core.

She shifted in her seat, leaning very close to your ear, as Ella started talking about some movie she and Joe had watched, taking the attention of the rest of Alessia’s teammates.

“They’d even love you if you had to wear your collar at the game,” She chuckled darkly in your ear, her voice soft enough to get lost in the noise of the restaurant as her free hand yet again caught your wrist and pulled your hand back to a much more innocent position. “Now behave, or I promise you’ll regret it,”

You pulled away, your devilish smirk only getting broader. “No,”

Her eyebrows furrowed her expression something between anger and concern and warning, like she was trying to figure out why you were pushing the boundaries when you never did before.

You wiggled yours in return, offering her nothing else before joining the conversation of her teammates.

You weren’t ready to talk yet.

You were too content digging yourself deeper and deeper.

*****

You continue to push Alessia all throughout dinner, taking every opportunity to make her blush or to creep your hand further up her thigh. At one point you had even wiggled a finger beneath her underwear before she could stop you.

And your behavior hadn’t stopped once you left the restaurant.

You definitely placed your hand far too low on her waist as you and your friends walked back to the hotel the UFC had rented for you, and winked cheekily at the fans as you entered the building, spending far too long signing things and flirting just to annoy your girlfriend.

You knew from the “come on darling,” and the way she wrapped her arm around you, her fingers closing gently around the back of your neck that you were in serious trouble as she led you into the hotel and to the elevator.

“Good luck mate,” Leah nodded towards you as she stepped into her hotel room after Mary and Ella. “Think you’re gonna need it after that show,”

She tilted her head toward your girlfriend glaring a hole in Leah’s doorframe.

“Good night Leah,” Your girlfriend bit out, pressing her thumb into the space at the very center of the back of your neck.

Leah rolled her eyes at the movement, well aware of the dynamic between you and your girlfriend. More aware than most of her teammates for both club and country because of how long you had known her. “Right you two, do have too much fun,”

You stared at the door for a long moment after it closed, the tension in your chest bleeding down to your stomach.

You knew your time was up. That you would have to pay the piper so to speak, and it had guilt swirling along with the unpleasantness.

You knew that all you had to do was utter a word and it would all be over.

You knew that Alessia would stick to your limits, no matter how hard you pushed her, but you couldn’t help the… lingering anxiety that came from your past relationships.

The ones that took advantage of your submissiveness, and the unhealthy way you had always chosen to deal with stress. The ones that ignored your pain for their own pleasure.

“Come on then,” Alessia said, very gently running the nail of her thumb down the length of the back of your neck, and squeezing your shoulder.

You hummed, allowing her to lead you down the hallway to your own hotel room door, but she paused before she opened it. You looked up at her, realizing suddenly that you were trapped between her and the door.

She stepped closer so your noses were nearly touching. She dragged her hand from your neck to your chin, using her thumb to tilt your head to where she wanted it.

“I love you,” She said, her voice soft and sincere. “No matter what,”

She leaned in the last centimeter separating you, connecting your lips in a very sweet kiss.

You leaned into it, opening your mouth when her tongue poked out, welcoming it and meeting it with your own so they spun in a slow dance.

It was the reminder that you desperately needed.

The promise that she would take care of you, even when you acted like a brat.

She pulled away just enough to disconnect your lips, and your mouths separated with a low pop.

“Remind me of your colors,” Alessia said, her thumb running across your cheek.

“Green for good, yellow for slow down, and red for stop,” You recited, your voice breathless.

“Good girl,” She hummed. “Open the door, and take off your shirt and pants once we get inside,”

You swallowed hard at the change of tone.

“Yes Miss,” You said, already pulling the key card from the back pocket of your jeans. You didn’t look away from her as you fumbled until you heard the lock on the door beep, and clumsily pushed it open.

You stumbled backward, unwilling to break eye contact with your girlfriend because you knew you would probably get very little of it tonight.

She turned away from you as soon as the door slammed shut, busying herself with something you didn’t know.

“I believe I told you to do something,” She said, not even sparing a look over her shoulder at you, and you realized you had been staring for too long.

You cleared your throat, your fingers trembling as they unbuttoned your straining shirt.

You carefully pulled the satin materials from your shoulders, folding it neatly and laying it on the bed before you started on your pants.

It took you three tries to undo the button, the zipper getting caught in the stretchy material of your boxers. You peeled your tight jeans down your legs, folding them and placing them next to your shirt.

You felt Alessia’s presence behind you as you pulled off your shoes and socks.

As soon as they had been placed in their rightful place, her hand found its way to your bare back.

The touch was soothing and grounding and exactly what you needed to combat the slightly floaty feeling in your brain.

The hand slid up your back, all the way to your neck.

“Kneel,”

The soft squeeze on the back of your neck was like magic, as was the soft, but stern order.

You sank to your knees without question, your butt resting on your heels, your hands facing palm up on your thighs, your back straight and your head bowed, as the tension in your chest slowly ebbed away.

“I think we need to have a chat,” She continued, the hand on your neck sliding up to run through the hair at the base of your skull. Her nails scratched soothingly at your scalp. “Because your behavior in the restaurant is not the behavior of the good girl I trained,”

You grunted, glaring at a spot in the carpet.

You didn’t want to talk.

You already had to talk to Dana, to your coaches, and to the media. You had nothing left to say.

“Do you want to tell me what that was about at dinner?” She asked you, the fingers on your scalp wrapping through your curls. She gave it a sharp tug, forcing you to look up at her. “Because I’d really like to know what the fuck you were playing at,”

Her blue eyes burned into you, concerned and… something else lingering below the surface.

“I wasn’t playing at anything,” You grit out.

She raised a perfect eyebrow at you, as she searched your face.

“Is this because your fight was canceled?”

You didn’t answer her, unwilling to admit how… off balanced it made you feel.

But that was enough of an answer for her.

Her eyes softened minutely. “Baby,”

You shook your head.

You didn’t want her sympathy or her pity.

You wanted her to crush you.

“Alright,” She signed, tilting your head back so far it was painful. “I’m going to give you 2 options. We can call Clarke and Lexa and they can run you through a workout,”

You shivered at the mention of your respective striking and jujitsu coaches, knowing already that whatever the alternative was, you would be choosing it.

“Or you can take a punishment of my choosing,” She finished. “It won’t be an easy one,”

“I’ll take a punishment,” You muttered after a beat.

You didn't need easy right now.

She hummed, holding you close for a long second, and you relished in the attention.

That had been why you acted out at all anyway.

She dropped her hold on your hair suddenly, and you crashed back on your knees.

“On the wall,” She said, completely cutting contact with you, and walking towards the little kitchen area of the suite.

You let out a shaky breath, pushing yourself to your feet, and shuffled over to the wall next to the television across from the couch.

You turned to face the couch, wincing when Alessia pulled a wine glass out of the cabinet and a jug of water from the counter and returned to you.

She carefully filled the glass to the halfway mark, before her attention turned to you.

You knew immediately what punishment she had chosen.

The rules were simple, you would balance the glass in one of the designated calisthenic positions. If the water spilled, or the glass fell then you would move to the next position. The punishment would be over when you made it through all 15 positions to Alessia’s satisfaction, or if you safeworded.

It sounded easy, or like it wouldn’t be effective, but that was entirely wrong. It was the punishment that you hated the most.

Your stomach never failed to drop when Alessia approached you with the wine glass and water. Just the sight of her with it was enough to have your muscles quivering at the impending fatigue.

“Ready darling?”

You made a low sound, leaning back against the wall, bending your knees, and getting into the first position.

A wall sits with your knees pressed together to focus the pressure on your quads.

She used a hand on your shoulder to push you further down the wall until your thighs sat parallel to the floor, and then very carefully balanced the stem of the wine glass between your knees so the base just barely brushed your hamstring.

You frowned. She usually balanced it on top of your legs further up your thighs so all you had to do was stay level. But where it was now meant that you would have to stay level and squeeze with your adductors so it didn’t slip and spill the water.

“Tell me your color,” She said, her thumb sweeping under your chin, drawing your eyes away from the glass to meet her blue.

“Green,” you murmured, leaning into the gentle touch.

“Good,” She hummed, cupping your cheek for another long second before she pulled away. “I’ll be right there, reading my book,”

Your gaze trailed after her as she settled herself on the couch directly across from you, picking up the 7 Husbands of Evelyn Hugo. She easily found her page and began to read.

You glanced back to the balancing glass between your knees. It was already shaking slightly, the liquid vibrating around the bowl of the glass with the effort of your muscles to keep it in place.

It irritated you that you could already feel your quads and adductors quivering. It was pathetic that they were already fatigued after only 30 seconds.

You grit your teeth, letting your hips slip down further so you could squeeze with your glutes to take a little bit of the pressure off of your adductors. The glass shifted minutely, and the water inside sloshed dangerously before it settled.

Your eyes flickered back up to Alessia, wondering if she saw it too, but her eyes stayed planted in her book.

That irritated you too.

The only upside to your fight being canceled was that you got to spend more time with her. You wouldn’t have to split your attention between her and not getting your face caved in.

Now you didn’t even have that.

You thought of safewording and forcing an early end to your punishment. It would be a violation of the rules though.

But when she found out that you broke her trust (the most severe infraction you could ever commit) she might choose a more… harsh punishment. One of the ones that was listed in the soft limits the two of you had agreed upon. One that would separate you from reality, and leave you feeling floaty and thoroughly controlled. Thoroughly owned.

A part of you wanted her to forcibly put you in your place. To disregard how bad it would feel tomorrow and the bad memories it would bring up for you, and just demolish you. To crush your will and grind you into dust. To beat you into oblivion.

It was what your opponent would have done anyway.

You knew Alessia would never agree to it while you were this upset. She didn’t like to give in to your self-destructive tendencies.

The glass between your knees shook again, drawing your attention back to the warm fire setting deeply into your quads. They would ache tomorrow you were sure, but then again wasn’t that part of the point?

It would be a reminder that even when she wasn’t with you, you belonged to Alessia. It was an invisible mark that claimed you. That reminded you she would always take control when you felt dangerously unstable.

And then it clicked.

This punishment was Alessia’s favorite because it was based on your choice to obey her. Your choice to push your body to its limits to please her. Your choice to give her control over you.

She didn’t need to use a belt or a paddle to bend you to her will.

She just had to ask.

You just had to relax and trust that she would take care of you.

You let out a long breath, counting down from 3 in your head. You let it fall back into the wall with a low thump and your shoulders sagged, as the remaining tension in your chest drained out of you.

“Good girl,” Alessia said softly, and the page of her book turned. Your eyes darted back to her, hoping that they would be on you, but they weren’t.

She looked so composed, both legs tucked under her, reading her book. It was diametrically opposed to how you felt, completely out of control. A quivering mess fighting to stay in a simple wall sit.

It further reminded you of your place, and the weight of it was enough to have your eyes sliding closed.

You focused on your breathing, 3 seconds and 3 seconds out. Deep and slow.

You lasted for more breaths before the glass slid from between your legs, landing on the carpeted floor with a light thud.

Your eyes snapped open, and again you expected to meet Alessia’s eyes, but they remained trained on her book.

“Next please,” She said softly, flipping another page in her book.

You slid down the wall to the floor, sucking in another long breath as you nodded, wishing that she would just look at you, but you knew that was part of the punishment too.

You took another breath as you rolled over to your stomach and sat yourself up on your elbows, squeezing your core. It was a slightly modified plank designed to show off the muscles in your back and arms for the benefit of your girlfriend and to give your legs a break for a bit.

She waited until you were in a position to stand, slowly padding over to you and grabbing the wine glass off of the floor.

She paused next to you, and you felt the way her eyes dragged across the muscles on your back.

“Always so pretty for me,” She hummed and you heard the water as she refilled the glass. “Too bad you can’t have the reward I had planned,”

Her touch lingered as she carefully balanced it between your shoulder blades, and stepped away.

“Let’s see if you can beat your best time on this one,” She said, talking more at you than to you. “Your record is 22 minutes, which isn’t quite championship timing. I think you need to make it at least 25,”

You groaned.

Her competitive streak was legendary and often a part of your punishment when you had been particularly ornery. You switched positions at her pleasure, so you knew you would be planking all night if you couldn’t break 25 minutes.

It was like when she decided you needed to break your edging record.

There would be no mercy unless you safeworded.

You focused on your breathing as she sauntered back to the couch, fighting to keep your core and back muscles locked to prevent the glass from tipping.

Your abs clenched, and you so badly wanted to roll your shoulders to relieve the tension building in the space between them. The space holding the glass.

You focused on the sound of Alessia’s breathing. Each rhythmic inhale and exhale like the clicking of a metronome, broken only by the occasional fluttering of a page.

You wished she had put the timer in front of you so you could see how long you had left.

But then again that would probably be worse.

You always found it harder to go the distance in a fight when you could see the clock ticking down. It always made you feel more exhausted at the end of the round, and made standing up off of your stool at the start of the next round that much harder.

You sucked in another breath, refocusing on the sounds of Alessia’s inhales and exhales. You counted each one, letting them wash over you and lul the fog slowly seeping through the crevices in your brain.

It let you forget the trembling in your core muscles and the sting between your shoulders. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was each of Alessia’s breaths, and your ability to please her.

To be honest, you forgot about the water balancing on your back.

You shifted, lifting your head so you could watch Alessia, and that sent the glass tumbling to the floor with a low thud.

She looked up at the noise, pushing herself to her feet and grabbing the glass.

“Good job darling. You made time.” She rewarded you by meeting her eyes for a long second and flashing you a winning smile. “Position 3,”

You took another deep breath as she filled the glass.

You pushed yourself up into a pushup position, slowly lifting your right arm and left leg so they extended.

Your arms shook immediately, and it was then that you recognized just how exhausted you were already. Your core ached in a way that was edging on unpleasant, and your back felt like you had run 5 rounds with your jujitsu coach.

It was strange that you felt so drained and you had only made it through 2 positions.

Alessia waited until you were stable before she balanced the glass in the very same area between your shoulder blades.

The spot that felt so tight.

You knew you weren’t going to last long before she even stepped away. But you tried to breathe through it. You tried to ignore the little beads of sweat collecting at the small of your back, and the cramp setting in just below the glass, radiating up to your neck.

You deserved the pain. You had done your damndest to make sure Alessia gave it to you.

“Tell me your color,” Alessia said, her voice dripping dominance, sending a shiver down your spine and causing the glass to tumble off your back.

You collapsed to the floor.

You hadn’t even made it a minute.

“‘M ok,” You murmured into the carpet, each breath rattling as it left your lips.

You hadn’t even lasted long enough for Alessia to make it back to her seat.

It was pathetic.

“That’s not what I asked you,” She said, crouching next to you, her hand resting on the throbbing space between your shoulders. “Tell me what your color is,”

Your brain ran into overdrive, taking stock of the burn in your thighs, and the way the muscles in your back were locked up tight, and before you could even think through all the reasons why you shouldn’t safe word, “red,” was falling from your lips.

You had been red before you even started position 3, you realized.

“Good girl,” She said, settling fully down beside you, her hand running soothingly up and down your sweat-soaked back. “You did so well for me, and I’m so proud of you for knowing your limits,”

You groaned into the carpet as warmth spread through your chest, chasing away the last of the tightness that had been there since Dana caught you after the weigh-ins.

“‘M sorry for pushing you,” You mumbled, your words nearly getting lost in the floor. “Didn’t know how to…”

You trailed off, losing your train of thought. You weren’t even sure what you didn’t know how to do, only that antagonizing your girlfriend. Your miss. Had been the only way that seemed to make sense to achieve it.

“I know darling,” She hummed, gripping under your arms and shifting so your head was resting in her lap and your upper body was between her legs. “Take some deep breaths for me, and then we’ll get you cleaned up and we can cuddle,”

You made a low sound of agreement. You felt content with her completely around you, her scent enveloping you, and her hands running gently through your tangled hair.

She was the stability to your rocky seas, and you trusted that she would take care of you, just like she had already tonight.

A cuddle sounded perfect because it was perfect.

It was everything you needed. She was everything you needed.

#woso x reader #woso imagines #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #the come down universe

546 notes · View notes

redtsundere-writes · 3 months

Text

Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen

mma fighter!sukuna ryomen x femalecoach!reader

Part 1. The King Of The Ring.

| Next →

Spynosis: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Sukuna being Sukuna. female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Warnings: Cursed words. Sexual harassment. I only read it once, lmao Word count: 2899 words. A/N: Hiya! Well, I am up-to-date with Jinx, and even tho it's so fun to read, I just fucking hate Joo Jaekyung so much! So, I decided to kinda write my own version with my favorite toxic man. Hope you like it, folks!

“Sukuna Ryomen, ladies and gentlemen! He demonstrated again why he is the king of the ring!” The excited narrator exclaimed, meanwhile the king flexed the golden belt around his waist after another amazing fight.

His body was glossed with sweat, his lips were smiling proudly and the blood of his opponent was sliding down his skin. A dangerous beast who just caught his prey. They showed the repetition of the final hit in slow motion, a perfect punch in the perfect moment. Luck doesn’t exist in the world of mixed martial arts, we have unique opportunities instead. I also used to believe that luck didn’t exist, until I witnessed it in person.

“It’s here,” I thought out loud when I saw the giant sign that read Team Black MMA Gym in bright white and red letters.

It was the most important MMA gym in Tokyo. I heard that they only accept the fighters with most potential of the country. My trainer told me that I should try out but, as a woman, I wasn’t particularly interested in entering a male-exclusive gym. The only woman there is the physiotherapist.

I took the elevator to the gym’s floor. When the doors opened, the smell of sweat and the sound of the metal weights welcomed me. I just stepped inside, and I had already eyes of me, was expecting it to be honest. A woman in a gym filled by rugged men isn’t something you see every day. It didn’t help that I was using an oversize gray hoodie which covered my shorts, making it seem that I wasn’t wearing any pants.

The gym was divided is training areas. In the corner, there was a real ring that stood tall for fighters to simulate real combats. Along the gym, there were several punching bags, weight stations and resistance equipment. Also, there were more areas designed to practice different fighting styles.

The sound of the punches and kicks, mixed with the instructions of the coaches, created a threatening and energetic environment. You could easily notice who were the fighters with discipline. Those were working hard to perfect their skills, showing off their determination in every move. The place was impregnated with a spirit of self-improvement and sportsmanship, where the passion for martial arts was in every corner.

“Welcome, miss.” A tall blonde man called me.

“You must be the manager, Nanami Kento,” I greeted with a bow, which was reciprocated.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you in person,” he greeted back. “Let me introduce you to your trainee.” He leaded the way through the heavy equipment to the outstanding ring.

Sukuna was simulating a fight with another member of the gym. Nanami and I just waited for them to finish so he could introduce me. Sukuna was constantly moving towards his opponent, creating closure enough so he could punch him better. The power difference could be noticed from what they were wearing. Sukuna was just wearing a black compressed shirt and gray shorts, meanwhile his black haired opponent was wearing the gym uniform and all the protection equipment available.

It was a different experience watching live the king of the ring in action. The details like the sound of the punching winds and how Sukuna’s muscles flexed with every move were lost on the TV. When Sukuna threw a definite left jab that left his opponent in the floor, I couldn’t help to gulp hard. He was a killing machine.

“Great job!” Nanami applauded along some other fighters who were witnessing the fight as well. I clapped so I didn’t look so out of place.

Sukuna turned to my way and a grimace of disgust appeared on his face, a total stranger with no pants on. He took his gloves off and throw them to my feet. “So this is how it is going to be?” I asked myself, not even bothering picking them up. Sukuna gritted his teeth when I didn’t react.

“What an awful cleaning lady you hired, Kento,” Sukuna disdainfully said.

“She is not a cleaning lady! She is your new coach,” Nanami introduced me, ashamed by the attitude of his star athlete.

“Kick her out, I don’t need a new coach,” Sukuna groaned.

“If I knew this was going to be like this, why am I here?” I asked myself in my mind, starting to take back my decision of becoming the coach of a well-known fighter with anger issues. Ah, I remember now. I needed to see something for myself.

“Hello? Am I talking with y/n?” A couple of weeks ago, Nanami Kento called to my gym, desperate.

“You are talking with her,” I answered, thinking he was a recruiter or someone in the UFC.

“Great. My name is Nanami Kento, and I am Sukuna Ryomen’s manager.” A famous fighter in the MMA world. The world champion in the light heavyweight division. The king of the ring and a wild tiger during interviews due to his lack of humbleness. A horrible person to the simple eye, a magnificent opponent in the ring.

“I’ll be straight forward. I don’t if you saw his last fight…” Sukuna’s last fight was in Las Vegas against Suguru Geto, another amazing fighter. The interesting thing about that encounter was seeing two great fighters specialized in opposite areas. Geto specializes in floor fighting, meanwhile Ryomen is an incredible boxer. Everyone went crazy when the fight was announced, could Sukuna beat him with just his bare punches, or would Geto be able to bring him down to his advantage?

In the middle of the fourth round, Geto pulled him to the floor and Sukuna was in problems. Obviously, Sukuna has some training in floor fighting, but he that wasn’t enough when you are against the best. Sukuna tried to set himself free by the force, but his punches weren’t good enough to win the fight.

“It will be a technical knockout.” I thought out while watching the fight from the comfort of my living room. I was eating chips mindlessly until I saw a unique opportunity.

Sukuna, in some way, could free himself from Geto’s strong grip. With great momentum, Sukuna delivered a precise punch to the jaw that completely knocked Suguru out. I jumped from the couch to watch closely the repetition. I had seen Geto do that chokehold a thousand times, no opponent can just simply free themselves like that. My eyes couldn’t believe how clean that punch was.

“The thing is that his coach and I believe he must improve his floor techniques,” Nanami explained the situation.

“There are many more renowned trainers who specialize in floor, why me?” I asked, curious at the whole conversation. I have heard rumors that Sukuna is pretty picky with whom he lets in his gym.

“You are right. You have been the tenth coach I had called today,” Nanami honestly answered. “Sukuna is too stubborn and doesn’t want to admit that he was also beaten in his last fight. He goes out of his way to get rid of every coach we bring him.”

“Why do you think I will accept?” I asked. If he was calling me, a woman, there’s must be a reason.

“If I believe someone can humble him and teach him some discipline is you,” he declared.

An offended smile appeared on my face. I wasn’t going to let Sukuna Ryomen treat me like if I was a slack to deal with. Now I understood why every coach gave up on him, you cannot train something that doesn't want to be trained, but you can tame it.

“Sukuna, we already talked about this. You should train with someone who specializes in floor so what happened in Vegas doesn't happen again,” his coach said, Satoru Gojo. A tall white haired man in an all black coaching uniform. He was standing beside him with his arms crossed, clearly stressed from dealing with his bratty attitude all day.

“What happened in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas. I don’t need another stupid coach,” he defended himself while he brushed his hair back with his fingers.

“You win, I won’t train you,” I said in defeat. I turned around and was making my way to the elevator. “Either way, I don’t train assholes,” I said with a sly smile. A howl from the fighters who heard me echoed through the gym.

“Stop!” He barked. I turned around to see what he wanted.

“You didn’t want me to leave?” I asked, trying not to smirk.

“What did you call me?” He dared me to repeat myself.

“Did Geto hit you so hard that you went deaf? I said, you are an asshole!” I shouted from my place.

Nanami quickly got to me so I behaved better, but I couldn’t back down now. Sukuna scoffed and snapped his fingers at me.

“Get up here,” he demanded as another fighter gave him back his gloves. He wanted to fight me.

“You don’t have to, miss,” Nanami warned me in a whisper.

“I know what I am doing, don’t worry,” I answered in the same volume.

I put the teeth protector I brought with me on my pink shoulder bag. I wrapped my hands in bandages while Sukuna was analyzing me from top to bottom. It was understandable, I was a dangerous wasp in his bee hive. The rest of the fighters stop training to get around the ring to witness the match. When I finished wrapping my hands, I took off my hoodie, revealing my abs and toned arms. Some whistle and applauded as if I was a stripper, when I could shut them up with a kick in the nuts. Sukuna, in the other hand, just kept staring, looking for weaknesses. He was being serious.

“You better not be wasting my time,” he angrily barked. His red eyes still looking me from head to toes without shame.

“You are already wasting mine,” I answered. Sukuna smiled, offended.

“We are really going to let this fight happen?” Nanami asked Gojo.

“It looks like it's the only way he will accept her,” Gojo said before stepping inside the ring. “Touch gloves so we can start.” I placed my gloves in the middle so Sukuna could bump them, but he just backed away. “Fucking pussy” I thought, backing up to my side.

A small audience formed around the ring for an unusual show. A light heavyweight champion against a random girl that just showed up. It looked like the possibilities of winning weren’t on my side. I started moving my legs and arms to relax my limbs. If Sukuna was a lion, I had to be a fast gazelle. His preying eyes were on me all times. I smiled at him. He could look me everything he wanted, he didn’t scare me. It was my time to show him who was boss.

“Fight!” Gojo shouted.

There is a gold rule in mixed martial arts: “The first hit is the most important.” Sukuna flew towards me with a superman punch. He was open. I dodged it fast enough so I could jab him against his left cheek. The surprised audience gasped collectively. Sukuna quickly got used to my rhythm and changed his posture towards me. I created distance between us, so I could evaluate my options. I didn't have any other option than going for his legs, but that wouldn’t be a simple task. His legs were too strong to just swoop him off his feet with a single kick. I needed to do something more drastic.

Sukuna kept closing the distance between us to punch me directly, he was looking for the knockout. He was more of an offensive than defensive fighter, like I already knew. Sukuna hit me a couple of times that were celebrated by the public. They stung with power and intense pain. He was giving the best of him. I needed to answer with the same power, but in a more clever way.

I kicked him in the stomach so he could back down, but he pushed my hand down just in time, so my kick didn’t connect well. I tried kicking the other side, this time he stopped me by grabbing my ankle. Big mistake. I impulsed myself with my other leg to kick him on his face to knock him to the floor. Sukuna fell with a big slam that made the whole audience to howl in surprised.

I quickly got onto him to lock him down against the mat with my legs around his neck and torso. He tried getting up, just like with Geto, but I wasn’t going to let him. This was the only chance I got to beat him. I could listen to Sukuna growling under his breath. He punched me against my sides, but I couldn’t give up. I latched my left leg on his right arm, making him turn around slowly. The audience screamed confusing instructions to Sukuna because they knew if this continued like this, the fight was over. I made Sukuna turned around on his belly. I reached for his head, so I could chokehold him in between my biceps. The screams kept getting louder, but I didn’t give a damn. I needed to end him, if I wanted a place on his gym. Sukuna started to breath with difficulty while this hands tried to loosen up my powerful grasp. He was reliving what happened in Las Vegas.

“Come on, Sukuna! Finish this!” Gojo ordered among the hollering. Sukuna sighed and obeyed. He tapped my arms three times in surrender. A technical knockout. I quickly released him and I stand tall, leaving him space so he could breathe.

“y/n “Medusa’s snake” y/ln is the winner,” Gojo announced while raising my arm in victory. The fighters applauded me in approval. I took my dental protector to breathe comfortably through my mouth. Even though I won, I wasn’t finished.

“Good fight…” Sukuna groaned under his breath, giving me his hand to shake. I did shake it, even though he was visibly mad. I could understand why, I just kicked his ass in front of his entire gym.

“This means you will train Sukuna?” Nanami asked me with hope in his voice.

“No, I said I didn’t coach assholes” I shrugged. Sukuna’s face turned from angry to offended in a hot second.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! I am a world champion, you should be honored to train me!” He shouted on my face, but I didn’t budge. He wasn't upset that I had to train him. Now, he's just mad because I didn't want to train him anymore. We were making progress.

“I am not interested in training the world champion of assholes,” I seriously said before putting my hoodie back on.

I hung the bag on my shoulder and quickly walked away from the whole situation. I dodged the other fighters on my way out. Nanami kept following me, asking me to reconsider the offer. I took the elevator, leaving the chaos behind me. Once the doors closed, I collapsed against the wall behind me. Fighting against Sukuna was an entire workout. The bruises started to show up in purple hues, my legs were trembling weak, and my lips were begging for water. Dealing with Sukuna wasn’t an easy task.

The elevator’s doors opened on the first floor. I stepped out just to rest my body for a minute. I took my water bottle out to drink some while I waited. What I was waiting for? I really didn’t know, but I needed to wait for someone to come chasing after me to beg me to stay. Maybe it was going to be Nanami, Gojo or any other fighter. It could be anyone.

“Wait!” The last person that I thought would come for me said behind me. It was Sukuna. He looked tired and agitated. He was wearing a black hoodie, and he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

“What do you need, asshole?” I asked without taking the straw off my mouth.

“Don’t call me like that,” he groaned.

“I will once you stop acting like one,” I said, putting my water bottle aside. Sukuna rolled his eyes and sighed. He was so done. “Now you know that you need me?” I asked with a confident smirk.

“I don't need you, but you are good. I want you in my team,” he corrected.

“Fine, with one condition.” Sukuna raised his chin at me to continue. “You must accept that you are terrible in floor fighting.” He laughed at the “absurd condition.”

“I am a world champion, I am not terrible in floor fighting,” he angrily said.

“It’s not good to lie so much,” I said, replicating his tone. I turned around to exit the building. “If you don’t want to fulfil my condition, I can’t train you.”

“Wait!” Sukuna grab me by my arm to stopped me. “Fine,” he sighed again. “I am terrible at floor fighting, are you happy now?” I turned to him with a bright smile on my face.

“See? That wasn’t that hard.”

“Hush,” he groaned, clearly embarrassed. His cheeks were a bit flustered, it was kinda cute.

“When do we start?” I asked with a proud heart. The Medusa’s Snake had beaten another terrible man.

“Right now,” he pulled me with him, back to the elevator.

Next Part→

Masterlist.

Order your own fanfic!

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

380 notes · View notes

kandyshoppe · 5 months

Text

The Dorms Bra Shopping pt 2

SavannaClaw

Heartslaybul SavannaClaw (you are here) Octavinelle Scarabia Pomfoire Ignihyde Daisomnia

Leona Kingscholar

In the SunSet Savannah, women are viewed as the more dominant of the sexes, and most men don’t EVER get invited to shop with them. Leona views this as a VERY big step in the relationship, almost like moving in together! It’s very important to him to be respectful, so he almost says no! He doesn’t know how to act while shopping for intimates!

Calls his sister in law, almost hyperventilating, a mix of Riddle and Deuce to be honest. He’s writing on his hand the notes his sister in law gives him. Compliment something, offer to pay but don’t push, ect. Falena is jealous that Leona stole his wife for basically an entire night as they both talked for hours on proper etiquette, but quickly calmed down once he learned what was happening!

Leona sadly doesn’t follow one big rule though, he’s paying, he’s a gosh darn prince! He’s buying you the best of the best! Leona I feel enjoys being a provider in a sense. He gets a small ego boost knowing you’re using something he payed for! Every time he smells a perfume he got you, sees the strap of a bra he paid for, sees you bite into a sandwich he chose, his ears flick happily!

After he’s dragged you to a MUCH BETTER store, probably at a mall with private parking, he’s watching as some store associate helps you. Either with sizing, what you’re looking for ect. If you look at him like a deer in the headlights cause you’re overwhelmed, he steps in and says you’re just looking around.

Leona likes the animal patterns, the tacky ones specifically! You end up looking to the store associate for help in designs cause Leona dresses like a gay uncle or a rich golf fan dad when given the chance! Leona gets some fancy silk briefs with the UGLIEST zebra pattern! He refuses to let you see how much everything was, cause he knows you’ll feel bad. But trust me, you don’t want to see the amount of zeros on that bill!

Ruggie Bucchi

Another respectful boy, but I think he used to go shopping with his granny, so he’s not as clueless as Leona. That being said, Ruggie only truly knows how to find the best bang for your buck, he’s a haggler at heart! If you want a nice bra for a fair price, bring Ruggie! But Ruggie doesn’t know much about bras, so while he is helpful, I suggest giving him a run down on bras.

He’s now terrified of you getting stabbed with a wire! He’s checking durability like those new dads shaking those cribs as if their infants are gonna be MMA fighting in them! When he finds one he thinks is safe, he nearly faints at the price! He didn’t even look for a cute one! HOW IS IT SO EXPENSIVE!?! He wants to call his granny and apologize for her having to pay this much for a BRA!

You don’t end up buying a bra, but you both end up buying fabric, some bamboo strips, and Ruggie sews you some bras! You may be embarrassed at him having to measure you, and trying it on in front of him (he totally lets you wear a tank top or tighter shirt if that makes you more comfortable and for my Muslim chest havers, he has his granny help out)

But by golly if the bra he made wasn’t SO comfortable! And cute! He totally would splurge and get some cute designs for you!!! He got lace if you want it, he can embroider some stuff if you want! He is a believer in functionality over fashion, but totally wants to make you happy too so he can do some extra work! Again, Ruggie isn’t into fashion so he honestly doesn’t have a preference. If you’re happy, he’s happy!

Ruggie is probably one of the best guys to ask for help, cause he realizes he can make something of much higher quality for cheaper, and honestly, he may make a business that would put Azul to shame with how well he can make clothes! (Also he totally secretly embroidered a heart into the band, cause he loves you)

Jack Howl

You have to ask him at the right time, specifically when he’s tired. Either when he’s just woken up, is heading to bed, or after a tough workout. Otherwise he flat out refuses stating “intimantes” are to be seen only in intimate settings, not a store. But if you catch him, he doesn’t have the heart to take it back.

He’s SUPER awkward though! Standing stiffly off to the side, his jaw is clenched so hard he might crack a tooth! He’s staring at his feet, only giving grunts as answers, and looks like he wants to be literally anywhere else! But he is a dutiful man, and is holding your bags, and following you around like the puppy he is

He does end up buying a new compression shirt and socks, and MAYBE a jockstrap if you can convince him. He likes the tighter more sporty looks on you and him. If he HAD to choose a style, a cool sports bra and bikini bottoms are his go tos. Usually in black, maybe with your favorite colour as an accent if he can find them.

After the date he does agree to a small cafe lunch where he starts to relax a bit more, and realizes it’s silly to be this terrified of SHOPPING! He’s very respectful but will poke fun at the more just for show bras and panties, like…they don’t cover anything! Don’t let him learn about pasties cause he won’t be able to stop laughing for awhile!

You owe him a date now! He went shopping with you, so now you have to go shopping with him! And eye for an eye! You go buy some sporting goods, or cactus stuff. (Also, if you find some underwear with cactuses on them he may or may not turn into Jade and start teaching you about the different types)

#twisted wonderland #leona kingsholar x reader #twst leona #leona kingscholar #twst ruggie #ruggie bucchi #ruggie bucci x reader #twst jack #jack howl #Jack howl x reader #x fem reader #x gn reader

395 notes · View notes

cobaltperun · 30 days

Text

Lost in your eyes

Tara Carpenter x female Reader - smut (18+, so, minors do not interact)

Bottom Tara x top Reader, hell if I know what else to add here. This is basically Lost 11.5, Tara and Reader's first time, though it can be read as stand alone, just know that this is set between Scream 5 and 6, that Reader is an MMA fighter and has several scars from fighting Amber and Richie.

Lost masterlist

Word count: 3.1k

You were finally at peace, you were back home. Tara was with you, sitting on your lap, only wearing a shirt, your shirt, by the way, and underwear, and it was already six in the morning, a day before her birthday. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, with your arms wrapped around Tara’s lower back, or her arms around your neck, with her right hand gently playing with your hair, or her head tucked beneath your chin as she relaxed in your arms. You just knew this was home. The two of you held each other as close as physically possible until the first hints of sunlight began seeping through the window. "Think we should move to bed? Maybe sleep for at least a couple of hours?" you suggested, not wanting to disrupt the bubble you two created, but still wanting to make sure Tara was comfortable.

Tara just lazily nodded, letting you handle all of it. And you did just that, easily lifting her up before you lowered her down on the bed and were about to lay down next to her when an arm around your neck held you back. "Y/N," she brushed her fingers against your lower lips. "Let's just stop pretending we don't want this."

Everything else vanished, leaving only the desire burning in Tara's eyes, the desire you were sure was present in your eyes as well. You placed your hand next to Tara's head, to keep yourself from pressing too much of your weight on Tara and leaned down. She met you in the middle, eagerly pressing her lips against your own.

You let her lead, feeling her eagerness to finally kiss you with every move of her lips, feeling it in the way she moaned into the kiss as she wrapped her legs around your hips, pulling you closer. She was almost desperate, nibbling on your lower lip, kissing you so hungrily you couldn’t help but match her with just as much desire. You felt her need for you in the way her left hand pressed against your back and the way her right hand frantically went from your neck to your cheek, to the back of your head, then beneath the collar of your shirt, You felt it in the way she moaned into the kiss when you slid your palm down her side, all the way to her naked thigh. The oversized shirt she stole from you rising as Tara pressed her hips against you, rolling her hips and arching her back.

You growled, deepening the kiss, and gently nibbling Tara's lower lip as your fingers made contact with the waistband of Tara's underwear. Tara broke the kiss by leaning her head back, abruptly letting it fall back on the pillow, moaning softly when you rested your palm right against the bare small of her back and pulled her in, smiling as she continued rolling her hips against you.

"Y/N," she breathed out as you kissed her neck, tugging on your jacket.

That seemed to snap you out of it for a moment and you pulled back enough to look her in the eyes. "Are we going too fast? Do you want me to stop?" you just kissed for the first time and already you were making out, and given the way things were going, you likely weren’t going to stop there unless you stopped right now, or unless Tara told you to stop, and you felt like she was even less likely to want to stop than you.

"No, please don't stop. Just, your clothes," Tara was quick to reassure you.

That almost instantly flipped the switch and you leaned in to kiss her again, taking your time and committing the feel of her lips to your memory, memorizing every twitch of her body underneath your own before letting her breathe once more. "What about my clothes?" you whispered into her ear, smirking as she gasped when you lightly bit her earlobe and then moved to kiss your way down to her neck.

"Y/N!" Tara whined, prompting an even wider from you. If your arm wasn't planted so firmly on the bed you were sure she'd try to take the jacket off herself, but as it was she'd need your help.

"What about my clothes, Love?" you peppered small kisses all over her neck. "Talk to me, Tara."

"Take them off, already!" she cried out.

Okay, less teasing, you'd have to remember that. "As you wish," you briefly kissed her and pulled back, slipping your hand from her back, and slowly getting back up.

Tara grabbed onto your back, annoyed at reduced contact, but you just grinned, pulling her arms away from your back and kissing the inside of her left forearm, kissing up to her wrist, all the way to her palm. She watched you intensely as you kissed her palm a few times, completely still as you moved her hands above her head and leaned in. "Patience, Tara," she hummed at that, relaxing, trusting you.

"I've been patient, Y/N," she complained, but this time allowed you to pull away and kneel above her, smiling widely as she watched you take your jacket off. Tara smiled mischievously, you’d dare say seductively and took your hands into her own, pulling you toward her and placing them over her breasts, moaning teasingly as she took her time to feel the muscles in your arms flexing under her touch. “So strong,” she whispered, biting her lower lip when you lightly squeezed her breasts.

You leaned down and kissed her neck again, biting gently, but still leaving marks. You slowly moved your hands up and took hold of her collar. It was your shirt, after all, and you tugged, your biceps straining under Tara’s touch as the collar stretched.

“Shit,” Tara sighed, hearing the threads in the collar rip. “Y/N,” she moaned your name, but then her breath hitched and she pulled her left hand back. You pulled back, confused by the sudden change in her demeanor, and then you remembered. The scars from that night…

“Tara,” you let go of the collar, moving up and kissing her forehead. You slowly caressed her cheek and took her left hand. You brought it to your lips and kissed along her scar. “Talk to me, Love,” you encouraged her, more than willing to stop right here and now, as long as Tara could open up about how she felt.

“I’m sorry, I just got self-conscious,” she murmured, running her fingers through your hair. “You protected me and got scars and mine,” she paused, looking away.

You leaned back, placing your hands on Tara’s legs and spreading them so you could move away from her. She didn’t resist, she looked at you, confused and curious, as you lifted her right leg up and kissed the scar from the surgery. “Yours are the marks of a woman that wouldn’t give up, no matter how painful and difficult it was to stay alive,” you smiled as Tara blushed and lowered her leg.

You waited for her to stop you as you pushed her shirt up, revealing the rest of her scars, but she didn’t stop you, she just watched you as you kissed the scars on her front and when you felt like you kissed each one enough times you looked her in the eyes, silently asking her to turn around. And she did, giving you access to the scars on her back. You kissed those too. “And you’re just as beautiful as you were before,” you said as Tara took her shirt off, tossing it aside.

“I need you,” she arched her back, trembling while you left kisses along her spine.

You smiled, kissing the back of her neck, and then whispering right in her ear. “Slow down, Tara,” you rasped, almost daring her to rush you, but she just shuddered, her hand reaching behind to pull you in for a kiss. When you separated Tara was breathing heavily, a string of saliva still connecting your lips. She turned onto her back once again, just kissing you as your hands teased her, you caressed her sides, her neck, you pulled her closer, but you weren’t giving her what she wanted, not yet.

Tara moaned, your hands and lips driving her crazy, your touch leaving her skin hot, and she was embarrassed at how wet she already was, when you didn’t even go that far yet. The taste of your lips, your tongue against her own, the firm muscles she wanted to touch for years finally within reach for more than a hug. And you were still wearing your shirt, still teasing her so mercilessly.

She gasped when you slipped your hand between her thighs, still not touching her, but instead just massaging her inner thigh, so close to what she wanted, yet still so far. She unbuttoned your shirt, her hands immediately exploring the exposed skin. You shuddered, stopping what you were doing and giving Tara a chance to start taking control. She began kissing your neck, sucking and leaving hickeys anywhere her lips could reach.

“Tara,” you moaned, your tone low and making her throb at the mere thought of how you would sound and say her name when you came. She pushed you, fully aware that you were willingly moving to her whims, until you were on your back, and she was straddling your abs.

“I told you I’ve been patient,” she pecked your lips and began grinding against your abs, moaning when you grabbed her hips and helped her move faster. She looked down, blushing when she realized how close she was already.

“Just like that,” you encouraged her, taking over her movement before she could tire herself out and she dared to look you in the eyes. You looked mesmerized, lost in her eyes, in her movement, taking it all in and committing every tremble and response of her body to memory. That look in your eyes, the desire, the need, it just turned her on more, and she unhooked her bra and took it off, just for a moment thinking that it wasn’t fair. She was left in her panties, and you were almost fully clothed. That thought disappeared in an instance as you pushed her panties to the side and her bare pussy touched your abs. “Fuck, Y/N,” she whimpered, throwing her head back and moaning, she was right there, just about to cum when you lifted her up.

She looked down, her eyes wide as she slowly came down from her high. “W-What?” there was no way you would… Surely, you’d… no, the grin on your face told her she was completely right and you flipping your position, so Tara was beneath you once again only proved it.

“Not yet,” you whispered in her ear, so sensually she felt her pussy clenching, but she saw the question in your eyes, the silent question if this was fine.

She blushed, remembering how she, about ten months ago, slightly tipsy and with no filter whatsoever, mentioned she didn’t think she’d mind being teased and edged. Well, not only did you remember that, you’d make sure she could see if she really didn’t mind that. So, she nodded, not trusting her voice.

You went lower, taking her nipple in your mouth, one of your hands caressing her body, just barely ghosting over her skin so she could feel it. Tara just closed her eyes and spread her legs for you when you inserted the tip of your finger inside her, just slowly teasing her. You’d just finger her for a bit, pull out and move closer to her clit, without touching it, keeping her right on the edge.

“Tell me when you want to cum,” you said, your gaze once again focusing on Tara’s face, on the smile she couldn’t wipe off, on the lust in her eyes, she knew you enjoyed the soft content sighs coming from her lips, so she didn’t hold back.

“Keep doing that,” she encouraged you, but it wouldn’t be long until this would bring her closer as well. “Slow down,” and you did, just barely pumping in and out. “So good,” she sighed as she was once again brought close to the edge and then made to relax. “Make me cum now, please,” she had enough, she wanted you to make her cum, and she nearly came from just watching you take her panties off with your teeth. And to prolong her waiting you took your shirt and bra off as well. “God, Y/N,” she moaned, chewing her lip when you lifted her legs and placed them on your shoulders.

You began kissing her ankle and kept going until her inner thigh, your lips brushed against her, just teasing her clit before you did the same with her other leg, and Tara was just gone, digging her fingers into your hair and pulling you closer so you could finally make her cum.

You started slow, just kissing her, experimentally licking every now and then and gauging her reaction. When she moaned, when and how she twitched, what made her arch her back, you took note of each and every one of her reactions. And then you wrapped your lips around her clit and slipped two of your fingers inside her, speeding up the pace just enough to, combined with all the teasing you did before, bring her over the edge.

“Y/N!” she cried out your name, her body convulsing as you held her close. You kept fingering her to ease her back down and kissed your way back to her lips. Tara eagerly kissed you the moment you were close enough. “That felt so good,” she sighed, still breathing a bit heavier and occasionally twitching beneath you.

“Good,” you kissed her again, though it was only a quick kiss this time.

“Your turn,” she looked eager to get back on top, but you had other ideas as you pinned her hands above her head.

“This is my turn,” you made sure to slip your fingers inside her once again, just to get the point across. “I want to see you cum again,” you told her.

Tara’s eyes widened and she moved to pull away, which you immediately let her do. “Then… could you,” she pointed at the drawer, and you raised an eyebrow, moving away from her and sitting down at the edge of the bed. As you grabbed the handle, Tara wrapped her arms around you, kissing the scars on your back just like you did to her. And you relaxed, letting her do it until she moved to kiss your neck. By that point you figured she was ready for whatever was in the drawer.

You blinked a few times, seeing a harness and a strap on and you looked back at Tara nervously hiding her face. “Can you take it?” you asked, and your heart skipped a beat when she nodded.

“I tried it when I bought it two weeks ago,” she mumbled, clearly embarrassed. It was actually adorable how she had no issues before, but now that there was a toy involved, she suddenly got embarrassed.

You unbuckled your belt and got up, stripping slowly as Tara watched your every move. Her fingers twitched and she sat back, rubbing herself as you got ready. “Can you take me though?” you teased, approaching her and loving how her breath hitched when you slowly rubbed the tip against her.

“Do it,” she breathed out, spreading her lips and teasing you with that smile on her face.

“Not until you ask for it,” and to get the point across you inserted just the tip before pulling out.

“Please,” she thought that would be enough. You’d prove her wrong.

“That’s not enough, Love,” you repeated the motion again.

You didn’t expect her to get closer and kiss your neck. “Please, Y/N, please make love to me,” she whispered sensually in your ear.

You put your arms around her lower back and pulled her closer. “Damn, Tara,” as if you could tease her more after that. You slowly pushed the tip in, letting her adjust before pushing more of the strap into her. Tara held onto your shoulders, her breathing getting a bit deeper as she took it deeper. Finally, she took all of it and you stopped to let her adjust, kissing her neck and shoulders, and rubbing her back to relax her.

“Move, please move,” she pleaded, and you did as she asked, slowly moving your hips. It was awkward at first, seeing as you weren’t used to this kind of movement, but it didn’t take long to find the right rhythm.

Tara held on to you, as your bodies moved, a thin layer of sweat covering your skin as she moaned into your ear. You loved how vocal she was, how responsive she was, how her nails dug into your back, just enough for you to feel them, but not nearly enough to pierce the skin. You loved how she moved her hips, meeting your thrusts and pulling you down to kiss her lips without once stopping.

When you stopped kissing you just looked her in the eyes, noticing how dilated her pupils were, and you couldn’t help but moan. “I’m close Tara,” you pushed her down, so she was lying on the bed, instead of being in your arms, and you began rubbing her clit while thrusting into her.

“Me too,” she whispered, swallowing hard and wrapping her legs around your back. “Just a bit more,” she cried out when your body jerked.

You kept going, pushing through the pleasure so you could make her cum again and luckily it only took a few more thrusts for Tara to come as well.

The moan Tara let out was guttural, and her back arched as she pulled you down to her chest. You were breathing heavily, but you still focused on her heartbeat, loud and fast and so welcome to hear.

“Fuck,” you pulled out of her, and while taking the harness off just rubbed her back. “You’re amazing,” you kissed above her chest, once again trying your best to help her calm down.

“Mhm, you too,” she sighed, content and relaxed once again, though her body did occasionally twitch, but the obviously satisfied look on her face told you it was more than worth it.

“Right, let’s get you cleaned up, and get some chocolate and water or whatever, hell if I know,” you chuckled, making Tara laugh at that.

“Chocolate and water first, shower after that,” she agreed. "And kisses," she added quickly.

"And kisses," you laughed.

A/N: Well... that was an attempt at something... I'm not sure if I should ever touch writing smut or if I should give it another shot eventually, but I'm fairly sure it's obvious I've never written smut before 🤣🤣🤣 so, yeah, it's up to your reactions.

#tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #scream #jenna ortega x reader

331 notes · View notes

farlydatau · 1 year

Photo

Jon Jones Retro 90s Poster Vintage Style Graphic Inspired T-Shirt

0 notes

coquettetoji · 6 months

Text

{⭐️} TOJI FUSHIGURO MOODBOARD

★ general toji hcs ★

— QUEUE WEST COAST BY LANA DEL REY

— let’s just pretend in this world he doesn’t have a son to actually care for yk.

— biggest beefiest juiciest (ok i’m exaggerating) but holy shit this guy is huge. i’m talking mma boxer huge, he takes great pride in his physic. and is guilty of being a gym rat.

— cockiest mf ever but in a hot way, he does that cheek tongue thing unintentionally and omlllllll

— toji definitely wasn’t the smartest in school, neither math smart, science smart or reading smart. he fucked most of his teachers but i mean he passed?

— although he wasn’t very academically smart, his skill in business and negotiating led to him earning a high position for a large financial group. drugs like hand over that amex????

— drives a motorcycle, i’m thinking ducati, as a hobby. 😏😏

— smokes cigarettes and drinks, his fav is hennessy, but other than that he’s a clean man

— was an emo in highschool, we don’t talk about that though. and neither does he.

— multitudes of tattoos across his body, mainly on his chest and arms though.

— his dream job as a highschooler was to open a tattoo parlor. he was surprisingly a good artist when it came to sketches.

— silver chains and silver jewelry, he’s pale so his complexion matches the colors better.

— sarcastic humor that would make kids cry. this guy treats everyone the same as if they’ll understand his humor and that makes him not so great around kids

— has a soft spot for cats, really wants to have a kitten but won’t ever commit to it/taking care of it

— has every single dating app downloaded not to date but just to get validation from everyone who swiped right on him. (gets at minimum 83 swipes per day)

— speaking of, his most used apps on his phone are phone (calls), messages, and instagram to watch his instagram reels 😋

— respectful towards women. although he seems like a d bag he does know how to treat a lady right

— drives a blacked out mercedes benz s class, ofc with tinted windows in case of.. yeah

— the scar running from the middle of his cheek down the side of his lip is from a fight during high school that got violent, he won though don’t worry

— grey/silver/green eyes, with jet black hair. he was genuinely gifted with godly genetics

— when he does smile, his lip corners turn up sharply giving him that joker smile type of look, my legs are wide open

— the most laid back chill guy ever, he doesn’t take life seriously enough for him to actually give a fuck

—6’4. argue with the wall.

— his hands are huge and the veins 😩😩😫😩😫 HEHEHE

— wears black compression shirts or black t shirts with sweat pants all day everyday, it’s his signature look

— he smells a bit like cigarettes and Maison Margiela Replica Jazz Club, just an overall eye rolling back into head type of scent

— makes dad jokes all the time minus the part of him being an actual dad

— played basketball growing up just in his neighborhood, was good enough to go pro but his grades were ass lol

— he listens to these actual underground rock bands that literally no one has heard of or the sports podcast on the radio like a true dad

— kinda behind on everything going on in the world right now, but it’s okay bc we love toji for it regardless

💌 new message from mica ‧₊˚✧

my favorite incoming dilf with a midlife crisis 😫

honestly one of my fav boards yet, i tried so hard to find the perfect resemblance of toji and omg the scar too kinda works perfectly

#toji fushiguro #toji fluff #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji x you #dilf toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk x reader #jjk fanart #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen au #toji zenin #toji x y/n #jujutsu toji #i want him so bad

477 notes · View notes

aasouthteranoswife · 4 months

Text

Cartel Princess

Summary: At night, South runs the streets of Brazil, and during the day, he's a famous MMA fighter who loves his woman but not the brattness that comes with it.

A/N: South is tatted up in this fic, and the reader is small. Dividers by: @benkeibear

Networks: @themovingcastlez @enchantedforest-network

18 + MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warning(s): mentions of drugs, brat taming, daddy kink, blow job,breeding, cum, cursing, no aftercare, p and v penetration, mentions of corruption, established relationship, tattoos, rough sex.

The past:

During the day, South is a famous MMA fighter, and by night, he's on the streets of Brazil running his well-known cartel "Rio Rocinha."

How you ended up at an MMA fight was your boss had an extra ticket and asked if you wanted to go. Your boss had the likes for you, but you didn't. You just went for the free tickets and food. He was much older than you and wasn't your type.

When you saw the current champion walk into the octagon trying to keep his title. How he moved in the cage, he never missed a punch or kick had you hot between your legs, your eyes stayed locked onto the fight.

He was tattooed from his neck to his hands, down to his ankles, even his large back tattoo got you heated is what set you off was the muscles and tallest. You need him.

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

You stood out when South saw you in the crowd, whne he was taking a break feom round one those big beautiful [ insert your color] eyes and long beautiful [color] hair, wearing a skimpy little dress that showed too much. Sitting in the front row in front of the cage he was fighting in.

At the end of his winning match, he came up to you asking your name, where you're from, and if he could have your number. You gave him your number and a little about yourself. All while your jealous boss watched. All you knew about him was his height, age, and that he was still the heavy weight champion.

After you two ended your conversation, your boss walked you to his sports car and took you home for the night as so you thought.

"Y/N L/N I'm gonna have to fire you," your boss says.

"Wait, what, why?" You say anxiously.

"Unless you sleep with me. You can keep your job, and I'll even promote you," he says with a shit eating grin.

"Ew no, I'm not going to that. Let me out now," you screamed while trying to open the car door, but the child locks were on.

"Fine, your fire collect your stuff tomorrow morning from your desk," he says angrily as he stops the car in the middle of the road and unlocks the door.

You hurry out of the car, slamming the car door shut as he sped off in his sports car, leaving you on the side of the road.

You started to cry. When your phone vibrated in your purse, you checked to see who texted you, and it was South. As you walked to the nearest bus stop, you called South, explaining everything that happened.

Fifteen minutes later,

He picked you up and took you home that night. South ended up staying the night as you two talked all night, getting to know each other, and the rest was history

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

You dated for a year, and he popped the question that's when South convinced you to move to Brazil, leaving your New York home. You thought taking a risk would be fine.

The thing that you didn't know about him was running a cartel business until you moved to Brazil. You were pissed that he didn't tell you, you two fought for hours until South shut you up by fucking you stupid and all was forgive. He even gifted you a new car and house to start your future with him in Brazil.

The present:

"Minami," you shout from your balcony, looking over your living room, placing your hands on the rail.

Wearing nothing but a yellow lacy thong and a tight white t-shirt that showed your round nipples. As you looked down at your husband, counting his drug money from the previous night, shirtless in grey sweatpants with his signature gold chain around his neck and tattoos on full display, with his right-hand man named Blade and another guy with tattoos all over his face.

South rolled his eyes and stopped what he was doing to look up at what you wanted so badly to have to shout his birth name.

"Put some fucking clothes on," he shouts pointing his finger at you from above. Slamming his money down on the glass coffee table in your living room as he stood up from the soft couch you picked out. He didn't even say, "What's up, babe?" He just shouted at you.

"No, this is my house too South. I'll wear whatever the fuck I want." You say taking your hands off the rail crossing your arms across your chest. As the tattooed face guy said, "Damn" under his breath.

South clinches his fist with rage as a vein in his neck bulges out, "is the so," he says angrily. He releases his balled up fist, cracking his neck while massaging it in the process.

Without any more words, South started walking with long strides heading up the stairs to the balcony you were standing at. He was halfway up the stairs when you registered that he was coming after you.

"Oh shit," is all you said before running to your master bedroom and slamming the door shut.

"Shit, she got it coming for her," Blade says to the tattooed face guy while continuing to count profit.

But not even a minute after the door flies open and slams shut again. South was on your ass. You giggled, running and jumping on your king-size bed, trying to make it to the other side of the bed. But South catches you by your ankle with one of his tattooed hands. Making you fall onto the bed as South pulls you closer to him as you were on your stomach.

South grabs your arm, forcing you to face him. "What did I fucking tell you about talking to me like that in front of my men? Hmm," he says angrily.

"It was a joke, South" you say, waving it off.

South crouches to your level as your only 154cm compared to his 210cm. With his nostrils flaring, he inhales and exhales intertwining his large hands together. As you played with the hem of your panties.

"Open your fucking mouth," he says getting up and pushing his sweatpants down to his muscular tattooed thighs and grabbing your bun in the top of your head.

"What?," you say, playing stupid, but there was no time for before he forced his nine inch cock down your throat making you gag.

You held onto his thighs, digging your manicured nails into his inked skin while kicking your feet on the bed as black mascara tears run down your cheeks.

"Breath through your nose, I'm not letting up," South says, giving your ass harsh slaps, making your skin swell red.

Drool dripped down your chin as South continues to thrust deep into your throat as you looked up at him. He lets go of your hair and pulls out of your throat. You try to catch your breath as South barks an order, "get up." You did as you were told getting on your knees and sitting down.

South grabs the bottom of your white t-shirt and pulls it up and off, throwing it across the room. You grab onto his sweatpants to pull them down more, but his large inked hand wrapping it around your neck, pushing you on your back and forcing your legs open to see the wet patch between your legs.

"Hold your legs open," was all husband said before grabbing you thoug and ripping it off in one go. You start to rub your sensitive clit but South pulls your hand away roughly.

"Good Girls get prepped, bad girls don't," he says, pushing his entire length inside of your heat. Making bit your lip and rolling your eyes back.

"This is what you wanted, huh?" he says, giving your hard nipples a pinch as he starts to thrust in and out of you. All you did was shake your head, yes. Taking the pleasure your husband is giving to you.

"Why didn't you just say so," he says, caging you in between his tattooed arms as you grabbed onto his back as he hit your favorite spot. You loved so much, making you moan loudly.

"There she is, my little bratty princess," he says into your ear and nibbling it as he continues to thrust in and out of you.

"Please," you say.

"Please what" South says

"I wanna cum, please let me cum daddy," moaing out your words.

"My pretty little baby wants to cum," he says moving one of his arms, rubbing circles on your clit making your toes curl, shaking your head as you dug your nails into his back making your legs spread wider for him.

"Go on," he says thrusting faster and deeper making you scream amd shake as you cummed on your husband's cock. As he spilled his seed inside your womb. Grabbing both of your legs to keep them open as he slowly pulls out of you watching the cum drip out of your hole.

"Remember, princess, you always get what you want, just ask," South states, pulling his sweatpants back up and walking out of the room.

South goes back to the living room like nothing happened, counting his money over again after you interrupted his count.

While you laid in bed trying to come down from your high as your husband's cum still leaked out of you and onto the clean bed spread wanting to take a shower.

"What happened up there, boss. You got a nasty cut there?" Blade asks with a smirk. As South looks at the nail marks, you made in his back, bleeding slightly.

"Its part of the territory now shut the fuck up and figure when our next shipment is coming in." He says laying back on the couch, lighting a joint.

Taglist 🏷

@bubble4u @suyacho @ushitoshiii @goshuke @midiirl @bigmood-myman @dangerlanger25 @bobateasilverpearl @officialholyagua @missgremory @winterv-black @nanamis-wifey-reye @bontensucker

🌧If you want to be added DM or fill out my taglist

#south terano #terano minami #tokyo revengers #terano south #terano south x reader #terano south smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader

167 notes · View notes

ohnococo · 3 months

Text

Fight Night | CHAPTER 3 | MMA Fighter!Sukuna x Reader

“I’ve got a fight coming up, so I’ve got to stay clean for the tests over the next 6 months,” there’s a tinge of annoyance in his face, the closest to pouting you think a man like Sukuna can get, “so you’d better have fun tonight.” You don’t know what to say. You had fun every night with him, and while it had occurred to you that this was definitely not a permanent arrangement you’d thought you just wouldn’t hear from him again one day. You aren’t sure if you’d have preferred that to having an actual warning for this last hurrah, and being told about it as it’s happening. Having Sukuna’s eyes scanning your reaction during the few seconds you have to process it leaves an odd feeling in your stomach, something he’s quick to distract from as he goes back to kissing your neck, hands travelling further up your legs, pushing them apart gently. He has a last word on the matter, whispering into your ear as his palm meets your pussy and he hums happily at discovering you’d decided to forego panties. “I know I will.”

Its your last night with Sukuna, and all you can do is make the most of it.

Warnings: drinking, drug use, public sex, rough sex, vaginal sex, hand jobs, spitting, creampie, fingering, exhibitionism, sex under the influence, fem bodied reader, fuck buddy situation, overstimulation, forced orgasm

Notes: I’m really happy with this chapter, I hope you guys support and enjoy!

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

Time had passed strangely in the two months since you met Ryomen ‘The King’ Sukuna. It felt like it had flown, like you’d only just met him, but at the same time you felt like it had taken a couple of years off your life. He went hard every single time, and so did you, but at the very least you would have some stories to tell.

You’re no longer unsure like you had been the first time you arrived at the VIP section unaccompanied by Uraume. You’re expected, so you say your name and the man steps aside quickly, welcoming you warmly as if you had the same name worth brown nosing like Sukuna did. It’s weird having a taste of his power just by proximity, but it explains the loyalty of the people around him even further. You don’t let it get to your head though, always acutely aware of the way you got here, always aware of how easy it would be for someone else to get here in your place.

Right now isn’t the time for those thoughts though, nor the time for thoughts of how Sukuna never communicated in the days between telling you where to be and when, nor the time for thoughts of how that fact gave you a little pit in your stomach.

No, now was the time to make some memories on Sukuna’s dime, and on his cock.

Walking into the lounge, he’s as handsome as ever, shirt rolled up and further exposing his already unconcealable tattoos. His hair is a much more saturated shade of that peachy hue that managed to seem intimidating on him despite the otherwise pretty nature of such a colour. His thickly muscled thighs seem to be straining much harder than usual against his slacks and when you catch his eye he stretches his legs out as he lies back in his chair. Familiar faces say hello to you as you pass and you nod back in lieu of more lengthy pleasantries as the call of his lap beckons you.

He stops you in your tracks with two raised fingers before you have a chance to take your spot. He looks you up and down, appraising you for a moment through heavy lids before licking his lips and smiling. “All that, for me?”

You roll your eyes, opting to sit on the arm of his chair instead of his legs since he was starting up with you already. He won’t have it though, grabbing you by the hips and sliding you onto his lap as he locks in on your neck, kissing along the exact spots his lips had been the last time you’d seen each other the previous weekend.

“All this for a drink.” you finally reply, leaning away from his kisses and towards the table in front of his chair where your drink was awaiting, having been ordered by Uraume as soon as they spotted you speaking with the bouncer.

You lick your lips after sipping the lethal but necessary combination of Red Bull and vodka, having finally admitted to Sukuna only last week that you didn’t actually care for the taste of the Dom Perignom he’d kept on ice for your arrival at the beginning of each night out after the first. When you’d told him you’d just asked for something expensive to piss him off a little he’d had a good laugh at that.

A smile finds its way to your lips when you recall the danger in his voice when he’d told you that you didn’t want to try too hard to piss him off. ’But,’ he’d said, ’my pockets are deep when it comes to having a good time.’

The ’for a price’ part of that went unsaid. Lucky for you the price was something you were more than willing to pay.

Your reminiscing is interrupted and you nearly spill your drink as he hooks an arm around your waist, pressing your side back into him to remove any distance you’d momentarily created. He’s wasting even less time than usual, already renewing the marks on your neck with lips and tongue and teeth. You take a slow sip, tangling your other hand in his hair and tugging lightly.

He steals your lips before you have a chance to take another drink, and something on his tongue is bitter, giving you a hint at what would be helping this night along. His kiss is hot, hands squeezing at your thighs, cock already hard underneath you, and when he pulls back there’s a dangerous look in his eyes.

You don’t know what to say. You had fun every night with him, and while it had occurred to you that this was definitely not a permanent arrangement you’d thought you just wouldn’t hear from him again one day. You aren’t sure if you’d have preferred that to having an actual warning for this last hurrah, and being told about it as it’s happening. Having Sukuna’s eyes scanning your reaction during the few seconds you have to process it leaves an odd feeling in your stomach, something he’s quick to distract from as he goes back to kissing your neck, hands travelling further up your legs, pushing them apart gently.

He has a last word on the matter, whispering into your ear as his palm meets your pussy and he hums happily at discovering you’d decided to forego panties.

“I know I will.”

A stop for food is a required occurrence on these nights. You were grateful for it, honestly, but shocked the first time Sukuna had shouted the name of a place to his entourage as you filtered from one club and into smaller groups to take separate cars to your destination. You had been beginning to think he wasn’t human with the way he tanked line after line and drink after drink. But you’d always find yourself reminded that he was indeed human as you pulled up to some dive or greasy burger place at some point in the evening.

Tonight is no different, with your odd crowd settled into the hard metal outdoor seating, eating your fast food. Strangers filter in and out of the door behind you, also soaking up the copious amounts of alcohol and drugs in their stomachs during the pit stop. The night air and lack of sweaty people pushing against you doesn’t feel like too much of an oddity though, with the rhythmic reggaeton blasting from someone’s car in the parking lot reminiscent of the vibe of the club you had just been at before.

Sukuna is pounding his second cheeseburger and complaining, as he always does, that it ’isn’t even real food’.

“Yeah, is that why you look like you’re about to lick the wrapper?” You ask, playing with the straw of your Sprite. This middle-of-the-night break was never enough to sober up, just enough to make it through the rest of it. On occasion you wouldn’t even stop long enough to sit somewhere, instead watching as Sukuna ate in the back of his hired car, acting like he’d been starved for months. You figured that it probably did taste especially decadent compared to whatever diet he was forced to adopt for training.

“If you have any suggestions of where I can get a clean meal at midnight without cooking it myself, I’m all ears?” He pulls your drink from your hands, finishing half of it with a hiss as if he hadn’t been putting far worse things in his body every night you’d been with him.

“Of course you don’t cook.”

He raises his brows at you, only slightly more perturbed than amused that you were implying there were things he couldn’t do. “I don’t need to cook, that’s what Uraume is for.”

Uraume blushes at being referred to in a way that could even be slightly construed as favourable and you’re shocked to find out that they had actually been his cook all this time. Why their duties also included waiting on Sukuna hand and foot you did not know.

“If you say so…” you turn your attention to your phone, checking messages, assuring friends you were both alive and conscious, waiting for the next round to begin as you get what might be your only moment of rest from Sukuna’s very much welcome but very much relentless onslaught.

As you respond to one person, then move to respond to the next, Sukuna glances down at your screen, obviously picking out the emojis listed above the preview of his last text to you. He sneers and gestures to your screen.

“What the fuck is that?”

“This?” You wave your thumb over his messages, and he points to the name you’d given him, drawing a shrug from you. “I mean, you’re ‘The King’ or whatever.”

“And the monster thing?”

“Yeah, that’s you.”

His brows raise higher, as he tilts his head forward and gives you a look as if he were silently reprimanding you for your choice of name for him. You have to laugh, as much as he bantered with you through the night, there were occasionally moments like this that would remind you he’d gone far too long having his boots licked. Particularly if a few emojis in place of his name seemed to bother him.

Then, something changes in that look. It has your hairs standing on end and your pussy stirring.

“You want me to show you how much of a monster I can be?”

He doesn’t need you to answer that as he stands, grabbing you by the wrist to pull you up with him. He starts dragging you into the restaurant, calling over his shoulder to the group as he does, “We’re leaving in 15.”

He pulls you through the bustling restaurant, past booths packed with people in various states of inebriation, some laughing, some singing, some making out. He drags you past the counter separating the hungry crowd from the overworked employees, rushing to stuff burgers into bags as numbers were shouted out. He guides you right into the bathroom, into a stall, and has your back pressed against the now shut and locked door before you know it.

You knew you were going to get it from the way he holds you captive by your upper arms, teeth clashing with yours as you open your mouth wide to accept his kiss. He’s moving fast, almost too fast for your body to catch up. It doesn’t need to though, as he only releases you long enough to undo his belt and pants and have his cock out and ready. Then you’re back in his grasp as he hoists you up and you’re held firmly by his hands on your ass as he lines himself up. You wrap your arms around his neck, trying to rock your hips into him despite the precarious position.

The head is slipping through your wetness, gathering slick as it catches at your entrance, but slides past where he wants it nestled again. The heat of it against your tender clit only gets you wetter, groaning and enjoying that alone until his eyes are snapping up from your pussy to lock with yours.

His glare tells you all you need to know, that you won’t be cumming on that cock without him, not right now. He pins you against the stall with his body, moving one hand from your ass to line himself up properly, rocking up to his toes to fill you without a care for stretching your tight pussy far too fast. He keeps you pressed there as his hips snap against yours, putting a hand on the top of the stall to fuck you harder. Your moans are high pitched, breathy, carried by the air being squeezed from you with each harsh thrust. Sukuna has his body pressed so firmly against you that you can barely get any air in and it’s all making your head spin, heat pooling in your stomach already.

The fluorescent lights are blinding, and as you look at Sukuna with his clenched teeth, curled lip, and intense stare you wonder if he always looked quite so crazed as he fucks you. Or if it had always been hidden in the dim lighting of all the clubs and cars you’d fucked in. Every so often his lids get heavy, and his glare slips as he watches your face while you unravel completely, and you wonder if he’s close, but then he’s snapping back into that scowl.

You tighten your arms and legs around him as he brings his other hand up to grip at the stall too, hanging on as he fucks you so hard your eyes are rolling back in your head. Then, he stops. Before you have time to process anything his voice is in your ear, in your head, pulling you from the depths.

“What’s my name?”

“What?”

His hips snap hard enough against yours that you’re left gasping for air. You can’t even respond and even when he returns to his previous punishing pace you feel like you’re going to fall apart any second.

“Say my fucking name.”

“S-sukuna.” He’s fucking you so hard your voice is shaking.

“All of it.”

“Ryomen Sukuna.”

“Louder.”

You want to be worried about getting kicked out of this place, but have to just trust the crowd outside this bathroom was too loud and too rowdy for you getting your guts rearranged to be noticed. Sukuna doesn’t appreciate the hesitation though, leaning back enough to put some space between your chests, forcing you to cling to him tighter as he uses your body weight to have you bouncing into his punishing thrusts even harder.

“Louder.”

“Ryomen Sukuna!” Your volume surprises even you as you’re now able to shout and moan with abandon with his weight no longer constricting your body.

It has his cock throbbing inside of you as you hold on tight, hands clawing at his back as he fucks you till you’re tensing around him, blinding heat ripping through you as you cream on his cock. Your senses are scrambled, ears ringing, eyes screwed shut, pussy pulsing so hard you’re barely aware of Sukuna pumping you full of his cum.

His thrusts slow as he presses you back against the stall door, hands settling back onto your ass to hold you tight. He’s back to giving you those slow, languid kisses you’d come to know so well - tongue deep in your mouth, teeth bared, nose sliding across yours as he presses his everything against you. He speaks low into your mouth as you start to clench on him again, this time in discomfort, arching and pushing at him so he’ll put you down before you teeter too far into overstimulation. He doesn’t release you though, instead increasing his thrusts even as you start to squirm and whine on his cock as the feeling is so intense it almost hurts.

“You won’t forget it.”

If he expects a response to that, he won’t get it. Your attempts to push off of him only help his long deep strokes as he fucks you through that intensity and straight into another orgasm that has you clawing at his back, shoving turned to pulling him closer, whines of discomfort turned to moans of pleasure. He was right, you didn’t need to tell him that, though. Not while you were cumming again, this time on his slowly softening cock.

He’s true to his word of taking 15 minutes as he lowers you down onto your shaky legs, and holds you upright against his side on the way back out to where the rest of your night awaits.

It’s not lost on you that you’re ending the night in the same club you’d first met Sukuna in. You wonder if it’s intentional. Then, you decide not to think about it, clenching around the fingers idly thrusting into you, stirring up the last dregs of cum that hadn’t yet slipped out. Sukuna is ordering the last drinks before the bar stops serving and the man working the VIP lounge pretends not to notice how you’re slouched against Sukuna, catching your breath after another rough fuck on the very same couch you’d had your first with him on. He finishes his order as he rubs his fingers along your walls as he so often loved to do while you twitch and pant and come back into your body.

Once the server leaves, he pulls his fingers out of you, settling his sticky hand on your waist instead. He wiggles his nose, sniffling and swallowing the drip in the back of his throat. It was late now, or early, and you’d decided you were on alcohol only for the last of it since the sun would be up soon and that only meant you’d be heading home. It meant you were slowing down, of course, but you knew it was time for that anyway. You sigh and let your head lull back, resting it half on Sukuna’s shoulder and half on the back of the couch as you watch him watching the room.

It was weird that you’d gotten so used to his face tattoos. It was weird that you’d gotten so used to anything about him, actually. The size and the strength. The swollen cartilage of his ears and scarring of his brows from years of fighting. The piercings, the hair… and the surprising softness of his lips, his thick straight lashes. It has you smiling, giving yourself a little mocking laugh at how you were actually looking at this giant monster of a man and thinking he looked pretty.

He looks at you, catching your smile, and smiles back. “I’ve fought men for laughing like that.”

You roll your eyes, both annoyed and glad that he had ruined that little private moment with yourself. “Well good thing I wasn’t laughing at you then, cornball.”

He loves doing that, reminding you of who or what he is, like you don’t know. Like you haven’t experienced his strength firsthand. Not like that though. No, his touches for you were hungry, aggressive even, but always with a little hidden reminder that you had won his favour. As the server returns with shots and bottles you allow yourself to think to yourself, just for a moment, that you’d like to keep that favour.

Only for a moment though, because you knew the score. Always had. You two had these nights out, and that was it. And now that they were gone, presumably so were you. You always got that same pit in your stomach when you found yourself wondering how many other people got these wild little months in between fights with him, or if you were even the only one during all of it. You were bouncing on his cock within an hour of meeting him, and you’d done worse since, so you had to assume the worst. You had to assume he probably wouldn’t be bothered to reach out to you once he was back to fucking around after his next fight.

Despite your attempts to bury them, those same thoughts flash in your mind again, once the club is closing and Sukuna’s hand is tightening on your thigh while you settle in for the drive home. You take a breath in, then release it, letting your worries go with it. You weren’t assuming the worst, you were being realistic. And you decide that the best thing you can do for yourself right now is get off on Ryomen ‘The King’ Sukuna one last time as a proper goodbye.

It’s a big ask of your body. You were always worn out by this point of the night, but Sukuna had gone all out this time, spending a little less time dancing and drinking and railing lines and more time railing you. It had made you realise that he might have been holding back just how insatiable he was before, something that was nearly incomprehensible with the way he’d leave you wincing every time you moved for days.

Still, you push past the soreness that had settled in already, and there’s barely any time between you climbing onto his lap like a needy little thing and him working his fingers back into your familiar heat. The hum of electricity over your skin has it feeling just as good as the first time and you can’t be bothered to worry about what the driver can see, not anymore. You’re straddling him, head pressed against the roof of the car, holding onto his shoulders to keep from sliding around as the driver makes his way back to your home.

“One more for the road, then?”

It was a bit late to ask now, with you panting into his mouth, trying to keep your tired body balanced on his legs. You don’t know how you’re still taking him after everything tonight, even just his thick fingers, but you know you won’t regret it tomorrow when you can barely move. You never do.

The thrum of pain is much duller than the throbbing of your clit as you ride his fingers, and he curls them just right to have you seeing stars. You rest your tired head on his shoulder, unrestrained moans joining the sloppy squelch of his fingers fucking your sore, stretched out hole. Just as you’re moments from being completely lost in another orgasm, you feel his other hand move from your hip and hear the familiar sound of his zipper. You can barely keep your eyes open as you look down at him releasing his cock, shaking your head hurriedly without lifting it from his shoulder.

“‘m too sore…” it’s more of a pathetic sounding whine than you’d like, but he was making you feel so good even with the sting of your abused pussy and you were well past the point of faking composure with him.

It only makes his cock throb in his grasp. “Then use your hands.”

That, you can manage. Though it’s not exactly easy for you to sit up with how much your body was screaming at you to just lie down and pass out already. You’re nothing if not persistent though, as you grip his cock with one hand. Then, assessing just how small your hand looks holding it, you decide to grip it with two. You’d become very familiar with it by now. Its girth, its bulging veins, the little silver piercings running up the shaft… but it was something else seeing it in the light of the rising sun. You aren’t dwelling on that for long as Sukuna tenses and has it throbbing in your hands.

“Spit on it.”

You purse your lips, gathering your spit in the front of your mouth, but before you do he clarifies his order.

“Nice and slow.”

You follow without a second thought, letting the spit slowly drip from your mouth where it lands on the angry red tip of his cock and slides down.

“Again.”

Something about Sukuna puts you in the mood for following orders, so you do just that, opening your mouth and letting it fall directly from your tongue. He groans, pressing his thumb to your tongue, sliding it over until you have more drool falling from your mouth, down your chin, and onto his cock below as you look into his hungry eyes.

“It’s a shame you’re too scared to suck my cock.”

Too scared. Were it earlier in the night, when you weren’t so worn out you’d take that as challenge enough to shut him up about it, but at this point all you can do is tread water. Instead you close your lips around his thumb, sucking that instead. His cock throbs again in your hands, reminding you to get to work as you start stroking him, swirling your fingers over the head each time your hands can reach.

His thumb pressing down on your tongue hard enough to pull your mouth back open is all the warning you get as your moans are loud and loose as he starts finger fucking your pussy again. You struggle to keep up, arms burning as you try to work him as hard and fast as he was working you. As heat builds in your stomach it only gets harder, but you persist even as you start to rock into his touch, eyes shut and mouth still open and drooling around his thumb and down his hand.

“S-sukunaaaa…” you don’t care how you sound, lisping out his name the best you can as your pussy flutters around his fingers.

Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out of you, gripping both of your hips tightly. You don’t even think about the pain of it at this point, you’d been adorned with those bruises from the first night you’d met him. You’re more focused on the loss of contact, your orgasm slipping away even as you continue pumping his cock.

He leans up, purring into your ear, “Gonna cum soon…”

There’s a question in there but you’re too fucked up to to decipher it so he presses you further.

“Sure you don’t want it?”

You whine outright, squirming on his lap, “I’m so sore.”

“Are you going to waste it then?”

His cock is throbbing in your hands, and your pussy is throbbing even as the cold air hits it, exacerbating the sting. Still, you want his cock, you want his cum, and you want one last orgasm with him splitting you open wide, so you lean forward, head pressed uncomfortably into the roof of the car, and slide yourself onto him. You don’t need the help anymore, but his hands are still locked onto your hips, guiding you, dealing you short thrusts upwards even as you try to slowly sink down.

When he’s buried deep your stomach clenches, letting out a shaky breath as you try to collect yourself enough to do more than rock your swollen heat on top of him. It feels like it’s going to drive you crazy with the way its warmth soothes the sting even as the girth worsens it. The stopping, starting, and turning of the car you’re in doesn't help anything, forcing you to counterbalance to have any hope of riding the length you’d never quite managed to grow accustomed to.

You’re exhausted, and if you’re being honest with yourself you were ready to crash about an hour ago. Lucky for you Sukuna’s strength and stamina are seemingly entirely unaffected by the drinks, the drugs, and the hours of dancing. He’s taking over easily, thrusting up into you and your heavy limbs are almost a help at this point, keeping you in place even when the power of his thrusts threatens to have you bouncing up towards the roof of the cramped car.

Once your breath is hitching and you’re almost hiccuping with each desperate inhale, he slides one hand up your back, pulling you up by the back of your neck so he can watch you unravel. You know that’s what he wants, to watch you mindlessly taking him, completely unaware of what you looked or sounded like in your desperate climb to orgasm, so you press your head back into the roof of the car. He lays his head back against the headrest, watching you, teeth bared in a pleased smile as you stick your tongue past your wet lips - begging him for a kiss in your own way since you were far past words.

He pulls you down, and the kiss is surprisingly light, surprisingly quick, the tip of his tongue only lightly brushing yours. Then his grip tightens on both your hip and your neck as he pushes into those harsh thrusts, hips snapping, teeth clenched as he looks up at you.

“Cum on my cock.”

His words are the last push over your peak before you’re digging your hands into his shoulders, moaning his name as you cum on top of him clenching and gasping and sighing. He doesn’t leave your pussy taking too many more hard thrusts than you can handle before he’s pulling you down onto him, giving you those final deep thrusts while buried to the hilt before he’s filling you.

You relax into him, head resting on his shoulder, jumping lightly when his cock twitches inside of you. Eventually, it softens, and you look out the window behind, recognizing where you are, and sliding off of him. You don’t speak for the last few short minutes of the drive home, because you don’t know what to say at this point. It feels like you might ruin something if you do, so you enjoy the silence, slumped into Sukuna’s side as you had been many times before.

Like any other time before, you arrive, the driver helps you out, and he makes sure you get to your front door.

You turn and look out at Sukuna, just as you had the first night he took you home. His window is down, his arm resting on the door, watching you standing there in the doorway. You don’t know what to do, or how to end the night exactly. That final fuck hadn’t felt final enough, so you just wave, as silly as it feels. Sukuna smiles, and you can tell from the way that his head tilts back that he’s done that little amused chuckle you’d earned from him so many times. He raises two fingers slightly, without lifting his hand from where it was.

You thank the driver, you close your door, you lock it.

And decide that’s enough.

CHAPTER 4

#reminder minors and ageless blogs get blocked #there is more but this could be read as the last chapter and I’ll see how it goes #my writing #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #self insert #reader insert

149 notes · View notes

jeewrites · 2 months

Text

Hold Fast | Ch. 1 Will Squat for Dinner

Series Master List

Inspo: In an IG reel @ tashabraziliano asks a guy at the gym to play a game where if she squats him he has to buy her dinner at Nando’s.

Rating: M for this one shot, but this blog is 18+ MDNI

A/N: Thank you to @bloviating-vy for being my beta and my write or die! Grateful to everyone who voted in my poll and @katareyoudrilling for encouraging me to post. In the Hold Fast AU all the guys make it back from S. America, additional details TBD if this ends up being a series

Word Count: ~4.0k

Tags: no y/n, gymbff!Benny, alcohol, swearing, reader is a powerlifting girlie described as short, Tom is alive unfortunately (we hate Tom), alcohol, brief body insecurity and Frankie being down on himself, Tom owns a bar, Pope owns a gym, alternating POV with one brief Benny POV

next chapter >>

The first time you went to train at Pope's Gym, Benny wouldn’t stop talking your ear off during your workout. When you finally got a word in edgewise, you made a bet with him that if you could squat him, he would shut the fuck up and let you finish your workout in peace. To his amazement, not only did you squat him, you repped him 3 times before setting him down to raucous applause. You’d been gym besties ever since. It didn’t hurt that he was nice to look at with his dirty blonde hair and penchant to go sans shirt so he could flaunt his abs as frequently as possible. Plus, his big golden retriever energy never failed to brighten your day.

Benny liked to tease you about the gym you used to go to that had vanity lighting, a smoothie bar, and chilled eucalyptus-scented towels. While Pope's had the most lifting platforms of any gym in town, you were adjusting to the lack of central A/C and other amenities you were used to. Pope’s was housed in a large warehouse space, bare metallic bones, with multiple commercial rolling doors instead of a proper HVAC system. Besides the rows upon rows of platforms, a selection of assault bikes and ergs lined one wall of the gym, while a section of accessory machines collected dust in the corner.

You learned which platforms got the most airflow depending on which rolling door was open and which ones the massive fans covered best. You had made the switch because you had outgrown your old gym which catered to the general public. The bougie public, Benny liked to remind you. You had started lifting heavy and wanted to lift heavier, so you found yourself signing up at Pope's after Pope himself had given you the tour around the space. You learned that Pope had started the gym after coming back from Colombia wanting to promote health and strength in the community while getting into better shape himself. Looking at the peach shape of his ass you could bounce anything off of, you knew Pope had been putting the work in.

Benny worked the front desk at Pope's between training and fighting MMA. His older and blonder brother Will would come by to work out, but he was often leaving when you were arriving so you didn't know him well beyond a friendly wave. Plus, it seemed like Benny used the majority of the word quota between the Miller brothers. Pope's grew on you and you got to know the regulars who trained the same time you did; enough that you gave them cute identifying nicknames in your head (often without knowing their actual names) and worried about them when they missed more than a session or two.

Benny was surprised to see you walk into Pope's one night an hour before closing since you always trained in the mornings. You had given him a short head nod instead of your usual big smile before stalking to a platform and slamming your bag down.

"Yooooo, everything ok?" he asks as he walks over.

"Does it look like I'm okay," you huff, aggressively wrestling your knee sleeves on. Glancing at him, you immediately apologize when he hesitates and takes a step back.

"Sorry, Benny. I'll be a lot better after I pick up some heavy things and put them down."

"Might help if you want to talk about it?" he ventures leaning against the barbell.

You finish tying your squat shoes before looking at him again with dejected eyes and sighing.

"I just went on a crappy date with a guy from one of those dating apps," you sigh again. "He spent the whole time talking about himself and how much he works out. Then he had the fucking audacity to question me when he asked how much I could lift."

"Fucking asshole!" Benny feels himself getting steamed.

"He just stormed out of the restaurant and left me with the bill when I refused to change my answer," you shrug, but Benny sees your jaw tick. "Apparently, I squat and deadlift more than he does and he couldn't date someone who could do that." You roll your eyes and huff.

"WTF! What a total loser. You don't need a guy like that who doesn't appreciate you," Benny replies incensed. He sees your face fall for a moment, eyes downcast and tight.

"I just — I've been trying to put myself out there again and it sucks," you mumble, cheeks flush with embarrassment. "It's also been kinda lonely since I moved here, and I guess I could just use more friends, too."

"I'M YOUR FRIEND!"

"Yeah, my gym friend! We don't do anything outside of this hot, sweaty box Benny," you remind him with a small smile and playful shove to get him off your barbell.

Benny decides this is completely unacceptable and immediately remedies this by inviting you to the next hangout with him and his ex-Delta Force friends at Redfly's, a local bar nearby. "You know Pope and Will already," he reassures, "Tom's the owner of the bar and he's an asshole, but he's our asshole. And there's Catfish — we call him Fish for short. We've been trying to get him to come work out here, but he's been busy with his new pilot job for the hospital. And he shares custody of his 3-year-old daughter with his ex."

He could see your brain turning over all the information he was throwing at you. You don't seem to react either way to the news that Fish has an ex and a daughter. As you adjust the bar height you respond, "You sure? Don't want to crash a regular thing that you have with your guys."

"Nah, it'll be great! They'll love you!" Benny's determined to get you to come.

You hand him your phone. "Well... okay. Text me the details?"

With your phone in hand, Benny puts his number in to text himself and then convinces you to show him your dating profile. Between sets of squats you both take turns swiping on possible matches, Benny teasing you on your picks. Ever observant, Benny notices your preference for profiles with tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed candidates. As you work through your next set, Benny sneaks his phone out and immediately texts Fish.

Redfly's was what you expected for a bar run by an ex-delta force asshole. Dimly lit, buncha mismatched tables and chairs, lots of dark grain wood, and an air of neglect despite being quite clean. It was mostly empty except for a few grizzled guys who screamed regulars, nursing beers at the bar. Lots of beers on tap, but not so much for cocktail options. Not that you were a big drinker anyway. If anything, all the training made you an extremely cheap date. But damn, if you were going to drink, you wanted it to be a solid cocktail.

"THERE SHE IS!" Benny bounds over to you before grabbing your hand and dragging you over to the table in the corner. He introduces you to Tom who was standing by the table chatting with the guys. Tom gives a half-hearted greeting before stalking off back to the bar. Pope gives you a big smile and hug, "Good to see you hermosa, don't mind Tom. That was downright friendly for him." You snort as you settle into your seat next to Pope. Will also greets you with a small wave and an offer to pour you a beer from the pitcher.

"That's okay, I'm not much of a beer drinker." You wince, wrinkling your nose.

"I thought you said she was cool," Pope teases Benny who rolls his eyes and looks at you with faux betrayal.

"How about I buy shots for the table? Would that make me cool?" you smirk, getting up to go to the bar.

"Only if I get one too," says a warm, baritone voice from behind you. A tall, handsome man slides into the last vacant seat across from yours. Soft brown curls threaten to escape the Standard Oil cap nestled on his head. The warmest brown eyes smile at you as he holds your surprised gaze. "Hi, I'm Fish. Sorry, 'm late."

You want to trace the golden skin stretched deliciously along the column of his neck. Run your fingers through those curls that look so, so incredibly soft. And the strong curve of his nose... You snap out of your reverie before you respond with your name. "Better get those shots then," you say, trying not to trip over your unexpectedly shaky legs. Holy shit, why the fuck didn't Benny mention his friend Fish was gorgeous?

When Benny bugged him to come to the Friday night hangout at Redfly’s, Frankie hadn’t given it a second thought. The exuberant text from Benny, “You coming this week right? Got someone from Pope’s coming to meet you guys!!!” had two too many exclamation points for his taste. He figured Benny had a new lifting partner he wanted the guys to meet and his attendance had been pretty spotty between the new EMS pilot gig and balancing shared custody with Vanessa.

So when he walked into Redfly’s and overheard you say “… shots for the table?” He just assumed Tom had finally hired some help in the form of a very cute new waitress.

It wasn’t until he asked the guys when Tom hired you, eyes not leaving your form as you walked away, did he realize the absolute error in his assumption. “That’s my friend from the gym, Fish. SHE’s from Pope’s,” Benny rolled his eyes.

“C’mon hermano, you know Tom’s too cheap to hire help and too much of a pendejo for help to stick around,” Pope added.

Frankie pulled his cap low over his eyes and slid down his seat. He could feel himself flush. Fuck, he thought. Just made an ass out of myself demanding a shot from a total stranger.

You had frozen for a moment after he introduced himself before offering your name with a bit of a grimace. He thought you were gorgeous though and smelled incredible, fresh and citrusy with hints of something sweet and floral that lingered even after you had walked away.

“So, whaddya think, Fish?” Benny prods. "She’s smart, pretty, super strong, and a total sweetheart. Should ask her out."

Frankie flushes a deeper red. “S’outta my league Benny.”

“Aw, c’mon Fish, you gotta get back out there,” Benny persists. "Made it easy for you too. I happen to know you’re exactly her type."

“What, she into out of shape, 40-year-old, divorced, single dads with a toddler?” Fish grumbles. He hadn’t dressed particularly well tonight either, just his usual worn khakis and old faded navy t-shirt. Hadn’t suspected Benny was going to try to set him up tonight, although with Benny you never knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Might’ve mentioned summa that to her. She didn’t even blink, Fish. You got a shot and you should take it.”

Frankie finally tears his eyes away from you. You had just said something that made Tom smile ever so briefly and he wanted to know what you said. Frankie didn’t even realize Tom smiled anymore.

He sees Pope giving Benny that look that said Pope knew Frankie was indeed interested in you, but needed some extra encouragement and to get out of his head. How a single look conveyed all of that spoke to the years and shit they’d all been through together.

“Gonna help her bring over the drinks,” Benny says, popping out of his chair before Frankie could tell him to keep his big mouth shut.

He lifts his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t even tried to comb his fucking hair before coming out tonight. He slides the cap back on hoping it catches the more unruly curls.

“You’re a total catch, Fish,” Pope says, pouring him a beer. “Don’t count yourself out before even shooting your shot.”

“Could just be a coffee date. Don’t overthink it,” Will seconds.

Frankie takes a big pull of his beer. Easy for these two to say. Both Pope and Will worked out regularly at the gym and had the physiques to show for it. As much as Frankie had insisted everyone needed to get back on their game when they got back from Colombia, he was the only one out of the five of them who hadn't.

At least it didn’t feel like it with his achy back and bad knees. Sure, he had finally gotten his pilot’s license reinstated and now shared custody of his daughter. But he was self-conscious of his soft stomach, especially next to Benny whose abs were definitely the example given in the dictionary next to “rock-hard.” What did he have to offer you besides a mountain of baggage and PTSD? Maybe if he just kept his mouth shut everything would be fine and he’d survive tonight without embarrassing himself.

At this point, you are willing to brave Tom the asshole to collect yourself before sitting across from Frankie and his big brown eyes again. Tom raises an eyebrow when you order six shots ("One's for you asshole," you say to Tom with a teasing glare) and ask if he could make an Aviation. You swear he gives you the faintest smile before grumbling about ridiculous froufrou cocktails, but he wasn't born yesterday and yes he could make you one.

Benny sidles up to you at the bar as you wait for Tom to finish making your drink, offering to help you carry the drinks back to the table. "You doing ok? You seem nervous," Benny observes as you tap your fingers on the bar.

"Why didn't you warn me Fish is fucking hot?" you pointedly whisper back.

Benny grins at you as he leans back on his elbows against the bar, "Fucking knew it. Totally thought he'd be your type, girlie."

"You trying to set us up??" you glare at him.

Benny shrugs with exaggerated innocence. "Maaaaybe."

You huff, "Does he know that? Am I even his type?" You cringe inwardly at your insecurity.

"Well considering he hasn't taken his eyes off you since you left the table makes me think you are," Benny smirks. The smug look stays on his face.

For once you're glad you took more than five minutes to put yourself together before walking out the door. You picked a pair of jeans that hugged your curves and a fitted top with a very complementary neckline. Black-heeled booties gave you a few inches and made your legs look longer than they were. Worth the hassle of walking in at least for one night. The lightest dusting of make-up, mostly eyeliner and glossy lip balm, highlights your facial features.

"So maybe I should shoot my shot then, hmm?" you wink at Benny with a knowing smile.

"If you're thinking what I'm thinking…," Benny grins thinking back on the day you two met.

"That's very purple," Fish observes as you and Benny set down the drinks for the table.

"It's an Aviation. You might like it considering you're a pilot, mmh?" you respond with a smile. Okay, you've collected yourself. Sort of. Let's see if you remember how this flirting thing goes.

"What are we taking shots to celebrate?" Pope asks.

"How about to new, strong, friends?" you quip.

"I'll cheers to that!" Benny raises his glass.

Conversation is light and fun with the guys. You marvel at their connection and closeness as they teased and talked like people who have been through some shit together over the years. You convince Fish to try the Aviation to which he declares it a "very fancy purple" and keeps sneaking sips much to your amusement. They fold you into their conversation, asking about your training, and what competitions you might try this season. They praise Pope about how the gym has flourished and rib him about his ever-revolving door of beautiful women.

"What about you, Fish? You thinking about getting back out there and dating?" Benny asks before flicking his eyes over to you. You remind yourself to thank Benny profusely for being the best wingman ever.

"'Dunno. Not sure where to even start," Frankie mumbles into his beer, casting his eyes down.

"I have an idea," you give Frankie your best coy smile.

"Yeah?" he breathes looking up at you. Those damn brown eyes.

"I have a game for you," you offer before taking a breath. “If I squat you, you get to buy me dinner.” Your heart is thrumming in your chest and you feel your cheeks flush, but damnit, you were going to shoot your fucking shot. "But if I can rep you, I want the whole nine yards. Pick me up at my place, flowers, dinner and dessert."

"You — you think you can squat me?" Fish looks a bit surprised, "I— it's, it's not that I don't think you can. But 'm... A lot bigger than you... 'm out of shape." His ears pink at the last part as he cups one hand over the back of his neck.

"I know I can. Do we have a deal?" you smile at him with encouragement and extend your hand across the table. Fish hesitates, but you try not to assume why.

"Jesus, Fish, if you don't take her up on it, I will," Pope winks at you.

Fish glances between you and Pope for a brief moment.

He reaches out and shakes your hand. "Okay, deal." You try not to get distracted by the way his large hand engulfs yours.

"Let's go, brown eyes," you tell him as you stand up from your chair and whip your hair up into a high ponytail.

"You're going to do this in heels?" Fish asks as he gets up from his chair with a grunt. Christ, he's so tall. And broad. You shrug and look up at him through your lashes, “I mean, Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.”

You move so you stand with your side towards his front.

“I'm going to put my hand here,” you gesture to his right inner thigh just above the knee. "Is that okay?"

"Yep."

"Alright, you ready?"

He nods.

You carefully slump him over your shoulders in a fireman's carry, gripping tightly to his upper arm and thigh. You can feel the warmth of his body pressed deliciously across your shoulders. He's so warm.

You brace.

Benny's out of his seat, whooping and hollering. Pope's leaning forward, elbows on his knees, clapping, "Let's go, let's go!" Will's grinning and shaking his head in amusement. The regulars at the bar sneak glances over in your direction.

Frankie catches himself remarking on the particular shade of purple out loud when you return to the table with Benny bearing shots and a suspiciously purple beverage. He realizes after you respond and the dazzling smile you give him that you’re flirting with him. He thinks?? He’s so out of practice. God, he’d do anything for you to smile at him like that again.

When you slide your drink over to him to try he surprises himself by taking a sip. He’s even more surprised that he likes it. Crisp juniper dances across his tongue followed by a delicate floral sweetness and a touch of citrus with a spiced cardamom and anise finish. This very purple drink tastes the way you smell. And the giggle you give him when he calls it a “very fancy purple” blooms warmth through him, settling low in his core. He can only think about how he can elicit that sound from you again.

Which is how he misses Benny asking him if he’s thinking about getting back out there and dating. Fucking Benny and his goddamn big mouth.

But then you’re smiling at him again, telling him, single-dad, divorcee Francisco Morales, you have an idea. He’s looking at you and he can barely breathe as your eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint and your plush, glossy lips propose a game.

For a moment he’s confused. Did you not want to go out to dinner with him? Because if he’s honest, he doesn’t think you could squat him. He’s so much bigger than you. And he’s pretty sure if he tried, he could put you in his pocket. But then you’re brimming with confidence and extending your hand out to strike a deal.

It’s when Pope — fucking Pope — threatens to play your game in his place that Frankie is engulfing your delicate hand in his large one. You surprise him with a firm handshake and it’s then that he can feel the callouses across your palm. Callouses from many, many reps with the barbell.

Frankie finds himself towering over you, realizing you’re about to try and squat him in heeled booties. He vaguely hears you ask for consent to touch his inner thigh just above his knee before he finds himself suspended horizontally in the air across a set of firm shoulders, anchored by two small hands. He can feel when you brace, feel your entire core expand. The muscles across your shoulders and back flex underneath your fitted top. And suddenly he’s moving up and down, steadily with control.

You end up squatting Fish five times before setting him back down gently with a breathless giggle. He's towering over you again and you just want to press yourself into his broad chest and envelope yourself in the smell of his body wash.

"Dinner?" you smirk up at him.

"Wow, yeah, dinner on me," Fish flushes, impressed and a little dazed.

"It's a date then," you quip, poking him in the rib before you sit back down at the table. You notice his brown eyes spark with realization at your comment.

Will, Benny, and Pope all high-five you. Cheeks still pink, Fish pulls his chair around to sit closer to you. Tom wanders back over to the table grumbling that Redfly's isn't that kind of establishment with theatrics like you just pulled. But he also sets down an Aviation along with another pitcher of beer before returning to the bar.

"He's just jealous you didn't try to squat him," Benny laughs. You giggle in response as the conversation around the table picks back up.

Feeling Fish's gaze on you, you slide your cocktail over to him. A frisson of electricity shoots up your entire arm when his fingers brush against yours as he takes your cocktail glass.

You tilt your head towards him, your eyes meeting his warm brown ones, and whisper, "By the way, my favorite flowers are dahlias."

Frankie lost count by the time you repped him the third time. Just awed by you having the strength to carry him like this. He decides to just enjoy the rest of the ride.

When you set him back upright he almost melts into a puddle at the breathless giggle you let out. He catalogs that sound in his mind. He wants to brush back the hairs that have escaped your ponytail and he already misses your touch, wants to close the space between your bodies somehow without being creepy.

He gets lost in your eyes when you gaze up at him, he’s definitely over a head taller than you, and ask, “Dinner?”

Frankie is pretty sure he responds in the affirmative, still a bit dazed and very impressed.

It’s when you confirm it’s a date that his brain fritzes, reboots, and takes a minute to come back online. He blinks several times at the realization. He has a date. With you.

next chapter>>

Notes: Dahlias symbolize elegance, creativity, positivity, and growth. It also represents inner strength, likely due to the plant's ability to tolerate harsh conditions.

"Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.” — Ann Richards

🙏🏽 Thank you so much for reading my first fic! I'm bad at tumblr and new to tags/warnings/fan fics in general, so if I missed something please let me know.

I am open to constructive feedback but please be gentle with this baby powerlifting writer, yeah? I might be able to squat you, but I'm a big ol' softie.

Aaand I'm thinking about expanding on these characters and making Hold Fast into a series if anyone would want to read it. I may or may not already have a Frankie POV at Pope's Gym where he gets to see reader in her element. 👀

Taglist: @katareyoudrilling @christinamadsen @rebel-held

#frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier #pedro pascal cinematic universe #hold fast a frankie x powerlifting!reader fanfic #happy frankie friday #frankie friday

98 notes · View notes

octuscle · 1 month

Note

You’re so good at transforming others so I was wondering if I could thank you by transforming you. Who do you want to become? 😊💪

I am almost 27 years old. I graduated from university almost two years ago. Since then, I have been working for an auditing company, auditing the risk management systems of banks. Not a particularly erotic job. But well paid. I travel a lot and my working hours are also less from 09:00 to 17:00. Not good conditions for getting back into shape. I used to be a competitive athlete. Open-water swimming. My shoulders and back are still quite broad… But the waist is no longer as narrow as it was in my best days. Well… The course of life, I would say…

Sunday morning. Normally I would sleep in, go somewhere for breakfast, then maybe do a bit of work. But today I feel like going for a run. At 06:00 in the morning. In the drizzle. I'm really crazy! But running clears my head. After just under an hour, I pass an outdoor gym in the city park. Yawning empty in this weather, of course. I really enjoy it! It's almost 10:00 when I get back home. Now for a hot shower. Uh, no. A cold shower! Hardens off. And then breakfast. Low-fat quark, protein powder, bananas, some fruit. Doesn't taste particularly good. But gives me the energy I need. A bit of Resident Evil 3 to relax. And around 3 p.m. I have to make my way to the stadium. Kick-off is at 5:30 p.m., and I'd like to be in my regular place in the south curve at 4 p.m. Getting in the mood with the boys. Highlight of the week!

Hehehe, that was a good brawl with the opponent's fans last night. That's a good black eye… And my lip is still a bit swollen too. Looks a bit dangerous. Despite the crisp white shirt, navy blue suit and polished black Oxfords. Even after a year on the job, I still haven't got used to getting up early on Mondays. Mondays are usually at 03:30. An hour of push-ups and a bit of weights training, as best I can at home. And then get ready, go to the airport and usually the plane takes off at 07:00 or so. And then I'm back to being the good auditor candidate. It's not as if the job isn't fun. But especially after the weekends, which are packed with hard training and fun with the lads in and around the stadium, the changeover is tough. I can only hope that none of my customers or colleagues ask me who beat me up like that at the weekend. I can't say that I'm one of the militant Ultra fans… Well, if anyone asks, I'll say that it happened during boxing training. They'll take my word for it. At the latest when I take off my jacket and people see my shirt, which looks like it's been painted onto my skin, nobody questions the boxer in me anymore.

05:30 on a Tuesday morning. An hour's run, then an hour's workout in the hotel gym, breakfast, 09:00 at the client's desk. A routine that I would never have expected a few weeks ago when I was doing my Master's degree. With your criminal record, the blatant undercut, the tattoos on your neck and the back of your hands, you'll never get a serious job, my parents complained. But damn it, I'm clever, I'm disciplined and I'm hungry for success. In the cage at MMA, in the fan curve at the stadium, at university and now at work. And fuck, when I show up at a customer's in a suit that perfectly accentuates my athletic figure, I'm surrounded by an aura of respect. Even if I'm the rookie in the project. For the first few days, my colleagues tried to persuade me to go out for dinner or a drink with them in the evening. Not in the mood! I found a club near the hotel where I can train properly in the evenings. Not the kind of wimpy workout I get at the hotel.

I'm so fed up with this fucking Master's thesis. Pumping, eating, fighting… This is what I live for! I've been working at the martial arts school since I got my bachelor's degree. On the one hand in accounting. And also as a trainer. Shit, why do I even want anything else? Would I like it better if I became an desk jockey in some office? I suspect not.

I love the moment when I open my gym in the morning. The sweat from last night is still in the air. Whoever had the last shift yesterday didn't leave anything tidy. I do my rounds and stuff forgotten socks, jockstraps and water bottles into the lost-and-found box. Okay, I wank on it again first. There's nothing like the smell of a used jockstrap that's still a little damp. I don't officially open for another hour, so I have that long to get my body ready for the day with the weights and sandbag. Let's see how full it gets. The place isn't yet self-sustaining. But with my jobs as a bouncer and my OF account, I'm more than able to keep my head above water. At least my tattoo artist doesn't have to worry about me not paying my bills. It's better that way. After all, it's his job to make sure I'm scary!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #age reduction #ai image

76 notes · View notes

pedroscurls · 9 days

Text

chance encounters | pt. 1

character(s): Benny Miller, fem!Reader, (very) brief cameos from the rest of the Triple Frontier boys at the end summary: You've lost your way after losing your best friend in a tragic car accident. So, you go back to the one sport that makes you feel closer to him. word count: 1.9k a/n: This story is very personal to me and pulled from some real-life experiences (maybe not exactly, but still). I know I said I wouldn't write anything within this time period with April being such a very emotional month for me, but I've found that this story is actually helping me through my grief. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading 🫶 warnings: very brief mentions of grief (which will be a reoccurring warning) series masterlist | ultimate masterlist

“Benny Miller. I’m the owner and potentially, your coach,” the man says with a charming smile. He’s tall, broad, built, and you can’t help but notice his deep blue eyes. There’s a sense of comfort that you feel when you look at him. He’s dressed in red shorts and a white t-shirt with a dark cap placed backwards on his head and you can see the dark blonde curls peeking out from underneath it. “Welcome to Miller MMA Gym.”

“Hi,” you finally respond, saying your name to introduce yourself. Your hand grips the strap of your duffle bag that was placed over your shoulder. You feel slightly out of your element even though this is your comfort zone. Fighting is your comfort zone.

“Nice to meet you. Let me give you a tour of the gym and then we can sit down and go over your goals and everything else. Sound good?”

“That sounds good,” you repeat. “Thanks.”

Benny spends the next twenty minutes giving you a tour of his gym and you can tell just from the sound of his voice that he loves this sport and he has put a lot of thought into creating a gym where he can share with other like minded people. There are black mats in the entirety of the building with thick, red outlines at the edges. There are about seven heavy bags lined up along the wall with an octagon cage towards the back of the building. The gym is small, cozy, and it makes you feel like it’s a place where you belong.

“This is a really nice gym you got, Benny.”

“I know it’s not as big as other MMA gyms. We don’t have all the fancy equipment, the extra free weights, but I like that it’s small. Plus, I don’t just let anyone train here.”

“Oh?” you ask, brow arching. “So, I’m guessing this is a bit like a consultation?”

Benny nods. “I want to make sure we’re a good fit. This sport…” he sighs. “I want people who are dedicated, who will push themselves to the limit, you know? I don’t want to waste your time and I certainly don’t want you to waste mine.”

“Makes sense,” you agree.

He removes his sandals and steps onto the mat. You follow him and set your duffle bag down, your feet touching the cushioned mats and your gently bounce on your toes before you sit down in front of him.

“How long have you trained for?”

“Never actually had a coach or joined a gym like this, if I’m being honest. My best friend,” you sigh shakily. “He used to fight, was an amateur though. He taught me everything I know and always encouraged me to pick up the sport too.”

“So, what changed?”

“He died.”

Benny offers you a solemn look. He bites the inside of his cheek and nods. He knows grief all too well and he had known the minute you stepped into his gym that there was something lingering within you, something that you wanted to keep hidden. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. You had grown tired of hearing that. Why would they be sorry? What could they even do about it? It simply frustrated you. “Anyway, fighting’s always been something I felt comfortable doing and I don’t want to join an MMA gym where it’s all ego and trying to one-up one another.”

“I’m glad you said that,” Benny adds. “I’ve been to gyms like that and I fuckin’ hate it. I mean, we’re all there because we love the same sport. It can get competitive and sparring can get really bad… Which is why I like doing these consultations before even making a commitment with someone. I don’t want my gym to be like those.”

You nod, the corner of your lips lifting only slightly, but as quickly as it rose, it drops. You always had to catch yourself whenever you felt an ounce of happiness or relief. It didn’t feel fair. It didn’t feel right to be happy when your best friend was gone.

“Well, I want to fight, Benny. Competitively. I don’t know if I can even make it, but I want to try. Fighting is where I feel most at home.”

Benny smiles. You see his blue eyes light up. Then, he reaches his hand back out to you. “Well then, welcome aboard. I’d love to have you, and I’d love to train you and be your coach.”

The happiness flutters in your stomach and you force yourself to ignore it. You don’t smile at him, but your eyes - your eyes have always been so expressive. Your eyes soften when you look up at him, tears threatening to spill over, and you reach out to shake his hand. “I’d love that, Coach.”

“Welcome to the team,” he grins. “Let’s see what you got.”

—

An hour and a half later and you’re dripping with sweat. You’re leaning back against one corner of the octagon, knees close to your chest as you rest your arms over them, trying to catch your breath. Benny didn’t waste any time assessing your abilities, but you welcomed the distraction and for the last hour and a half, you hadn’t thought about your best friend.

“We got one more round,” Benny calls out. “Get back up, let’s go.”

You let out a deep breath and nod, standing. You shake your arms to loosen them, feeling the fatigue slowly begin to settle in. You glance at the time and see it begin to count down. Once the round begins, the sound of a buzzer filters the small gym and immediately, you bring your hands to cover your face, standing in an orthodox fighter’s stance.

Benny holds out the pads and calls out the following combinations:

Left jab, cross, left hook!

Double jab, cross!

Right front kick, double left round kick!

Throughout the round, you’re moving in the cage, staying light on your feet and never crossing them. You don’t even notice the way Benny’s smiling down at you, so proudly and full of hope.

“Alright, thirty seconds left!” Benny calls out. He notices how locked in you are, how focused, and he hasn’t seen someone as motivated in a first session as you. It gives him hope that you’re actually serious about competing.

Left jab, right body kick!

1-2 punch, left hook, right body kick!

Again!

By the time the round ends and the buzzer fills your ears, you’re breathing heavily, sweat dripping down your temples and the sides of your neck.

“Holy shit,” Benny chuckles. “You’re amazing.”

“My stamina is shit,” you say breathlessly.

“We’ll work on that,” he smiles. “Great job today.”

You remove your gloves and sit back down, leaning against the same corner of the octagon as you begin to unwrap your hands. You see the initials on your wraps and you’re brought back to reality. You bring your hands to stroke your dampened hair back and away from your face, redoing the hair tie to pull your hair into a tighter ponytail.

“That was– It felt like home,” you admit, looking up at him.

Benny chuckles and extends a hand for you. You take it and stand up, following him out of the octagon. “I’m excited about you, about this partnership. I think you’re gonna be great.”

You look at the time and realize that it’s already way past the normal business hours and quickly, you grab your duffle bag. “I didn’t mean to keep you here longer than you needed to be. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Benny says softly then adds, “I just realized we didn’t get to the paperwork side of things.”

“I can come in tomorrow,” you say, draping the strap of the duffle bag over your shoulder. “And however much it is, I’ll pay it up front.”

Benny’s eyes widen. “Whoa, whoa, wait–”

“I’m serious about this, Benny. There’s nothing I want more than to fight and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to do that.”

“Okay, tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock sound good?”

“Sounds great.” You shake his hand once more and he leads the both of you out of his gym. You look up at the sound of another man’s voice and see three other men - all of different statures - greet Benny with a smile. You don’t spend another second sparing each of them a glance, just now wanting to get home.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Benny calls out. “And I think I’ve got a great nickname for you.”

You toss your duffle back into the trunk of your car and shut it closed. You look over at Benny and notice all four men staring at you, but Benny’s the only one grinning. The other three, you notice, are staring at you with a look of hesitancy and curiosity. You take note that Benny’s the taller out of the four, but there’s another one that’s only a few inches shorter. He’s just as broad and built, the same blue eyes, but hair much shorter and slightly lighter. Then, your eyes veer off to the other two, your eyes lingering on one man in particular with a Standard Heating Oil cap placed atop of his curls. The other man standing next to him is the shortest, but he has just as big of a presence as Benny. His hair is greyer, but you have to wonder if it’s due to stress or if he’s much older than the rest of the group.

“A nickname is too soon, don’t you think? You don’t really know me yet, Benny.”

Benny shrugs. “Let’s just call it a gut feeling.”

“Okay, so what’s the nickname?”

“The Warrior,” he grins.

You chuckle. You actually let out a laugh and for months, you had almost forgotten what it was like to laugh. It’s ironic really, almost like your best friend was taunting you from even beyond the grave. He had always called you his little warrior after everything you had been through and how you had never given up, always willing to fight your way through difficult hardships. But now… Now you can’t even imagine fighting your way out of this grief that has taken over your life.

Benny then looks over at his friends, not realizing that he had forgotten to introduce them to you. “We can talk it over. I’m open to other nicknames, but it just seems right for you.”

“We’ll see, Benny.”

“By the way, these are my–”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Coach.” You interrupt him, not bothering to spare another glance at the other three men. You climb into your car and start it immediately, pulling out of the parking lot without another look at Benny or his friends.

Benny turns to his friends and shrugs. “She’s got potential,” he begins. “I think she can make it big.”

“You say that about almost everyone, Ben,” Santiago chuckles. “Is she usually that… standoffish?”

“She just lost her best friend,” Benny sighs.

“Damn,” Frankie mumbles.

“And you think that it’s a good idea that she fights?” Will asks. “Emotions and all of that–”

“I think she needs this,” Benny admits. “And we all know how it is to lose someone close to us.”

“Does she–” Frankie sighs. “Does she have anyone else to rely on?”

Again, Benny shrugs. “I just met her a few hours ago, but something tells me that she might be alone.”

“Fuck,” Santiago adds. “Well, is she any good?”

Benny nods. “Like I said, I think she can make it big.”

“Well, whatever you need, we’ll be here,” Will says, clasping a hand over his younger brother’s shoulder. “Now, should we all get out of here and go get some drinks?”

Santiago grins. “Yeah, let’s.” He nods in Frankie’s direction and adds, “Vamanos.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #garrett hedlund #garrett hendlund character #oscar isaac #oscar isaac character #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam character #triple frontier #will ironhead miller #benny miller #santiago pope garcia #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #story: chance encounters

51 notes · View notes