#muscular women are my lifeline

[always-elf666]

FERALLLLL, I'm in love with her and I massively shouldn't be but GODDAMN SHE GOT MORE THAN ONE TYPE OF GUNS

[genderkoolaid]

Over half of British men show signs of body dysmorphia, a recent report found. Within the community of avid male gym-goers, a study published last year in the US found that all participants who immersed themselves in bodybuilding practices described themselves as having some degree of muscle dysmorphia. Men, however, are less likely to seek treatment than women – despite one in three eating disorders occurring in men, according to the National Eating Disorder Association, only one in 20 people in treatment are male, Vargas says. Meanwhile, in 2016, it was reported that less than one percent of all the body image and eating disorder research was conducted exclusively on males, leading some researchers to state that this is a “silent crisis” in men’s mental health. [...] Swami sees this intertwining of muscularity and masculinity as a relatively recent cultural change, beginning in the early 90s, when fashion and beauty industries realised the market power of targeting men, he says. Men began to be sold the idea that their bodies are non-biological commodities to be invested in, he says. And with the backdrop of evolving gender roles, Swami thinks muscle-building offers immediate agency over one’s virility: “It’s the one form of masculinity that feels like it’s malleable.” But for Oscar*, as a transgender man, this malleability was a lifeline: while on a two-year wait list for hormone therapy, he started weightlifting to connect with his masculinity.“I thought, well, if I build more muscle, I know I can look closer to how I feel in my head,” he says. But living within a culture that valorises the muscular physique can delay recovery, MD sufferers say. “A lot of your physical symptoms to the outward world are great,” says Mycock. As a result, self-destructive behaviours can be hidden in plain sight. “It’s hard to stomach the nuance of it because for so long, we’ve been told it’s good – and no matter what, it’s good,” he says. He adds: “Exercise should be treated more like medicine, in the sense, there’s always a list of side effects.”

[angeliqueshelleyartist]

At the Forefront

Blog Post #8

The Design Success of Characters in Apex Legends While there are many aspects of Apex Legends that make it stand out in terms of success compared to other games in the genre such as Overwatch or Fortnite from the game mechanics to the maps, for many, including myself, it is the design of the characters. There is a good level of diversity and inclusive representation which helps players feel represented and seen. Each character or ‘legend’ has a distinct visual identity and differentiated silhouetted that makes them instantly recognisable even from afar in gameplay. Their designs are a blend of the futuristic with the fantastical along with realistic elements to their costumes and accessories. Their builds beneath their costumes and armor are also entirely different and they behave uniquely in gameplay too. For example Wraith's dark, hooded, stealthy appearance with tight fitting clothes and a sleeker array of accessories conveys her mysterious and agile nature. This is carried through in her gameplay abilities to phase through dimensions and become invisible to other players. In contrast the character Gibraltar has a huge muscular build which matches his knight-inspired futuristic armored outfit reflect his role as a ‘tank’ in combat with a focus on defensive abilities.

In critique of the characters from a similar game, Overwatch for example, reviewer, Blondeau noted that although the range of characters was indeed diverse in terms of ethnicity, gender and age, many of the female characters look extremely similar. “A gruff military woman hailing from Egypt has the same ass and bust and weight of an introverted teenage hacker from Mexico,”.

When comparing to Apex Legends, Blondeau noted that only one female character is dressed in a bodysuit (the aforementioned Wraith), which aligns with her role as a stealthy, elusive assassin. In contrast, "the other two women wear clothing that makes sense for both their respective roles on the battlefield and their lore, with Bangalore’s fatigues making sense considering her military upbringing and Lifeline’s breathable top and cargo pants fitting with her role as a combat medic." This shows how their outfits are thoughtfully designed to match both their functionalities in the game and their personal backstories.

I would like to ensure that the characters I design for my project are differentiated, relatable and appear to have made their own outfit choices based on what they do and their own personalities rather than just for the ‘gaze’ of the player.

References:

Blizzard Entertainment. (n.d.). Pharah - Heroes - Overwatch 2. [online] Available at: https://overwatch.blizzard.com/en-us/heroes [Accessed 18 August 2024].

WeWereRogue. (2019). [D&D 5e] Overwatch’s Sombra: Stealth Hacker. [Tumblr post] Available at: https://wewererogue.tumblr.com/post/187850307711/dd-5e-overwatchs-sombra-stealth-hacker [Accessed 15 August 2024].

Wright, S. (2019). Apex Legends: 3 best characters for beginners. [online] Red Bull. Available at: https://www.redbull.com/ie-en/Apex-Legends-best-characters-for-noobs [Accessed 15 August 2024].

Blondeau (2021). Apex Legends Has Better Character Designs Than Overwatch - Here’s Why. [online] TheGamer. Available at: https://www.thegamer.com/apex-legends-has-better-character-designs-than-overwatch-heres-why/ [Accessed 15 August 2024].

[strawnarrries]

Player - Part 3

Summary: Y/N can’t resist Niall no matter how hard she tries.

Warning(s): smut city and includes oral sex!

POV: 1st

This was NOT written by me! It was written the insanely talented Anonymous! She did the pleasure of writing a part 3 to this and honestly its better than I could’ve ever done so please please show some love to anon bc this is one of the best frat smuts I’ve ever read!!! 

Part 1    Part 2

Just over a month. That’s how long it had been since Niall last used me up like he owned me, since Niall last spoke a word to me. 33 days, to be exact, but who’s counting?

I had decided, after the second time sucking his cock and letting him ruin me, that I absolutely was not going back to him. He gave me the best orgasms I’ve ever had, and to be honest, I loved being used up by him, loved worshiping him. But only in the moment. Afterward, I just felt like shit. Both times.

I’m not sure what I expected after the first encounter. I knew his reputation beforehand. But I believed he must have a heart, that he would at least talk to me after fucking my brains out. So when he completely cut me out, I had to understand why, had to get an answer.

What I got instead was another mouthful of his cock - not that I was complaining at the time.

So when he dropped me off after our second fuck, without so much as a kiss goodbye, and instead a crude comment - “Try to think about something other than my cock” - followed by a typical cocky smirk, I decided there was no way I was going back to him again. If he decided to ignore me like last time, then so be it. I would resist all temptations, no matter how unrelenting, and I would move on with my life.

So that’s how I’ve made it 33 days. A torturous, agonizing month, but at least I was building back my pride.

I know for a fact that pretty much every girl Niall fucks ends up begging him for more. I’ve heard from plenty of girls who can’t seem to shake him from their mind. He gives them the best sex of their life, but then he leaves them in the middle of the ocean without a lifeline in site. It’s not like I felt superior to the other girls in any way; I mean, I was just as hooked as they were; but I did take at least some pride in the fact that I was not feeding his ego.

It was hard, mind you. I saw him on campus a few times per week, and every time, my mind instantly started racing, my face heated up, and my body began to remember what he can do. Now and then, he’d catch me looking, and he’d give a knowing smirk, but he easily resisted approaching me. I was just another conquest, after all, and there were plenty more to come in the parade of women in and out of his bedroom.

No one could make a girl feel like he could, and he knew it. He had nothing to worry about, no one to be jealous of, which made these games easy for him. I was pretty sure that if I crawled back to him, he’d fuck me again. But no way was he was going to come to me.

So, as difficult as it was, I was successful in avoiding him. I sometimes got wet just seeing him in a tank top or flirting shamelessly with some girl; I masturbated to thoughts of him many times; I even stalked his social media in my weakest moments, but I never gave in. I refused to give in.

****

On A Sunday during spring semester, I was sitting in a comfy chair in one of the little study nooks that are dispersed throughout the college. I enjoy sitting here, as it’s usually pretty quiet and I can concentrate on studying. I had my headphones in and was focused on a video that I was taking notes from.

I dropped my pen, as I’m prone to do, and it fell on the ground in the space between the two chairs and the window behind. I stood up and then bent over the arms of the chairs, trying to reach down for the writing utensil.

I then felt something alarming, but familiar. It was very apparent that a crotch was now pushed up against my ass, but the owner of the crotch was uncertain. I most certainly did not have a boyfriend, as I had yet to meet a guy since Niall who could give me even half the physical pleasure Niall could. I had a few girl friends who might joke around like this, but, as evidenced by the prominent bulge I was feeling against my butt, this was no girl.

“Damn, I almost forgot how nice this ass was. Loved watching it move while I fucked ya from behind those times.”

The culprit was now unmistakable.

“What the hell are you doing Niall?” I snapped, turning around to face him. 

I was quickly overwhelmed with his presence. He was right in my face, and I could feel the heat of his body. He was in a tank top and his biceps were bulging, and his smirk was as bright as ever. It was clear that he instantly recognized his position of power. He was well aware that he could have me in the palm of his hand if he wanted.

“What’s the problem y/n? You weren’t so shy when you were moaning my name a couple weeks ago,” Niall said, his hand resting on my hip.

I was already struggling to speak. I was trying not to make eye contact, but that meant I had to look down, and what I saw when I looked down was Niall in some workout shorts with a very noticeable bulge in the front. I held back a whimper. Honestly, it was something of a heroic act for me to not give into him that second.

“A couple weeks?” I said annoyed. “We haven’t talked in over a month Niall.”

“Oh, is that right? I guess it kind of blends together for me. I don’t always remember which girl was when, although you do stand out, y/n,” he said with that smirk plastered on his face, “And I see you’ve been thinking about me, since you know exactly how long it’s been.”

“Oh please, just because I have simple memory capabilities doesn’t me I actually care what happened between us. It meant nothing,” I said, not certain if I was convincing him or myself.

“Tell me, though,” Niall said, as he brought his body even closer to mine, now pressing against me, “What do you remember?”

He moved his free hand into my hair, and leaned down, kissing under my ear, “Do you remember my dorm room, taking it on my bed, feeling me in you for the first time? Do you remember the back of my car, moaning my name and steaming up my windows?”

The hand that was on my hip has now snaked its way under the waistband of my panties, and he’s moving it very slowly toward my sex.

“Do you remember my cock, y/n? Do you remember it filling up your mouth? Do you remember it in your throat?” he asked, making sure to kiss my throat right at that moment, “Do you remember gagging on it? Choking on it? Remember how big it is?"

I let out the smallest gasp and Niall smiled against my skin, as he continued kissing and dirty talking. His lower hand then finally reached my sex, and he felt the wetness instantly. I had no way to lie; the evidence was right there; he had me yet again.

"Oh, my, y/n, in the middle of the science building, and here you are all wet for me. Wow. You must’ve been thinking about this non-stop for … a month did you say? Musta been tough. Well let me make it a little easier for you tonight, huh?”

A finger entered me and then a second. He continued leaving light kisses on me, as his fingers moved expertly, in and out. His bulge was pressed up against my thigh. My limbs were loose at my side. I had no control; all I could do was take his assault of pleasure.

“Say thank you,” Niall goaded, continuing his actions but now staring into my eyes.

All I could muster was a few heavy breaths until finally I whimpered, “Thank you, Niall.”

He pulled his hand out and stepped away in one motion. He said, “You’re welcome” and then stuck his wet fingers in front of my mouth. I opened in a haze, and he chuckled as he pushed my own wetness into my mouth. I sucked them clean. Niall smiled big and said, “Should be easier now to get to your orgasm tonight,” then winked and turned around.

And all I could do was stare at that perfect body - his muscular back, broad shoulders, firm butt - as he walked away.

****

Another two days passed, and I heard nothing from Niall. After all those days avoiding him, trying to get him out of my head, he swooped in, teased me to the brink of orgasm, and then just left me high and dry. He clearly refused to even entertain the notion of committing to any kind of relationship with me, and yet he still couldn’t just let me be at peace. It’s like he wants me to suffer.

I tried to return to my previous strategy, avoiding him at all costs, erasing the idea of “us” from my head. But it wasn’t the thoughts of a relationship that I struggled with; it was the thoughts of lust. The way he pushed me to a near orgasm in about 30 seconds in the middle of a school hallway reminded me of the intense pleasure I felt the two times he fucked me.

The last two nights, while in my bed, my attempts to resist thinking about him were embarrassingly short. As I closed my eyes, my brain immediately focused on him. I remembered his touch, his cocky demeanor, his bright eyes, his smirk, his kiss. And then I remembered his cock, the weight of it, the way it filled my throat. I remembered the boastful look on his face every time I peered up at him while he used my mouth. I remembered the sweat that gathered on his built chest as he fucked into me.

As the thoughts raced through my head, my hand made its way back into my panties, and I quickly found myself hitting my high, quietly moaning his name. And both nights, after the climax, an immediate shame washed over me.

How easily he had taken ownership of me again.

On the third day, I had decided that it must stop. I would return to my life, one that does not involve an arrogant asshole like Niall. He could continue his fuckboy destiny, while I would move on to better things. One setback would not be enough to deter me. 

I was mostly successful. Thankfully I didn’t see him around campus that day. Seeing a couple kissing in the hallway or a particularly fit boy in workout clothes triggered an unwelcome thought, now and then, but I would quickly bury it in the back of my mind.

That night, I was feeling good. I had decided I was going to stay up and watch some shows, until I was so tired that I would fall asleep without even thinking. That was the best way to avoid those late night thoughts of the boy I refused to acknowledge. It was 10:30 p.m. and I was into the third episode of one of my go-to lighthearted sitcoms when my phone buzzed. I figured it was one of my friends, asking about plans for tomorrow, so I unlocked the phone while keeping my eyes on the show. I brought the phone to my face, and I almost choked. It had opened to a text message. A text message from Niall. It wasn’t just words; there was a photo, too.

What appeared in front of my eyes was a shirtless and pant less Niall, sitting up in bed. His skin was tanned and so smooth, except around his chest, where the hair was matted down. I could see every defined muscle – the biceps, the chest, abs, shoulders, thighs. And then my eyes were led to his crotch. He was wearing white boxers briefs that might’ve been too small for him, as his cock could clearly be seen bulging through. One of his hands rested right by the bulge, emphasizing it.

The caption wrote: “Figured ya were thinkin about this, so thought I’d just give ya a real picture to replace the mental one. I haven’t fucked since yesterday, so it’s even more ready to go than usual.”

I was appalled by his action, by his lack of manners and by the fact that he readily admitted he’s fucking a different girl almost every day. Does he really think admitting he’s a man whore makes him more appealing? Unfortunately, though, he’s probably right.

Disgusted as I might have been, I was also instantly hot. Seeing him in this primal form is just too much to handle. His aura reeks of sex, and no matter how much I hate him as a person, he’s the best sex I’ve ever had, and I doubt I’ll ever meet another person who can make me feel what he can. He’s perfection in my eyes, and in moments like this, I live to worship him. My mind goes in a thousand directions, all of them leading to his cock. My fingers are already rubbing my clit, and I’m well on my way to an orgasm.

Another text comes in: “Say thank you.” And as I hit my high seconds later, it comes out as the most pathetic of whimpers: “Thank you, Niall.”

****

Another three days and nothing from Niall. But it’s not like he needs to do anything. He’s already living rent free in my mind. I had decided to let him overwhelm me, because after that photo came in, I had no power to resist. I was not even close to deleting it, instead staring at it, drooling over it, each night I went to bed. I wanted his cock more than anything else in the world. But with some kind of false belief that I still had my dignity, I refused to reach out to him, refused to beg him for sex, like I’m sure so many girls have done before. Instead, I let my thoughts and that photo take care of my desire for him. I would eventually delete the photo, go back to my plan of moving on with life. I just needed a few days of quietly obsessing over him, and then I could work on pushing him out again.

It was a Saturday morning, and I headed to the gym. One way I was trying to maintain my sanity, besides spending a lot of time with friends and studying, was to keep fit. I wasn’t about to be in magazines, but I could be healthy, and I was at least pretty enough for Niall to fuck twice and continue to torture, so I guess that’s pretty good.

I set myself up on the treadmill, where I spent most of my time while in the gym, and I started jogging. I did my best to focus on the workout, drowning out unwanted thoughts with music from my earbuds. I was moving along well, increasing speed, when I made the unfortunate decision to open my eyes.

There are a number of mirrors lining the wall, about 10 feet in front of the treadmills, and in them I could see most of the rest of the gym. And in one mirror, I could see the weight lifting station, and there was Niall. He wore a blue tank top with a gold chain and those same tight workout shorts I saw him in a few days ago. He was lifting what appeared to be a lot of weight, at least to me. And he was making it look easy. His biceps moved with every motion, and my core throbbed instantly. He was just so hot.

After several seconds of my eyes fixated on him through the mirror, he apparently felt the gaze and looked toward the same mirror. We made eye contact through the reflection, and he smirked. I almost tripped but regained my composure and looked straight ahead.

I was completely unable to stay focused. I continually stole glances toward him, as he continued to do more weight training, and he caught me looking multiple times. He even licked his lips on one occasion, which did nothing to help the dampening feeling in my underwear. He hadn’t even approached me yet, and yet he already knew he had me.

After about 15 minutes, I heard his voice behind me, “Hey Y/N, is there something over by the weights I can get ya? I noticed you kept lookin over there.”

I put my feet on either side of the treadmill, pulled my earbuds out and looked his way. Breathing heavily, I said, “Uh, no. I, uh, was just looking around I guess.”

Niall smiled, “Oh, I see. Well do ya wanna turn that machine off? Seems like ya could use a breather.”

I froze for a couple seconds, before listening to him and powering down the treadmill, turning around to look at him, no words forming. At that moment, the only other person in the gym went out the door, and a smirk appeared on Niall’s face.

“Why don’t you come sit?” Niall said, patting his hand on a nearby bench press seat. 

It was phrased as a question, but it was unquestionably a command. He was testing how obedient I would be. I did as he asked, and sat at the edge of the seat. I was feeling vulnerable and powerless, but mostly just aroused.

Niall knelt down on his feet in front of me, staring into my eyes with a mischievous smile on his face. After a few seconds, he grabbed one of my feet, and took off the running shoe and then the sock. He did the same with the other foot. He then started massaging one foot with both hands.

“I saw ya workin hard there, y/n. Tryin to get yourself lookin good?” Niall asked, still rubbing my foot.

“Uh, I guess, yeah,” I meekly responded.

“Hmmm.. who are ya tryin to look good for?”

“I don’t know. I..”

“I think it might be me,” Niall interrupted with an almost aggressive smirk, “Or maybe you’re just tryna distract yourself so you don’t haveta think about me?”

I was speechless. He chuckled, switching to rubbing my other foot and asking, “Did ya like the picture I sent ya the other night? Bet ya didn’t delete it, did ya?”

I was still unable to speak, so I just shook my head, and his smile grew bigger.

“Mmm, good,” Niall said, dropping my foot down and standing up straight, the bulge in his shorts about a foot away from my face, “Why don’t you take those shorts off, y/n? Think ya need to cool off a little.”

I hesitated, but not for long, and I slowly pulled down my running shorts, leaving just my panties, which were obviously wet.

“Why are you soaked?” Niall asked abruptly.

“Answer.”

“You,” was all I could manage to get out.

“Of course,” he chuckled, “I guess you weren’t just ‘lookin around’ earlier, huh? You musta liked watchin me work out. Go ahead and take your tank top off now.”

It was actually just a sports bra, but it’s not like Niall was going to care, so I just ignored that and obeyed the command. It was a little tough, having worked up a sweat, but I managed to pull the layer of clothing over my head, leaving my breasts exposed.

“Very good,” Niall smiled, “You listen very well, y/n.”

He then pulled off his own shorts, leaving his socks and shoes on. He was in white underwear again, but this time spandex, which he probably wore for working out. The outline of his cock was so prominent, he might as well have had nothing on. He then peeled off his tank top, leaving only his chain dangling on his hairy chest. His body was glistening.

“Lay back,” Niall said, as he moved forward.

I obeyed. I would do anything he told me to do right now. My head was now rested just short of the bench press par, with my butt still on the edge of the seat. Niall positioned himself above my crotch, one leg on each side of the bench press seat. When I moved my head up a bit to look forward, all I saw was his crotch and the straining bulge in the front of his spandex. I was overwhelmed at this point.

“Want me to make ya feel good, y/n?” he asked, talking to me like I was a child, “Want me to make ya cum?”

I nodded, breathing ragged. He smirked and then lowered himself down, his bulge pressing against my heat. He then leaned his torso forward and put his arms on either side of my head. And he started rocking his hips. The feeling was indescribable. I remembered just how big he is, as his cock pressed against my folds over and over again. I was sopping in my panties, making his underwear wet, too, and his thrusts started making wet noises.

“How does this cock feel, y/n?” he asked.

“So good,” I whimpered, “It’s so big, Niall.”

He chuckled, looking into my eyes, still thrusting, “I know that y/n. You know how many girls have told me how big I am, how I’m the best they’ve ever had. Is it true, y/n? Am I the best?”

“You’re the best, Niall,” I blurted out, “God, you’re incredible.”

“Yeah? Do you think about me when you’re alone at night?”

“Yes, Niall.”

“What do you think about?”

“Your cock, Niall.”

He smiled a huge smile, “Cum in your panties, y/n” he said, as his thrusts got even more forceful. It felt like his cock was actually railing inside me now. 

“Cum jus like ya do when ya think about me in yer little bed at night, pretending like ya hate me, but never gettin me out of yer head.”

“Ohh, Niall,” I panted.

“That’s right, y/n. This is the real thing. Ya got my cock rubbin up against yer pussy. Ya feel that? Ya feel how big it is? Feel how good I fuck ya?’

“Yes, Niall, yes,” I shouted. 

My orgasm came in, and as I hit my climax, there was no stopping my real thoughts from coming out in a flurry of moans and pants, “No one can make me feel like you can. You’re the best. I think about your cock all the time.”

Niall was beaming at this point, staring down at me. He was so masculine, his chest sweating and his biceps flexing as he held himself up above me. His gold chain was bouncing against his chest, as he thrusted hard and fast. The sight was enough to just about kill me, and my final high hit like a ton of bricks. I screamed out his name.

As I came down, Niall stood up and got out of his underwear. His cock jumping out, smacking against his abs and resting in place. He now only had his chain and his shoes and socks on, and as I looked up, I could’ve sworn he was a fitness model. His broad shoulders lead down to a skinny waist. His muscles were so defined all over.

“Now ya have some work to do,” Niall said, as he repositioned himself over me on the bench press. 

This time though, he moved up, so he was sitting on my chest, above my breasts. His cock was is my face. He reached behind my head and grabbed my hair. Pulling my head up a bit, he made a ponytail from my hair. He then grabbed his cock with his other hand. He had to stand up a bit and move back, because his cock was too long, and he needed to adjust to get it in front of my mouth.

“Open up,” he said.

I was totally fucked out at this point, and would only be able to respond to simple commands. I opened wide, and he slowly pushed in. After a few inches, my mouth felt full, but he wasn’t even halfway. He continued to slowly push in, reaching my throat, and pushing down it.

“Oh, that feels good, y/n,” Niall said, tilting his head up and closing his eyes, as he continued pushing in. 

I was gagging a bit, but he continued pushing in further, “Don’t worry. Your throat will get used to it. They always do.”

I couldn’t even think about the arrogance of what he just said, because I was too entranced, too overcome by him. I belonged to him. After pushing all the way in, my nose now in his sweaty pubes, Niall finally pulled all the way out. He looked down, smiling, and used his thumb to wipe the tears that were coming out of my eyes.

“Do ya like sucking on me cock, y/n?” he asked, started to jerk himself off.

I nodded.

“Say it. Tell me how ya feel,” he commanded.

“I.. I love..,” I started, taking a badly needed breath, “I love how big it feels in my mouth … (deep breath) and how it stretches my throat … (deep breath) and I love looking up and seeing you above me.”

Niall put on a more gentle smile. “Good girl,” he said, as he softly caressed my cheek. 

He then stood up, his cock bouncing above me. “Lay your head down,” he ordered. I did as I was told.

“Open up.” I listened again, and Niall knelt a bit, grabbing the back of my head with one hand and directing his cock back into my mouth with the other. 

He then started thrusting his hips. He couldn’t even fit his whole cock with each thrust, hitting the back of my throat over and over.

I gagged and choked, as drool started coming out. He’d give me short breaks to catch my breath before thrusting some more. All I could see when I looked up was his sweaty body and that gold chain bouncing up and down.

“Love this mouth, y/n. Love how ya used to use it to insult me, but now all ya can do is open it up and let me in. Ya can’t get enough, can ya? I could do this anytime I wanted, huh? Ya tried to resist me, but now I own ya. Ya love this cock.”

I was getting wet again just from his words. I was aware that I would feel like shit later, but I was willing to give anything for this pleasure. I just wanted to worship him; to give him everything he wanted.

Niall suddenly pulled his cock out and put his hands behind his back, “Choke on it,” he said. 

I looked confused for a moment. “Push it down yer throat and don’t let go til I say so.”

I had to lean up to get to him. I grabbed it with one hand, but he quickly swatted it away, and I understood. I leaned forward and slowly started pushing his cock in. It hit my throat, and I gagged, but I kept going, pushing and pushing until I finally reached his pubes. I stayed put. It was hard, as I choked, but it felt so good, doing exactly what he said and feeling his power, smelling his sweat. I grabbed onto his ass for good measure, feeling how firm it was.

“Oh, yeah,” Niall said above me. “That’s it, y/n. Such a good girl, doing everything I tell you.”

“Fuck,” he yelled out and he pulled my head off his cock with one hand, jerking off with the other. 

“Look at me,” he said and I looked up into his eyes. 

He kept eye contact as he reached his finish. It came out in ropes, hitting different parts of my face. It was warm and heavy, and I happily swallowed what landed in my mouth. Niall was smiling down at me, his hand still in my hair. He took the hand that was jerking himself off, and collected some of his cum from my face on his finger.

 “Open,” he said, and I stuck my tongue out. He put his cum-filled finger in and I sucked around it.

“Say thank you,” he commanded.

“Thank you, Niall,” I whispered meekly.

He picked up his clothes and walked away, his cum still on my face.

****

Just over a month. That’s how long it had been since Niall last used me up like he owned me, since Niall last spoke a word to me. 33 days, to be exact, but who’s counting?I had decided, after the second time sucking his cock and letting him ruin me, that I absolutely was not going back to him. He gave me the best orgasms I’ve ever had, and to be honest, I loved being dominated by him, loved worshiping him. But only in the moment. Afterward, I just felt like shit. Both times.I’m not sure what I expected after the first encounter. I knew his reputation beforehand. But I believed he must have a heart, that he would at least talk to me after fucking my brains out. So when he completely cut me out, I had to understand why, had to get an answer.What I got instead was another mouthful of his cock - not that I was complaining at the time.

So when he dropped me off that day without so much as a kiss goodbye, and instead a crude comment - ‘Try to think about something other than my cock’ - followed by a typical cocky smirk, i decided there was no way I was going back to him again. If he decided to ignore me like last time, then so be it. I would resist all temptations, no matter how unrelenting, and I would move on with my life.

So that’s how I’ve made it 33 days. A torturous, agonizing month, but at least I was building back my pride.I know for a fact that pretty much every girl Niall fucks ends up begging him for more. I’ve heard from plenty of girls who can’t seem to shake him from their mind. He gives them the best sex of their life, but then he leaves them in the middle of the ocean without a lifeline in site. It’s not like I felt superior to the other girls in any way; I mean I was just as hooked as they were; but I did take at least some pride in the fact that I was not feeding his ego.It was hard, mind you. I saw him on campus a few times per week, and every time, my mind instantly started racing, my face heated up, and my body began to remember what he can do. Now and then, he’d catch me looking, and he’d give a knowing smirk, but he easily resisted approaching me. I was just another conquest, after all, and there were plenty more to come in the parade of women in and out of his bedroom.No one could make a girl feel like he could, and he knew it. He had nothing to worry about, no one to be jealous of, which made these games easy for him. I was pretty sure that if I crawled back to him, he’d fuck me again. But no way was he was going to come to me.So, as difficult as it was, I was successful in avoiding him. I sometimes got wet just seeing him in a tank top or flirting shamelessly with some girl; I masturbated to thoughts of him many times; I even stalked his social media in my weakest moments, but I never gave in. I refused to give in.

****

On A Saturday during spring semester, I was sitting in a comfy chair in one of the little study nooks that are dispersed throughout the college. I enjoy sitting here, as it’s usually pretty quiet and I can concentrate on studying. I had my headphones in and was focused on a video that I was taking notes from.I dropped my pen, as I’m prone to do, and it fell on the ground in the space between the two chairs and the window behind. I stood up and then bent over the arms of the chairs, trying to reach down for the writing utensil. I then felt something alarming, but familiar. It was very apparent that a crotch was now pushed up against my ass, but the owner of the crotch was uncertain. I most certainly did not have a boyfriend, as I had yet to meet a guy since Niall who could give me even half the physical pleasure Niall could. I had a few girl friends who might joke around like this, but, as evidenced by the prominent manhood I was feeling against my butt, this was no girl.

"Damn, I almost forgot how nice this ass was. Loved watching it move while I fucked ya from behind those times."The culprit was now unmistakable. 

"What the hell are you doing Niall?” I snapped, turning around to face him. I was quickly overwhelmed with his presence. 

He was right in my face, and I could feel the heat of his body. He was in a tank top and his biceps were bulging, and his smirk was as bright as ever.It was clear that he instantly recognized his position of power. He was well aware that he could have me in the palm of his hand if he wanted.

“What’s the problem y/n? You weren’t so shy when you were moaning my name a couple weeks ago,” Niall said, his hand resting on my hip.

I was already struggling to speak. I was trying not to make eye contact, but that meant I had to look down, and what I saw when I looked down was Niall in some workout shorts with a very noticeable bulge in the stomach. I held back a whimper. Honestly, it was something of a heroic act for me to not give into him that second.

“A couple weeks?” I said, annoyed.

“We haven’t talked in over a month Niall.”

“Oh, is that right? I guess it kind of blends together for me. I don’t always remember which girl was when, although you do stand out, y/n,” he said with that smirk plastered on his face.

“And I see you’ve been thinking about me, since you know exactly how long it’s been.”

“Oh please, just because I have simple memory capabilities doesn’t me I actually care what happened between us. It meant nothing,” I said, not certain if I was convincing him or myself.

“Tell me, though,” Niall said, as he brought his body even closer to mine, now pressing against me. 

“What do you remember?"He moved his free hand into my hair, and leaned down, kissing under my ear. 

"Do you remember my dorm room, taking it on my bed, feeling me in you for the first time? Do you remember the back of my car, moaning my name and steaming up my windows?" 

The hand that was on my hip has now snaked its way under the waistband of my panties, and he’s moving it very slowly toward my sex.

"Do you remember my cock, y/n? Do you remember it filling up your mouth? Do you remember it in your throat?” he asked, making sure to kiss my throat right at that moment. 

“Do you remember gagging on it? Choking on it? Remember how big it is?" 

I let out the smallest gasp and Niall smiled against my skin, as he continued kissing and dirty talking. His lower hand then finally reached my sex, and he felt the wetness instantly. I had no way to lie; the evidence was right there; he had me yet again.

"Oh, my, y/n, in the middle of the science building, and here you are all wet for me. Wow. You must’ve been thinking about this non-stop for … a month did you say? Musta been tough. Well let me make it a little easier for you tonight, huh?"

A finger entered me and then a second. He continued leaving light kisses on me, as his fingers moved expertly, in and out. His bulge was pressed up against my thigh. My limbs were loose at my side. I had no control; all I could do was take his assault of pleasure. 

"Say thank you,” Niall goaded, continuing his actions but now staring into my eyes. 

All I could muster was a few heavy breaths until finally I whimpered, “Thank you, Niall."

He pulled his hand out and stepped away in one motion. He said "You’re welcome” and then stuck his wet fingers in front of my mouth. I opened in a haze, and he chuckled as he pushed my own wetness into my mouth. I sucked them clean. Niall smiled big and said, “Should be easier now to get to your orgasm tonight,” then winked and turned around. And all I could do was stare at that perfect body - his muscular back, broad shoulders, perky butt - as he walked away. 

****

Another two days passed, and I heard nothing from Niall. After all those days avoiding him, trying to get him out of my head, he swooped in, teased me to the brink of orgasm, and then just left me high and dry. He clearly refused to even entertain the notion of committing to any kind of relationship with me, and yet he still couldn’t just let me be at peace. It’s like he wants me to suffer.I tried to return to my previous strategy, avoiding him at all costs, erasing the idea of “us” from my head. But it wasn’t the thoughts of a relationship that I struggled with; it was the thoughts of lust. The way he pushed me to a near orgasm in about 30 seconds in the middle of a school hallway reminded me of the intense pleasure I felt the two times he fucked me. 

The last two nights, while in my bed, my attempts to resist thinking about him were embarrassingly short. As I closed my eyes, my brain immediately focused on him. I remembered his touch, his cocky demeanor, his bright eyes, his smirk, his kiss. And then I remembered his cock, the weight of it, the way it filled my throat and my sex. I remembered the boastful look on his face every time I peered up at him while he used my mouth. I remembered the sweat that gathered on his built chest as he fucked into me.As the thoughts raced through my head, my hand made its way back into my panties, and I quickly found myself hitting my high, quietly moaning his name. And both nights, after the climax, an immediate shame washed over me. How easily he had taken ownership of me again. 

On the third day, I had decided that it must stop. I would return to my life, one that does not involve an arrogant asshole like Niall. He could continue his fuckboy destiny, while I would move on to better things. One setback would not be enough to deter me.I was mostly successful. Thankfully I didn’t see him around campus that day. Seeing a couple kissing in the hallway or a particularly fit boy in workout clothes triggered an unwelcomed thought, now and then, but I would quickly bury it in the back of my mind.That night, I was feeling good. I had decided I was going to stay up and watch some shows, until I was so tired that I would fall asleep without even thinking. That was the best way to avoid those late night thoughts of the boy I refused to acknowledge. 

It was 10:30 p.m. and I was into the third episode of one of my go-to lighthearted sitcoms when my phone buzzed. I figured it was one of my friends, asking about plans for tomorrow, so I unlocked the phone while keeping my eyes on the show.I brought the phone to my face, and I almost choked. It had opened to a text message. A text message from Niall. It wasn’t just words; there was a photo, too.What appeared in front of my eyes was a shirtless and pantsless Niall, sitting up in bed. His tan skin was glistening and was so smooth, except around his chest, where the hair was matted down. I could see every defined muscle – the biceps, the chest, abs, shoulders, thighs. And then my eyes were led to his crotch. He was wearing white boxers briefs that might’ve been too small for him, as his cock could clearly be seen bulging through. One of his hands rested right by the bulge, emphasizing it. 

The caption wrote: “Figured ya were thinkin about this, so thought I’d just give ya a real picture to replace the mental one  Haven’t fucked since yesterday, so it’s even more ready to go than usual.”I was appalled by his action, by his lack of manners and by the fact that he readily admitted he’s fucking a different girl almost every day. Does he really think admitting he’s a man whore makes him more appealing? Unfortunately, though, he’s probably right. Disgusted as I might have been, I was also instantly hot. Seeing him in this primal form is just too much to handle. His aura reeks of sex, and no matter how much I hate him as a person, he’s the best sex I’ve ever had, and I doubt I’ll ever meet another person who can make me feel what he can. He’s perfection in my eyes, and in moments like this, I live to worship him. My mind goes in a thousand directions, all of them leading to his cock. My fingers are already rubbing my clit, and I’m well on my way to an orgasm. Another text comes in: “Say thank you.” And as I hit my high seconds later, it comes out as the most pathetic of whimpers: Thank you, Niall.”

****

Another three days and nothing from Niall. But it’s not like he needs to do anything. He’s already living rent free in my mind. I had decided to let him overwhelm me, because after that photo came in, I had no power to resist. I was not even close to deleting it, instead staring at it, drooling over it, each night I went to bed. I wanted his cock more than anything else in the world. But with some kind of false belief that I still had my dignity, I refused to reach out to him, refused to beg him for sex, like I’m sure so many girls have done before. Instead, I let my thoughts and that photo take care of my desire for him.I would eventually delete the photo, go back to my plan of moving on with life. I just needed a few days of quietly obsessing over him, and then I could work on pushing him out again.It was a Saturday morning, and I headed to the gym. One way I was trying to maintain my sanity, besides spending a lot of time with friends and studying, was to keep fit. I wasn’t about to be in magazines, but I could be healthy, and I was at least pretty enough for Niall to fuck twice and continue to torture, so I guess that’s pretty good. 

I set myself up on the treadmill, where I spent most of my time while in the gym, and I started jogging. I did my best to focus on the workout, drowning out unwanted thoughts with music from my earbuds. I was moving along well, increasing speed, when I made the unfortunate decision to open my eyes.There are a number of mirrors lining the wall, about 10 feet in front of the treadmills, and in them I could see most of the rest of the gym. And in one mirror, I could see the weight lifting station, and there was Niall. He wore a blue tank top with a gold chain and those same tight workout shorts I saw him in a few days ago.He was lifting what appeared to be a lot of weight, at least to me. And he was making it look easy. His biceps moved with every motion, and my core throbbed instantly. He was just so hot. After several seconds of my eyes fixated on him through the mirror, he apparently felt the gaze and looked toward the same mirror. We made eye contact through the reflection, and he smirked. I almost tripped but regained my composure and looked straight ahead. I was completely unable to stay focused. 

I continually stole glances toward him, as he continued to do more weight training, and he caught me looking multiple times. He even licked his lips on one occasion, which did nothing to help the dampening feeling in my underwear.He hadn’t even approached me yet, and yet he already knew he had me.After about 15 minutes, I heard his voice behind me. 

“Hey Y/N, is there something over by the weights I can get ya? I noticed you kept lookin over there.” 

I put my feet on either side of the treadmill, pulled my earbuds out and looked his way. Breathing heavily, I said, “Uh, no. I, uh, was just looking around I guess.” 

Niall smiled, “Oh, I see. Well do ya wanna turn that machine off? Seems like ya could use a breather.” 

I froze for a couple seconds, before listening to him and powering down the treadmill, turning around to look at him, no words forming. At that moment, the only other person in the gym went out the door, and a smirk appeared on Niall’s face. 

“Why don’t you come sit?” Niall said, patting his hand on a nearby bench press seat. 

It was phrased as a question, but it was unquestionably a command. He was testing how obedient I would be. I did as he asked, and sat at the edge of the seat. I was feeling vulnerable and powerless, but mostly just aroused. Niall knelt down on his feet in front of me, staring into my eyes with a mischievous smile on his face. After a few seconds, he grabbed one of my feet, and took off the running shoe and then the sock. He did the same with the other foot. He then started massaging one foot with both hands. 

“I saw ya workin hard there, y/n. Tryin to get yourself lookin good?” Niall asked, still rubbing my foot. 

“Uh, I guess, yeah,” I meekly responded.

“Hmmm.. who are ya tryin to look good for?” 

“I don’t know. I..”

“I think it might be me,” Niall interrupted with an almost aggressive smirk. 

“Or maybe you’re just tryna distract yourself so you don’t haveta think about me?” I was speechless. 

He chuckled, switching to rubbing my other foot and asking, “Did ya like the picture I sent ya the other night? Bet ya didn’t delete it, did ya?”I was still unable to speak, so I just shook my head, and his smile grew bigger. 

“Mmm, good,” Niall said, dropping my foot down and standing up straight, the bulge in his shorts about a foot away from my face.

“Why don’t you take those shorts off, y/n? Think ya need to cool off a little.”

I hesitated, but not for long, and I slowly pulled down my running shorts, leaving just my panties, which were obviously wet. 

“Why are you soaked?” Niall asked abruptly. 

“Answer.”

“You,” was all I could manage to get out. 

“Of course,” he chuckled. 

“I guess you weren’t just ‘lookin around’ earlier, huh? You musta liked watchin me work out. Go ahead and take your tank top off now.” 

It was actually just a sports bra, but it’s not like Niall was going to care, so I just ignored that and obeyed the command. It was a little tough, having worked up a sweat, but I managed pull the layer of clothing over my head, leaving my breasts exposed. 

“Very good,” Niall smiled. “You listen very well, y/n.” 

He then pulled off his own shorts, leaving his socks and shoes on. He was in white underwear again, but this time spandex, which he probably wore for working out. The outline of his cock was so prominent, he mine as well have had nothing on. He then peeled off his tank top, leaving only his chain dangling on his hairy chest. His body was glistening. 

“Lay back,” Niall said, as he moved forward.

 I obeyed. I would do anything he told me to do right now. My head was now rested just short of the bench press par, with my butt still on the edge of the seat. Niall positioned himself above my crotch, one leg on each side of the bench press seat. When I moved my head up a bit to look forward, all I saw was his crotch and the straining bulge in the front of his spandex. I was overwhelmed at this point. 

“Want me to make ya feel good, y/n?” he asked, talking to me like I was a child. 

“Want me to make ya cum?” I nodded, breathing ragged. 

He smirked and then lowered himself down, his bulge pressing against my heat. He then leaned his torso forward and put his arms on either side of my head. And he started rocking his hips. The feeling was indescribable. I remembered just how big he is, as his cock pressed against my folds over and over again. I was sopping in my panties, making his underwear wet, too, and his thrusts started making wet noises. 

“How does this cock feel, y/n?” he asked. 

“So good,” I whimpered. 

“It’s so big, Niall.”He chuckled, looking into my eyes, still thrusting, “I know that y/n. You know how many girls have told me how big I am, how I’m the best they’ve ever had. Is it true, y/n? Am I the best?” 

“You’re the best, Niall,” I blurted out. 

“God, you’re incredible.” 

“Yeah? Do you think about me when you’re alone at night?” 

“Yes, Niall”“What do you think about?”

“Your cock, Niall.”He smiled a huge smile. 

“Cum in your panties, y/n” he said, as his thrusts got even more forceful. It felt like his cock was actually railing inside me now. 

“Cum jus like ya do when ya think about me in yer little bed at night, pretending like ya hate me, but never gettin me out of yer head.” 

“Ohh, Niall,” I panted. 

“That’s right, y/n. This is the real thing. Ya got my cock rubbin up against yer pussy. Ya feel that? Ya feel how big it is? Feel how good I fuck ya?’ 

“Yes, Niall, yes,” I shouted. 

My orgasm came in, and as I hit my climax, there was no stopping my real thoughts from coming out in a flurry of moans and pants. 

“No one can make me feel like you can. Your the best. I think about your cock all the time.” Niall was beaming at this point, staring down at me. 

He was so masculine, his chest sweating and his biceps flexing as he held himself up above me. His gold chain was bouncing against his chest, as he thrusted hard and fast. The site was enough to just about kill me, and my final high hit like a ton of bricks. I screamed out his name. As I came down, Niall stood up and got out of his underwear. His cock jumping out, smacking against his abs and resting in place. He now only had had his chain and his shoes and socks on, and as I looked up, I could’ve sworn he was a fitness model. His broad shoulders lead down to a skinny waist. His muscles were so defined all over.

“Now ya have some work to do,” Niall said, as he respositioned himself over me on the bench press.

 This time though, he moved up, so he was sitting on my chest, above my breast. His cock was is my face.He reached behind my head and grabbed my hair. Pulling my head up a bit, he made a ponytail from my hair. He then grabbed his cock with his other hand. He had to stand up a bit and move back, because his cock was too long, and he needed to adjust to get it in front of my mouth.

“Open up,” he said.

 I was totally fucked out at this point, and would only be able to respond to simple commands. I opened wide, and he slowly pushed in.After a few inches, my mouth felt full, but he wasn’t even halfway in. He continued to slowly push in reaching my throat, and pushing down it.

“Oh, that feels good, y/n,” Niall said, tilting his head up and closing his eyes, as he continued pushing in. 

I was gagging a bit, but he continued pushing in further.

 “Don’t worry. Your throat will get used to it. They always do.” 

I couldn’t even think about the arrogance of what he just said, because I was too entranced, too overcome by him. I belonged to him.After pushing all the way in, my nose now in his sweaty pubes, Niall finally pulled all the way out, leaving in just the tip. He looked down, smiling, and used his thumb to wipe the tears that were coming out of my eyes. 

“Do ya like sucking on me cock, y/n?” he asked, started to jack himself off. 

I nodded.

“Say it. Tell me how ya feel,” he commanded.

“I.. I love..,” I started, taking a badly needed breath, “I love how big it feels in my mouth … (deep breath) and how it stretches out my throat … (deep breath) and I love looking up and seeing you above me.” 

Niall put on a more gentle smile.

 “Good girl,” he said, as he softly caressed my cheek. He then stood up, his cock bouncing above me. “Lay your head down,” he ordered. I did as I was told.

“Open up.” I listened again, and Niall knelt a bit, grabbing the back of my head with one hand and directing his cock back into my mouth with the other. 

He then started thrusting his hips. He couldn’t even hit his whole cock with each thrust, hitting the back of my throat over and over.I gagged and choked, as drool started coming out. He’d give me short breaks to catch my breath before thrusting some more. All I could see when I looked up was his sweaty body and that gold chain bouncing up and down.

“Love this mouth, y/n. Love how ya used to use it to insult me, but now all ya can do is open it up and let me in. Ya can’t get enough, can ya? I could do this anytime I wanted, huh? Ya tried to resist me, but now ya can’t get enough of me. Ya love this cock.” 

I was getting wet again just from his words. I was aware that I would feel like shit later, but I was willing to give anything for this pleasure. I just wanted to worship him; to give him everything he wanted. Niall suddenly pulled his cock out and put his hands behind his back. 

“Choke on it,” he said. I looked confused for a moment. 

“Push it down yer throat and don’t let go til I say so.”

I had to lean up to get to him. I grabbed it with one hand, but he quickly swatted it away, and I understood. I leaned forward and slowly started pushing his cock in. It hit my throat, and I gagged, but I kept going, pushing and pushing until I finally reached his pubes. I stayed put. It was hard, as I choked, but it felt so good, doing exactly what he said and feeling his power, smelling his sweat. I grabbed onto his ass for good measure, feeling how firm it was. 

“Oh, yeah,” Niall said above me. “That’s it, y/n. Such a good girl, doing everything I tell you.” 

“Fuck,” he yelled out and he pulled my head off his cock with one hand, jerking off with the other. 

“Look at me,” he said and I looked up into his eyes. 

He kept eye contact as he reached his finish. It came out in ropes, hitting different parts of my face. It was warm and heavy, and I happily slowed what landed in my mouth. Niall was smiling down at me, his hand still in my hair. He took the hand that was jerking himself off, and collected some of his cum from my face on his finger. 

“Open,” he said, and I stuck my tongue out. He put his cum-filled finger in and I sucked around it.

“Say thank you, y/n,” he commanded.

“Thank you, Niall,” I whispered meekly. He picked up his clothes and walked away.

[wonderwomanfantasy]

I’m not your princess

I got like four requests for Jealous Sero so while this is smutty, not as jealous as It could have been. 

Sero x Reader 

Word count: 3,100 (about)

Warnings: Drinking, cursing, Smut

Summary: Sero Hanta has done It again! and by it, I mean accidentally fallen ass-backward into love and by again I mean this first time something like this has ever happened to him and he has no clue what he is doing please help. 

Sero wasn’t sure how he found himself here, mouthing at your neck and fumbling wit the top of your dress with one hand. Yesterday, he had just been your best friend now you were moaning his name and bucking your hips against his thigh. 

“Sero, Don’t stop please,” you breathed shakily, Sero obliged, digging his teeth into your soft skin earning him a shaky moan as your hips increased speed, dragging your wet panties along his muscular leg. 

“Who knew you had such a biting kink?” He chuckled lightly kissing the dark hickey he had just left. Normally you would snark back but you just jerked his head up planting his mouth on yours.  He slipped his tongue past your lips and pushed your dress down revealing more of your body to him. 

Sero had known something was wrong when you came to him in a blind panic only explaining that you had “fucked up and needed him to help fix it,”

“can you calm the fuck down?” He asked grabbing your shoulders to keep you from pacing. you took a deep breath and spoke

“So I lied to my coworkers and told them I had a boyfriend and I told them I would bring him to the next work party we have but I don’t have a boyfriend and-”  Sero cut you off before you could ramble. 

“So I’ll go with you,” He decided, realizing where this conversation was going. 

“Really? I didn’t expect you to cave so quickly,”

“So what? I would be your fake boyfriend for the night? That’s not so bad,” he shrugged, considering the idea

“or like for a week before we have a big dramatic brake up,” you amended. He thought about it and sighed. 

“Sounds like fun,” he agreed. It would be just like any other Gala the two of you would spend the night complaining about the fancy clothes and plotting your escape at the first opportunity to grab Taco Bell. 

except, everyone would assume the two of you were together, But Sero could deal with that. At least he thought he could. 

You were stunning in your slinky red satin dress. He had never seen a dress show so much of your back, legs, and chest all at the same time, while the ruffling fabric didn’t exactly cling to your curves, it did nothing to hide them. 

“quit staring you perve,” you snapped hitting his shoulder snapping him out of his own head.  he smiled and flicked your forehead in retaliation.

“As your fake boyfriend, I think I’m entitled to stare a little,” he teased slinging his arm around your waist and lead you to the waiting car and sliding in the back seat with you. you gave him a soft look, one that sent butterflies threw his stomach.

“Really Sero, thank you for doing this,” you said, Sero hated when you went soft on him like this, you were already stunning how was he supposed you handle you being so cute?

“It’s not a big deal- but you are definitely paying for dinner tonight, I mean look at you I’ll spend half the damn party keeping guys off of you,” he joked. you rolled your eyes and shoved him away from you. 

“who do you think I am? I don’t need my boyfriend, fake or otherwise, to save me from anyone!” you protested

“yeah but you like getting saved cus you’re a spoiled little princess-”

“Princess? oh I’ll show you whose a princess!”  

Of all the fights the two of you had gotten into, this one was by far the most complicated. The back seat of a town car didn’t provide for much mobility, and neither did the fancy clothes you were wearing, 

Sero had to be careful not to smudge your makeup and not undo the bowtie he had spent a good hour learning how to tie, while you worked hard not to let anything fall out of the skimpy dress you decided on wearing. In the end, Sero gave up letting you win. 

“Just wait until we get home Hanta and I’ll kick your ass for real,” you threatened, before getting distracted by a notification on your phone. Sero couldn’t help but smile a little. He was so completely whipped for you it wasn’t even funny. He loved how cute you looked when you were mad, He loved how you only got angrier when he let you win, he loved that you didn’t need to separate the idea of his home and yours. Sero knew that it was a bad idea to fall for your friends but he couldn’t help himself. 

He almost forgot that he was pretending to be your boyfriend by the time the car pulled to the stop outside of the venue. but then you slid over to him, taking his hand in yours. 

“remember you’re in love with me,” you mumbled as he opened the car door and helped you out, the dizzying flash of cameras all around you. 

“I’m In love with you,” he confirmed, hoping you would read into the words and see just how much he meant it. His hand fell to your waist pulling you close and you teasingly waved to the cameras as he walked you down the red carpet. Posing for pictures had always been his least favorite part of going pro, there wasn’t a part of him that could be described as graceful, but you seemed to be taking it in stride, he put his gaze on your lovely form and let a love stuck kind of smile appear on his face, charmingly goofy was his schtick and he would stick to it. hopefully the cameras would follow his lead and focus on you.

Once you were inside, things weren’t much better once you were inside the ballroom however. This was a work party for your agency, meaning he knew no one there but you. He felt a nervous pit of awkwardness form in his stoumach. He would have to prepare himself for a tense night of introductions and lame work stories. He dropped his arm but didn’t move from your side, you were his lone lifeline in this sea of strangers.

“you amaze me, I mean you can chase killers no problems but a room full of strangers turns you into a coward?” you teased elbowing him in the side, he just rolled his eyes

“at least I’m not afraid of spiders,” he teased back, snagging a flute of champagne off of a nearby tray. 

“well my coworkers don’t bite, I cannot say the same for the eight-legged bastards,” you pointed out grabbing your own glass. you held your drink aloft and he mimicked you

“Heres to getting out of here as soon as possible,” you proclaimed 

“To getting out of here!” the two of your clicked glasses and took a small drink, sealing the toast. 

“Right, Heres the plan: we say hi to everyone, listen to the award announcements then leave before they open up the dancefloor,” you decided, already dragging him to the first group of heroes. True to your word, none of your colleges bit him, but several of them recognized him. Sero had to admit, that stroked his ego quite a bit. overall, the conversations were quick but pleasant. He almost had a good time joking with and drinking champagne with strangers. It didn’t hurt that you spent the night clinging to his arm and bragging about what a great boyfriend he was, everyone seemed to buy it. Sero liked pretending like this, even if it would only be for tonight. 

So as the two approached the last group you had to greet, Sero was in high spirits. His first mistake. the group consisted of two women and one man, you seemed reluctant to great them, but you must have been getting tired, he didn’t blame you. 

The man, Naoki Jin, was bubbly, and a little too eggar to drag both of you into a needlessly long conversation. Jin also kept taking every opportunity to touch you, brushing his hand against your wrist to draw your attention, letting his fingers linger when he handed you a new champagne flute. Sero was pissed, to say the least, both as your best friend who secretly loved you and as your fake boyfriend. Who did he think he was, flirting with you while he was right there. 

Sero watched as your face grew redder as the flirting became more obvious. Sero had never liked it when other guys hit on you, but this was worse somehow. This slimeball was a part of your day to day life, saw more often then Sero ever would. 

Sero pushed you subtly behind him, letting you cling to his arm shyly. while you were normally loud and rambunctious, you always got quiet and nervous when you were a little buzzed.  

“can you stop hitting on my girlfriend?” Sero sighed, His word lacked all bite, the word girlfriend fumbling awkwardly off his lips. Jin smirked and tried to hook a finger under your chin, but missed snagging nothing but air. 

“Awe she doesn’t mind, do you Cutie?” he slurred, clearly a little drunk himself. you recoiled, hiding behind Sero. 

“besides I could show you a way better time than this jackass,” Jin laughed before turning his attention to Sero.

“I mean, no offense my man but if I had such a hot piece of ass on my arm all night I would have taken her home by now, you haven’t even kissed her, what kind of man are you?” he joked poking Sero in the shoulder roughly. 

“Just because I’m not making out with her 24/7 doesn-” Sero tried but Jin clearly wasn’t buying it  

“well if you’re really with her just kiss her,”  Jin pushed. Sero could feel his face flush and opened his mouth to keep protesting but he was muffled by a pair of ruby lips melding against his. He almost choked, If he was being honest, he had sort of forgotten that you were hiding behind him.  

your lips were so soft and warm, Sero had imagined them countless times, but the real thing was infinitely better. You tasted like mint and alcohol and you were kissing him so passionately he almost forgot that you weren’t really his girlfriend. Still, he couldn’t help but melt into your embrace slightly. He enjoyed the kiss for the short time it lasted. When you did pull away he had to stop himself from diving back into kiss you again.

“geese now I have wash my face,” Sero scoffed trying to sound casual. He shot jin a death glare and carefully maneuvered you away. you quietly handed him wipe from your purse letting him scrub away the red mark you had left on his mouth. 

“I’m sorry Sero I don’t know what I was thinking-” he turned to look at you and saw you were close to tears. He quickly moved to comfort you, cupping your cheek and shushing you quietly. 

“oh come on don’t cry, it’s okay,” he whispered to no avail, thick beads of water gathered in the corners of your eyes before spilling over onto your cheeks. the tears quickly turned black as they caught your mascara. 

“You know this is a real emergency,” he sighed, switching into a playful tone of voice “and as the 15th highest ranked hero It is my job to rescue you,” he teased. you sniffled looking up at him, almost like you were waiting for him to save you. He started pulling you towards the exit not caring that you were leaving embarrassingly early. 

“let's get the hell out of here and get some tacos,” he joked sneakily pulling you out of the back door. 

The two of you did your best to sneak out, avoiding photographers to the best of your abilities but the combination of alcohol and your heels made it difficult to walk in a straight line, let alone walk stealthily, but somehow the two of you managed to slink into the waiting car. 

Sero rubbed his palms over your arms smoothing over the goosebumps that had formed. 

“Better?” he asked, you nodded and wiped away the last of your tears. 

“You really aren’t mad?” you asked again, 

“Nah why would I be mad? I got to kiss a beautiful girl,” he teased elbowing you in the side. The car was dark, and he couldn’t make out all your features, but he could clearly see the blush that spread across your face. 

“Then, would you mind it if I kissed you again?” you mumbled fumbling with your fingers. Sero wasn’t sure what emotion he was supposed to feel when the love of his life asked to kiss him. But he was overcome by a sense of calm as he leaned in, cupping your face and guiding your crimson lips back to his.

Now here he was, crashing threw his apartment, kissing you, and cupping your tits. You gripped his shoulders tightly,  moaning as he sucked your collarbone. 

“imma make you feel so good baby,” he groaned pulling on your nipple before kissing the globes of your breasts. you wiggled beneath him, trying and failing to unzip the red dress that only seemed to hinder your movements. you were impatient to be naked, all too eager for Sero to have his way with you.   

“H-Hanta dress,” you whimpered

“you want it off sweetheart?” He asked flicking his dark eyes up at yours. you bit your lip and nodded. In a flash the garment was discarded. 

“no bra? that's a bold move,” He laughed examining your bare chest. 

“S-Shut Up the dress wasn’t made for a bra,” you defended weakly, crossing your arms over your chest, hiding your breasts from view. 

“Come on baby Don’t hide,”  Sero groaned lowly running his hands down from your ribcage to your hips feeling your warm skin under his hands.

“I’m sorry for teasing, let me make it up to you, yeah?” he asked and hooked his hands under your knees spreading your legs. He could see the damp patch forming on your underwear as he stared at your thinly valid crotch. 

“Can I eat you out?” he asked, biting the inside of your thighs making you jerk, your legs clamping around his head. 

“yes, p-please,” you whimpered shamelessly. Sero pushed your panties to the side, running his tongue over your lips before nuzzling deeper into your folds pushing his tongue inside of you. His strong hands pushed your thighs apart keeping you from locking your legs around his head. instead, you settled for raking your fingers through his thick black hair pulling him into place. 

You moaned his name as you rolled your hips against his face. Sero took it stride, matching your pace. Sero dug further into your pussy with his tongue, eggar to devour you. You looked so beautiful dissolving in pleasure beneath him, He had imagined you like this countless times but none of his perverted fantasies held a candle to the real thing. 

Sero sat back on his knees, whipping your cum off oh his mouth with the back of his hand. you jerked up and started working off his suit jacket before tugging on his tie. He snorted and moved to help you take off his shirt. 

“awe is someone feeling needy, Princess?” he teased, you playfully socked him in the shoulder 

“I’m going to kick your ass Sero,”  you scowled

“fine, but can we at least fuck first?” asked pulling you close. you straddled his lap and undid his belt slowly, a drastic change from need wich you had ripped off all his other clothes. 

“I’ll consider it,” you teased running your hands over his lap feeling his har cock strain against his silky trousers. Sero bit his lower lip his thighs shuddering as you stroked him.  

“you trying to make cum in my pants princess?”  he asked gripping both of your wrists harshly stopping your motion. you smirked 

“Dunno I think that would be kinda funny don’t you?” you asked. Sero rolled his eyes and tossed you off of his lap on to the bed. You stripped off your remaining article of clothing as he jerked his own pants off. 

“you really need to shut up,” he muttered spreading your legs again, you kissed his neck smearing your red lipstick across his skin. there was something beautiful about the streak of color, you smiled against his skin already deciding to mark his entire skin like that. 

“Are you sure this is okay?” Sero asked nervously.  

“Yes, I want you Sero,”  you confirmed pulling him closer and kissing him gently. he teased your folds with the head of his cock before pushing into you.

“f-fuck,” he hissed feeling your tight walls fluttering around him. He focused on his breathing you focused on his jaw, leaving red kiss marks on his skin. “I’m going to move now,” he purred, slowly regaining his confidence, as his hips drew back. 

“You’ve got such a good cunt Princess, you’re squeezing my cock so nicely,” he praised, instantly your face flushed and you couldn’t help but tighten around him as he bucked his length in and out of you, a fact Sero didn’t miss. 

“you like that huh? Princess has a praise kink?” he teased. 

“S-Shut up,” you yelped, but you were too cute to not tease. a river of dirty talk flowed from Sero’s lips as he fucked into you. how good you felt, how beautiful you were how hard he was going to make you cum. 

“Hanta I’m going to cum-” you whimpered sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. he reached down and rubbed your clit making you jerk. 

“I’m right there with you baby,” he grunted, his thrusts became more erratic and stilted. your nails raked down his back leaving angry red lines along his back. you called his name a final time as your orgasm crashed through your body, you were still shaking when Sero pulled out his cock, twitching with need. He trailed his hand over his own length, paying close attention to the tip of his length. He was ready to burst and spill his seed over your stoumach when you moved faster than lightning tackling him and almost knocking him off the bed. 

“My turn to treat you, Princess,” you purred licking your own wetness off his shaft before swallowing his cock fully. It only took a few bobs of your head for him to come undone in your mouth. You greedily sucked his cock drinking down his seed as it filled your mouth. 

“You really are dirty girl huh?” he laughed tugging your hair to get you off. you snickered and shoved his shoulder falling back onto the bed, Sero staid hovering above you for a moment more, enjoying the afterglow that seemed to incase you at that very moment. He wondered if the two of you would just go back to just being friends, now way right? Sero laid beside you and pulled you into his arms, and obviously and purposefully romantic gesture. 

Like everything, you took it in stride, pulling his arms tighter around your middle and melting against his chest. It was a comfortable, if not a little messy, embrace. 

“We should probably wash up,” you sighed craning your neck to look at him,

“you’re probably right,” He sighed 

“Okay here's the plan: we shower, I’ll steal some of your clothes, we get food, watch a movie and maybe go for round two depending and I spend the night,” you proclaimed. Sero couldn’t help but beam, 

“Sounds like a plan, Princess,”

[kenzieam]

Destroyed - Chapter Three - Raen’s Story (Chris X Raen)

Rating: M - ***TRIGGER WARNINGS***

Warnings: Violence, language, drama, angst, mentions of abuse and rape

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PLEASE READ RAEN’S STORY WITH CAUTION.

IF YOU’VE READ MY OTHER STORIES, YOU KNOW I CAN GO DARK AF, AND THIS IS NO EXCEPTION. HOPEFULLY THIS EXPLAINS WHY MY OFC HAS SUCH A HARD TIME TRUSTING ANYONE.

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LAST CHANCE......

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Raen’s Story

The phone call woke her, startled her out of an uneasy sleep. Sharp pain flooded in with her senses and she winced as she reached for the phone, pulling it to her ear with a muffled groan.

“Miss Casteel?”

Close enough. Although she and Marshall weren’t married, he still insisted she take his last name and stop referring to herself as a Casteel.

“Yes, this is.”

“My name is Judson Plante. Do you know of a woman named Agatha Desmond Casteel?”

“She’s my grandmother.” Raen replied, sitting up with a wince. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m her attorney. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for a month. Your grandmother’s passed, and she left you everything.”

Raen nearly dropped the phone, fingers shaking. “She’s died?”

“Yes, dear. I’m sorry. I take it you weren’t close?”

No, not at the end. Marshall had taken and moved her far away from any family, settling in a backwater town in a backwater state, where the majority of the housewives that perused the shelves of the local Piggly Wiggly all wore large, shielding sunglasses and had the tendency to ‘fall down the stairs’. “I stayed every summer there when I was a child.”

“Ah, yes. She spoke of that.”

“Did she…. Was it bad?”

“No, Miss Casteel, she passed in her sleep; the ladies she lunched with found her the next day. They say she looked very peaceful.”

Raen sagged in relief, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t… what do I do?”

“I have everything laid out here in my office. I just need you to verify your identity and sign some paperwork. I can send it out to you, to the nearest attorney, if you wish. You’ve moved quite a distance away, I see.”

A sharp pain rocketed through Raen’s lower belly and she bit back a moan, curling in on herself. Marshall, like most of the men in this small town, liked to drink, and sometimes he got mean; a fact that the majority of the women seemed to share and accept as their miserable lot in life, flicking sympathetic glances at each other as they passed in the store or at church, their large sunglasses not always completely hiding the bruises. But, every couple of months, something turned over in Marshall’s brain and he went from mean to downright evil, something Raen could never predict.

Three nights ago, he’d come home stinking of another woman’s perfume and ripped Raen out of their bed, then stomped out the baby he’d raped into her the last time he’d come home like this. She’d been to bed ever since, the bleeding slowing while the pain remained and, as the newest pang tore through her, so did the realization that this would never end.

Despite his regret between the spells, despite his murmured kind words and promises that he’d ‘never do it again, angel. Believe me.’ Raen knew it would never stop, he would never change, the alcohol poisoning his mind and gradually eroding the part that stayed decent would eventually override any humanity he had left.

And he’d kill her, she’d bleed out in their bed, or on the floor; and Marshall would push her corpse aside and find another to lay beneath him, to believe his lines and fall under his spell. She should have known, three years ago when this all started, how it would end. Hadn’t she watched her own mother wither away under her stepfather’s tyranny?

“Miss Casteel?” The terseness in Plante’s voice said he’d been trying for some time now to get her attention.

“I said-“

“I’ll be there. Just give me a few days.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m driving out. You said grandma left me everything, that means the house too, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then I’m taking possession. Just give me time to get there.”

“I… alright. I will have everything ready for you.”

Raen thanked him, scrawling down the address of his law office. It was a few towns over from her grandma’s house but that was no hardship. Like Raen had said, she’d spent all her summers out there as a child, she knew the area.

And it was absolutely time for a change.

Pulling her raw body from the bed, Raen packed quickly, what few possessions she had and wanted to take. Faint doubt clawed at the edges of her mind, was she really doing this? Leaving the man she’d lived with for three years; the man who, while rough with her occasionally, provided for her? Kept her safe from the dangers outside? Even as she thought that, she knew it was bullshit, lies Marshall told to keep her compliant, lies a small part of her accepted as truth and was trying to keep her here with now. There was danger out in the world sure, but he was the bigger threat.

Why had it taken so long for her to wake up?

Marshall and her grandma had never met, but Grandma had known what was coming; she’d been around the block too, so to speak. When she’d learned Raen had a new man and was planning on moving, she’d called her, asked if she knew what she was doing and although Raen hadn’t set foot in that kitchen for better than five years at that point, she could still picture the flowered curtains swaying in the breeze from the screen door as she listened to the old woman’s soft voice. Raen had tried to assuage her worry, reassure her that Marshall was different, that he’d take care of her, they were moving to another state because of a job opportunity, not to isolate her but Grandma had been right. And she’d left her favorite grandchild a safety net.

It was a sign, and it was time to go.

Her father’s old Land Cruiser sat on the far side of the dirt driveway. Raen had been careful to keep it covered, protected from the sun and Marshall had only let her keep it because it didn’t run. ‘Thieves can’t steal what they can’t get running, Raeny baby, mind your daddy.’ Raen smiled to herself remembered her dear father’s advice, the man that she should have grown up with, the man who her mother should have had in her life, if not for that accident at the factory, as she poured fresh gas in the tank and attached the proper wires, laughing despite herself when the Cruiser roared to life. Marshall wasn’t that smart; she’d gotten this past him, thanks daddy, and now she was leaving forever.

Despite the fact that Marshall would have no clue as to where she went, if he even remembered she had a grandmother he had no idea where she’d lived; for when he and Raen had met, four states separated them and then he moved them further still, Raen white-knuckled it through the next thirty hours, driving as far as she could before pulling over to sleep, then driving again.

Freshening up in a local motel, Raen met Plante and signed the paperwork. Part of the few possessions she’d taken had been a small locked box, one Marshall had never seen for he surely would have opened it and destroyed what lay inside. And inside had been Raen’s lifeline. Her papers, her ID, pictures, what she needed to fulfill Judson Plante’s and the Law’s requirements for her to take what was left to her.

She’d taken the keys, the folders and left the stately office. Arriving at her grandma’s, her, house, she’d cried at the sight. It was just as she remembered from her childhood, down to the flowered curtains, the vintage Kelvinator fridge in vibrant yellow, the old farmhouse sink. A bone-deep exhaustion, a years-in-the-making collapse hit her then and she’d slept for almost two days, wakened and hid inside for another week, until the fear that Marshall would find her faded.

Grandma had left her some money, and she’d hidden little bits away from Marshall’s left-around- the-house change, but she needed to find a job and, after a time, found The Bend. She’d done some bartending before, that’s how she’d met the prince named Marshall himself, and found it came back to her easily, and just a bit ago her boss asked if she wanted to try waitressing, start working the early lunch shift at The Bend instead of the late one.

Raen found she’d liked both, and would often work doubles, noon to midnight or later, and it had been fine, a quiet existence for the last few months until her Cruiser chose to act up, coughing like it was it’s last as she limped it into Griffin Mechanical. The man who’d approached her had not been old Mr. Griffin, the man she remembered from her childhood, but a young and handsome devil who’d haunted her dreams ever since.

Tall and muscular, his head shorn and a dark goatee on his chin, his fierce appearance was at complete odds with the gentleness Raen had seen immediately in his bottomless eyes, the kind but nervous smile he’d given her. His voice was one she could listen to forever, one that soothed her to the very depths of her soul and one she imagined was capable of heating her blood to an inferno if he ever leaned close enough to whisper in her ear what his eyes said he wanted to do to her.

Her heart had immediately been lost, tied to this man and she’d never been more scared.

Men were rough, men were brutes who used their fists as much as their words when they were angry. Loving a man meant pain and humiliation, it meant feeling the burgeoning life trying to live within you that was forced upon you but, in the end you’d come around to want, seep out between your legs as a pile of hot stones took residence in your belly.

Chris’ hands were large, stained with grime, capable of wielding heavy wrenches and, no doubt, painful blows. The bulging muscles in his biceps and forearms meant he was strong, his punches and strikes would hurt and what’s worse, the gentle light in his eyes would be all the more monstrous as his fists rained down pain.

His body, his smile, his very aura was bliss, strumming hers to life and it could never be. Raen would never make that mistake again, she would never let another have power over her.

She would never let another Marshall into her life.

[wndamaximov]

Persephone

Summary: Y/n gets fed up with all of her mother’s rules, so she decides to leave and find her own adventure. 

Marvel Greek God AU

Word Count: 1,512

Warnings: Language

A/n: For those of you who don’t know, Brunnhilde is Valkyrie’s real name

Mother only had a couple of rules. One of the most important ones were to always stay close by her side.

 “Never stray too far y/n, and you’ll forever be safe,” she always said. It was her mantra, her lifeline. It was meant more for her than it was for me. There was always just one more bullshit excuse for me to never leave her.

“You know Stark likes to play around, what if you end up being one of the many women he has taken advantage of?”

“What if Loki decides to make you the butt of his next joke?”

Or my personal favorite:

“What if Thor sways you towards his partying ways... and his affection for both men and women begins to rub off on you?”

I hated it so much. As much as I loved my mother, she was extremely overbearing. Occasionally, she would get to be too much to handle. Thankfully, I had Brunnhilde to rely on when that happened. 

She and I would flee down to earth where there were fields of nothing Olympian related and we could clear our heads. She too, knew what it was like to have a dictatorial family. 

Brunnhilde and her sisters were warriors that protected Stark’s throne. No one, not even T’challa, would dare to cross their paths. But even though she had no choice but to serve the king in battle, at least she got to venture out in the world with people who weren’t her mother.

I lived for those stolen moments in the meadows of earth. No responsibilities and no mother, just the flowers and Brunnhilde. And that used to be enough.

It’s been a couple of centuries since I’ve been born, and I’ve never seen much of the world. Loki was lucky- as the messenger god, he had been all over, even to the Underworld. He used to always tell me tales from earth to fill me in on what I’d missed.

I decided no more - today would be the day I go someplace other than Olympus and a field where nothing but animals reside.

༺═──────────────═༻

I looked out my window, draped across the enormous sill, day dreaming about what I would do once I was free. Would I first visit the mortals, or other gods? And who would I meet along the way?

There was a light tap on the glass, startling me back into the present. Of course. Who else could it be but Loki? Damn the trickster god.

I glared at him through the window as he flashed me his biggest smile. After a couple of seconds, I conceded and opened the pane for him to climb through.

“Did you get it?”

“Of course I did, my lady,” he responded, “Who do you think I am, a common thief?”

“Yes, actually, I do think that. Remember the time you stole Pietro’s prized cattle?”

“Alright, I yield. Now, do you want it or not?” He carefully brought out a blue cube from his jacket pocket. I held out my hand to take it, but he pulled it away. “Promise me you’ll be careful, y/n.”

“I promise.” I gazed into his dazzling eyes, their color the same as the stone in his hands. They were filled with sorrow, why I do not know.

“And promise me you’ll come back,” he begged. 

I looked at him ruefully and replied, “You know I can’t do that, Loki.”

“I know.” He regretfully handed me the tesseract, and before he climbed back out into the world, he said, “I just want you to know that I love you. I always have.” 

“Loki,” I said, shaking my head sadly, “I don’t feel the same way about you, at least not yet. I wish we could have more time to explore this- us- but you know that can’t happen. I need to leave here now.”

“I know. Bye princess.” His tone was a little harsh, but before I could question it, he was gone, the breeze that swayed the curtains the only indication he was ever there.

༺═──────────────═༻

“Y/n, where do you think you’re going?” My mother stood, blocking the doorway. Even her curled ringlets and bright red lipstick exuded anger.

“I’m going out with Brunnhilde, just like I do everyday Mother.” I inwardly sighed. I was so close to leaving without her noticing.

“Ok,” she replied sternly, “Just make sure you don’t do anything to soil the Carter name.”

“I know Mother, and before you say it, no talking to strangers and Thor, and steer clear of Stark.”

“Good girl. Off you go,” she said, pulling me into a hug.

“Bye Mother.”

༺═──────────────═༻

I stood in the middle vacant land, no one else around to witness anything. Just the patch of narcissus’. I didn’t bother telling Brunnhilde where I was- she would just tell Mother. For the first time, I was well and truly alone. 

I turned the cube over and over in my hands, visualizing my destination. I knew the perfect place. Loki had told me stories of the times he visited the Underworld. It was a place only he could travel freely to; none of the other gods were allowed to pass through the veil of Death. Mother wouldn’t be able to get to me even if she tried.

As soon as the picture formed in my head, a black dot appeared in the middle of the air. It grew larger and larger in size, until it expanded enough to reveal a muscular blonde man in a suit of red, white, and blue. He looked like the immortal version of Adonis.

“Are you sure this is where you want to go, y/n?”

I stared at the man in shock. “How the hell do you know my name?”

“I am the God of Death. I know every one, even if they don’t know me.”

“Can you take me inside?”

He looked at me in pity. “I am aware of your predicament, but know this my lady- once inside, it will not be this easy to come back out.”

“Good.” 

He nodded. “Then follow me.”

༺═──────────────═༻

The journey down to the realm of the dead was filled with the screams of the punished and the whispers of the forgotten. It was hard keep up with Death. It seemed as if he was floating down the steps. As for me, I kept tripping over my tunic as it got caught in lost dreams.

“How long until we arrive?” I asked, interrupting Death’s silence.

“Almost, my lady. And call me Steve.” The god of Death was named Steve. I never would have expected that.

Suddenly, Steve came to a stop in front of a boat beside a flowing pathway filled with items the dead had long forgotten. The infamous river Styx.

“This is where we part, my lady. One of the Howling Commandos will take you to the gates.”

“Thank you, Steve.”

“It was my pleasure.” He bowed, and as he rose, his body faded from view. Now it was just me and the hooded figure in the ferry.

It motioned for me to climb in and I did, thinking, “If only you could see me now, Mother.” 

As soon as I was inside, the boat lurched forward, further into the Underworld. Going past things that people once cherished was unsettling. That could be me one day, after all. Forgotten, floating along a river for eternity.

After a while, a giant barrier could be seen. In front of the gates was a giant three headed dog. Each head was nastier than the last. Blood dripped down from every maw and its fur was covered in scars. The danger it presented was alluring.

The ferry stopped at the dock before the mastiff. It was time to get off and face the beast.

I approached it, slowly, careful not to startle it. It growled, warning me to back off. I paused and held out my hand for it to sniff. That’s what it wanted, right?

It walked tentatively towards me, close enough for me to feel its hot breath and smell the foul stench coming from it. There was probably a hint of dead human in there, maybe even Olympian. 

It leaned in, and inhaled, almost pulling me up with the air. It opened its giant mouth, and instead of eating me like I thought it would, it barked once, the sound resonating throughout the entrance, and the gates to the Underworld opened.

In the middle stood a man in a battle vest and a metal arm. His eyes were covered with a strip of black and his brown hair was shoulder length.

“Welcome to hell.”

༺═──────────────═༻

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[thebirdyboiler]

Gravesbeaks Week Day 3 Drabble!

Today’s prompt is protective/jealous! Like yesterday, I wanna give an art shout out to this piece. It was good inspiration, and I need more Mark climbing all over Falcon in my life! I’m humbled by the positive reception to my drabble yesterday and I hope I don’t disappoint with what I’ve got for today! Drabble under the cut! 

Irritatingly loud pop music seemed to blast in every direction. Strobe lights flashed all around and made it difficult for Graves to get his bearings. The smell of alcohol was thick in the air, like a damp fog. The falcon had never been to a club before, and this experience only made him determined never to set foot in one again! "Gnngh..." He grumbled, reaching for the shoulder of his employer and boyfriend. The parrot was in the middle of a selfie with a pair of hens Graves had never seen before in his life. The young women exchanged their peep handles for tagging purposes and went about their clubbing with large smiles on their faces. 

Beaks turned to regard his bodyguard. "Heey, Gravesy! Sheesh, if you wanted in on some selfie action, you shoulda told me! All I got was your hand!" He wrapped an arm around the other affectionately. Any other time it'd be nice but between being on the job and the awful onslaught of noise and lights all around... Falcon frowned to himself and removed the arm.

"Actually, I was hoping we could leave... I'm beginning to get a headache-"

"Whaaat? Cut this party early and just leave?!" Mark scoffed and leaned against the taller man. Waving a hand in the air dismissively, he grinned up at Graves. "That'd be bad for my image! I'd go from cool guy Mark Beaks to lame nerd Mark who reads books at home! C'mon, maybe you just need a drink or two, you know? To take the edge off! This is supposed to be fun, and you're making it very not fun." His fingers danced their way along Falcon's beak, giving him a little poke to emphasis his words. 

Ignoring the urge to nip his boyfriend's fingers, Falcon grimaced. "I don't want a drink. This place probably serves the cheap scotch! Can't we just go home-"

"Ah-bap-bap! Let's stick a pin in it, big guy!" Miming the gesture of literally sticking a pin in the air, Mark gestured to the newest group of fans waiting eagerly for a selfie. "I gotta have some face time with my people! We'll talk about this later, 'kay?" And just like that, the parrot was snapping pictures with the crowd. 

Sighing lowly, Falcon made his way to the bar and slid onto one of the cleaner stools. His hand massaged a temple, by now the throbbing in his brain seemed to be timed exactly with the bass drops of the music. Eventually it got to the point that Graves had to use both hands, continuing to rub when something touched his shoulder. 

Reacting fast, Graves raised an arm in a judo chop that was about to strike whoever had touched him! There was a startled yelp, and a duck narrowly avoided getting struck upside the face. "Whoa dude!"

Falcon's eyes performed a reconnaissance of the young man who'd touched him. A rainbow tank top, a pair of black shorts, and a skinnier physique. Hm. Probably just a harmless clubber. No threat at all. "Sorry about that. Reflexes." Arm by his side once more, he turned to fully face the timid duck. "Do you need this chair?”

"N-no, no, sorry dude." Taking a deep breath, the duck relaxed when it was clear Graves wasn't going to beat him up. "I just noticed you sitting here all by yourself. And a guy in a suit in a club...kinda stands out." The comment made the falcon a bit self conscious, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey, it's cool! I kinda like it. It's very...handsome."

"Oh." Such a compliment from someone who wasn’t Mark felt...awkward. Graves was hardly a stranger to being hit on, but he was in a committed relationship now! 

"I'm Duncan. If you're not waiting for anybody...maybe I can keep you company? Buy you a drink?" Duncan smiled shyly, brushing his feathered bangs out of his eyes. 

"I'm actually here with someone, they're rather busy and we'll be leaving soon anyway." The duck seemed friendly enough, but Falcon would rather nip this right in the bud. Nothing wrong with a stern but gentle refusal.

"Maybe we could exchange numbers or something-?"

"HISSSSSSS!" Before Duncan could hand over his digits, a weight suddenly launched onto Graves from behind and began to hiss like an irritated snake! The bodyguard nearly flipped the offender off of his back before he caught Mark's bright yellow eyes. His pupils were narrowed into small dots, and his arms wrapped tightly around Graves' neck. His legs, the same but around his waist. 

"Oh my gosh! Mark Beaks?!" Duncan gasped, immediately starstruck.

Graves became quickly embarrassed by this turn of events. "Mr. Beaks, please control yourself." This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as the parrot's grip only tightened. Not that it was painful for the muscular bird, but it was certainly alarming. Mark was always so mellow and worried about his image. And now here he was, gripping onto Graves as if he might fade away! 

"Mr. Beaks, can I have a selfie? My friends won't believe I actually met you-!" 

When offered the phone, Mark merely slapped it out of Duncan's hands. The phone fell down onto the floor with a clatter. Duncan stared, mouth agape as if he only just realized that the CEO was upset with him. 

"Get lost, loser!" Mark screeched with a seething glare. By now the crowd around them was beginning to take notice of the parrot's histrionics. Falcon spared only a small glance at the duck that had started all of this before he darted for the exit. Camera flashes followed them out, likely getting little else but a shot of their backs as they left.

As shameful as their exit had been, Falcon was relieved to have peace at last. No loud music, and the streetlamps above were amazingly consistent. It had taken several blocks for the parrot to relax. He had settled into holding the other as if he were giving a piggy back ride. Mark's grip slacked and he could feel the parrot's beak was pressed against his neck. Graves decided to take the scenic route back to Beaks' mansion, it was longer but they likely needed the time in order to talk. Though he refused to say a thing, just waiting for the parrot to say something. 

"Gravesy, you love me, right?" Finally he spoke, though it wasn't exactly what Graves had been expecting to hear. His voice was muffled and a bit strained. 

"What?" Graves glanced over a shoulder, but couldn't find the parrot's eyes as they were buried in the falcon's feathers. "Of course I do. If I didn't, I would have thrown you off by now."

"But...but you were talking to that guy. He was totally hitting on you and you didn't even punch him!" Despite how upset the parrot sounded, the falcon couldn't hold back a soft chuckle. "Don't laugh, it's not funny!" He returned to gripping Graves' jacket as if it were a lifeline. 

"Mark, I can decide for myself when punching is necessary. The duck was being friendly. If he made me uncomfortable or crossed a line, I would have 'punched him in the face', as you so crudely put it." The assurance didn't seem to lighten the parrot's mood at all. Frowning to himself, Graves aimed their path for a nearby bench. Once close, he grabbed hold of Mark's arms and slowly pried him off. Eventually he had the other by the nape of his cardigan, and the falcon set him down upon the wooden bench gently.

"Hmph!" Turning his face away like a petulant child, Mark continued to pout even as Falcon joined him on the bench. 

This must be serious...he hadn't even seen the other reach for his phone since they'd left the club! With a deep frown set upon his beak, Graves reached for the parrot's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Mark...talk to me. Don't you trust me?" Was this what this was? A trust thing? 

The question earned Falcon a peek from Mark. "I trust you, Gravesy, but I don't trust that guy! Or...anyone, really! Don't you know how irresistible you are?" Was the younger man being serious or just trying to stroke Falcon's ego to make him drop it? Either way, it made the older man smirk. 

"I can handle guys like him. I may be irresistible, but I can handle myself!" Two could play this game of stroking the egos. Reaching out, Graves pulled the parrot into his lap easily. Aside from a soft gasp, Mark remained quiet. Graves cupped the smaller bird's chin and tilted his face up so they were eye to eye. "Don't you know I'm all your's?"

Finally, he seemed to be getting somewhere. Mark's eyes widened before he surged forward and wrapped his arms around Graves' neck firmly. Their beaks pressed together in a passionate kiss as Mark's fingers began to roam and caress Falcon's feathers. In return, he moved to support the parrot's back, deepening the kiss, Mark’s elated trilling vibrated against the falcon’s chest. The sensation was familiar and welcome.

When their beaks parted, the two were starry-eyed. Mark recovered first, a large grin stretching across his beak. "Okay Graves, you're off the hook~! Make up selfie!" He pressed their cheeks together as he took a commemorative picture to show to all of his followers. Falcon rolled his eyes at the display, inwardly relieved.

"Perfect. Now, how about we head on home, hm?" Those seemed to be the magic words, as Beaks pocketed his phone with a firm nod. He dislodged himself from Falcon's lap and reached his hand out for Graves to grab. With a bit of effort, the parrot helped his boyfriend up off of the bench. Walking hand in hand, Mark leaned into Graves as he mentally calculated ways to track down Duncan's social media profile and ruin him.

[romionequickiefest]

What’s My Name?

Category Public Places Rated M

The first thing he noticed about her were her legs. Those creamy limbs that screamed touch me that were peeking out of her tight black dress.

She sat at the bar, sipping on what appeared to be a cosmopolitan. The way she brought the drink to her puckered pink lips made him feel pleasantly uneasy.

She felt eyes on her and looked over in her admirer’s direction. The man was tall, muscular, a fine specimen with hair like flames. She wondered if holding his hair in her hand would burn.

She didn’t take her eyes off of him as he made his way towards her. She held her glass coyly, eyeing him up and down the closer he got.

“Do you mind?” he asked, pointing to the barstool beside her, his baritone voice sending a delightful tingle to her treasure.

“Not if you get me another drink.” she said, winking at him.

“Bartender, another if you would.” he said. “A shot of firewhiskey for myself please.”

“So what brings you here?” she asked as her drink arrived.

“I was going to ask you the same thing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.” he said, his erection making his pants tighter as it begged and pleaded to come out.

“That’s because you haven’t.” she said, running her finger around the rim of her glass. “I’m here enjoying the sights.

"I’m enjoying the sights as well.” he said, eyes scanning her body unapologetically.

She felt her body temperature rise as she watched his cerulean eyes landed on her legs. Images of him buried in between them began to fill her mind, exciting her.

“And have you liked what you have seen?”

“So far.” he said, downing his shot, not taking his eyes off of her.

She forced herself not to start breathing heavy. His scent, his voice, his very presence was intoxicating.

“What’s your name?” he asked?

“What’s in a name?” she answered.

“So you’re not going to tell me what your name is?” he asked, slyly.

“Why do you need to know my name?”

He leaned close to her ear. “So I can know what to call you while I fuck your brains out.” he whispered seductively in her ear, making her pussy jump with delight.

He knew he had her. He could tell by her body language that his words excited her, she was probably dripping from the anticipation.

“Follow me.” he said, taking the drink out of her delicate hand and helping her off the barstool.

The bar was inside of a hotel. He had planned on getting them a room as he guided her towards the front desk.

She had another idea in mind.

“You follow me.” she said, pulling him towards the women’s bathroom.

“Are you sure?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“More than sure.” she said.

She pulled him into the bathroom, not bothering to lock the door. She immediately crashed her mouth onto his, tongue plunging in his mouth, the taste of firewhiskey further encouraging her to give in to her primal urge.

He picked her up and slammed her against the wall. Her legs latched around his waist as he furiously bit at her neck.

She clawed at his scalp, grasping his hair as he left marks on her exposed chest.

“Are you gonna tell me your name?” he asked breathlessly as he hiked up her dress.

“No.” she said, her sepia eyes shining brighter from the light in the room.

He gave her a sexy smirk as he took out her wand that was holding her hair in a bun. Her thick, brown mane seemed to explode in all directions, making her look as if she were from the wild.

She reached for his belt, unbuckling it and popping the button of his slacks at the same time. She thrusted her hand into them, grabbing his hardness as if it were her lifeline. He hissed as he hand went back and forth over him, eyes focused on his.

“Enough of this, you’re going to tell me your name.” he said, snatching her hand out and turning her around, bending her over until her hands were grasping the sink in front of her.

They could hear people moving and chatting just outside the door. The thought of someone walking in, catching them in a compromising position made him lust for her even more.

He yanked down her red lace knickers and didn’t even give her a warning as he slammed his dick into her awaiting hole.

She cried out as the pain and pleasure became one. He twisted her hair around his hand, pulling on it as he rammed inside of her over and over as if he was the conductor, and her hair was the reigns.

“Tell me your name.” he said as he slapped her ass, his handprint left red and glowing on her cheek.

“Make me!!” she growled as he pounded into her, harder and harder.

“Fuck that. I want you to say my name.” he said as he pulled out of her and picked her up, once again slamming her into the wall. He drove his pulsing dick hard into her once again, biting her shoulder as her tight walls constricted around it.

“Deeper!!” she begged loudly, knowing full well her screams had to have been heard.

He thrusted as deep into her ocean as he could, trying his best not to end it until she uttered the word he was looking for.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time.” he growled as he felt her walls preparing to climax. “What’s. My. Name?”

“Ron!! Oh god Ron!!” she yelled as he rammed into her one last time, spilling his seed inside of her as her walls pulsed around his member.

They panted as they looked at each other, laughing softly as Ron slipped out of her and put her feet back on the ground.

“You play a dangerous game, Hermione.” said Ron as he tried to gain his composure.

Hermione smiled, wiping the sweat off of Ron’s forehead with a paper towel. “I told you this would be fun.” she said.

“How are we gonna get out of here?” he asked as he fixed his shirt and pants.

“Just like we got in silly. We walk, of course.” said Hermione, fixing her dress, but not caring about her hair.

“Merlin, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“You should have thought of that before you married me.” said Hermione, wiggling her ring finger. “Now let’s go.”

They opened the door and sure enough, they were met with quite a few stares.

They looked at each other and grinned.

“See you at home, love.” said Ron. Hermione gave him a small eave and watched him walk out of the hotel.

Hermione looked at the tiny crowd of prying eyes.

“As you were.” she demanded, and walked back to the bar for a much needed glass of water.

[yenrps]

“Forgive me. You’re right. I put you at risk. It was too dangerous a task for a—’ 

‘For a woman, you mean? Is that what you were going to say?

 Are you playing the gentleman all of a sudden?

 I may have to squat to piss, but my coat is lined with wolf skin, not coney fur! 

Don’t call me a coward, because you don’t know me!”  ― Andrzej Sapkowski

CHARACTER SUMMARY

Boisterous, buoyant, blunt. Not unlike her sister, she’s a storm. It is impossible to ignore her booming voice when she enters a room because no matter what: Síle always elicits a response. Stereotypes, decorum and all those chains do not do much except leave guys with black eyes --- or authority figures, respectively. All Morrisons are fighters, and so is she. Brawls and fists up; that’s usually her first impulse. Though others have tried to quiet her down, to bottle her emotions up, Síle stubbornly wears her heart on her sleeve, facing life head on.  All turmoil aside, if there is anything she stands for, it is her personal freedom. There isn’t much that can faze her and if it does, the long-term planning she usually leaves to her sister.

Although Síle bid farewell to her home country, she is proud to be Irish and makes no qualms about it either. As somebody raised by Lin, Síle places family and friends over everything else without any second thoughts. Passion, hospitality, and compassion being the only guidelines she takes seriously.

APPEARANCE DESCRIPTION

Although Síle tiptoes around anything too serious, there is an perceptive glint to her blue eyes. On most days, she keeps her brown locks tied up in a messy bun if she can be bothered to put her hair up --- which is to say her hair usually stays the unruly mess that it is, even after furious combing.

Despite her average height, Síle is not to be trifled with; she can throw a damn good right hook and is not afraid to crack her knuckles. There is nothing petite about her figure due to the training she’s undergone. Muscular in spite of only being 173 centimeters, you won’t be seeing any fear when she goes up against grown ass men. Those she gladly taunts in her South-Western accent, often said to be musical. And while high-heels, in her book, are mostly top-shelf stuff because legal throwing stars, the extent of her vanity stays shoe-box small. Sure, she is proud of her top-notch eye wing; otherwise her vanity mirror serves as a place on which to dump dirty laundry. Tattoos, meanwhile, aren’t really up her alley. They’re cool but as somebody who rocks the girl next door look, ink doesn’t suit her. The only exception is the partner tattoo she has with her sister which they got after their reconciliation.

PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION

Barely a day goes by during which her blood doesn’t spool down the drain. In some way or another, there is always a split lip, a scrap, or the faintest hint of a black eye - much to Lin’s chagrin. While Síle no longer dances with danger as much - for her sister’s sake - she is still pretty much on second base with the frozen peas in their freezer. On the bright side, you will not meet anybody as brave, spontaneous and welcoming as Síle if you let her in. Jokes, fun, teasing - this is her lingua franca and once she has adopted someone, she’ll see it as her chivalric duty to make sure you’re having fun, too. Not a single bone in her body craves alone time and as such, she is rarely seen on her own. Though her ideas are more idealistic, Síle does her best to swap reckless abandon for serious plans about her future; her freedom, nonetheless, will always come first.

Ever the social butterfly, with little to shame her, Síle can hold a grudge as easily as she can welcome somebody into her family. The slightest lie, ambiguity or sneaking around her back is bound to bring out the infamous Morrison rage. Family is her lifeline and to be dishonest with Síle equals an emotional coup de grace. In this, Lin and Síle are alike. Let them down and they’ll make sure you’re going to have the scars to never forget it.

In the end, she is the jack in the jukebox: unlikely to stay put, trampling all over traditions and all too happy to keep her head up out of sheer spite.

SKILLS / COMPETENCES

Pretty sure anyone robbing her of her debit card would be disappointed to find there’s nothing on it (definitely not mid-month) and even be so kind to give it back afterwards. Since her parents thought it important to teach their children Irish and would therefore use the language outside the classroom, Síle is fluent and equal parts proud of it as her heritage is very dear to her. English takes second place as a result of being raised in a bilingual household. 

After her family broke apart, Síle sought a way out and decided to live with her aunt, who had married a Finnish man and subsequently followed him to Finland. As such, her Finnish is at an upper-intermediate level, though Síle never managed to reach fluency --- Finnish frayed her brain much too much; and quite honestly, she has since then lost some of it after returning to England to live with her sister.  And while Síle would never call herself an intellectual, she did - at Lin’s behest - make it through law school and came out on top with a degree. Without her sister’s nudging, Síle would have likely let her intelligence gone to waste. She is unemployed because she hated every second of it, however.

What’s more, Síle is a skilled kick-boxer and regularly exercises to stay in shape. Along with this, she also knows a thing or two about Taekwondo, making her more than able to hold her own in a fight.

INTERPERSONAL MANNER

Without doubt, the Morrisons are loyal, selfless souls, readily offering their hospitality and ear to those held dear. Albeit Síle’s style is undoubtedly warmer and more uncomplicated than her sister, they share this quality --- most of all because it was Lin who instilled those values in her. Unsurprisingly, Síle is a packaged deal. If you want to be friends with her, you better be prepared to befriend the whole family.  

What she expects from others, moreover, is simple. Be friendly, no assholery and no bigotry. In a way, she sees herself as a crusader for her friend’s freedom and her own, not taking kindly to rules, restrictions or expectations.

Indecision is something she cannot stomach. People without opinions ---- sheep --- have her boiling with blind fury, so, like her, Síle needs somebody who is not afraid to speak up. Sure, this leads to fights and arguments; but most of those are forgotten rather easily. Sometimes all she needs is to be loud, knowing she is heard. Ironically enough, however, it is Síle who fears true commitment in a relationship, moreso than Lin. Most Morrison women, after all, have terrible taste pertaining to lovey-dovey escapades.

INSPIRED BY: Cirilla (The Witcher), Cerys (The Witcher)