lexiᛪ

Ilia Topuria

Distractions

Shameless Part 1

Shameless Part 2

Little bit

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Charles Oliveira

Under your spell

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Arman Tsarukyan

Digits Part 1

Digits Part 2

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Dustin Poirier

Professional

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quick little funky makeup dump :p

i had this lingering in my mind for a while. he’s hot as it is, but him beat up… oh my 🤤 the white house beating woke something up in me

Little bit- Ilia Topuria x Reader (nsfw)

The arrangement, as you liked to call it, came unexpectedly.

You befriended Ilia early in his career, way before he even dreamt of making it to the UFC. He was a nice guy. Calm, collected, but he easily broke under pressure, you knew that.

Any bit of stress turned into slight anger, snarky comments in the gym, towels thrown around the room. This became worse when he signed with the UFC. He’d isolate himself for days on end, throwing you mean stares whenever you’d try to make small talk, to at least know how he was feeling. Then, he’d win a fight and be in high spirits for months on end, until his new fight contract would be put on the table.

When his fight with Oliveira was announced he was livid. He acted high and mighty in front of the cameras, confident, like he already had the win in the bag.

But, that night, he came to your hotel room, angry and desperate. He burst in your room and just sat on your bed, exchanging no words with you.

You’d just gotten out of the shower, hair still wet, dripping on the hardwood floors and he was just there, staring off into space.

You asked him if he was okay, pressed as much as you could, but he wouldn’t budge. You sat in silence for a while, the balcony door was open, cars passing through the city. You wondered how things would be a year down the line, if you’d still be here, with your friend.

You turned your head around, hearing the bedsheets shift under Ilia’s weight. He looked at you dead in the eyes as he said the words that started this whole shitshow:

“I need a good fuck, just to relax, that’s all. You’ll help me, right?”

You thought it was a joke at first, almost laughed in his face. Until he looked back at you, as serious as ever.

Like friends do. He said at the end of the night, tugging himself back in his sleeping shorts, looking at your spent form on the bed. He went back to his room before you could even get off the mattress, vanished, like he’d never been there in the first place.

Of course you helped him, that was what friends did, and you’d been lying if you said you hadn’t wanted it since the start of your friendship. He was drop-dead gorgeous, but you wouldn’t say that out loud in any circumstances.

And you soon found out the he wasn’t kidding about the whole relaxation thing. You thought it was just a gimmick, a childish excuse to fuck you. He came down in the morning to the table where you’d all been sitting, with the biggest smile on his face. He was glowing. He made jokes, laughed as he hadn’t in months. He was a brand-new person.

You dug the fork around in your plate, swishing whatever was left of your food, appetite slowly fading.

You realised what you had actually done the night before, and with whom. You wanted to shrink, fly away, all just to get out of there.

You lifted your eyes from the food. Big mistake. Ilia was right in the seat in front of you. You made eye contact as he gave you the most mischievous mile you’d ever seen. Your eyes went back down, pretending to be busy.

Your phone blinked awake as a notification popped up. Same time tonight? I’ll bring protection this time, promise..

His foot nudged yours under the table. You were in too deep now.

So, he’d drop by around two times a month, bring a pack of condoms to restock, and de-stress, as he liked to call it. He liked to talk about it casually, as if it was just another sparring session.

At first, it was just the vanilla stuff and you thought it’d remain that way. You’d expected him to be a pretty plain, straightforward guy. You were so wrong. He got bored of missionary by the second time around, he wanted something more exciting, more to his liking.

And, because you were a good friend, his best friend in these moments, you went through with anything and everything he proposed. And it just so happened that all of your interests aligned.

He’d make you ride him as he responded to business emails on his phone, sometimes turning the phone around for a quick grammar-check or second opinion, as you tried to formulate coherent sentences in response.

He liked fucking you over the balcony railing, challenging you to remain quiet so as not to wake up the other residents.

Whenever he was in the mood just for some foreplay he’d let you toy with his fingers, biting, licking, as he scrolled on his phone or watched a movie. Then, he’d make out with you, leaving you in a puddle before he’d pick up his few things and head out the door, leaving you there.

He wasn’t all cruel, though, he had his giver moments, but he was oh so annoying now. He thought he could just walk nonchalantly into your life and take whatever the fuck he wanted. Hell, he’ll be asking for your soul next time around, that was how absurd he’d gotten.

So, when the White House fight night ended you just knew what you were in for. He’d probably storm into your room again and-

You heard a knock on your door. Of course.

You slowly walked to the door. The knocking got more insistent, desperate, until he was banging on the wood.

“You could’ve let yourself in, like you always do, you know?”

The hotel room door swung open as he stormed past you, shirt covering his face. He had blood dripping everywhere, on the carpet, on the pearly-white bedsheets.

“Don’t- shit, I’ll have to pay for the cleaning fee on all of these!” you hurried with a nearby towel, wiping down what you thought you could salvage.

He took the shirt off. Oh fuck. He had cuts all over his face, nose dripping full of blood. This was bad, really bad. You’d never seen him like that, with such a defeated look on his face. You hadn’t even thought it possible to have this cocky, arrogant man almost in tears on your bed.

You took another towel and started gently wiping his face. He tried to look anywhere but at your face.

You took his face in your palms when you finished.

“All done.” you said quietly, getting off the sheets.

He grabbed you by the shirt, tossing you right back on the fluffy surface.

“I’ll pay.”

You raised an eyebrow in question.

“For the clean-up.”

You just nodded, a bit confused, and sat up on the bed.

His hands came around your waist, face smushing into your shoulder.

“Don’t do that, your nose is probably broken, you’ll just be in more trouble. Does your brother know about this? That you’re here? You really should be at least at the hospital-“

“I really need you right now.” he gripped your waist tighter, so as to make a point. His tone was needy and weak, something you’d never heard before.

“What?” you heard him, but the satisfaction of hearing him saying those words again was just immense.

“I need you.”

You sighed in faux annoyance. Your pupils were dilated, twinkling with excitement.

“Lay down.” you pushed him on the mattress, back flat. His eyes widened in surprise.

You’d never seen him like that before, he was like a puppy, with those big, lost eyes, waiting for a semblance of control to come back into his life.

You were going to help him let go.

He still had his fight shorts on. You slowly peeled them off, admiring his strong thighs, one finger gliding down his v-line. He shivered.

“Shit.”

You looked at him. He was breathing rapidly, chest raising and falling at a rapid rate. He was the one in control, the one turning the gears, but not tonight. And he wasn’t used to it.

Your mouth traced the hard planes of his stomach, then down. You took his hard cock in your hand, stroking it slowly. He gasped at that.

Oh.

After a few more lazy pumps you lowered your head, taking him in.

“Oh fuck…” your eyes shot up at that, meeting his desperate stare.

Never in your life had you heard him moan this loud, so, you were probably doing this well enough. That gave you a confidence boost.

You went even lower, as he hit the back of your throat.

“Please…”

You ignored him.

“Fuck, don’t make me beg.”

Still, you didn’t acknowledge him. Served him right.

You took your mouth off him, stroking up and down, spit and slick making a mess on his thighs.

He was panting, burying one half of his face in the sheets, smearing them with dried-up blood. He was close.

You sped up your pace, watching his reactions.

“Shit, I’m almost there.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I know.”

A few more strokes and he threw his head back, a prolonged groan leaving his lips.

The sheets were filthy. The carpet had blood splatters everywhere, probably caked in the material by now.

Sweaty and hurt, he got up from the bed on shaky legs. You looked up at him expectantly. You knew he was going to leave.

“Thank you, I owe you one next time.” he said in a whisper as he left the room. He didn’t know how to let you go.

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Author’s note: wrote bits and pieces of this while listening to salvia palth lmfao. anyway, miserable times for the topuria fans. there may be some spelling errors or awkward expressions, sorry for that.

he’s SO underrated, it actually hurts. top 5 baddest ufc fighters at LEAST 😪

also it’s so funny how i’m posting this amidst the public intoxication situation lmfao

Professional- Dustin Poirier x Reader (nsfw)

You didn’t know if he noticed you, but you definitely noticed him.

The prospect of starting to go to the gym was jarring. Your friends had little to no free time to accompany you and you had no prior experience with this kind of thing. You went in blindly.

But, you were hopeful, nobody knew you there, so, even if you somehow embarrassed yourself, there were no known witnesses that would somehow share this with your whole roster.

What you didn’t know, though, was that most attendees were professionals. You noticed this as soon as you stepped into the gym.

Expensive equipment, unknown concoctions in plastic bottles; stretchy, branded clothing. They knew what they were doing. You didn’t.

And that was clear once you tried and failed to turn on the treadmill. You pressed the buttons, read the directions on the screen, even googled how to use it. Your eyes locked onto the phone screen, looking for a solution.

A big arm came from behind you, pressing two of the furthest buttons. You raised your head, scanning the treadmill screen in front of you. It looked normal. Huh.

You turned your head to thank the kind soul who saved you from such an embarrassing situation. But your face dropped in shame as you saw your saviour.

Tan, tattooed skin, broad shoulders. This guy was the real deal. You couldn’t help but notice the way his sweat-soaked shirt stuck to his muscular frame or how a couple of stray strands of hair fell perfectly over his eyes.

He mouthed something and stuck out his hand.

“Sorry?” you asked, finally out of your dazed state.

“Dustin.” you shook hands. “Let me know if you ever need some help. I come by everyday, don’t be shy.”

That was how the whole situation between the two of you started.

He was always in your line of sight. Or, maybe, you were always looking for him, you couldn’t tell which.

He was undeniably one of the best looking guys there. All lean muscle and big, tattooed arms, radiating confidence everywhere he went.

You had these few minutes of quiet, of invisibility just to yourself, all spent studying him. And it’d all come to an end when he’d see you in the corner.

He’d help you rerack your weights, he’d spot you whenever you’d lift. He helped you stretch, laying on the mats with you, tugging on your legs to ease the muscles up.

He was just a gym buddy, that’s what you tried to tell yourself. He was helping you. Except for when his hand would move higher, up to your hips whenever you’d do warm-ups. Or when he’d offer you his water bottle, eyes never leaving your face as you gulped down the cold liquid.

He was everywhere. In the lockers, offering you his spare towel when you’d forgotten your own, next to the bench, giving your shoulders an enthusiastic squeeze when you’d finish your reps.

He was just a gym buddy, except for when he’d whisper hurried praises into your ear before heading home.

“You did so well today.”

He’d leave you shivering with adrenaline.

Deep down, you hoped he knew how much his words affected you. How you were eating right out of his hand, making extra efforts just to please him, to get those simple words out of his mouth.

Deep down, you knew he liked it.

But making a move was out of the question. What if he’d just laugh in your face? He was probably just being playful, nothing more, nothing less. Maybe he just liked seeing you riled up.

So, you chose to keep quiet despite your lingering crush.

That’s why your face dropped when you saw him at your door one morning. You told him where you live, just a casual conversation point, trusting him enough to share this piece of information. But you never expected him to ever show up.

“You forgot your towel and headphones in the gym last night. Thought you’d need them.” he said, handing you the items.

You were relieved to know you didn’t just lose your expensive set of headphones like some idiot. But him being there just felt unnerving. You’d barely gotten out of bed, brushed your teeth and washed your face. You hadn’t been prepared for this.

“Thanks… come in. I can make you a coffee.” he nodded, following your lead.

You glanced in the hallway mirror: shorts riding up a bit too much up your thighs, your hair a bit too messy for your liking and a thin cotton top with no bra underneath. Great. You huffed sarcastically at your reflection.

He sat on the couch, legs spread comfortably, grey sweatpants stretching across his muscular thighs.

He was being uncharacteristically quiet, so you aimed at breaking the ice.

You focused back on the task at hand. “Any preferences?”

He raised two fingers in the air “Two shots of espresso.”

You nodded, busying yourself with the task at hand, trying to get him out of your mind, at least for a couple of minutes. You opened the high-mounted cupboard, reaching for the bag of coffee beans inside. This was the first complaint upon your move-in, all appliances absurdly high on the wall, almost touching the ceiling. At first it was just kitschy, now it was a pain in the ass, having to stretch as much as you could just to reach your storage spaces.

You extended you arm as far as you could, your joints suffering an uncomfortable stretch.

“Wait, let me.” you from the couch.

Dustin came up from behind, his whole body pressing against you. You were pinned to the counter, hips digging into the hard wood, waiting for him to take the bag out and get this over with.

But he didn’t. He stopped in his tracks, lost in thought.

“Y’know…” he trailed off.

His hands came around your waist as he nudged his head against your shoulder blades, coming to a stop as his chin sat between your neck and upper arm.

He sighed dramatically.

“I really thought I was pretty clear. Seems like I was wrong.”

The closeness was suffocating, you swallowed nervously. Was he…? No, you were probably just assuming things.

“Clear about what?” your voice came out quieter than intended.

He sighed again. “I’m really into you. Looked like you were, too. Shit, your face gets red when I say ‘good morning’.”

Your hands shoot up to your face in embarrassment. It really was that obvious, huh?

“So? Am I right? I just need some confirmation before I do anything off-limits, y’know? Don’t wanna be a fuckin’ weirdo.”

You bit your lower lip painfully to wake yourself up from whatever trance you were in. You were in for this.

“…Yeah. Yeah, I’m really into you.” you glided your nails along his forearm teasingly.

“Bet.” with that he removed one of his arms from around your waist. It traced your neck, squeezing lightly. You rocked back into him as his fingers stroked your clavicle, then down your sternum and around your breast.

He let go, teasing the underside, keeping you in place with his other arm. He squeezed and played with your chest, toying with the fabric, tugging, groping.

His hand moved down, riding the fabric off your stomach, applying the slightest bit of pressure to the lower area, then to your shorts, swiping two finger downwards, over the cotton.

You shivered as his hand breached the barrier of your waistband.

“We good?”

“Yeah.” you responded, almost breathless.

He rubbed slow, tedious circles over your underwear.

“You’re soaking through these, you know that?” he chuckled against your ear.

“Shut up, I wanna cum.”

“Do you, now?”

You rocked into his fingers.

“You do, huh…”

He dipped two of his fingers in, through your underwear. The tension was building up, but it wasn’t enough. He pumped the digits lazily, as far as they could go with the material in the way.

“You’re teasing me.” you turned to face him, annoyance displayed on your features.

“You’ve been borderline dry-humping me while training for a couple months now. I think we’re even.”

You scoffed, pushing further. “I don’t care, I need this.”

He obliged, finally pushing your pants and underwear down, entering you again.

“You’re real fucking selfish.”

“Fuck..” you held onto the edge of the counter, knuckles going white.

“There you go, you’re taking it so well, aren’t you?”

You nodded vehemently. You were close. He noticed that, pumping his fingers faster, holding you in place by the hip, squeezing the flesh. That’ll leave a mark.

He gave a few more strokes as you came, coursing you through it.

“Yeah, just like that, good girl.”

You braced yourself on the counter for support, sweat coating your face.

“We gotta work more on your cardio.”

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Author’s note: i’ve been working on this for like the past 3 days and it’s so funny to me how i’m finishing it right after “the incident”. anyway, fic title inspired by a song, once again (lmk if yall wanna see the playlist for all these). not proofread, there could be grammatical errors or just weird expressions since i write these at night.

this is so funny to me 😭😭 i use myself as a reference (5’4 woman) and sometimes i forget not everybody relates

felt very tumblresque, so i’m posting it on here as well 🫣

you better bet i’d work overtime if i had that job…

Shameless-Ilia Topuria x Reader (nsfw)|Part 2

‘What?’

‘Who said we can’t fuck? You think I’m gonna bite you, or what?’

‘I… I don’t know. I mean…’

‘I don’t bite… unless you ask nicely.’

Your eyes widened at that, confidence fading by the second, while his grew exponentially.

“So?”

You thought about it. This can either be the best experience of your life, or it can go down as the gravest mistake of your existence. Maybe you’ll be fired, maybe you’ll embarrass yourself, but the only thing you could feel was the adrenaline coursing through your veins, your rapidly beating heart.

You nodded. That was the only confirmation he needed.

You never realised how close you two actually were until his palm met your thigh and dragged lower, to your calf. He repeated the motion until you practically started squirming in your seat.

‘Stay still.’ he looked at you sternly.

You gave a small nod and braced yourself on the seat.

‘Good girl.’ that shot straight down your spine. You were absolutely fucked, but this was so exciting.

His hand settled on your upper thigh, toying with the lower hem of your shorts, tugging, then letting go, like he was playing a game. Like he enjoyed playing with his food. He did this a couple of times, teasing, punishing.

A smug smile tugged at his lips as he finally breached the barrier of your shorts and went straight for your underwear.

He traced lightweight touches along the line of your underwear, on either side, stroking the material carefully. You whined in protest and glaced up at him with big eyes. You weren’t just going to let him win this.

So, your hand followed his and took it out of your shorts.

He was ready to complain until he noticed the motion of you taking your pants off. He seemed weirdly satisfied with this.

‘Come here.’ and you did.

You got up from the chair and stood in front of him, waiting for further directions, heart wildly thudding in your chest.

He patted his lap.

‘Sit.’

You settled comfortably on his lap, albeit nervous. You fidgeted, head down, with no clue on what to do next or what he was expecting. But you couldn’t back down now. You were in too deep and you enjoyed it more than you’d like to admit.

He shifted until his hand met your core and started slowly dragging his fingers over the thin barrier of your underwear. You shivered.

‘Can you be good and take them off?’ he whispered against your ear.

‘Yeah… I can be good.’

He smiled proudly, as if he achieved the greatest feat in the world.

You got up and slightly bent forward, slowly taking them off. He inspected your movements carefully, as if not to miss a beat.

You sat back down in his lap as he shuffled for something. Oh.

‘Think you can handle it?’ you looked down as he started stroking his cock, then back up at him, and nodded.

‘Ride me.’ he spoke in almost a whisper as he pulled you onto him. You felt it instantly, an overwhelming but pleasurable sensation. He was intoxicating in every way- his hardened, focused stare, his bulky arms straining as they encircled your waist, the elegant and alluring cadence of his voice.

He started moving your hips in an up-down motion, scrunching his brows as you fought the sounds threatening to spill out of you. Sweat started to trickle down his forehead, down the straight line of his nose, his breathing quickened, hands clawed on your hips.

He started moving you faster, messy. You could tell he was close. And you were too. So, so close.

But it all fizzled out.

‘Why’d you stop?’ you question, frustration coating your tone.

‘The bed.’ you raised your brow.

‘You’re being picky right when I was almost done? Seriously?’

‘Stop complaining, just trust me.’

He let you get off him as he remained anchored to the chair, almost as if he didn’t want to move.

‘What? You told me to move and you’re the one still standing here.’

He waved a hand dismissively at you, redirecting you back to the bed. You sat on it, waiting, shaking your leg nervously.

Maybe he changed his mind mid-fuck? Were you really that bad? I mean, he was practically directing you, so it was all on him if you didn’t do a good job. This whole situation was like a bad porno.

You scrambled your mind for answers, but couldn’t come to a single conclusion. He was impossible to read.

The sound of the balcony doors opening and closing echoed through the room. You had to face this. You turned towards him.

‘Was I bad? It wasn’t my fault, you know, you were the one-‘ you began defending yourself, hands flailing in the air.

‘I didn’t want to cum on a balcony chair. Would’ve been embarrassing and impractical.’ he said nonchalantly.

He didn’t want to…. what. And he was thinking about… practicality. He really was fucking insane.

‘Let’s get back to it though. Lie down.’

You followed his instructions, although a bit confused, propping your upper half on your elbows.

He took your leg and tugged, as you fell on the mattress completely. ‘Like that, lie down.’

You shot him a nasty look but he didn’t even seem to notice it. Instead, he entered you again and picked up both your legs again, hands grasping behind your knees for support.

‘You’ll be good and tell me if I go too hard on you, yeah?’

You just made yourself comfortable and covered your mouth with your palm. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself further.

He gave you a quick once-over and slapped your hand off your face. You didn’t have time to react, as he grabbed your face between his thumb and pointer finger, lips now shaped in a stupid pout.

“Don’t do that. Got it?” he moved your head up and down in a manufactured nod and retracted his hand.

Your head fell on the mattress once again as he maneuvered your legs around his hips. He set a slow, agonising pace, keeping eye contact with you.

Your moans got louder and louder, bouncing off the hotel room’s walls. His pace grew faster, his raspy groans accompanying your sounds.

“You’re doing so well. I knew you would.” he playfully slapped your cheek. “You’re so good for me.” he said between heavy breaths, making you melt more into him.

“I’m…” you let the affirmation linger in the air.

“Yeah, I know, me too.”

You were blissed so out of your mind that you didn’t hear his question.

He pulled your hair, lifting your head head off the bed just enough to make you look into his eyes once again.

“I said where do you want it.”

Where what? Oh.

You thought about it. You knew this was a bad idea, but it was too alluring to pass it up.

“Inside.”

His eyes widened at that. He stopped for a brief second.

You dug your heels in his sides. Move.

He came back to his senses, eyes glinting with a hint of pride. His ego was through the roof, but that was the least of your concerns right now.

He kept up the pace until he came with a guttural moan, digging his nails into your thighs, crescent marks staining your skin. You gripped the sheets as you gasped for air.

He pulled out and wiped the sweat off his forehead, looking at the mess soaking the bed, analysing your features.

He was really into this, into you. He was fucked.

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Author’s note: i’ve been working on this for almost three weeks now, wow. i’ve been SO busy and tired and all that, but i’m happy to announce that this chapter has been proofread, since i’m not ashamed to do it anymore. so, it should generally flow better. i’ll try to be as active as i can, so i’ll probably post a fic, or at least a blurb (since i’m considering writing those as well) a week. hope the wait was worth it.