#all because of something as small as not forgetting about your friends
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𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐒 ─ PB⁵
౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "paige x iowa!reader (pre-relationship) on game day where maybe r is mic'd up the whole time so fans hear how they flirt, joke around, etc so they start shipping them? the other uconn/iowa girlies always tease them abt it and one night they all go out to a bar tg and someones on live and accidentally catches p and r against a wall kissing or smthn 🫣" for my lovely disco nonnie!
─ word count | 2.6k
─ warnings | teasing, lots and LOTS of teasing, mention of injuries, so much flirting, teasing, slightly suggestive, kissing.... oh and did i mention teasing????
─ taglist | guys idk why my taglist isn't working pls help me and lmk
─ ev's notes | okay so i want to know if yall like the little comment section i put in some of the posts, because i love doing them and i wanna know what ur thoughts are.
"OKAY, HEY LADIES and gents. It's your favorite, me. Y/N L/N," you tried to whisper into the mic secretively as you looked around. Before you could continue talking, you felt Caitlin grab your shoulders and shake you, eliciting a yelp from you.
You sent her a glare as she giggled and walked away, causing you to roll your eyes. "Anyways, sorry for that stupid interruption. It's game day here at Iowa and we're going against... I don't even remember their names."
You were obviously joking, you had plenty of friends on the UConn basketball team and it was running joke that you didn't like them. You smirked into the camera, knowing full well that your faux ignorance would rile up some competition.
"But hey, who needs names when we've got game, am I right?" You grinned, your enthusiasm showing. "So, while we prepare to show those other guys what real basketball looks like, let's talk strategy."
Leaning in closer to the microphone, you adopted a more serious tone, though the mischievous glint in your eye remained. "First off, we gotta dominate the boards. Rebounds win games, folks. Then, we'll run those fast breaks like there's no tomorrow. Speed kills, baby."
You paused for dramatic effect, pretending to adjust an imaginary headset. "And of course, let's not forget about defense. Lock 'em down, make 'em work for every shot. That's how we do it here at Iowa."
You turned around to see some of your teammates giggling at you, causing you to roll your eyes. "I'm getting bullied again, guys. Remember amazing, hot and very cool players have feelings too, okay?"
"Can you shut the hell up and come stretch with us?" You heard Caitlin shout from the court, causing you to sigh dramatically.
With a playful wink at the camera, you turned away, joining your teammates on the court for the pre-game warm-up. As you stretched and bantered with them, you saw the opponents walk in. You couldn't help but bit your lower lip as you averted your gaze from a particular blonde whom you've gotten close to these last couple of months.
After last year's game, Paige followed you on Instagram and you began talking more. However when you two got injured around the same time, it caused you two to talk more and form a closer bond. Eventually, it turned into Paige texting and calling you every single day and now, it's like you two have known each other your entire lives despite you guys seeing each other face to face three times.
You couldn't help but steal glances at her as you stretched, a small smile playing on your lips whenever your eyes met. The familiar banter and teasing between your teams seemed to fade into the background as you found yourself drawn to her presence.
But amidst the closeness, there lingered an unspoken tension ─ a delicate balance between friendship and something more. You couldn't deny the flutter in your stomach whenever Paige's eyes met yours, or the way your heart raced whenever she flashed you a smile.
Caitlin's voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. "Yo, Y/N! Focus up, we've got a game to win!"
"Oh my gosh, look it's serious Caitlin I'm so scared," you spoke into the mic quietly, hoping that she wouldn't hear you. Unfortunately, she did and she got up, holding up her hand as you put your hands over your head. "No, I'm sorry!"
Caitlin laughed at your antics, her laughter infectious as she waved off your dramatic apology. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today, Y/N," she teased, giving you a playful shove before turning back to the team. "But seriously, let's focus up. We've got a game to win, and I don't plan on losing to those guys."
"Yeah, me neither." She helped you get up from the floor as you walked to the bench. "Thanks, Cait," you said with a grin, falling into step beside her as you made your way to the bench.
As you settled onto the bench, you took a moment to mentally prepare yourself for the game ahead. The familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking on the hardwood, the echoing noise of the crowd, and the anticipation building in the air all served to fuel your determination.
You rose to your feet, eyes fixed on the court ahead. With a quick glance at the UConn's lineup, you immediately spotted Paige among their starting players. Your heart rate quickened slightly as you realized the task at hand — you needed to guard Paige and shut down her scoring opportunities.
In any other situation, it would be easy. Even if the person you were guarding was someone you were friends with, you always made sure to stay professional but this was slightly different. Paige had been the theoretical shoulder you'd been crying on for the last year about your injury that you'd just healed from.
As you stepped onto the court, Caitlin's words from earlier echoed in your mind. You couldn't afford to let Paige get the better of you, not today. You made your way toward Paige and as she met your eyes, she gave you a small smile. You could still talk to her, right? She held out her hand for a quick dap-up and you accepted it gratefully.
"Bro, me and Nika were just talking about how your hair is probably gonna be perfect. You have the best game day hair," Paige spoke finally as you laughed nervously, your gaze momentarily averting to the floor then back to her.
You felt yourself blush under her gaze as you playfully brushed off the compliment. "Oh, you think so, huh?" you smiled, trying to keep the mood light despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Well, what can I say? Gotta look good for the cameras,"
Paige smirked in response. "Oh, trust me, you always do," she teased, her words laced with a playful flirtation that made your heart skip a beat.
You looked into Paige's eyes, you couldn't shake the feeling of warmth that washed over you. There was something about her presence, her easy smile, that made you feel at ease, even in the midst of a game.
"Says you, with your cute braids. You gotta teach me how to do those one day, you know." You playfully nudged Paige's shoulder, a smile spreading across your face."Now you're just showing off," you teased, your tone light and playful as you admired the braids that framed Paige's face.
Paige chuckled, a soft sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Or I can just do them for you once you actually visit Connecticut, like you promised."
You just realized that you were mic'd up, as you glanced down at the mic. You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "Alright, alright, you've got yourself a deal," you replied with a playful wink.
You then felt Kate's hand tap on your shoulder, motioning for you to come to the bench with her. Paige gave you a small smile as she did the same, your heart fluttering at the sight of her smile. With one last glance at Paige, filled with a mixture of excitement and anticipation, you followed Kate to the bench.
"Are you gonna lock in, Y/N?" Caitlin's voice rang out as you glanced up at the tall brunette. You saw the slight smirk on her lips as she gazed at you, teasing you without saying anything. She was practically screaming "you're whipped!" as she did.
"Yeah, I'm locked in," you responded as you averted your gaze, laughter echoing in between your teammates as a blush covered your cheeks.
"You know, cus if you're not, I can guard Paige while you go shoot-"
"Oh shut up, Caitlin I hate you." You groaned, causing her to laugh along with the rest of the team. Caitlin's teasing banter was a familiar part of the pre-game ritual, and despite your protest, you couldn't help but smile at her antics.
"Hey, just looking out for you, Y/N," she teased, her tone lighthearted as she flashed you a grin.
As the referee's whistle blew, signaling the start of the game, you shook off any lingering distractions and locked into the moment. This was it the moment you had been waiting for. With a deep breath, you blocked out the noise of the crowd and zeroed in on the game plan.
At one point, as you and Paige push for position under the basket, you couldn't help but let out a laugh as Paige jokingly accused you of stealing her post moves. "Hey, imitation is a form of flattery, right?" you quipped, earning a playful shove from Paige in response.
But perhaps the most memorable moment came when you and Paige found yourselves face-to-face during a heated confrontation for the ball. With the game hanging in the balance, you couldn't help but exchange a playful smirk with Paige, feeling a slight warmth on your cheeks.
Iowa had ultimately won the game but there was no bad blood between the two teams (thankfully), players from both teams exchanged handshakes and congratulatory words, acknowledging the hard-fought battle that had unfolded on the court.
Sure, some of the players were a little hurt but it wasn't like it was the end of the world. However, you knew at some point the two teams would have to play against each other during play-offs but you didn't let yourself get too worried right now. Right now, it was important to savor the moment, to celebrate the hard-fought victory with your teammates and bask in the camaraderie of the game.
──
"You looked good," Paige spoke as she leaned against the wall of the bar. Some of the girls on the team wanted to go out and celebrate and the UConn girls wanted to join. And that was how you found yourself standing next to Paige, a little tipsy as you leaned against the wall beside her, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks at her compliment.
"Thanks, you too," you replied, unable to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. You felt yourself shy away from her gaze, a stark contrast to how you usually were ─ teasing and outgoing.
Paige noticed that quickly, a small smirk appearing on her lips as she took a tip of her drink. "Aw, look at you, all flustered," she teased, her tone light and teasing as she nudged your shoulder gently.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," you replied, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. "Gotta stay humble, right?"
Paige laughed, the sound sweet and infectious as she leaned closer to you. "Don't worry, I think you can handle it," she said with a smirk, her words sending a shiver down your spine.
She gazed at you for a little longer as you looked away, only for her to grab your chin and hold it so that you kept looking at her. With a soft chuckle, Paige leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, "You're cute when you're flustered,"
"I never thought that you could be shy, you know... with all that shit-talking on and off the court." Paige remarked as she let go of your chin, her gaze still heavy on you. "It's kinda giving me an ego boost,"
"Oh shut up," you mumbled as you took a sip from your own drink, Paige's gaze following your lips. There was something about the way she looked at you, the way her eyes seemed to linger on your lips, that made your heart race.
As you lowered your drink, you met Paige's gaze once more, a playful glint in your eyes. "You're not so bad yourself, you know," you replied with a smirk.
Paige chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Oh, I know," she teased, her voice low and teasing as she leaned back slightly, a playful twinkle in her eye.
She wasn't usually ever this cocky, sure she's had her moments but never to this extent ─ she didn't know if it was the alcohol or just you. There was something about her self-assured demeanor that was both enticing and captivating, drawing you in with each exchanged word and shared laugh.
"Well, aren't you just full of yourself tonight?" you teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned in closer to her.
"Can you blame me?" Paige replied with a grin, her confidence unwavering as she met your gaze. "I mean, if you had a pretty girl getting flustered over every word you say, even after her beat team yours, you'd be feeling pretty confident too," she continued, her playful tone tinged with a hint of desire as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her breath grazing your skin.
"Well, I guess I can't argue with that," you replied with a grin, your tone light and teasing as you leaned back slightly, a playful twinkle in your eye. "But just remember, I'm not one to stay flustered for long."
With a playful smile, she leaned in closer to you. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to enjoy a challenge."
Her eyes kept flickering down to your lips as she downed her drink, putting it down on the table next to you. She leaned in closer, as if to test the water, grazing her lips against yours as your breath hitched.
She took your reaction as a yes, her hands finding your hips as she pushed you against the wall. She pushed her lips into yours in a hurried kiss, the intensity of her touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you.
You responded eagerly, your hands finding their way to her shoulders as you pulled her closer, the world around you fading away as you lost yourself in the moment. With a sense of urgency, Paige deepened the kiss, her hands exploring the contours of your body with hunger.
The taste of her lips was intoxicating, a heady mix of alcohol and longing that left you breathless. You forgot all about your teammates and who might see this and recognize the two of you, because neither of you really cared anymore.
Jada drank her water as she kept skimming through the comments of the live, reading them and chuckling at every remark toward you and Paige. Kate was behind her, momentarily blocking from everyone seeing what you two were currently up to.
Kate heard someone call her name as she quickly got up from her spot, turning to respond to the voice. As she moved away, the brief obstruction she provided from prying eyes was gone, leaving you and Paige momentarily exposed.
As Jada's gaze flickered to the screen, she froze, her eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected sight before her. "Oh shit- I mean, shoot." She quickly moved her phone as she glanced at the sight, giving the camera a shocked look as she thought about what she should do.
She had basically just outed the two of you but to be completely fair, it was on you two for making out in a very public bar. "Guys, don't worry that wasn't Paige that was just some other blonde. Sorry guys, you know how Y/N has a thing for blondes."
She sighed as she locked eyes with Kate, who gave her a shocked expression as she looked down at her phone. Kate gave her a look before Jada looked down at her phone, laughing as she waved.
"Looks like we are gonna have to end the live, sorry guys. Love you, bye, mwah mwah."
Paige finally broke the kiss, leaving the both of you to catch your breath. She smiled as her finger swiped your bottom lip, tracing the outline of it gently. You couldn't help but catch your breath, the taste of her lingering on your lips like a sweet memory.
"You're fucking beautiful," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur as she leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips again.
↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !
↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡
#uconn#uconn women’s basketball#uconn huskies#uconn wbb#paige bueckers#paige buckets#paige bueckers x reader#paige x reader#paige bueckers smut#paige bueckers fanfiction#paige bueckers x oc#paige bueckers headcannons#paige bueckers fic#ncaaw#ncaa women’s basketball#ncaa wbb#wcbb
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Kiss The Cook 5 | 1.5K
Linecook!Eddie Munson x Server!Reader
18+ ONLY, MDNI with any of my work.
Summary: Eddie and Server get deep into their heads when we decide he might be able to sell us weed.
We get a couple hundred words of an Eddie POV here.
---
Keith, your ex, had a weed man. The years that you were with Keith, you could hand him some cash, and 24 hours later you’d have a few pre-rolled joints and some loose bud for your pipe. For all you knew, Keith was actually the weed man, because you never got to meet the guy on the other side of the transaction. It was easy. It was nice. It was one of the reasons you kept Keith around longer than a person with good sense should have.
You know Eddie smokes weed, it’s hard to mistake that smell hiding under the soap, deodorant, and laundry detergent. You also suspect that he at least dabbles in selling. It’s not that you’ve seen any money or drugs changing hands at the diner. You think Benny would probably drag Eddie out of the place by his hair if he ever caught wind of that, and Eddie respects Benny too much to take advantage of his place like that. It’s the people he knows. It’s the way he leans in to listen to a friend when he stops by. The way he says, “Come by at 8 and I’ll have your stuff for you,” before slapping their shoulders and grinning.
You have a lot of regrets about your time with Keith, but the biggest regret is not asking him to explain how to acquire marijuana. Yes, Eddie has the drugs you want. Yes, he will probably sell to you. Yes, you have cash. No, you have no idea how to use that information to actually get the weed in your hand. You consider doing what the guys that stop by do, you can almost imagine yourself leaning in close so that the hair that hangs around his ears would tickle your nose. You’d say -
-what, exactly? Hey, can I buy some pot from you? No, that won’t work. You’re standing inside the small stock room at the back of the restaurant, staring at the folded up bar towels fresh from the laundry service while you ponder how to buy drugs from the line cook you definitely don’t have feelings for. You definitely didn’t go out with him a few nights ago for the first time ever, and it definitely wasn’t abso-fucking-lutely impossible to read how he feels about you. You should be in the dining room right now bussing the dirty tables left after the lunch rush, it’s only an hour to close. Instead, you stand and look at the terry cloth rags, frozen with a feeling of anxiety that isn’t warranted by your current situation. You realize you’re worried that Eddie would think you’re uncool if you ask him the wrong way - an idea that makes you cringe at your own stupidity.
“Idiot,” you mutter to yourself under your breath before reaching out and finally grabbing two towels and the bottle of spray cleaner on the shelf next to them.
“Who’s an idiot?” Eddie’s question makes you jump. Your brain processes that he’s standing behind you, and you wonder if you said anything else you were thinking out loud instead within the safe confines of your skull. He’s standing too close when you turn to face him, you lean back a little to give yourself the room to answer him.
“Just me, I’m an idiot.” You answer as you sidle past his imposing frame. He follows you back into the kitchen empty handed, apparently forgetting whatever it was that drove him into the stock room in the first place.
“Are you ok? What happened? Did that guy do something again?” Eddie’s sounding upset. Concerned. Last week one of your regulars put his hand on your ass, and it shook you up pretty good. You didn’t tell Eddie about it until days later, after you’d already warned the guy that if he came back, you’d break his hand. You’d been worried that Eddie, or Benny, would do something profoundly stupid if they saw him in the diner again.
“No, that guy won’t be back. It’s nothing like that,” you turn back around and find him standing too close again. You step back, “I’m just being an idiot. It happens sometimes. Let’s just get the fuck out of here, ok?”
Eddie’s eyes probe your face, looking for any hint of something more serious than what you’ve told him. It makes you feel warm. It makes you want to pull the neck of your shirt up over your nose to hide yourself from his gaze. He doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort, just nods his head, puts up a hand, and heads back to the kitchen.
The next 90 minutes is spent with you both performing your well rehearsed dance, though you find yourself a little out of step. Your mind is occupied, playing and replaying scenarios in your head. The idea that you need to buy weed from Eddie isn’t a flight of fancy anymore, it’s a looming cloud of uncertainty. It’s when you’re refilling the ketchup bottles that you realize what has to be done, and a weight is lifted. Because it’s not even about the weed anymore, it’s about you and Eddie. It’s about getting out of your head and talking to him without worrying about how he’ll think of you. It’s about letting yourself see where this thing might go, even if it means you end traveling as far as a closer friendship.
“Eddie,” you call behind your shoulder as you finish wiping down the counter between the bar and the line, “do you sell weed?”
“Me? Sell weed?” You can hear him scoffing along with the sound of him stacking the plates from the last load of dishes. “Yeah, of course I do.”
“Let’s talk after work.”
—
Talk. That’s what it is. A casual conversation where neither you nor Eddie know your roles. Those simple transactions are easy for him. Friendly. But when it comes to you, he’s tongue tied. He has a hard time listening to what you’re saying. You don’t know it, but right now he’s distracted by the way he can see the indents on your bottom lip. He’s seen your lip pulled into your mouth, absentmindedly biting down, on moments of concentration. It’s all he can see, it’s all he can think about. So, this simple transaction where he gets your order, just like when he’s working the line in the kitchen through the door behind your back, it’s a mindless task. But those marks on your lip.
“...so I thought, ‘what the hell’, ya know? Eddie’s not gonna be a dick to me. Judge me, maybe, but no more than he does when I order a reuben with provolone instead of swiss.”
Eddie tuned in at the wrong moment, because the context for what you’re asking of him is lost in your rambling. He has no fucking clue what you’re talking about. He nods every so often when you look at him, obviously hoping for some kind of affirmation. Sure, whatever you want. Have I told you how much I like the way your smile is crooked? The left side shoots up higher than the right, and I think about kissing you there every time I see it. Eddie nods again, noticing that sneaky crawl of your lip.
“-Ok, so why don’t you just come over? You know where my place is, right? Just come over right now and we’ll figure this shit out.” Eddie asks. He doesn’t know it, but his entire face is open to you. Head dipped down so that he’s looking up at you. Head cocked at the position of a kiss. His mouth is closed, full lips lightly pressed together.
Eddie thinks the world has stopped turning. The moment after the words leave his lips pauses. Everything is slowed down to a single second. He can see the exact millisecond when the words register in your brain and you begin to consider them. He’s a scholar when it comes to the ways you face moves. He can tell when you’ve not slept well in the morning, he can predict your menstrual cycle down to within 24 hours of the first cramp. He’s watching the crease between your eyes. He’s watching the bridge of your nose. He sees it all, and holds his breath. His feet can feel the hard asphalt as he walks to his car, to run from the “no” that might be coming. He’s ready, your lips part, and your chest expands. You’re going to say -
“Sure,” your words are accompanied by a lifting of the corner of the side of your mouth, “I’ll follow you home.”
---
Taglist: @taccobelle @starksbabie @sheneedsrocknroll92
#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#linecook!eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson series#eddie munson au#eddie stranger things#eddie munson imagines
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Wish you could see you through my eyes [rd]
Author’s note: Roommate!Rúben is finally here! I want to thank the anon who dropped this scenario in my inbox because this… changed my life forever 😭 I loved writing this one and I hope my girls enjoy it! Mwah
Warnings: hold tight because this one is intense!! MINORS DNI!! Masturbation, wet dreams, some dirty talk, protected sex (finally), oral sex, multiple orgasms. Let me know if I’m missing something!
wc: 7051 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated
It’s been three weeks since you’ve moved into the new apartment you will be staying in while you’re at university. The house is small but perfect enough for you and your housemate. His name is Rúben, he told you he is Portuguese when he introduced himself at the welcome party in the beginning of the semester.
You had a house that you shared with two other girls, but since they started some drama with you, you were desperately looking for another place to stay.
“I have a spare room in my house, my old housemate already finished his degree and he moved out” - Rúben said after hearing your story while you’re telling it to some friends that you two had in common - them bringing Rúben along to your group of people. You didn’t have another option, really, so you accepted his offer.
He’s alright, he seems calm and hasn’t been pestering you too much since you moved in, so you’re thankful for that.
You noticed right away that night that he is very interesting in the looks department - silently thanking god to be able to look at him every single day, but you’re not really interested in starting something fiery with your housemate, not wanting that kind of drama inside the house that you will be living in for the next two years.
On the other side, Rúben finds you very interesting as well, his mind is already creating a thousand scenarios where you two could be together, doing some of the most devilish things that can come to his mind.
He doesn’t want to push it right away though, thinking about knowing you better first - completely enticed by you. That shouldn’t be difficult, since you’re both living under the same roof.
Rúben plays football for the university’s team. You can tell that he is very focused on his goals by the way you always see him in the kitchen cooking all his meals, preparing his entire weeks worth of food, instead of acting like the usual 19 year old that would just order some pizza if they didn’t feel like cooking.
You often try to avoid being in the same place as him for too long - feeling a little anxious by the way he looks so dominant and intimidating to you. He is tall, much taller than you obviously, and he uses his free time to work out, having a toned body that would make a lot of guys jealous.
Sometimes, you decide to study in the living room when you’re home alone. When Rúben arrives, you feel the need to immediately pick up your books and go back to your room. He’s nice to you, he’s soft spoken and has a light smile on his face, but you would rather not get too close to him.
You feel small and intimidated by the way he looks at you, feeling like he could set you on fire, your cheeks burning every time you feel his eyes on you.
But you know he’s a caring guy, you can’t forget the way he helped you when you were desperately searching for a place to live, that alone has made you feel eternally grateful to him.
But it’s not just that. It’s the way he’s softly knocking on your room door now, pulling you out of your thoughts and studies. The door slowly opens, and your face turns into a smile once you see his face poking in.
“Sorry to disturb your peace” - he says with a shy smile. “I just thought I could invite you to come have dinner with me in the living room? We could watch a nice movie to get a break from all the studying.”
You look at him, like you’re trying to understand why would he invite you to that.
“I noticed you’ve been here for hours now, too focused studying, and you haven’t eaten yet. Plus I’ve been cooking so maybe I thought you could have a bite? Only if you want to, of course” - he looks at you like he’s begging you to accept his offer.
You smile at him. “What movie are we watching?” - you ask and Rúben lets out a breath that he didn’t knew he was holding.
And that’s how it started. You and Rúben had a routine now: you would have dinner together every night and watch a movie after. That was the only way Rúben found to spend more time with you. He loved hearing you laugh when you were watching comedies, the way you would always ask him a million questions when you were confused about the movie, and how you looked so adorable when you were scared of horror movies. The last one really making him want to hug you tight and cuddle you so he could make you feel safe and protected in his arms.
You’ve started to open up around him more as well, letting your bubbly personality show. You too got used to having his presence around, feeling sad when his football practice would run late and he couldn’t make it in time for dinner and movie night.
At the same time, Rúben didn’t look at you in a normal housemate-type-of-way. Neither did you. The sexual tension was noticeable near the both of you, but you just played pretend, believing that it was all in your head.
Until there’s one night, when you’re in your room studying - after having movie night with your housemate. Everything seemed quiet, little noise could be heard, mainly coming from the street, since your window was open. You kept writing down your notes, until you heard an unusual sound. You froze in place, trying to understand what kind of noise it was and where it came from. Sounds like… a moan? And it sounds like it comes from Rúben’s bedroom - being right next to yours.
You can’t help but blush while you imagine him in such an amended state that he didn’t even notice how loud the moan he'd let escape was.
You start thinking about how thin the walls in your apartment actually are, and remind yourself to be careful while making any type of noise, while you put your headphones on, so you can stop listening to Rúben while he is clearly having “a moment”.
You try not to overthink the sound that you heard coming from him. He’s a boy, after all, you shouldn’t be surprised to know that he was jerking himself off. But that changed the way you saw Rúben.
The next morning, you were having breakfast when you saw your housemate going to the bathroom, ready to take a shower as he took a towel with him.
The water starts running and you notice that he didn’t turn the water heater on. Why was he taking a cold shower?
You wait until he gets out of the bathroom, your eyes immediately glue to the water drops, slowly diving through his toned abs when he comes into vision. The towel was wrapped around his hips, and you can’t help but wonder what would happen if it accidentally fell to the floor.
“You’re staring, you know?” - he laughs cockily, taking you out of your trance.
Your cheeks immediately turn bright red, feeling so embarrassed by that moment.
“Why were you taking a cold shower?” - you ask back with an eyebrow raised at him, erasing the smug smile from his face.
“Oh-” - he stuttered a bit. “You know, it’s good for the muscles and all. Need to be careful, we have an important game coming up” - he told you, unsure of himself and definitely not convincing you.
After that, you take notice of Rúben’s behavior in your shared house, and around you.
You start noticing the times his hand would immediately go to his bulge, when you two were having a movie night. The way he would immediately close his legs when you would get closer to him on the sofa.
When the movie ends, he always goes to his room, and it gets very silent. It’s always unusual when his room is so silent: he is always listening to music, watching some videos, playing games, you name it. It’s only truly silent when he’s asleep, but yet… his light is still on.
It’s always the same routine: dinner, movie, Rúben goes to his room, absolute silence, and after a while, he gets out of his room, goes to the bathroom for a bit and comes back to his room to actually turn the light off and fall asleep, after sending you a good night text - not wanting to knock on your door in case you were already sleeping.
Rúben is unaware that you've noticed his routine. When he goes back to his room, it’s only him and his brain. The way you’re always plastered on the front of his head, the only thing he can think about all day, it was driving him insane. He lays in bed and thinks about how good your touch feels on his arms when you touch him. It’s an innocent and harmless touch, but he can’t stop thinking about how good it would feel on his entire body. He feels goosebumps on his skin when your delicate fingers touch him in such a light way. He loves being close to you, he loves how soft your hair feels on his arm when you lay your head on the sofa, next to his shoulder. He wants to touch you, to feel you.
All these thoughts wrap his head in a knot, and the only thing he can do is feel himself through his shorts.
His hand travels from his abs to his bulge, already growing at the thought of you. He massages his dick through his boxers, lowly whining at the feeling. After teasing himself for a bit, he pushes his underwear down, letting his hard dick spring free from his tight clothes.
He feels how hard he is, how fucked up you have his mind - and how unaware you are of it.
You turn him on. Everything you do. The way you look at him with your eyebrow raised, the way you roll your eyes at his cockiness, the way you laugh at his jokes. The way you make him lose his mind when you appear in the middle of the living room in the morning, looking so beautiful even after waking up, with your pyjamas. He loves the way your pyjama shorts hug your waist, embody your ass and allow your legs to be in full display for him. He loves it. He loves looking at you, he’s always daydreaming about you. He fantasizes about you all the time, he imagines how it would be if you were in his bed with him, right now. How would you react if you saw him touching himself, his cock painfully hard because of you.
His hand is wrapped tightly around his dick, thrusting up and down in a slow motion, not wanting to rush the film that’s going through his head right now. Picturing you doing all kinds of dirty and devilish things with him, thinking about your lips wrapped around his dick while his mouth would devour your pussy, giving you the best hard yet passionate sex you could ever have. His other hand travels behind his neck, helping him get more comfortable as his head is now thrown back, his eyes still shut - dreaming about you. His breath turns erratic as he starts pumping himself harder and faster now, like he is pumping life into his veins and he can’t stop. He growls as he pictures you on top of him, straddling him and jumping on his dick - oh, how he wishes that dream would become reality.
He tries his best not to moan loud at the feeling he’s giving himself and the obscene thoughts he’s having. His mind rushes, silently praying that you would walk through the door and help him chase his orgasm. But just knowing that you’re on the door next to his room, is enough to make his stomach swirl, feeling dirty by doing it while he’s thinking about you, without you even dreaming about it.
He sustains a moan as his hand speeds up, anxious to cum. He finally breathes out when he feels the bubble in his stomach burst. He cums in his stomach, disappointed that he didn’t get to cum anywhere on your body, like he wishes so badly. He grabs a towel and cleans himself before going to the bathroom and quickly showers to get rid of the dirtiness he made - he wishes he could get rid of the thoughts surrounding his head, but that won’t go away with any shower.
He goes to bed, as he feels lighter after hitting his high and falls asleep in a few minutes.
But his mind is always playing tricks on him, even when he is sleeping.
There’s an image splattered on his mind, dreaming about going out with you - on a proper date. You look so beautiful in his dream, wearing a red dress that is making him feel things already. Rúben starts moving on the bed, his waist searching for you, for the way you’re sitting on his lap in his dream. He starts breathing heavily as he pictures you two making out in such a dirty way. He needs that feeling, he desperately can’t wait to put his mouth on you, needing to taste you, to feel you, to devour you.
His dream proceeds, and now you take a seat on his face, gripping on his hair as he eats you out like he’s starving for you. His mind recreates the sound of your moans - how he thinks you would sound like. He feels hot while he’s still in a deep sleep, not wanting to wake up and ruin the scenario. His hands are all over you, holding you still as his tongue plays with your wet pussy. You reach out and start stroking his hard dick before putting him on your mouth. You lay your body on his, completely 69ing each other. He takes the opportunity and slaps your ass - now in full view in front of his eyes.
The feeling he’s having is too much to bear, his dream looking so real right now that it could drive him insane. He wakes up with his alarm ringing - it’s 8 am already. He’s sweaty and hot from the nasty dream he just had. He tries to compose himself, breathing in and out, when his hand goes to his bulge and he gets a sticky sensation. He came in his boxers, during the night - the movie playing in his head being too much for him to hold it in. He sighs, ashamed that he actually had a wet dream like he was still a teenager.
He goes to the shower, his mind still thinking of all the dirty things you two could do together. You’re in the kitchen having breakfast, he saw you before entering the bathroom, so he can’t feed those thoughts any more right now. He needs to get them out of his mind, and his growing dick needs to calm down. So, he decides to take a cold shower, hoping that would ease his heartbeat too.
His days have been like this, it has become a routine already. He’s been having wet dreams with you nearly every night, even after he masturbates before going to sleep. It’s actually driving him insane, but he doesn’t feel brave enough to tell you, to hit on you - he would do it to any other girl, but not to you. You’re different and he feels that in his chest. He doesn’t want to just get you in his bed. He wants you, entirely. He’s falling for you.
“Are you planning on going to Jack’s party tonight?” - you ask Rúben while you two are having lunch together, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“Huh? Oh. Yeah, I think me and boys will show up” - he informs you. “What about you?”
“Me and the girls are going too” - you say with a smirk. - “I’m going to start getting ready after we eat.”
Rúben’s face shows a confused expression now. “Y/N? It’s 1pm. You know the party only starts at 10pm, right?” - he confirms.
“Duh, of course I know that. But I want to look good, and perfection takes time” - you laugh.
“You always look great, you don’t need much” - he confesses, being completely honest with you.
“Yeah but I want to look my best, who knows, I might find a hot guy at the party” - Rúben’s face falls when he hears your words. Yeah, find a cute guy to make out with - one that is not him.
He doesn’t respond and you look at him - trying to read him.
“Hey? What’s up with you? You went mute out of nowhere?” - you question.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just thinking of all the studying I still have to do before the party” - he lies.
You smile at him. “Don’t worry, I bet you’ll find a cute girl too. Maybe someone who studies business too, so you two can have private study sessions and all” - you giggle and Rúben just fakes a smile.
He doesn’t want a girl who studies business, like him. He wants a girl who studies law, who's perfectly balanced, has the beauty and the brains he’s looking for. He didn’t have to search much to find her, since she lives in his house. He just wants you. He's never seen you act like this - you were never the kind of girl to go out every single night, matching Rúben in that matter. You two would only go out once in a while, but he never saw you talking about finding a guy to make out with. You are an extrovert and he loves your bubbly personality, you are always honest with yourself and the others and you always say what’s going on in your mind and in your heart.
His heart drops and his chest hurts, thinking about how oblivious you are of his feelings towards you. It’s not your fault, obviously, he doesn’t have the nerve to confess his love for you and that’s all on him. He feels down for the rest of the afternoon, trying his best to focus on studying, but he just feels so disappointed at himself, for not having the courage to ask you out. He can’t bear the thought of you making out with some other dude, so he just prays that you two would go different ways in the party, and not see each other again until you get home.
While you were choosing the perfect outfit to go out, you called your best friend. She keeps insisting that Rúben is a hot dude and that you should enjoy the time you spend alone with him at home more.
“Is Rúben your pair for tonight’s party? Are you two gonna dance with your bodies glued to each other?” - your friend asks on the other side of the line, you know she really means it.
“Of course not. He will be with his friends and I will be with you girls. Plus, I already told you that I don’t think that messing with him is a good idea. We live together and I don’t want to lose my room again” - you try to reason with her.
“What if you mess with him and things turn out alright? You’d still lose your room, only to move in to his own” - your best friend really tries to convince you that having sex with your housemate is actually a good idea.
“Girl, that’s not even a thing. Nuh uh, that won’t happen” - you firmly decline.
“Just admit that you fancy him, please! This is getting tiring already” - she notes.
After some moments of silence, you decide to give in. “Of course I think he’s crazy hot, I have two eyes on my face that see him walking around the house wearing only some shorts” - you remember. “But I think he fancies someone else. I’ve heard him moaning once, he was probably touching himself… and I’ve noticed that his routine has been a little strange lately” - you continue speaking on the phone.
“Oh my god! Hearing your housemate touching himself is actually insane! God he’s so fucking hot Y/N, I would die to hear him moaning” - your friend loses herself in her dialogue, too focused on picturing Rúben in the scenario that you just described to her.
“Babe, just stop, please. I literally just told you that I think he likes someone else” - you answer, your mood drowning a bit by imagining him with another girl.
“How do you know that, bitch? He’s probably jerking himself off to the thought of you, duh! You’re beautiful as fuck and you’re working your ass off to become a successful lawyer, you have the beauty and brains bestie, I would be surprised if that man didn’t fall for you” - she calls you out, and her words echo in your head.
Could there be a small chance of Rúben fancying you? Your heartbeat accelerates by just thinking of it, you don’t have the courage to face the guy who you share your house with, and confess how hot you think he is, and how much it tortures you to see him walking through the house with just a towel wrapped around his waist. There’s no way you can actually do that, so you would rather just find a random guy that seems decent enough for you to flirt with him and get some action, even if it’s just some kisses.
You asked Rúben if he could wait for you to keep you company on the way to the party, not really feeling like walking in the middle of the night all by yourself. He can’t say no to you, so he was in the living room waiting for you, and his jaw dropped when he saw you. You looked so gorgeous, wearing a red dress like the one he saw you with in his dreams - could this be a sign or something? Rúben doesn’t believe in any of that, so he just shrugs his thoughts away, and looks at how beautiful you look.
“You look stunning” - he says with a shy smile.
You smile back at him. “You look hot as well. I bet hundreds of girls will beg you to get in their pants” - you laugh, trying to hide your feelings and Rúben doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just talks about how you two should get going.
Once you two arrive at the party, you and Rúben split, you decide to go meet your girls while Rúben joins his football team members.
Through the night, both you and Rúben act similar, even if you’re not by each other’s side. The two of you decide to have some drinks to cool down from the anxiety forming in your stomachs.
You feel anxious so you try to have some fun and really find a cute guy who could make out with you for a while. You don’t go out every weekend, but now you feel needy and desperate to take some risks.
Rúben feels anxious because he knows what you’re looking for tonight. And it pains him that he’s not the guy you’re looking for. You could have him, all of him. He would do anything for you, he would never turn you down, and yet, he’s not the one you’re looking for.
You both take a couple rounds of shots with your friends, mixing beer with other drinks that you don’t ever know what they actually are.
When Rúben decides to go back to the bar to grab another drink, he freezes at the sight in front of him. He catches you kissing a random guy he’s never seen in his life, his hands driving through your hips, getting dangerously next to your ass, while his tongue is entirely inside your mouth.
He feels his blood boiling right now, closing his firsts in a ball, clenching his jaw, unable to control his anger at what he’s watching. He turns out and exits the party, leaving you behind with your newfound “friend” and your activities.
Rúben gets home quickly, his feet moving fast by the way his anger is fuelling his entire body now. He knew damn well that you were trying to find a fling at that fucking party, the only thing he silently begged was for you to spare him, so he didn’t have to see you with another guy that wasn’t himself.
He enters his room, slamming the door behind him, trying to find a way to alleviate the strong feeling in his chest.
He is sad, disappointed and he hates what he saw. Rúben is a possessive guy, and jealousy is all he can feel right now, wanting to punch that prick's face. It should be him that you were kissing, not a random dude.
His breathing itches when his mind starts making up scenarios of potential things that could happen once you get home. Would you go to his room, searching for him? Maybe you would tell him how much you regret kissing that boy. Maybe you two would finally confess your feelings to each other? Rúben feels so jealous now that he just wants to show you how he could be everything you need and more. He wants you to regret kissing another boy when you could have kissed him instead all this time.
He goes back to his routine, maybe having a release would help him remove all the tension on his body right now. He lays on his bed, taking deep breaths as his bulge is already aching in his pants. He quickly removes his clothes, not in the mood to take it nice and slow. He’s angry, jealous, fuming at the thought of you with someone else.
He anxiously touches himself, already feeling the protruding veins in his cock and stroking himself fast, imagining how sex would feel like if he was punishing you after what you did. How you would moan and sigh when he would fill you up, roaming inside of you, feeling your wet and warm pussy around his cock, your juices mixing up with his already.
His hand works fast and hard on his dick, he doesn’t control himself as he starts moaning loudly at the feeling - he was sure that he was home alone, you would probably still be at that stupid party, or even in that guy’s bed already.
His mind went blank at how excruciatingly hard his dick is in his hand, precum already dripping down his shaft.
You walk inside the house, stumbling a bit on your own feet, feeling a little tipsy because of the few drinks you had at the party. Your chest feels heavy, you truly feel guilty after kissing a random guy while Rúben was the only one in your mind all the time. You should have gained the courage to talk to him, to shoot your shot. When you realized that he had already left the party, you immediately went home to find Rúben - praying that he actually decided to go home.
But he doesn’t hear the door open, too lost in his thoughts and sounds, absolutely enticed by his moment. You walk inside the house and hear him moaning - your heart sinking at the thought of him actually having another girl over.
You carefully walk through the corridor, getting closer to his bedroom door. His sounds get louder and more consistent, and you stop next to his door, trying to understand if he’s alone or with someone else.
The way you only hear Rúben moaning and breathing heavily, makes you realise that he’s alone - probably touching himself like crazy. The thought of being so close to him while he’s jerking off is enough to make your legs weak, already feel your pussy throbbing at how erotic he sounds. The alcohol in your blood was already making you feel brave enough to talk to him about how you feel, but hearing him groaning at the way he’s touching himself… that is definitely making you desire him like crazy. You need him, you want him, and you’re going to shoot your shot.
You decide to open the door to his bedroom, your hand shaking as you turn the handle open. Your eyes land on Rúben, sprawled on his bed, with his hand tightly wrapped around his hard cock. He stops stroking his dick momentarily when he sees you, his mouth slightly agape, shocked and slightly embarrassed that you’re in his room, seeing him like this. But he’s also feeling brave tonight, and he starts stroking his dick again while he makes eye contact with you.
You share a look in silence, eye fucking each other at this point. His hand doesn’t stop moving in his dick, but it starts slowing down when you walk closer to him.
“I was looking for you” - you breathe out.
“Oh yeah? Did your friend turn you down after shoving his tongue in your throat?” - he answers bitterly.
“No… I just wish it was your tongue exploring my mouth, instead of his” - you confess while sitting in his bed next to him.
You could see the sparks in his eyes igniting at your words, and he stays silent, trying to think of the right thing to say.
Your index finger carefully travels through your bodies, sliding up his dick, gathering his juices in your tip. You open your mouth, placing your finger inside and sucking on it, tasting how Rúben feels hot and sweet at the same time.
He groans at the sight in front of him and completely loses it. He grabs your face and finally kisses you hard and passionately, his tongue now fighting for dominance with yours, exploring every corner of your mouth - like he was supposed to all along.
You move so you’re now straddling him, your dress already pulled up, while Rúben’s hands discover your body. You can’t stop kissing each other, needing the other one so badly, making out in a dirty and raw way, with saliva already dripping down your chin. You moan into his mouth as you grind your hips on his dick, the thin fabric of your panties being the only thing separating you two right now.
He pulls your dress off of your body, admiring you and kissing every inch of skin that his lips could find as his hands keep travelling your body. He looks at you shocked when his lips find your boobs and he realizes you have a nipple piercing - something he never even imagined you could have, and it’s doing wonders to his mind. You smirk at his reaction and pull his head between your tits more, encouraging him to play with the metal piece between your nipple.
His mouth wraps around your nipple, sucking on it while his tongue draws circles around it. Rúben is desperate to touch you, he needs to feel you, he needs to make sure that you are real, that you are really here with him, naked in his bed like he’s been dreaming all this time.
“Do you know for how long I have been dreaming about this?” - he says, breathless from all the kissing.
“Oh, is that right?” - you say seductively, as you keep moving your core against his hard dick.
“Fuck, I’ve been dying to kiss you since I first met you. I’ve been having these fucking wet dreams about touching you like I some horny teenager. I want you so badly, Y/N” - he confesses, his hands secured on your hips.
“Oh, yeah?” - you say as you get up from your spot on his lap.
You take off your panties slowly, without never breaking eye contact with Rúben, putting on a show for him.
He looks at you hungrily, like he’s already devouring you in his mind.
“Let me give you a taste of what you’ve been missing, baby boy” - you say as you sit on his face.
Rúben’s tongue is already working you, licking your folds like a cat. Your hand immediately wraps into his hair, as the other goes to help you hold yourself up against the headboard. You moan at the vibrations his mouth sends through your body, unable to control your sounds.
You grind your pussy on his face, completely riding his mouth now, and you moan breathlessly at the way his tongue devours you as his nose keeps hitting your clit on purpose, making you shake with a crazy amount of pleasure.
You notice Rúben’s reaction to your moans, as his hand leaves your hip and wraps around his dick, still painfully hard from being so turned on and not getting a release. He starts pumping himself while he eats you out, you look back to see the sight and moan at the view. You can’t stop thinking about how you two look like a recreation of a movie, looking so erotic and needy for each other.
His lips wrap around your clit now, sucking on it and making you scream out of pleasure. The way he’s devouring your cunt makes it almost unbearable for you to hold your orgasm inside, and seeing the way he is touching himself like crazy to you, makes the bubble on your stomach burst. You cum on his face, riding him more to chase your high, the feeling he’s providing you being unmatched to anything you’ve felt before. Rúben moans underneath you, his mouth still on your pussy, collecting all your juices in his mouth, tasting you entirely. His hand speeds up and he cums some minutes after as well, groaning at the feeling of finally having a release. You get up from your seat on his face, allowing him to breathe properly now, his nose, mouth and chin drenched in your cum. The sight of Rúben lying under you, still tasting your juices and his stomach dirty with his own cum, was enough to make your cunt throb again, wanting to feel him more.
“You taste insanely delicious” - Rúben says in a hazy state, completely high off you.
“Better than in your dreams?” - you tease him with a smirk.
“Fuck, way better. I can’t believe this is actually real” - he laughs, still trying to catch his breath.
“I need to feel you, Ruby” - you say in a needy voice, using his favorite pet name that he told you about in one of your conversations.
He takes a condom out of his bedside table, kissing you again passionately as he wraps it on his dick - already hard again, you being an absolute menace to his libido. Rúben lays you on the bed, towering over you now, as he looks at you with love and fire in his eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly next to you while you wrap your legs around his hips. He kisses you sweetly and carefully before slowly entering you. You both moan into each other’s mouth, still kissing with your bodies glued now.
He thrusts slowly into you, wanting to take his time and enjoy all the feelings he’s getting from this moment with you.
You moan when he fills you up nicely and easily, not really believing this is happening either.
“You feel so good, baby, fuck” - he groans into your ear as his mouth is now leaving kisses on your neck. You pet his hair gently, not really having words to describe the energy and the connection between you and your housemate.
“I need more, Rubes, please” - you beg him to go faster, needing to cum again on his dick now.
Your wish is his command, he could never say no to you. He picks up the pace, going faster inside of you right now, leaving open mouth kisses on your nipple again - the piercing still driving him insane.
“Fuck, you’re so good Rubes, you fuck me so good” - you breathe while your nails scratch his back at the sensations he’s providing you.
The sounds coming from your wet pussy fill the room, along with the moans and heavy breaths that you two share.
Rúben feels your walls clenching around him, and his thumb goes to play with your swollen clit, his dick now roaming inside of your cunt, desperate to cum again too.
He could lose all his composure just by listening to your sounds, going crazy at the way you feel so wet and warm, your cunt desperately wrapping around his dick. Plus, you look so beautiful to him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head out of pleasure, while he hears you moaning so erotically and whispering incoherent words, completely fucked out of your mind. He loves knowing that he’s the one making you feel like this, giving you this much pleasure. He can’t stop feeling cocky at the way his girl is sprawled on his bed, begging him to fuck her harder and faster so she can cum on his cock.
His thumb doesn’t stop bullying your puffy clit and you can’t hold it any longer.
“I’m not gonna last, Rub-“ - you cry out, the pleasure being unbearable right now.
“Cum for me, baby girl. Cum on my cock, I need to feel you cumming around me” - the dirty talk could send you straight to heaven.
And your body obeys. You cum, moaning his name over and over again, your pussy pulsating around his dick, encouraging him to cum as well. After a few more strokes, Rúben fills his condom with his seed, breathing heavily at the feeling you both just shared. He collapses on top of you, his head now buried on your neck, leaving sweet kisses on your skin as you both try to catch your breaths.
You hug him tightly, not really know what to say, and you both stay like this, enjoying each other’s touch. Soon, you both fall asleep, the alcohol in both of your blood and the tiredness from the previous events knocking the two of you out in a matter of minutes.
The next morning, you wake up wrapped in Rúben’s arms. You feel safe, protected, it feels right. The sun is shining, warming up your face and Rúben slightly moves in his place, pulling you closer to him.
“Good morning” - he says in his deep morning voice.
“Hey” - you say back with a smile. He kisses your shoulder while hiding his face in your neck, taking in your scent, not believing that last night was real, not wanting to let you go out of his embrace.
You turn around so you’re facing him now. The two of you giggle at each other like true teenagers who just fell in love.
His hand goes to caress your cheek sweetly, looking at you with all the love in the world.
“Hope you don’t regret last night” - he says honestly.
“The only thing I regret from last night is kissing another random guy, instead of kissing you earlier” - you confess with a smirk on your lips.
He laughs softly at your words.
“How could I regret anything? Really, I only regret not knocking on your door sooner… I’ve been thinking about you a lot for the past weeks” - you continue speaking.
“Well, guess we can say that I’ve literally been dreaming about you a lot” - he says with a laugh, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red now.
“I had a dream of us going out on a cute date” - you tell him, reaching out to give him a gentle kiss on the lips.
“Really?” - he looks surprised that you’ve been feeling the same way as him for the last couple of weeks. “I guess I should turn that dream into reality, then” - he kisses your hand lovingly.
“I would love that… I’ve been trying to shut my feelings out for you, I didn’t want to mess with my housemate and end up without a place to sleep, again” - you confess.
“I don’t think that’s gonna happen” - he says with a soft smile. “I’ve been hypnotized by you since the first time I saw you, Y/N… it’s been killing me to drown in my feelings all the time because I didn’t have the courage to confess how I felt towards you. I am in love with you, I really am. I think you’re the most beautiful, caring, funny and intelligent girl I’ve ever met. We get along so well that I can’t stop thinking about how I want this forever. I want our movie nights forever, I want to take on cute dates, I wanna share this house with you without having to hide away from you, literally when I have a boner because of you, or emotionally when I feel jealous or like choking on my feelings because I wanted to blurt them out and I couldn’t. I don’t wanna hide anymore. This is me, with my good parts and my bad parts as well, and there's nothing more I want than for you to take me as I am. Because I for sure will take you as you are, through the good and the bad, I want to have you by my side forever, as I promise you to always be by your side as well” - he breathes after finally letting his feelings show.
You smile widely and kiss him once again.
“It’s hard not to fall for you, Rubes, I wish you could see you through my eyes” - you kiss him again, unable to stop. You can’t believe you have Rúben all to yourself.
You two start making out again, smirking at each other and giggling between kisses.
“I just hope you want more amazing sex like the one we had yesterday” - you wink at him as your hand is already palming his dick, hungry for him once again.
“You’re gonna be the death of me” - he sighs as you two wrap yourselves between Rúben’s bed sheets again, truly on cloud nine from finding out that love can actually be closer than you think. In this case, it was under the same roof, right next door.
#ruben dias#ruben dias x you#ruben dias oneshot#ruben dias smut#ruben dias fanfiction#ruben dias fic#ruben dias fanfic#ruben dias x reader#ruben dias imagine#roommate!rúben
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Clandestine || Theodore Nott
Theodore Nott x fem!riddle!reader || 2.2k words
Warnings: fingering, blowjobs, in the room of requirement … The request from anon was y/n riddle x theo so this is what i came up withh !
Summary: Mattheo can not seem to place his finger on what exactly you have been keeping from him. He confides in his best friend, Theo, though he ends up cutting the conversation short due to some urgent matters. (aka, you)
Author's notes: Hi lovelies <33 Requests are open! I'm working already on requests, and so sorry if i don't reply to your requests, i'll reply to them with the actual fic once done. please be patient w me, i'm busy as of late <3
You have always hit it off with your brother’s best friend, Theo. Though at first, you really did not think much of him. It started with small talk whenever you two had ran into each other because of Matt, then it became that you both had found out that you had much more in common than you initially thought. You two often went behind his back, as friends, such as studying in the library together or often just hanging out in general.
You both promised you would keep things secret when you two got together because if Matt would find out Theo ever laid a hand on you, he is definitely throwing his own hands. (okay well, just imagine if your best friend dated your sibling?) The two of you knew how he was protective over you. Though things had quickly escalated between you both from generally acceptable, to ‘Mattheo would probably fucking kill me’ really quick.
Theo is far from a weak man, but he is, he really is and only when it comes to you. How could he not make you his girlfriend?
…
Theo quickly grounds back himself in place, realising he hadn’t been listening to Matt at all. “...I don’t know, man, I just feel like she’s been hiding something from me—” Matt says as he bites his lip in uncertainty, continuing to go on about you. He would actually pay to see the look on Matt’s face when he finds out that he’s the secret you have been hiding. He just nods and occasionally shoots an ‘okay’, pretending as if he’s still following.
Though Theo has better things to worry about, his mind drifted off once more at the thought of you. He looks down at his watch, he realises something. Five more minutes, he mutters under his breath. In just a few minutes’ time, he would be heading out of the common room, making some half-assed excuse just to meet you in the room of requirement. Ever since you both had found out about it, no doubt you abused the privacy it gave.
“–Theo? What’s up? You seem distracted,” Matt asks, his tone tinged with suspicion, as he crosses his arms as he sunk into the couch.
“Yeah, uh, no, I’m fine,” Theo stammers, quickly recollecting himself before speaking again. “Maybe she’s just stressed, Matt, you know that she takes her studies seriously.” He lets the lie roll off his tongue smoothly, as if he weren’t going to rock your shit in a few minutes’ time. “Yeah, you’re right, I guess I’ll just ask her,” Matt sighs as he continues. “I just can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.”
“I’m sure she’s fine, Matt. She can handle herself.” Theo reassures Matt, though a slight pang of guilt hits him. It quickly fades away though as he checks the time. Two minutes. “Sorry to cut this short, Matt. But I just remembered I promised Blaise I’d meet him for something. I’ll be back quick.” He makes an excuse off the top of his head, already standing up and ready to leave.
“Blaise? Since when are you two having meetings?” Matt roused in doubt, as he quirks up an eyebrow. “Nah, you know, things just come up at the last minute.” Theo replies, but Matt is nothing short of sceptical. “Sure thing, Theo.” He says, “I can wait.” Theo does not bother replying anymore, already rushing out the common room and making his way to the seventh floor, left corridor. His thoughts linger on if Matt actually suspected him.
He quickly forgets everything as he spots you, pacing in circles as you wait for him. You do not seem to notice him, as he sneaks up behind you and firmly places his hands on your shoulders as he says a small ‘boo’. You jolt in shock, quickly turning around. “Oh my God, you scared me,” you place a hand on your chest and sigh in relief.
“Sorry, amore, got caught up in things. Your brother’s growing suspicious of you, you know.” He says, slightly gritting his teeth, pausing briefly before he continues speaking. “He doesn’t know exactly what, but he thinks you’re not telling him something. I’m not sure if he suspects me.”
“Nevermind it. He always has his detective hat on when it comes to me.” You sigh and shake your head, saying as you both walk past a certain bit of wall three times. You both watch as the door materialises in front of you, as Theo opens the door for you. “Ladies first,” he says flirtatiously, you smile as you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.
It reveals a smaller room than you’d imagine, since Theo was the one incharge of doing this sort of stuff, also usually taking up the responsibility of planning, which means letting yourself be surprised. Huh, so it’s going to be like that today.
The room was fairly empty, the parchment on the walls a dull brown, a double four-poster bed in the middle and with mahogany nightstands on either side. He wastes no time, pushing you as you fall back onto the plush mattress. “We have to make this fast, Matt thinks I just had to do something real quick with Blaise.” He says with a hint of urgency in his voice as he crawls atop you, leaning in.
His face inches from yours, “is this okay, principessa?” He asks, before doing anything. “Please,” you nod. He spits on his fingers before swiftly connecting your lips together, kissing you passionately. He creeps his hands just underneath your skirt, gliding over the hem of your panties. He does not bother pulling them down, instead just sliding his hands into them as he traces the folds of your pussy.
You moan into the kiss, Theo taking the opportunity to glide his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues intertwine, as he swirls his around yours. He slowly slips two fingers into you as he pulls away from your lips, your breath hitching at the sudden action. His lips brush against your ears letting his breath tickle them, before he gently bites your earlobe. “You like that, cara mia?” He husks sultrily, as he begins to move his fingers.
“Y-yes, mhngg, Theo,” you mewl, letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. He languidly strokes his fingers, thrusting them in and out your pussy. “Pretty girl, taking my fingers so well.” He rasps in your ear. Then curling his fingers, hitting your sweet spot, causing you to let out a particularly loud moan. You were burning up, all hot and heavy as you moved your hips back down onto his fingers.
He moves his other hand smoothly up your dress shirt, brazenly skimming under your bra as he cups your breast. He kisses you again, locking your lips together once again. The movement of his finger quickens, as he tugs at your nipples. You continue grinding down even more so on his fingers, chasing release. He goes down to ghost his lips over your neck, sucking at the sensitive flesh as you feel his teeth sink into your skin.
You throw your head back in pleasure, giving him better access to your neck. He leaves red marks, which will definitely not go unnoticed later on. Albeit Theo doing so many things to you at once made your head feel hazy to think any clearly. You feel a warmth coiling in your stomach, as you hold onto his arm, digging your nails into them as you chase your high. “M’gonna cum,” you cried out, as he only made the manoeuvre of his fingers rougher, hitting your sweet spot over and over without fail.
“Cum for me, principessa,” he remarked firmly, which sounded like more of an order than anything else. Lust clouds your head, as you slowly feel yourself slip away. Your body reacts on its own, doing whatever it takes for you to climax. Muttering incoherently, your hearing goes muffled and unable to comprehend the small praises Theo voices. You feel a sense of euphoria wash over you as you tighten around his fingers, cumming all over them.
“Good girl,” he says, pulling his fingers out of you and lapping at your slick on them. “I think I have to go, amore,” he stands up, giving you a peck on the forehead as he heads for the door. “Wait,” you say abruptly. Catching up to him, stopping in his tracks just as he was about to leave. You bit your lip in contemplation, as you were not used to being so bold.
“At least let me suck you off,” you say, puffing it out in one breath, nothing short of awkward as you curl up into a ball internally. Theo is caught off guard by that, but he’s more than happy to comply. He smirks slyly, amused that you were eager to please him, too. “Get on your knees, cara mia,” he commands, and you hastily drop down, kneeling as you look up at him.
Skillfully, you clamp your teeth down on the zip, feeling the cold metal brush against your tongue. Applying gentle pressure, you coax the zipper of his fly down in a slow, rhythmic motion, teasing him. You palm his hard cock through his boxers as he grunts in response. You press your lips on the edge of the soft fabric, guiding the fabric downward. Releasing his dick from its confines, you flinch as it hits your cheek.
Initially, you begin by taking the base in your hand and giving kitten licks on the tip, occasionally kissing it. You look up at him, watching him groan as he shuts his eyes and furrows his eyebrows when you take the tip of his cock into your mouth. “Cazzo, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, as you slowly sink your mouth on his dick, your lips stretch to accommodate him.
“Hurry up,” he huffs, as he grasps your hair firmly with both hands and gives it a good tug, causing you to lurch forward. Your mouth stuffed with his cock, you gag and he watches as tears brim at the corners of your eyes due to sudden action. “That’s it,” he utters, drawing out the syllables as he groans gratifyingly. He loved taking things slow and romantic with you, but this was not the time for it, especially since he had told Matt he would be quick.
All he needed was to cum, and a good quickie was no stranger to the both of you. (You’ll never forget when he fucked you in the broom cupboard in between classes.) He keeps a firm hold on you, his hands tangled in your soft locks as he starts fucking into your mouth. You let out a few muffled words, tears begin streaming down your cheeks and drool down your chin as you choke when you take his dick down your throat.
“You look so pretty when you cry, cara mia.”
He husks, as he trails one of his hands to cup your cheek as he continues thrusting into your mouth. He uses his thumb to wipe away your tears, smirking as he ruins you. You dig your fingers onto his hips, using him as a means for support. “Merda,” he utters out a string of both curses and praises, his thrusts growing more erratic.
He loved watching you come undone, with your tear-stained face, ruffled hair, swollen lips, and your lipstick smearing all over his dick. Feeling his cock twitch in your mouth, Theo’s hips stutter. “I’m gonna cum, principessa,” he groans. His hips jerk up one last time, spilling his seed down your throat as he lets out a guttural moan. Attempting to swallow, his cum overflows out your mouth as it trickles down your chin.
He pulls his dick out of your mouth, humming in satisfaction. He takes care of you and helps you clean up albeit hurriedly before you two part ways. Turns out you promised your friends you would study with them in the library, and you too were sorely running late.
Making his way back into the common room, Mattheo doesn’t fail to notice Theodore. "Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence. How was your urgent ‘meeting’ with Blaise?" He remarked, almost sounding sarcastic. Theo, looking awfully dishevelled, tries to play it cool. "Oh, you know, just some last-minute…business. Nothing too exciting." Theo kept a nonchalant tone, "yeah, you know how it is, Blaise and I are always on the go."
Matt’s eyes narrow in suspicion. "Funny, Blaise mentioned he hadn't seen you all day." He says, and then Theo suddenly hears another voice speak. "On the go, huh? Didn't realise you were such a busy man, Theo." Blaise said smugly, smirking with his arms crossed as he leaned on a wall behind Theo.
He immediately looked behind him, his eyes widening as he hadn’t realised Blaise had been standing there all this time. (Blaise had been concealed by the deceptive alignment of the door and the wall. So when Theo entered, Blaise was standing by the wall adjacent to the end of the hall– if that makes sense.)
"Seems like you're hiding something, Theo. You've been acting a bit off lately." Matt says nearly too confident for it to be sceptical. "Me? Nah, I'm just tired from all the studying. Speaking of which, I should probably get some rest." Theo shrugs, trying to deflect the topic.
"Yeah, rest up for all those secret meetings, right?" Blaise says teasingly.
#slytherin boys#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys smut#thedore nott x reader#theodore nott#theodore nott smut#theodore nott x reader smut#theo nott#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x y/n#harry potter universe#harry potter fanfiction#hp smut#theodore nott x reader#mattheo riddle#matt riddle
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Master of Me
Not totally sold on the name for the fic maybe I'll change it midway through typing this and forget to take this sentence out haha! Short little fic because TADC is on my mind, probably only going to be slightly longer than my other posts... we will see!
Notes: Reader is GN, Gummigoo and the reader are not dating but they are close friends, AU where Gummi was allowed to stay at the circus, comfort fic, limited dialogue, reader doesn't remember anything about their life before joining the circus. like nothing at all. not proof read we die like kaufmo
CWs: Gummigoo is still struggling to fully come to terms with the fact that he is just an NPC- really it's just some angst
Word count: 1.3k
No one ever said it was going to be easy, and he didn't expect it to be easy. Nor did he expect it to come fast... but he had hoped that within the weeks after joining the circus it would become more bearable. It.. had.. but he wasn't making as much progress as he had hoped. Some days were better than others, where the thought that everything he knew was a lie didn't cross his mind. Other days it hit him hard enough to keep him holed up in bed.
You had been kind enough to share your room with him, Caine had yet to make a room for the new circus member- whether he didn't want to or he couldn't you weren't sure. You tried your best to give the gator some room so he can gather himself on his own time, opting to wander around the circus until it was time to go to bed. Sometimes he would even join you, allowing you to show him the grounds. It was all so different from what he knew in the desert, though... those were all false memories too, weren't they?
Today had been one of those days, that left him too shaken to get up and join the others during the day's adventure. You told the others to go along without you. Everyone but Zooble left, but it's not like they were going to step in to help you pull Gummigoo out of his mind- though they did surprise you by showing some level of support through the form of wishing you luck.
He didn't have the key to your room, so he couldn't lock himself in. Not that he would if he could- he was grateful that you had given him the space, but he would feel terrible for taking it a step too far.
The lights were dimmed, you could just barely see his form sat at the edge of your bed. You noted how the lights looked against the material of his body. If you squinted, you could see small specks of sugar within his lemon lime body. He had noticed you, but didn't say much aside from a short apology- did you need something? Was he in the way? He was about to get up before you stopped him and sat next to him.
"What's going on with you," You asked, though as soon as the words had left your mouth you felt stupid for asking. You knew exactly what was going on, sure you may not know what set him off in particular or what part he's focusing on... but you still knew enough. You watched his white eyes narrow at the floor, as if it was the most interesting thing to him. He sighed after a moment, and lifted his head to stare at you. He was missing his mother today, or at least his idea of her.
"Nothing really happened, did it?" He muttered, referencing everything he could gather from his memories. That seemed to only make things worse, though, seeing as they were all so... limited. Artificial. False. "Oh god, none of it happened, did it?" He added after a few more struggled words clawed their way through his teeth. You sucked on your teeth as you tried to find the right words to say. For a terrifying moment you wondered if NPCs would abstract- what if you said the wrong thing and triggered it?
The words fell out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.
"It was real to you, wasn't it?"
Silence, and he whipped his head to stare at you before pulling his eyes back down.
"It may not have been... real... but they're still your memories, it's still... who you were originally meant to be- you know?" You added, but that didn't seem to help. "I wasn't supposed to find out, I know that much," He said lowly. He sounded angry, but it didn't sound like it directed at you exactly.
Suddenly he looked at you, with enough speed and intensity to make you jump just a bit and scoot back to avoid his snout. "But you don't remember anything from before you came to this... place.."
You only nodded, when you had joined the circus you actually remembered less than the other members- you didn't even remember putting on the headset that brought you here. To you, it was like you simply spawned into existence. You remembered how terrifying that was, how you seemingly came to and had to build everything up with what you were given.
"Just like you... kind of..." You whispered, and with a look he urged you to continue. "You don't remember much of anything from before you... tried to steal the syrup. You hit a.. block.. when you try to remember anything before that. You had... nothing, not to sound like what's happening to you doesn't matter any less.." You trailed off, then attempted to regain yourself. "You..." but your words failed.
"How did you make it work, didn't you ever want to return back to what you had before.. Before.." He stopped. "I almost want to go back, wouldn't that be easier?" He stared down at his hands, a habit you noticed that he picked up. He bunched his fingers together before relaxing them, before tensing them again.
"It was hard at first, for me too.. but," You chewed your tongue. It felt like it was plastic. "I got to make new memories," You managed to spit out. Gummigoo went silent, looking you in the eyes for a long moment before seeming to understand.
"You can't change what's happening, what's.. happened.. or what you were before- regardless of if it actually happened. You're in control now, and you're free to make your own choices now!" You offered a half smiling, hoping you had said the right thing. "It's not exactly like what I went through, I'm not from the digital world, and you are.. but, we were both new to this at some point,"
Quiet.
Then he laughed. He actually laughed, albeit weakly and airily. He shook his head lightly, tugging his hat down before taking a deep breath through his nose. "You're not wrong about that, (Reader)," He let his body relax. He was far from okay, but he was seeming to even out now.
He looked at you again, once more in the eyes. You forced yourself to maintain the contact, before he pulled his face away. His eyes scanned over the room, taking in everything they could see. "I'm in control now, am I?" He said to himself, his hand relaxing as he spoke. He lowered his head a little, before his mouth stretched into a smile. "If I'm going to carve my own path, I'm glad that you've given me the tools," He flicked a glance to you, "I'd be happy if you stuck around,"
You only smiled, before nodding. "Bit hard, since you've stolen my bed! We're stuck together already!"
You pulled another laugh out of him, this time it was a little stronger. "I can't argue with that, I do get rather sticky do I?" He smirked. "You don't have a choice of helping me, if you even think of stepping away I'm going to glue you to me," He joked. He was returning to his usual self, slowly.
"You say that like it's a bad thing," You shot back earning a third laugh.
You could hear the sounds of the rest of the circus returning from their adventure. Had you both been talking for that long? Had that much time passed. You looked to Gummigoo, it didn't feel right leaving him here alone after the conversation you had just had together... so you had decided to stay.
At least for now, for as long as he needed you to stick around.
#tadc x reader#the amazing digital circus x reader#digital circus x reader#tadc x you#tadc imagine#the amazing digital circus x you#the amazing digital circus imagine#digital circus x you#digital circus imagine#gummigoo x reader#gummigoo x you#gummigoo imagine#gummygoo x reader#gummygood x you#gummygoo imagine
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the first lesson
"belief" chuckled the old man as he turned a delicate glass that contained some opulent limonchello "let me tell you something about how wizards trade in belief"
he was bald, with wild curly hair growing to the sides like the branches of a bonsai tree. he was also rather fat, not in a way that made him look flabby but rather round as a whole. his body could be easily drawn as a circle from which his head poked out, if some leeway for stylization were allowed to the artist. he wore a dark suit and dark round glasses as well as a simple goatee.
"do you lock your doors at night with a key?"
"uh... yes, teacher"
sitting in the small round table at the bar, across from him, was his student. a nervous lady, taller than him and far thinner, with a suit similar to his, dark and antiquated. they looked like undertakers. maybe they even were.
"wise thing to do, given your residence"
The student pursed her lips at this but made no comment. for reasons she could not understand her teacher was fond of making fun or criticizing her economic situation. and for sure there was a lot to complain about, she would do as much regularly, but her teacher seemed to be weirdly fixated on this. he would drop comments about it, cheerfully and casually and she would not respond to any of them and little by little the grains of sand would keep accumulating in the back of her head.
"so every night, before you sleep, you lock the front door of your room with a key, you put the key in the locke and you turn it once, and then twice, and you make a habit out of this, so much so that you do it unconciously, it is an automatic gesture with no thought put into it at all. you dont think to yourself 'now the door is locked', is just a truth of the universe, unacknowledged and yet all the same internalized"
"is this a story or is this your speculations about my life?"
"everything is a story if it's not meant to be literally true, maybe it is true, but that is not my intention"
"very well continue, teacher"
"so the next day, when you wake up and need to step out into the world, before doing that you unlock the door. now this is very important, you don't have to take a few moments to collect yourself and wonder if wether you locked your door last night, you dont have to take stock of your memories and recall that indeed you put the key there before going to sleep and locked the door tight, you just unlock the door because it is a deeply accepted truth that the door is simply locked"
"and the only way to unlock it is with a key"
"the only way indeed! very good!"
she didnt need to add that comment, and if it had been simply up to her whim she would have remained silent and let the man continue his lecture. but she had learned that her teacher enjoyed these interjections, however superfluous they might be, he always recieved them with joy and enthusiasm, as if she had solved a mystery or shown a deep insight. this was another of his weird quirks that she entertained simply because they seemed to make her interactions with him more frictionless.
"and now," he continued "imagine one day you go to a party and drink copious ammounts of alcohol, quantities large enough to make you dispossesed of your wits, not that i suggest you would actually do such a thing, at least not on the regular" the teacher gave her an unwanted wink "so your friends carry you back home and you stumble your steps up to your front door and once inside you are so out of sorts that you simply forget to lock the door, after which you fall into your bed and go to sleep"
"is this something about how my compromised state makes me believe for one night that ill be safe even though i havent locked the door or something?"
"not at all, you sleep soundly all night without being attacked, who knows, maybe burglars and robbers were busy in other houses or other parties, getting themselves merry and drunk, whatever the case may be you wake up the next day with no memory of last night, with quite a hangover, sadly there are no pills or medicines that can aid you with your malady at your home, so you will have to go to the corner drugstore to get something to let you handle your headache"
the student pursed her lips once again. there was a drugstore at the corner of her street, so this story not being about her seemed just a fraction less likely, but then again, there were drugstores at the corners of many streets.
"so you unlock your door and step outside, it's a lovely day with the birds singing and the sun shining and you go to the farmacy and buy the medicine you need to handle your hangover, end of the story"
"but how could i have unlocked the door if the door was already unlocked?" she said mechanically, knowing that this was the obvious question the story was baiting.
"exactly! very good my student!"
an overstated praise for a trite question. maybe her teacher just enjoyed being humored.
"for you see, to you it was not a matter of assuring yourself that the door was locked, to you it was simply a truth of the world, as profound and unquestionable as that things fall down"
"i see, and that is the level of belief i have to master in order to do magic?"
"more or less, yes" said the teacher sipping the limonchello.
"seems difficult to achieve without extensive use of manipulation, doublethink, brainwashing or psychodelics"
"hmm? what do you mean?"
"that...to internalize a belief that profoundly, seems hard to do without a lot of mental effort, without a rather strong amount of self deception and psychological trickery"
"i really dont know what you're talking about, you just have to believe, is the easiest thing in the world"
"it's... not, it's very much not, to believe, to truly believe, to actually thoroughly change one's mind about the nature of reality, against proof, against evidence is basically impossible"
"is that what you believe?"
"is-" oh, that was the trick. she had to internally stifle a groan. her teacher had pulled another of his dumb rethorical tricks. he seemed to be just as delighted when she failed to catch on as he was when she stated the obvious.
"that is the first belief you have to change, indeed is the first belief that all wizards have to change when they start" he said, chuckling again.
"that is the first spell that every wizard casts" she said, completing the thought.
"now" said the teacher, pulling out a small box with a large lock on it from his cape. he placed it on the small table, in the middle of the glasses, and then he pulled a key from a pocket. he put the key on the lock and turned once, and twice. then he put the key back into his pocket. "i want you to open this box"
the student looked at the box. so that was her challenge, to find the way to believe in her heart of hearts that this locked box was actually open. no, not even believe in hear heart of hearts, not even to know, really. this had to be something that trascended awareness.
she took a big gulp from her beer. she was going to fail the test so she wanted to steel herself to be embarassed.
obviously it was impossible for her to rewrite her brain right there and then and she was not even going to try. there was going to be no clapping while saying that she believed in fairies. that was just not how actual beliefs about the world were formed.
if it was a trick that all wizards had to master, she didnt have the instruction or the tools for how to do it. she looked at the box a little more. her hands hovered over it, hesitating. the moment she placed her hands on it and failed to open it, the test would be done and she would have failed and the was no circumventing that. she just wanted to delay the pie to her face a little longer.
of course, because she was her, she couldnt help but actually pause and still try her best to find the answer to the conundrum. she covered her mouth with one hand and scratched her mane of curls around her head with the other, like she did whenever she was deep in thought. her brow deeply furrowed with concentration.
And then she realized the true nature of her test. how dissapointing. it was a dumb trick of course. she placed a finger on top of the box and said "abracadabra"
She then opened the box.
"marvelous! marvelous! exceptional! very good my student! not even i did better than that when i was faced with the test!" exclaimed the teacher while clapping enthusiastically.
She was well and truly tired of her master's condescention.
"you didnt lock the box when you put the key in, you unlocked it" she said, rolling her eyes "the box was unlocked all along"
"exactly! precisely! the box was unlocked all along, just like the door in my story was locked all along!"
"no! no that is not the same thing!" insisted the student banging the table with her fist "in your story, someone believing that a door is locked changes reality retroactively to make it so that the door was always locked, but in my case the box was actually unlocked all along!" the ruckus made one of the waiters show up with a confused look in his face
"well yes, that is the point, that is what changing reality retroactively is supposed to look like, like it was unlocked all along" the teacher turned towards the waiter "thanks for showing up, what is the cost of these beverages, garçon?"
"that would be 30 in total"
"ah! very well, now you see i am a magician, so allow me a bit of flair" said the master waving his hands around in a very theatrical way "your fee is inside that box being held by my lovely assistant, my dear girl would you hand the box to our waiter?"
She rolled her eyes and gave the box to the poor confused man. who grabbed it and tried to pry it open. but he couldn't.
"um... is the box closed?" asked the waiter, out of sorts.
"oh? it should be opened, try again" said the old man.
the waiter struggled a little more but he could not open the box in any way. finally he turned to the teacher with forlorn expression.
"i give up, what's the trick?"
the old man reached behind the waiter's left ear and pulled out the key.
"here why dont you try with this"
"that is a really old trick" said the waiter while he unlocked the box and pulled out the money from inside it. he returned the box by forcefully pressing it against the old man's chest.
"what i nice lad!" said the teacher, while putting the key into the lock again and turning it once and then twice again. "anyway, where were we?"
the girl was just looking at he teacher, a mix of confusion, annoyance and a little bit of fear on her face.
"ok, how did you do that" she asked.
"i didnt do anything, you did, you opened the box"
"no, that... that was a trick, the lock is a clever mechanism or something"
"you are thinking like a magician, and i am asking you to think like a wizard, you opened this box, my dear girl, because you believed that it was opened, you already did this trick once, now all you have to do" said the man, placing the box back into the table "is do it again"
she hesitated.
"this is still a trick, right? you rigged it somehow so that if i try ill be able to open the box?"
the teacher laid back on the chair, very satisfied with himself. he crossed his fingers over his belly. she somehow felt that this, out of everything he had done that night, was his most sincere display of pride in her.
"what do you believe?" he said
she reached for the box.
#writing#i wanted to write a small vignette in the world of introduction to magic#introduction to magic
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just finished eternal punishment worst day of my life actually
#major spoilers for p2 and p3 (maybe????) in the tags#tatsuya has to be the most tragic persona protag#< guy whose only played p5 and p2#i mean#maybe the p3 protag but . i have no idea the actual plot of that game i just know he dies .I THINK#but what happened to tatsuya is worse than death holy shit#going back to a universe where nobody is there#all because of something as small as not forgetting about your friends#like . a life of torture over literally nothing#like none of this would have happened and everyone would be chilling on the other side/IS timeline if nyarly wasnt a bitch#and the way everyone on this side/EP timeline is still fine and its literally Just tatsuya that got sent to superhell#and eikichi/lisa/jun still feel sad about the shrine too#like . if they remember the other side will the world still explode even though tatsuya is gone#ANYWAYS#persona 2 ruined my life#my post 🔮#laurence says things 🌌#persona 2 eternal punishment#persona 2 eternal punishment spoilers#persona 2
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When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”
He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)
I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.
What is your objective?
Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.
I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.
I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.
Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.
Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.
How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?
Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.
Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?
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it's been said before and i'm sure said better than i can phrase it. but really, really - if you like making "i'm going to kill myself" jokes, please try switching to being ironically conceited instead.
anytime something goes wrong, say things like "ah well at least i'm beautiful and charming and everyone loves me." when you forget something, try "my big huge brain is so smart and thinking about too many other very big wizardly thoughts you wouldn't even understand." when you're frustrated by one of your symptoms, start talking like you're in My Immortal. "Life has come for me but my eyes are beautiful pools of gorgeous fire and my hair is amazing. I stuck my middle finger up at life and told it to fuck off and it did."
just... try it for a month or two. try saying the most absurdly self-congratulatory shit you can think of.
i know it's tempting to make suicide or self-harm jokes. and for me at least, a decade ago (!) when someone suggested i stop making those kinds of jokes, i was kind of at a loss for what to replace them with. i wanted to make light of these moments, but genuinely (at the time) my first thought really was suicidal ideation. there was a part of me that even felt like ... i was kind of "making light" of that voice. that if i could say i want to die lol, it would help take the sting out of that genuine (albeit passive) desire. like i could turn my illness into a joke.
when i started complimenting myself instead, it felt awkward and stupid. it felt really, really ironic. what i was actually saying was nobody would ever think this stuff about me, that's what makes it so fucking funny.
but. the effect was immediate. first thing i noticed was the people around me. when i dropped a glass and said ah my skin is too beautiful and sleek the glass has swooned and broken for me, other people were suddenly overjoyed to jump in with the joke. rather than making an awkward moment, we'd both start cracking up. ah princess sleek hands, i've heard of you.
i was 19. i hadn't noticed i'd been making others tense when i said i want it all to end. i know now that it's incredibly hard to know how to walk that moment - do you talk to them about your concern? do you potentially make them uncomfortable by asking if they're okay? do you ignore the situation? do you help them pick up the glass, or do they need to do it by themselves? are they genuinely made suicidal over this small moment? and most importantly, how do you - without professional training or supplies - actually help?
most people want to help you pick up the glass in your life, they just have no fucking idea how to do it. they don't want to make anything worse. they don't want to make assumptions about you. they love you, they're scared for you - and being scared makes people kind of freeze up. it's not because they don't love you. it's because they do.
now when something bad happens, my first thought is how can i make a stupid joke about this. it isn't my brain saying you're a dumb fucking bitch. i spend more time laughing. i spend more time being gentle with myself. i spend more time feeling good.
and the thing is - what's kind of funny - is that you'd be surprised by how many people agree with you. the first time i said i'm too pretty to understand that, someone else said to be fair you're the prettiest person in this room. i promise - you really don't know how kindly your friends see you. but they love you for a reason. they sort of reverse-velveteen-rabbit you. your weird and ugly spots fade away and you just become... the love they want to give you.
go love yourself ironically. the worst thing that happens is that you end up tricking your reflection into actually loving you.
#something something toxic relationships notwithstanding#(re: the friends stuff)#most people love you. automatically. for being alive. like people are just MADE that way.#and the reason kms jokes don't always land is bc people fucking love you and are like - ahhh how do i help#let them help you!!!!!!
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something more
pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader
summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.
word count: 6.6k
warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!
a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily
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Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.
Coming to the BAU, you’d been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, he’s got a reputation that’s hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.
Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadn’t expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.
He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.
Now, you’d call him your closest friend, someone who’s number you’d call if you were in trouble. He’s your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.
It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.
Today, it’s eating lunch with him in his office.
Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, you’d managed to get him to take a break.
“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.
Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. “You know, Unit Chief business. Reports.”
“Sounds like you have time for lunch, then.” You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers he’d just been working on.
“I should really get this done-”
“Hotch,” you stopped him, “you and I both know that you’re always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch won’t set you back.”
With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.
That’s how you’ve ended up in the chair that’s usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now it’s tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.
“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” you say as he opens the container you brought for him.
“Don’t apologize. It’s great.” Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.
“Okay, good!” There’s a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. “Can I help with anything?”
Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” you reassure him. “I think sometimes you forget that you aren’t the only one who can do this stuff.”
He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent ‘thank you.’
“Like you said, I’m ahead anyways. I’ve got it.”
“Come on, Hotch. I’m already done with my report from our last case. I’ve got time. Let me help.”
He��s always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when you’re asking so sweetly, when it’ll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, it’s hard for Aaron to say no.
“Alright. You help for an hour, that’s it.”
You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift he’d given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like he’s fighting not to reach out to you.
“Okay, put me to work, boss.”
“We just started lunch,” he says, a little chuckle puffing out.
“Have you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?”
Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack he’d made and hands it to you. He’d call everyone at the BAU a friend, but there’s something different, something more about how he’d describe you.
He’s grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like you’re the only one with the right tools to break through walls he’s put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you aren’t working), and still, he feels like it’s never long enough.
Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.
Head bent, you’re now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.
As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smile—a small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the same—before turning your attention back to the page.
When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. “Oh, shit.”
Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.
“Good thing you wore black,” he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.
“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me, more like.”
Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, it’s a smile you sort of reserve for each other.
In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotch’s office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.
“They’ve gotta be together,” Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. “I mean, come on.”
“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs, “they both seem kinda clueless.”
“We probably shouldn’t speculate about them,” Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. “But, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.”
JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.
You stay in Aaron’s office much longer than an hour that day.
-
Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if you’re not early, you’re late. You’ve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.
You suppose that doesn’t really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garcia’s.
It’s rare that you’re all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, it’s tough to make your schedules line up when you aren’t working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.
You’re on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, you’re getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.
Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of ‘yes.’ He’d been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because you’re usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.
The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. You’d accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, everything okay?” It’s Aaron’s voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.
“Shit, Hotch, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright, I can wait for you.” He’d wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.
“Have you been waiting long?” You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.
“No, don’t worry. Barely five minutes.”
And he still wanted to check on you.
“Why don’t you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?”
“You sure?” He checks, like he hasn’t been to your place before, like you’d ever not want him there.
“Get in here, Hotchner.”
You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what you’d told him.
So, now, you’re rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.
Even though he’s in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.
You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but it’s too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.
Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.
“Okay, sorry again for the delay. I’m ready to go.”
He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.
He shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. We’ll be what they call ‘fashionably late.’”
You laugh, because who would’ve thought that the words ‘fashionably late’ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth.
“Who taught you that one, huh?”
“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”
“Well okay, then. Let’s go be fashionably late, Hotch.”
He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.
During the drive to Penelope’s, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.
“Let’s hear it, Agent Hotchner.” You hold your fist out like there’s a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.
“I can't sing.” Aaron’s fighting off a smile, because you’re sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.
“Sure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.” You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, “loosen up a little.”
And, because you have some way of convincing him of things—first lunch, now this—he humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he can’t bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.
By the time you’re at Garcia’s door you’re a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.
“I’m getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.”
“That was a one time special,” he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.
On the other side, Morgan says, “must be the lovebirds” when he hears the sound.
You and Aaron don’t hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. “There you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, ‘cause you’re late.”
You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garcia’s a little intimidated by him still. You also know she’s only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.
Aaron isn’t far behind you, though at these things, he never is.
You’re met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isn’t long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, they’re also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.
In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, “usually it takes at least two drinks for Hotch’s tie to look like that.”
“I told you, they’re together,” Derek shrugs.
“I don’t think they know that,” Emily replies.
This time, Aaron hears them, and he can’t help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.
He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when you’re around isn’t nothing, isn’t just friends.
-
The flight home from a case always feels the longest.
On the way there, you’re packing every hour with information about what’s going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. You’re all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,
Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all you’re thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.
If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, you’d spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.
You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. It’s an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and that’s just the way it is.
The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. You’ve been sitting there ever since.
Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.
“Sick of me already?” Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.
You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way you’re sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that you’re always able to catch.
“Sick of you, Hotch? Never.” You nod at the file he has open on the small table, “just didn’t want to distract you.”
“I thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.”
“‘Cause it’s true,” you say. “That doesn’t mean you listen.”
“I listen to you more than I listen to most people.” Aaron’s voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you don’t think it does.
“Listen to this, then,” you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. “But you can’t make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?”
“Okay,” he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. “I promise.”
You’re aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you can’t bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. It’s delicate, and you’ll do your best not to break it.
You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and you’re bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.
He’s not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that he’s planning on keeping you there as long as you’ll let him.
It’s quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional ‘this is a good one,’ and his hum of acknowledgement.
Eventually, you’re relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep you’ve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs you’re fighting to stay awake.
When your head lulls onto Hotch’s shoulder, you jerk your head up, “sorry, Aaron.”
His chest does something funny. A jump. It’s not often you call him Aaron, and he’d listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he can’t help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.
He decides to call you something different, too, saying, “it’s alright, honey.”
You’re too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaron’s hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.
When he’s sure you’re asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.
Aaron doesn’t even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. He’s completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.
Emily turned around when she realized she hadn’t heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotch’s movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.
Hopeless, she thinks.
Sleep doesn’t come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron can’t help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.
It’s not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.
“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.
“Hotch doesn’t get enough sleep as it is,” Spencer chimes in. “Neither does she, actually.”
Of course, Derek finishes with, “let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” before the team gets off the plane.
It’s only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.
Blinking his eyes open, he’s met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. “Shit,” he sighs.
He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that you’d probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAU’s jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.
“Hey, honey,” Aaron’s nearly whispering, like he’s afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, he’s convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if he’d been dreaming. “Wake up, we’re home.”
“Hm?” You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.
“We fell asleep, but we landed.”
“Oh, god.” You sit up properly, lifting your head. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Hotch.”
“Aaron is good,” he eases you. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”
Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.
-
You’ve been spending more time at Aaron’s ever since that flight. In the car, he’d convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.
It’s another slice of his life that he’s let you see, and you can’t help but feel like it means something, like you’re stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.
That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.
Aaron’s couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though you’ve yet to spend the night again, you’re sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.
You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesn’t. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.
“Do you enjoy living in a refrigerator?” You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. “Just wondering.”
Aaron laughs, a small huff, “I think you just run cold, honey.”
He’s been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.
“No way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe you’re cold-blooded.”
Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when he’s thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.
“Shhh, don’t tell anyone my secret,” he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. “Where are you cold?”
“Can’t feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.”
“Well we can’t lose our best girl, can we?” Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like it’s simple. “I’ve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.”
Just like that, he’s cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if you’ve been in there a thousand times.
“Really?”
“Unless you’d rather not feel your toes-“
“Okay, okay,” you stop him, unable to fight your smile. “Thanks, Aaron.”
When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron can’t stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes you’d never leave.
He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.
You’ve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaron’s bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but there’s something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.
Here, there’s more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaper’s crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.
You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks he’d been talking about. As much as you’d love to snoop, you don’t want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.
You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.
As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaron’s phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though he’s got nothing to be sorry about—you work with him, you know how important a call can be—he picks it up.
“Hotchner,” he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.
He’d wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garcia’s name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.
“Sorry to call late, sir,” Penelope says. “We’ve got a case. Missing kid; it’s urgent.”
“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. We’re on our way.”
“Wait, we?” She asks, curious as always.
“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.
“Got a case. I’ll drive, honey.” He lets the pet name slip, like it’s a habit.
On the other line, Garcia’s grinning to herself in her office. She’d had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word ‘honey’ all sticky sweet, she knows she’s onto something.
“Oh, that’s ‘we,’” Penelope’s voice teases. “Tell her I’ll see you guys soon!”
Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. “Bye, Garcia.”
He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like you’d heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.
He likes that idea, too.
Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, “hey, babygirl.”
First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that they’ve got a case, then, “you’re never going to believe this.”
Penelope loves to talk, and Derek’s happy to listen, so she tells him about how you’d been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.
“I give them another week, max, before they’re holding hands when they come in.” Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotch’s feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.
“How mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?” Penelope’s mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.
“If the boss didn’t want us talking about it, he shouldn’t be so obvious, sweetheart.”
Once you arrive at the office, you don’t catch Penelope and Derek’s shared looks behind yours and Aaron’s—who happens to be carrying both his and your go bag—backs.
And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they don’t say anything about it.
-
You’re not supposed to go off on your own unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.
You guess that this time might be up for debate.
When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.
Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. He’d heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldn’t convince you to wait for someone else to show up.
“I have to do this, Aaron,” you’d said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isn’t his name, they’d known not to interrupt this time. “You know I do.”
“You don’t have to.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. “We’ll be there soon, alright? Just-”
“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.
In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and you’d slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.
So, your instincts weren’t so bad.
Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he would’ve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team would’ve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.
After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.
It’s not that he doubts your abilities—he’s always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before now—only that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.
He’d take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure you’d be safe.
By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, you’re walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.
Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.
His first thought is, thank god she’s alive, then, it’s fuck, she’s hurt.
Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.
“Honey.” It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.
You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like he’s checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and it’s written all over him.
“Aaron. I’m okay.” You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. “Promise.”
For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When they’re finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, “it’s gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but you’re all patched up.”
The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.
The first thing Aaron says is, “let me see.”
His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. It’s a little swollen, discolored where you must’ve been hit. There’s a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.
“Hey,” you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. “I’m fine.”
Aaron’s always worried, he’s always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.
Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.
“You should have waited,” he says. “I could have been there.”
“Hotchner,” your deadpan tone is intact, which he’ll take as a win, even if it’s directed towards him. “You and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.”
One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, he’d be much more composed while working, but he can’t bring himself to care about how he must look right now.
“I know you did,” he tells you, because he does. “I just wish that you didn’t. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.
“I’m hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.”
“Right. One that required medical attention. That’s more than just a scratch, honey.”
“If you say so, Hotchner.”
He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.
“Good job, by the way.” Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. “You did the right thing.”
“Learned from the best,” you say.
You’re both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick it’s ridiculous that you haven’t spilled your feelings yet. You’re both absolutely fucked.
Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Hotch like this since… ever.”
Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like it’s obvious, “yeah, they’re in love.”
Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. “The odds of you guys being right are very, very high.”
-
+1
Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.
When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so he’d always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.
This year, you’re on a mission to change that.
While it isn’t the first of Aaron’s birthdays you’ve spent with him, it’s the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since you’ve felt the way you do. You’re just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.
You’ve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads ‘Happy Birthday Hotch’ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.
Of course, you’ve all already said happy birthday to him, and you’ve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but you’ve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.
Surprises are a tricky thing, and there’s no way of knowing whether he’ll like it or not. You’ll just have to wait and see.
While in his office, the team had made it seem like they’d all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, they’ve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.
“Aaron,” you say, knocking on his office door. “I think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?”
Because you’re the one asking, Aaron says, “‘course, honey. Where do you think it is?”
You smile, because he’s fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if you’d actually lost one.
“I remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.”
He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.
Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, he’s met with the team’s grinning faces and a chorus of, “surprise!”
For a moment, he’s speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.
No, Aaron’s never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe that’s because nobody’s ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now you’re throwing him a surprise party? He’s never ever liked someone the way he likes you.
So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and he’s happy to let it.
You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.
Before he can say anything he’s being spoken to by the team, getting a ‘happy birthday, boss,’ from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how you’d organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.
When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.
“You did all of this for me?” He asks, head bent to catch your eye.
Although you’d caught the signature Hotchner smile—closed-mouthed and quick—when he saw the surprise, you’re nervous about what he might say. You worry that you’ve done too much, that he’d been pretending to like it for your sake.
“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. “I wasn’t sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?”
Aaron can’t help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesn’t think you could ever do anything that he wouldn’t like.
“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”
Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. He’s kissing you.
It’s soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like you’d practiced a million times before.
His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like he’s making sure you know this is real.
You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.
It’s a kiss worth a thousand words that you haven’t said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. It’s you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.
When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.
“It’s perfect,” he says.
The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, “I knew it!”
Similar words come from the rest of the team.
“Finally,” from Emily.
“About time,” from JJ.
“This isn’t surprising,” from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.
A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.
Distracted by Aaron kissing you, you’d sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaron’s chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.
And when it’s time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.
༄
thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner imagines#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner blurbs#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch fluff#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotch fic#hotch#hotch x reader#hotch x you#aaron hotchner x bau!reader#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#ssa aaron hotchner#agent hotchner#criminal minds#criminal minds fic
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pathetic sub!yandere boys ♡
pathetic, disgusting yandere boys that can't help but be obsessed with you.
wc: 1k+ words | masterlist | part two
dom!fem!reader, stalking, begging, unhealthy relationship, mention of fucking
note: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT
Yandere boys are honestly adorable. But not just any regular yandere boys, im talking about pathetic boys that slowly turn possessive and less innocent the more obsessed they are with you.
The ones that stalk you in and out of school as they take pictures of you when you're not looking, even sometimes up your skirt when you're turned around! The ones that offer to help you with everything during school, blushing whenever you thank him and give him a compliment before rushing towards the nearest bathroom to jerk off cause they got hard from the small praise you gave them. how pathetic!
Yandere boys that would try their best to become your best friend, even going long lengths to hang out with you every second you're free.
You were going to go to the carnival with a friend? Suddenly that friend has to cancel on you because they feel sick, not knowing that your yandere added something weird to their lunch.
A friend asked if you wanted to hang with them later and you agreed? Thats weird because now they're not picking up their phone or answering their texts. Well guess who stole their phone and hid it somewhere where they wouldn't find it.
Whenever you're sad, your yandere will buy you loads of snacks and comfort you as best as they can.
Its cute really, how they try so hard to hide their obsession with you from you, even going as far as to anonymously threaten your friends that tell you how weird and creepy they are.
But everytime your friends warn you, you just smile back and them and say that [character] is just super nice to you and thats all.
Your yandere boy is so desperate for you that it's so pathetic yet so cute at the same time.
They think that you have no clue of his intentions or what he's done but little does he know, you actually do.
You know how they stalk you, how they try to separate you from your friends, how they're absolutely obsessed with you.
And so when you come over to their house to work on a class project, you're not surprised to find a big journal that has a heart on the cover with your name on it peeking out from under their bed when you come in their room. Opening it only to find lewd drawings and pictures of you alongside long paragraphs that your yandere wrote.
Reading the paragraphs and how it describes how every desire [character] has with you, even being specific as to say the exact details that would happen with each situation.
The first one you read includes how they want to get fucked by you, describing how they want to be bent over their bed as they cry and sob from the pleasure you give them.
It continues with you making him cum multiple times as you wrap a hand around his neck, leaning towards their ear to whisper degrading praise to him.
You continue reading the rest, watching as his desires turn darker and darker as they become even more specific than before, as if they actually happened before.
But before you could reach the end, your yandere opens the door with some snacks in his hand. Poor him really, cause he would have never expected for you to find out about his obsession with you.
But you're glad you did because now you get to watch as he pauses at the door, dropping the snacks in shock when he sees you with his journal in hand. Watch as his eyes flood with tears as he begins to shake from fear and shock, his face turning red as he tries to choke back a sob. Watch as he stumbles in front of you, landing on his knees as he looks into your eyes to no longer see any love in them but instead something dark that makes him shiver. Maybe it's disgust, maybe it's something entirely else.
They beg you to forget what you just saw, tears flooding down their face. It's just so embarrassing for them that you found out about their obsession with you. You can't help but coo at them as you tilt their head towards you, pressing your foot against the bulge in his pants because of course he couldn't help but get hard in this situation. That's just how pathetic they are, you think its cute though.
Hearing them let out a pitiful whimper as he lays his head on your thigh, pleading you with their eyes. Big cute eyes that try to convince you that he's done nothing wrong.
The situation is no longer about the journal when he starts to let out adorable noises when you continue to grind your foot against his bulge, making him quickly cum in the matter of seconds.
But even though he just came just a few moments ago, the way you call them pathetic with the disgust in your voice makes him hard again as he hump your foot.
They'll let you do anything to them. Dress them up, degrade him, humiliate them, they dont care! They're yours to use.
Secretly, your yandere is grateful that you found the journal under their bed. They actually wanted you to. They wanted you to get disgusted as you read the contents within their journal.
They hoped that you would punish them for how lewd and disgusting they are and they would be so grateful when you actually do.
Make the situations in his journal that he forever dreamed of come true as all he can do is moan and scream your name as you use him like a toy for your pleasure. Make him fall apart underneath you as his body gets littered with bite marks that compliment his body so nicely.
If he's too loud, shut him up with a choker or even better, your panties. The way his eyes would roll back as he cums for the nth time that night. But you're not done with him yet, oh not anytime soon.
You have to punish him for everything that he's ever done to you.
The whole situation is messed up but no matter how obsessed they are with you, you wouldn't ever trade them for the world. After all, they're your yandere.
ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink
╰┈➤ masterlist | rules
#chaepink.nsfw#yandere fanfiction#yandere x reader#sub yandere#sub!yandere#dom!reader#sub!character#dom reader#haikyuu smut#haikyuu x reader#sub!haikyuu#mha x reader#sub!mha#mha smut#bnha x reader#sub!bnha#bnha fanfiction#jjk x reader#sub!jjk#csm smut#csm x reader#kny smut#sub!kny#sub!bts#sub!kpop#sub!ateez#sub!idol#sub!nct#sub!seventeen#sub!enhypen
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Katsuki “asking” you to move in with him
You were almost back home when you got a call from your boyfriend. He didn’t even greet you when you answered.
“Where are you?”, he grunted into his phone.
“Well hello to you too handsome.”
“Yea, yea… where are you? I’m at your place to pick you up and ya ain’t here.”
“Heh… maybe if I knew you were coming over I would’ve been home. Why didn’t you text me and let me know. I don’t have any clothes packed or anything.”you informed him.
He does this all the time. Just comes over to your house and tells you that you’re coming back to his place with him. So very demanding.
“You have a dresser full of clothes in my room, your toothbrush and all your toiletries… what do ya need to pack?”
“Ya got me there. I’m almost there. I got stuff to drop off then we can leave.”
When you get through the door Katsuki is digging through your fridge.
“Why do you never have groceries in your house?” He questions you.
“Because I’m never here sir. They always go bad because I have a needy boyfriend that wants me at his house 25/8.”, the sarcasm drips out of your voice as you head to drop off the things you had bought.
“ Tch…. Needy. Please. You’re the one always complaining that we don’t spend enough time together.” He states.
“This is true.” You shrug your shoulders. “Anyways I’m ready. Let’s hit it.
“It’d be easier to spend time together if you just moved in with me” he mentions all causally as you guys head out to his car. You pause a little and look at him a little baffled.
You and Katsuki had been dating for about 8 months but you didn’t know he felt that seriously. Maybe he was just joking, so you shake it off and continue on like he didn’t say it.
The next thing you know you’re at his house getting ready for bed.
Kats comes to the bathroom and leans against the counter while you’re in the middle of doing your skincare.
“Do you wanna say something?” You ask because he’s just sitting there staring at you.
“Do you not wanna live with me cuz you could’ve just said that when I mentioned it earlier instead of fucking ignoring me.” He asked it harshly but you could hear the vulnerability in his voice. Like he didn’t want to bring it up but it was bugging him bad enough that he had to say something.
“I- uh…”
Apparently you were taking too long.
“Just forget it.” His eyes fell from yours and he started moving away towards his room. “Are we watching the next episode of that stupid show of yours? If not-“
“I didn’t think you were serious Kat.” And you reach your hand out to catch his arm before he can leave.
“I thought you were joking or something. Also it wasn’t a question so I didn’t know you were waiting on an answer babe.” There’s a small grin pulling at your lips when he looks at you again.
“Why the hell would I joke about that? And it was obviously a question…. So answer it dammit.”, his brows were furrowed and he was scowling a little.
Poor nervous boy.
You reach both of your arms up and wrap them around his neck. Then you lean in and press a kiss to his pouting lips.
“Katsuki Bakugo *kiss* I would absolutely *kiss* love *kiss* to move in with you *kiss*”
His arms have wrapped around you waist pulling you tighter to him.
“About damn time. I’ll have people come over to pack your shit tomorrow.” And this time he leans in to give his a deep kiss. His tongue reaching out to invade your mouth.
When he pulls back you’re all twinkle eyed and dopey in love. It takes a second for reality to catch up to you.
“Tomorrow?? Kats I have a lease and I don’t want movers breaking and throwing my things around. I’m gonna need at least a week or two. And I’m gonna have to pay-“
“I’ll pay for the lease break and you have til this weekend. If ya don’t want movers I’ll get our shitty friends to come over and help. Ain’t waiting no two weeks.”
“This weekend? It’s Wednesday. That only gives me 2 days!” You reason.
“Yea and I don’t wanna give you that so count your blessings princess. And I’m done arguing about this.” He sweeps you up bridal style and carries you to bed. Then He dumps you down onto it.
“Now how about we start christening your new place,” he says while hovering over you with a sexy smirk playing at his lips.
Hmmmm….. and just like that you forgot why it was you weren’t moving in tomorrow. He could be so very convincing when he wanted to be.
Katsuki Masterlist
#tootietalks#imagine#bakugou x reader#mha fanfiction#bakugou drabble#bakugou katsuki x reader#drabble#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugo mha#bakugo headcanons#fluff#katsuki bakugou x reader#bnha katsuki#bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo#katsuki bakugou#bakugou headcanons#bakugo#bakugou#mha bakugou#bakugo katuski
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ADHD tips from a girlie who was diagnosed in her late twenties and has had little to no support since and is being so brave about it:
1) Make it easy, make it accessible, and make it appealing. If anything this is the most important thing, all tips going forward are based around this concept.
2) That thing you think would help you but you haven’t bought/done it yet because you’re technically surviving without it? Buy it, you need it. It doesn’t matter if people around you might think it’s wasteful or that you’re lazy, you’re not, just do it, trust me.
3) Expanding on tip #2, if you’re like me and eggs are your main source of protein because they’re quick and easy and feeding yourself is a near insurmountable task- buy yourself an electric egg cooker, make a bunch of hard boiled eggs and keep them in your fridge for quick and easy protein to add to any meal (handful of crackers, a hard boiled egg and a banana? 5 star meal right there. Or mash them up with some mayo for egg salad sandwiches). Other easy proteins include: potstickers (put them in instant ramen), edamame (they have microwaveable snack packs), chickpeas (put in salads!), beans (can of beans microwaved with shredded cheese and some tortilla chips), peanut butter (with crackers, apple and cheese, adult lunchable style), and tofu (cut into cubes, throw them into a ziplock with some seasoning and potato starch, shake that shit up and bake it until crispy).
4) Spend a little extra (if you are able) on daily use items that excite you, it will make you more likely to remember/want to do said daily task. For example: the only reason I remember to use sunscreen is because I bought some fancy japanese sunscreen that smells like roses so I get excited to use it, same for laundry detergent and body wash! there’s a gajillion different body wash scents out there, switch it up!
5) If there’s a task you continuously struggle with take a moment to think about which part of the task is making it difficult, it could be something even as small as “I don’t put my dirty clothes in the hamper because my hamper has a lid on it and lifting the lid is one step too many-”, sounds a little stupid huh? But trust your gut, it’s not stupid if it works. See tip #2 and BUY A HAMPER WITHOUT A LID.
6) If you are having trouble starting a task, break the task down further, sometimes the way I start a task is just by going “Ok step 1) stand up-“ and so forth. Don’t worry about the task as a whole just take it one step at a time.
7) If you’re halfway through a task and have to stop, leave it out. All this, “Put things away when you’re done with them.” is bullshit. you will be much more likely to finish the task if restarting it is easier because you left it out plus it’s a visual reminder. You can also create faux deadlines like “I gotta finish this project before my friend comes over on tuesday because after I finish it I can clean off the dinner table.” etc.
8) It’s okay to outsource tasks and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, humans are designed to ask for, and to require help (what do babies do when they’re first born?? cry for help!!) ask for help and receive help without shame, if it makes your life better, you are WINNING.
9) If you have one big overwhelming task that you think you need to get done before anything else, but you feel motivated to do other tasks, do those other tasks first, it’s okay. Otherwise in all likelihood (at least in my case) you’ll put everything off until the last minute and then have to do said overwhelming task and those other tasks won’t get done at all. Doing those smaller tasks also lowers the mental load and you can use them as a motivation launch pad to tackle bigger things.
10) If you notice you tend to not put something away/forget to do something, perhaps consider moving and storing the item closer to where it ultimately ends up or where you are more likely to see it. For example, my makeup, pills, and mail are all stored on my desk because that’s where I tend to do my makeup, take my pills and deal with my mail. I used to store my pills in my bathroom medicine cabinet but all too often I would forget because they weren’t in my line of sight. Now that they’re on my desk, I have multiple chances per day to pass by them, go “oh I gotta take those.” and take them.
11) Open storage, open storage, OPEN STORAGE.
12) Motivation can look like all kinds of things. sometimes the only reason I get out of bed is because I remember I have a fun snack and I get to go eat it if I get up. It’s okay to lean into those simple “animal-brain” type motivators, you’ll eat because then you can use that fun new kitchen gadget you got a daiso? Neat. you’ll shower because then you can paint your nails that fun new color you got? Fantastic. You’ll go to the dmv and do that annoying thing because you’ll take yourself out for boba after? Superb. Lean-IN to those small motivators, they aren’t stupid or childish, they are VITAL.
13) Don’t buy into the cult of “if it’s worth doing, do it properly” it’s guaranteed to set you up for failure. If it’s worth doing, do it in whatever capacity you are able to. I put sunscreen on once a day because that’s fucking better than not doing it at all and I sure as all hell will fail at reapplying it multiple times a day. If it’s worth doing, do it half-assed babieeee.
Go forth and prosper!!! xoxo ✌️🩵
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what friends do | f. odair
masterlist
summary: you were a simple town girl. finnick odair was the crown jewel of panem. both of you needed an escape and found it at a secluded beach just outside district four. these were three ingredients that created a year-long friendship. but were friends supposed to have… impure thoughts about one another? you weren’t so sure.
pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader
warnings: smut, wayyy too much detail, dirty thoughts, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, mostly readers pov, pre-rebellion, HEAVY dirty talk, fingering, unprotected p in v (big no no), multiple orgasms, so much pining, creampie, cock-warming
notes: i’m so sorry this took me so long. life has been up my ass lately and, as y’all know, i’m a slow writer. but thank you sm to everyone who patiently stuck around, i love y’all <3 this was supposed to be a short smut fic but um, apparently not. anyway, this has taken long enough to come out so imma stop rambling. ENJOY <3
word count: 11.7k
Mid-Autumn was closely approaching District Four.
Harvest in the fishing industry was at its peak and the docks were chock-full with boats bringing in their plentiful catches. The town centre was a bustling scene, crowded with people selling produce and trading for food to bring home to their family's kitchen table.
Last year's autumn harvest was the same picture—overflow, hustle, commotion; chaos like this was something you never came to enjoy. So, it was also around this time last year that you had decided to set off in search of the perfect location away from the rest of society. A place where you could be at peace, where you could forget the disastrous world you lived in.
District Four was home to many popular beaches, but the one you discovered was uninhabited, isolated, found after an hour-or-so-long trek through overgrown dirt pathways and a thicket of sea-grape and palm trees. A true paradise away from society. Or so you had thought in the first few weeks.
You weren't too sure when he had started showing up or how he had even discovered the beach.
However, one evening, as you were seated in the sand watching the sunset on the darkening horizon, you noticed a dark figure diving and surfacing in the flat, glimmering water. Their movements were so poised and fluid like the ocean was something they had conquered. You guessed it to be a dolphin or shark because there was no way a human being could move so gracefully.
But then the figure started wading to shore, and the next thing you knew, they were standing on two legs and exiting the water. You knew then that you had guessed wrong. The sun behind him obscured the bronze of his hair and the swirling lukewarm sea that pooled around his pupils. All you could see was the outline of his tall broad figure as he hiked through the sand toward you.
Fear had told you to bolt from the approaching stranger. You were in the middle of nowhere—it was the perfect place to be murdered or kidnapped. But something else, some deep and tangible instinct, also told you to stay.
"Didn't realise I had a captive audience," thestranger spoke, droplets of gleaming water sliding off his body and into the sand as he stood a few feet away.
Taken by surprise, you fumbled over your words trying to form a sentence in response. "I wasn't—I didn't—"
"Easy, honey," he chuckled. The sound was so warm and pleasant that it almost alleviated the slight chill in the air. "Just pulling your leg."
Your mouth formed a small circle. "Right," you said, gaze locked on the golden sand in embarrassment. "I, uh, didn't think anyone else knew about this place."
To be honest, you were pretty sure it was a restricted area. Probably the reason it was so isolated. If a Capitol official found you, the consequences would most likely involve your tongue, a scalpel, and a hell of a lot of pain. All for a wanting a little peace and quiet.
"Neither did I," the man said. "I only come every now and then. Need an escape from the constant buzz back home. Time for myself, you know?"
"Yeah." You smiled, feeling the stranger's words resonate in your soul. "Yeah, I do know."
You thought you saw the corners of his lips curve into a smile, but the shadows on his face were so prominent that you couldn't tell.
"Mind if I sit?" he asked.
Well... if he were going to murder you, he would have done it already. So, you nodded. Sometimes you questioned your survival instincts. Or lack thereof.
He didn't leave much space as he sat beside you. Only an inch or two, meaning you could feel the humidity of body heat and salt water emit from his skin. Even sitting down, he was still quite tall compared to you, but that wasn't what caused your heart to drop into your stomach.
The setting sun, which no longer disguised his face with shadows, now illuminated his entire figure and revealed his identity. His hair was a mess of wet wavy strands, the colour alight like a pale fire beneath the sun's orange radiance. His skin was sun-kissed, no doubt from days he had spent perfecting his swimming abilities. And those dimples... wow.
He was gorgeous. A man sculpted by the gods of beauty, just like everyone in Panem had depicted him to be. Even his sea-green eyes were as striking as everyone said.
Finnick Odair.
The man who was crowned victor of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games at fourteen. Who trapped multiple tributes at once in a net and killed them one by one with his famed trident. A killer.
The man whose reputation in the Capitol was known nationwide. A proud womanizer.
That was what everyone made him out to be.
Only, in the brief interaction you shared with him, he seemed like quite the opposite. He radiated effortless charm and warmth, but not in the arrogant way the media had portrayed him. Then again, did the media ever accurately portray the truth of anything?
It was then that you determined it didn't really matter who people said he was or what he had done. He was a human being—just like you. He deserved a chance.
His pink lips stretched into a knee-weakening smile; you were grateful that you were sitting down.
"I'm Finnick, by the way."
The both of you knew he didn't need to introduce himself. The whole of Panem knew his name and face. Though the fact that he humbly did so anyway made you like him the tiniest bit more.
You returned his smile with one of your own and introduced yourself.
Time passed and the sun had set; the moon had risen, but you both remained sitting side-by-side in the sand. Conversation flowed so naturally between the two of you that it was difficult for you to remember that stopping and getting some air into your lungs was an important factor in keeping a conversation going... as well as keeping you alive.
You told him about yourself as he did himself—some things that were meant to remain secrets, some things that seemed too strange to tell anyone else.
At some point, he had offered to walk you back to your house. The trek was over an hour long but neither of you seemed to care. The time flew by.
When you were standing at your front door and he was gazing up at you from the bottom of the steps, you both promised to meet again the next day. And you did.
As you did the day after that... and the day after that... and the day after that...
**********
As soon as the nights carried that familiar chill and the town congested with markets and fervent buyers, you knew mid-autumn had made its return. This meant most of your evenings were spent at a certain secret beach with a certain District Four victor.
Having already finished his pre-sunset swim, Finnick was sitting beside you, fingers weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath you. A couple of weeks after you had first met, he had shown up one day holding it all rolled up in hand.
"Made this for you to sit on," he had said with a proud smile. "Took nearly all night and earned me a few good finger cramps, but I think it was worth it."
Pinpointing the exact moment your attraction to him first formed was tricky. However, that gesture was one your mind returned to often. That little palm-leaf mat, the time and effort he put into making it, was scored on your heart.
Finnick was very much a gentleman.
He would always offer you a hand when standing up and whenever you walked back through the overgrown seaside forest. Sometimes he picked fruits for you such as sea grapes and mangos or would climb one of the palms and knock down a few coconuts. One thing he always, always did wasmake sure you got home safe; he never let you out of his sight until you were safe inside your front door.
All those gestures, big and small, added up. Soon enough, Finnick Odair had infiltrated your heart and consumed all your thoughts. You saw his sea-green eyes staring back at you whenever you gazed out at the ocean by your house. Felt the ghost of his hands on yours whenever you picked a grape from the kitchen fruit bowl. Heard his voice calling out your name in your most vivid of dreams.
But there was more to it than innocent adoration.
The guilt came when your gaze started lingering on his body a little too long whenever he left the water at the beach. Shimmering droplets would glide down his beautifully tanned skin; his arm muscles would flex as his fingers raked back his dripping wet hair. It wasn't yourfault he was the walking definition of perfection.
Unholy was the closest word to describe the filthy thoughts that had perverted your imagination. What started as endearing daydreams soon became fantasies that had you seeking relief between your thighs late at night. Your thoughts went wild whenever he dropped you off at your house. It took everything in you not to invite him inside and ask him to fuck you senseless against the front door.
All you had to do was ask. You knew he would say yes.
A year is a long time to know someone. A long time for feelings to grow. It also serves as a lot of time for things to happen between two people—things that linger in your mind even months after they have happened.
Like the times he would walk by you and teasingly whisper something provocative in your ear, then disappear for an hour of swimming, leaving you all hot and flustered in the sand. Neither of you would acknowledge it when he returned. Or when conversations took such a flirtatious turn, the tension only dissipated when houses were separating you at the end of the night.
But that's just what friends do, right? They tease and banter?
Maybe.
However, not all things could be chalked up to being just friends.
Another thing about Finnick's eyes was that they were transparent. You saw how helplessly they clung to you the days you stripped to your underwear and joined him in the water. He had this sort of reaction that turned his eyes into a dark violent sea, like you were some divine temptation planted to test the strength of his resolve.
Sometimes he could resist. Other days it was obvious he couldn't help but reach out and touch.
He would try to be subtle about it. Hands holding yours a little longer than necessary when he helped you stand up. Sitting too closely beside you so that your arms and legs would graze against each other. Brushing off pieces of seaweed that would stick to the dip of your waist and then constantly using the same excuse just to feel the heat of your soft skin.
There was one interaction, though, that you fell asleep to the thought of every night. It was a moment when things almost went too far; an interaction friends definitely did not share.
You could remember it clear a day. Hell, you could still feel it clear as day.
It was a hot summer evening. Both you and Finnick were at the beach and swimming in the water since being in the muggy coastal heat for more than five minutes was parallel to roasting in a thousand-degree sauna.
You were about twenty meters offshore, bobbing beside Finnick as he dived to collect various seashells. That boy could hold his breath for an unbelievable amount of time which meant sometimes you spent minutes alone on the surface, waiting, listening to the calm waves lap eerily around you.
This is exactly how people die in shark movies, said an unwarranted voice in your mind.
As usual, a minute went by. Nothing to worry about. Then a minute turned into two and you were starting to become a little concerned. And then it was two and a half minutes and you were now panicking.
"Finnick?!" you called out, hoping he could somehow hear you from the dark depths.
Three minutes had totalled, and you were pretty certain he had drowned. Just to add to the utter dread coursing through your veins, something slimy brushed against your foot. Most likely a piece of seaweed, but you didn't make that connection at the time.
That very same moment, Finnick burst through the water's surface, only mildly breathless and pinching a small iridescent shell between his fingers.
"Look at thi—"
Before the words could leave his mouth, he found himself enveloped in your distraught embrace. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, crying tears of relief.
Damn that stupid seashell.
He automatically secured you in his arms, concern palpable in his voice as he asked, "Are you okay?"
You pulled away, an indistinguishable combination of tears and saltwater rolling down your cheeks. Though it was hard to miss the look of distress found in your furrowed brows and trembling lips.
"Don't ever do that to me again!" you exclaimed, gripping his arms to emphasise your urgency. "You hear me?! Ever!"
Finnick's head tilted slightly, surprised by your emotional reaction. He hadn't realised he meant so much to you. The surprise faded into remorse, softening his features.
"I won't. I won't, I promise," he said sincerely. His eyes flickered over the worry lines etched on your forehead. He unconsciously brushed his thumb over the lines, hoping to draw out the anxiety with his touch, and then tucked away a strand of hair. "I'm sorry I scared you."
You took in a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to compose yourself. A mess of emotions stirred inside you—worry, embarrassment, irritation. You were partially frustrated with Finnick for making you fear for his life. Mostly annoyed with yourself for showing such vulnerability in front of him.
"God, you're an idiot sometimes," you sighed, shaking your head.
He smirked. "Didn't think you cared so much about me."
"No, you just don't think, Finn."
He glanced off into the distance for a moment with furrowed brows. "Well, that's definitely not true," he countered, meeting your gaze again with a half-smirk. "I think about a lot of things, actually."
"Oh? Like what?" you asked, slightly annoyed. "Do tell me what the great Finnick Odair thinks about instead of his own safety."
Slowly, the smirk faded from his lips. Something new tinged the atmosphere and suddenly everything around you seemed hotter than it previously was. Not an uncomfortable or sweltering heat, but one that held an intensity that sparked the air with electricity.
You suddenly became very aware that Finnick was still holding you in his arms. You recognised the confined proximity between you and him and realised that, before this moment, your bodies had never been so close.
Your legs were curled around his hips, pelvis pressed firmly against his. The position of his hands, which were keeping you afloat, was bordering on inappropriate but would only be deemed as such if you cared. Which you didn't. You liked it—having his hands on you.
One thing you couldn't ignore was the flickering of his gaze. How his eyes kept dropping to your lips. How they blatantly revealed a long-awaited confession that words just couldn't capture. Still, you wanted to hear him say it. You wanted to hear the purr in his voice as he told you.
Then he was leaning in. You weren't sure whether it was on purpose or if the pure magnetism of the tension between you was drawing him closer. Regardless, you started to lean in closer too, eyes drooping as you focused on his mouth.
And before the short distance between your lips and his became immeasurable, you whispered, "Tell me, Finn."
The hands keeping you afloat trailed up and down your back restlessly as Finnick forced a tense exhale through his nose. He seemed to be wrestling with thoughts. You waited in anticipation, and right when it seemed like he was going to make a move—
"I think..."
—you were interrupted. By no less than a pod of dolphins as they leapt from the water, causing you and Finnick to jolt from each other's embrace.
The rest of that evening was not worth mentioning. Not because you had forgotten what happened, but because the sheer awkwardness between you and Finnick afterwards was so torturous that you wanted to keep the memory squashed in the recesses of your mind. Neither of you acknowledged what happened. Finnick still walked you home, but it was done so in agonising silence.
Surprisingly, you both returned to the beach the next day. You hadn't expected him to be his usual upbeat self, but he was. So, in turn, you too acted like the previous day was erased from history. But your friendship with him was never the same.
Flirty conversations no longer felt like a joke; they now had a deeper meaning. Fleeting touches caused full-body goosebumps that didn't happen before. There was so much unresolved tension, and it was painfully thick. Inescapable.
So, as Finnick sat beside you present-day, weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath your bodies, you couldn't help but notice the transparency of your body language and his. The gap between you both was comparable to the size of a pearl and even though neither of you acknowledged it, you kept catching each other stealing quick glances every half-minute or so.
When you were sure he wasn't looking, you found your gaze drawn to his fingers. They were sturdy, yet nimble; curling and manoeuvring in ways that had your face feeling hotter than the heat of any sunburn or warm summer's day. This heat was beneath your skin. Spreading through your limbs in little tendrils and wrapping around your nerves. A dip in the salty sea wouldn't cool you down nor would a gulp of cold fresh water.
As you stared at his hands, you knew only the source of the sensation could offer reprieve. But that wouldn't happen, so there you burned.
The fact that he was shirtless and that his hair was a gorgeous mess of damp bronze curls helped not one bit with taming the consuming desire inside you. God, you were a mess yourself.
You sighed.
The sun, glowing intensely with a divine orange, was beginning its descent on the horizon. Your feet were buried beneath the soft sand, trying to retain some warmth as a slight breeze blew against your exposed skin.
Wearing a short sundress probably wasn't the most practical idea. Embarrassing as it was to admit, practicality wasn't what was going through your mind when you decided to wear it... Someone—Something else was.
"Something on your mind?" Finnick asked suddenly.
Your heart fumbled in your chest, terrified that he had somehow heard your thoughts. "Sorry?"
"You sighed," he said, turning his head to look at you. "Or am I just getting so old that I'm already starting to hear things?"
With relief of his lack of mind-reading abilities, you laughed softly. "You're definitely getting a bit old, Finn," you teased. "Any nursing homes you've been considering?"
"I heard retirement by the sea has its perks," he quipped, subtle dimples present as he returned to his weaving. "Although, I will need someone to make sure I don't fall asleep while swimming and get carried out by the tide. What d'you say, sweetheart? Up for becoming my personal lifeguard?"
Absolutely. "Depends. Will you force me to wear one of those awful flowery swimming caps with a matching tankini?"
He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I'm thinking more like those little red bodysuits. You know, the ones that zip open down the front?"
You reprimanded him by pushing his shoulder, wearing a betraying smile. "Very charming."
"I just think red's your colour, that's all," he laughed.
Your stomach fluttered. You knew he was teasing you; teasing was basically the foundation of your... friendship. Deep down, you knew there was also some truth behind his words. A truth that was as electrifying as it was upsetting—how long were you both going to keep up with this whole 'friends' charade? Could you handle it if the answer was forever?
Best not to think about it. For your sanity's sake.
Finnick finally settled into a comfortable position with his forearms locked around his bent knees, apparently having decided to continue his mat-weaving another time. He had been extending it bit by bit ever since he first made it for you. At this point, you were sure he was attempting to cover the entire beach. For now, it was only big enough for two people to lie down on.
Sounds pretty convenient, came an abrupt thought.
And then you fell down yet another rabbit hole of depraved daydreams... A pair of hands interlocking your own above your head. Hot lips pressing kisses to your neck. Tongue gliding up the sensitive skin of your jugular. Your fingers tugging at bronze curls between your thighs.
You were sick. Diseased with immorality. Finnick was your friend. If not your best friend. You're not supposed to fantasise about fucking your best friend.
"Thinking about anyone in particular?"
You almost choked on your saliva. "W—What?"
How did he keep doing that?
Finnick seemed to find joy in your perplexity. It was written all over his face. God, those fucking dimples. "You've been completely still for nearly five minutes and your legs are covered in goosebumps," he pointed out. "Hence the question: who are you thinking about?"
As you looked down, you found that your skin was in fact riddled with goosebumps. It didn't occur to you then that the only reason he could have noticed was if he was staring at your legs in the first place. It also didn't occur to you that Finnick obviously had the very same debauched thoughts running through his own mind.
Why did you have to wear such a revealing dress? He already struggled enough with resisting you at the best of times.
If you had been paying attention, a simple glance in his direction would have revealed how his ears were pink and his pupils were dilated. More importantly, you would have seen his legs constantly shifting to ease the discomfort tenting his pants. Fortunately, he had mastered the art of winding himself down in a short amount of time.
Unfortunately for you, that ability was not within your skill set.
You scoffed. "In case you haven't noticed, Finnick—it's autumn," you said, a quick snappy lilt in your tone. "I know you've got some weird internal space heater built into you, but normal people tend to have a reaction to the cold."
Well, it's a good thing you didn't sound defensive...
Finnick raised an eyebrow at you, displaying a puzzled half-smirk that spoke a thousand words.
You lowered your head in embarrassment, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry," you murmured. "I just, uh, don't really like the cold."
"Who could've guessed."
Despite serving as an excuse, it wasn't entirely untrue. You really did dislike the cold. And it was now that you seriously regretted your choice of sparse attire. The breeze kept blowing up the dress's skirt, threatening to expose your dignity to the world. Or more accurately, to Finnick. Thankfully, you had decided to wear a pair of delicate lace underwear that morning instead of old granny panties.
Nevertheless, now that it was on your mind, you couldn't think about anything but the cold gusts of wind blowing against you. Chills ran over your skin and you were shaking like a leaf.
Finnick, being the gentleman that he was, scanned the surrounding area for anything he could use to keep you warm. He would've given you his shirt had it not been crumpled in a ball of wet sand on the ground.
There was nothing else of use. Nothing except a single apprehensive idea sitting in the forefront of his mind. It was all he had. He bit the inside of his cheek as he contemplated the potentially disastrous idea.
Then, after taking a silent deep breath, he finally said, "Come here then." Your eyes snapped to his. You must've looked like you had seen a ghost because his brows knitted together in confusion. "What?" he breathed out a chuckle. "I'd prefer not having to carry you home as a block of ice."
You thought about it for a moment. Was it really such a good idea after the thoughts that were just swarming in your mind? Another gust of wind blew by and you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself.
"I won't bite, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to," he added.
You rolled your eyes. "Oh, shut up."
With that, you slid across the mat, positioning your body, which was still facing the sunset, in front of his legs. There was a moment of hesitation. Anxiety. But before you could reconsider, Finnick wrapped a strong arm around your middle and pulled you back against his chest, situating your body between his legs.
The exhale that left your lips was instantaneous and you couldn't help but shudder at the warmth of his skin. "God," you sighed, overwhelmed by the sudden change in temperature. "How are you so warm all the time?"
"Oh, you know. Weird internal space heater."
You laughed softly, then felt Finnick's chest vibrate against your back as he joined you. His bare arms wound tighter around you, motivated by the affectionate atmosphere. Your body seemed to melt into the cocoon of warmth he provided, and a soft smile graced your lips.
"Better?" he asked.
You nodded, responding with a whisper, "Thank you."
"Anytime."
You could hear the smile in his voice and how intently he was trying to hide it. You wished you could have seen it. To see the sense of peace you shared. However, feeling it in the way he held you was enough.
Instead of blood, your heart now seemed to be pumping out rather odd alternatives—waves of sea-green salted ocean, iridescent seashells, smiles paired with heart-stopping dimples. How could he? How could Finnick condemn you to loving him like this? So unwaveringly; so without a hope of ever being able to return to life without him in it.
He made a mess of you. A ruin. And even with wholesome affection running through your veins, you still couldn't ignore the hazy images conjuring in your mind from the way his body was pressed firmly behind you.
How could he?
The sun had just touched the horizon, granting the sky a few more minutes of light, meaning it was almost time to head home—an upsetting reality. You weren't sure how much time had passed before your body started to ache from lack of movement.
You wiggled your toes which were buzzing like television static. The feeling started moving up your legs and you knew if you didn't stretch, you would later embarrass yourself trying to stand on dead legs. So that is what you did. You started moving.
First, you stretched out the muscles in your legs and then moved onto straightening your back against Finnick's chest, feeling the faint pops of your spine offer you relief. And then you started readjusting your position and wriggling your hips to fit more comfortably between Finnick's toned thighs. That was your first mistake.
"Stop moving."
You were taken aback by the rigid inflection in his tone. "What?" you asked, ignoring his warning and continuing your restless movements.
"Stop. Moving," Finnick repeated, sounding more strained.
His hold on you became stiff. Completely frozen.
You were confused. Everything was perfect a moment ago, and all you were doing was stretching—why was he being so weird and snappy?
In response, you exhaled sharply. "I'm just trying to get comf—"
"Fuck," he breathed out.
Your eyes widened and it was safe to say your stomach had flipped inside out.
That was the moment you finally realised your second mistake. The rigidness in his voice wasn't him being snappy with you at all. Not even close. He was just trying to prevent the pleasure he felt below from reaching his vocal cords.
But it was too late. It wouldn't have mattered if he managed to keep quiet because you could feel it now. The achingly hard length that was pressed against your backside, reaching all the way up to your tailbone.
"...Oh," you whispered.
"Yeah," Finnick said. "Oh."
Now it was your turn to freeze. Fear consumed you, similar to what you imagined having to remain motionless in front of tyrannosaurus rex to prevent from being eaten alive was like. Thanks to the damning wind, strands of your hair blew behind your shoulders, undoubtedly tickling the exposed skin of Finnick's chest. Even that minuscule movement had your heart threatening to explode with anxiety.
As per usual, panic wreaked havoc in your mind.
What do I do? Do I get up? How will we come back from this? Does he—
Finnick cleared his throat. "Uh, you still alive in there?" he chuckled nervously.
You felt minor relief enter your bloodstream upon hearing the normality in his voice. At least one of you was composed enough to act normally. Well, as normal as one could act after becoming hard due to their best friend sitting in their lap.
"Is it—" You swallowed the nerves rattling your voice "—is it because there's a girl sitting on your lap, or is it because it's me?"
That was the million-dollar question. Was his reaction simply biological? A natural response to stimulation? Or was it deeper than that? More personal.
Finnick was silent.
The rapid thumping in your chest moved to your ears, like a drumroll leading up to some grand reveal. You felt dizzy; both filled with dreadful anticipation and exhilaration. Your senses were so heightened, fuelled by an inane bout of adrenaline. You swore you could almost hear the gears turning in Finnick's mind, smell the smoke as they rotated over and over, trying to make sense of your question and form a suitable response.
Religion never played a factor in your life, but, oh, how you were zealously praying his answer would be the one you spent all your nights fantasising about. But still, he was silent.
And right when you believed he wasn't going to respond at all, his lips finally uttered that single life-changing word. "You."
Fireworks seemed to light up every nerve in your body. You.
You weren't sure what to make of your thoughts at first. The overwhelming abundance of emotion caused by a singular word was difficult to fathom. Only one sentiment stood out from the rest—and that was the fact that Finnick felt the same as you did for him.
It was no longer a speculation. It was a fact. A truth. An undeniable reality. You had both verbal and physicalproof, literally digging into your backside.
Finnick slowly, very slowly, unwound an arm from your torso, and you held your breath. His hand slid across your waist and then plastered itself over your hipbone, careful not to apply too much pressure to make you feel uncomfortable. When you felt the slight movement of his thumb gliding across your clothed skin, you exhaled the burning air in your lungs with a shaky sigh.
"Do you want me to get up?" you asked softly while staring at the sunset, although you were focused on anything but.
"Not a chance." And then he unwound the other arm, now cupping both sides of your hips with two large hands. The heat from his palm sank into your skin, sinking deeper layer by layer until it reached the rapid flow of your bloodstream. "Do you want to get up?"
You felt a pulsing sensation between your thighs that had your parted lips inhaling slow deep breaths, and you knew the only logical answer was no. So, you shook your head.
Finnick reached up to skilfully tuck a lock of hair behind your ear before placing his hand back on your hip. He then leaned down beside your ear, voice a hot, velvety whisper, "What next then, sweetheart?"
A wave of chills ran down your entire body.
What next? Another question for the ages. You had dreamt of this moment a million times over. You had pictured the unholiest, most vivid of scenarios, and yet here you were, mind blank as an empty void.
Then it hit you. Rather than acting from a pre-planned script, wouldn't it be better to just let your body act on what it naturally desired? On instinct? You took in a deep, stabilising breath and gave yourself into moment.
You slowly began turning your head to the side until, for the first time since he pulled you into his arms, your eyes flickered up and found Finnick's. His lips quirked with the ghost of a smile at the exchange, but he held it back. His jaw clenched and unclenched, muscles ticking with tension.
He was looking at you in a way you had never seen before. Or perhaps, you were just never close enough to notice, and he had always looked at you this way. There was a blazing intensity in his eyes, dark and penetrative, a bridge between yearning and total reverence. It was so enticing that you could feel your hands itching to undress yourself in front of him.
Finnick murmured your name.
"Yes?" you managed to whisper.
"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?"
Those words—he had stolen them from the tip of your tongue.
You couldn't find the strength to muster any profound response. So instead, you found your head tilting back and the crook of your elbow winding up and around the nape of his neck. You didn't need to guide him down; he came willingly.
His lips caught yours in a soft, warm exchange. Singular yet prolonged. Then there was a brief pause of disconnection, a calm before the storm. And with Finnick, when it rained, it poured. Suddenly, a hand was cupping the area where your jaw and neck connected, and his lips were on yours again.
There was so much more heat in this kiss. A depth that kept growing with each connection of your lips. You could hear the fervour in the breathless exhales that exited his nose, the quiet groans that slipped into your mouth. Though the same could be said for you.
You couldn't subdue the moans and meek whimpers that leaked out. Especially when his tongue slipped into your mouth and took control over your own. At this point, you couldn't even be called putty in his arms; you were pure liquid, totally and completely submissive in his embrace.
It was impossible to tell who was throbbing beneath you anymore. All you were sure of was that the pretty lace panties you had put on that morning were now soaked. Though even if he never touched you, you wouldn't have cared. Having his lips on yours, his tongue on yours, was enough. And if he kept at it long enough, you were sure it would even be enough to get you off. That's how much power Finnick had over you.
Apparently, he felt the same too. Because when you leaned further back into him and your ass pushed against the length of his erection, his fist scrunched the fabric of your dress by your hip and his lips left yours to let out a shuddering breath.
"Fuck, sweetheart," he huffed, half chuckling.
Technically, it was a suppressed moan. Either way, you swear you almost came then and there.
With one last gentle kiss, you opened your eyes, pulling away to replenish your lungs with air. Finnick's eyes were already locked on yours in a drunken haze from the taste of your lips. Your arm unwound from his neck, grazing down his broad shoulders and bicep. During so, your eyes caught on the tiny bumps and raised hair scattered across his arm.
"You've got goosebumps," you smiled, trailing your fingertips across his skin.
His gaze moved to follow your hand, wearing a boyish grin. "Would you believe me if I said I was cold?"
Your throat buzzed with a suppressed giggle. Seeing the way his body reacted to yours was incredibly motivating. Someone telling you they lusted after you could easily be spoken with deception. But having visual confirmation, witnessing a reaction that couldn't possibly be forced, was a whole different story. Finnick's body craved you.
Given that incentive, the slight trepidation still holding you back now disappeared into the back of your mind. Your fingers curled around his wrist, dragging the hand beneath your jaw down to your neck, and then down to your chest. It didn't take him too long to figure out your intentions. He overtook your influence and autonomously moved his hand to cup your breast.
You were essentially caged in his embrace. Exactly how you wanted it.
You stared ahead with relaxed eyes, watching as the sun slipped into the dark water. Night had officially blanketed District Four and, now being shielded by darkness, the stars were your only witness. Strangely enough, you felt a new sense of shamelessness.
So as Finnick kneaded your breast in his warm hand and pinched the sensitive peak of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger through the lace of your bra, you allowed a soft moan to escape your lips.
It was almost as if you could actually feel the smirk growing across Finnick's lips behind you. One thing you actually could feel was the twitch of his achingly hard cock beneath you.
"You like that?" he asked, definitely smirking.
"Yes," you sighed almost immediately.
If only he knew how truly euphoric you felt. If only he knew how many times you had imagined being in this exact situation. Having him touching you like this. The guilt of imagining him in such a way used to eat you up. But now that you were past the guilt, there was no shame connected to the thought of Finnick eating you up.
Fuck, he would look so perfect between your thighs—bronze curls all messed up from your pulling and tugging; sea green eyes squeezed shut as he dedicated his attention to dragging you down to the pits of hell with his tongue.
Your head fell back against his collarbone. He took this as a signal to move your hair aside and start planting hot kisses onto the curve of your shoulder. Then he trailed further across, brushing his lips across your skin until he reached the side of your neck and started sucking gently, though enough to leave behind pretty little red marks of possession.
"What about this?" he murmured against the delicate skin.
The faint taste of sea-salted air sat in the back of your throat as your breaths deepened. You felt his tongue glide partially up the length of your carotid artery, and your entire nervous system seemed to short-circuit.
"Yes,"you practically whined.
He must have found this amusing because you could feel the vibrations of his chuckle against your neck. But he wasn't finished yet. Hell, the finish line was a lifetime away regarding the things he planned on doing to you. They probably couldn't all be done in one night though, unfortunately.
You had completely forgotten about the hand still splayed on your hip. Why would you pay it any attention when it was sitting idle? Only it wasn't simply resting on your hip anymore. No. Now it was moving. Moving down.
His lips were still on your neck and he was still cupping your breast, but all you could focus on was the carnal descent of his hand. He found the hem of your dress, fingers toying with the flimsy material as one did when deciding whether or not to go through with something potentially consequential. Ultimately, he began to drag the fabric up your thighs, knuckles grazing over your soft skin until the skirt of your dress was ruched around your hips.
You sucked in a sharp breath. The vulnerability of suddenly being exposed in such a manner hit you like a tonne of bricks. This was really happening. Finnick, the Capitol's darling, District Four's golden boy, and more significant;y, your best friend, was touching you. He was kissing you. He was seeing and feeling parts of your body you had never let him see or feel before.
Naturally, this unfurling web of thoughts produced a surge of insecurity.
But, when his hand curled around your inner thigh and spread a wildfire of warmth across your skin, every thought that was previously passing through your mind disintegrated and was replaced with unadulterated yearning.
Finnick's mouth finally detached from your neck to hover beside your ear. "And this?"
He lightly kneaded your thigh to emphasise his question, dangerously close to the place that undoubtedly crossed the boundary between friend and lover.
You were speechless. The desire running through your veins was paralysing. All you could do was look, see, feel, and hope to god you didn't pass out from the shallowness of your breathing.
"Come on, sweetheart," he roused in that low, seductive purr. "Don't go quiet on me now. Use your words."
And how could you ever disobey a voice like that? It took every ounce of strength and concentration you had in you, but eventually, you managed to find your voice.
"I—" You cut yourself off with a gasp as his thumb purposefully wandered up to the edge of your underwear. Asshole. "I lie awake every night imagining us like this, Finn. You don't need permission to touch me. You've already had it for months."
Suddenly, a gentle finger was turning your chin, compelling you to meet Finnick's gaze. His eyes lacked the intensity from before and were now brimming with awe, brows knitted as if he was asking for confirmation if what you had said was truthful. And it was, painfully so.
To answer his wordless question, you leaned forward and connected your lips with his. He responded with ardency, and not long after, you could feel his hand wander up to the waistband of your panties.
He wasted not a second before dipping his hand beneath the lace material and finding that sensitive spot that had been begging for his attention.
Your lips separated from his to let out a breathy moan. "Finnick."
He simply smiled, two fingers rubbing circles around your clit. He pressed gentle coaxing kisses to your lips, and you really did try to respond, but you were never one for multitasking. Especially when the man you had fallen in love with was touching you so.
His other hand wandered across your torso, holding your waist, grazing over your stomach, tracing the length of your sternum. All very loving adorations compared to what his other hand was doing.
"I think I'm going to hell because of you," he murmured, millimetres away from your lips. Such a disconcerting thing for someone to admit, but all you could manage was a hum in response. "Every time I see you, I can feel myself getting closer and closer. You derange my thoughts, sweetheart. You corrupt them.
How am I supposed to be around you if I want to fuck you every time you say my name? And what makes it so much more impossible is that you don't even mean to make me feel this way; you just do. God, you're maddening. So sweet and maddening," he cooed, fingers picking up in pace which caused you to melt back into his chest and let out a pretty little moan. "Drives me crazy."
"And to think," you managed, "I thought you had your hands between my legs because you hated me."
Your hips were rolling lightly along with the rhythm of his fingers.
At the very same time Finnick's thighs tensed around your hips from the friction against his cock, he abruptly plunged two fingers inside you. Punishment.
The moan you let out was positively filthy.
"Such an attitude you have," he said. "Anyone would think you're completely innocent in a dress like this. But I know better than that." His fingers slid in and out, curling every time the base of his fingers bottomed out inside of you. "I know exactly why you wore it. Just like I know exactly why you wore those lace panties you pretend that I can't see whenever you bend over."
Heat crept up into your cheeks from hearing his words. You wanted to provoke him by saying 'And look where it got me'but who knew how his fingers would respond to your attitude.
"You can't do that to a man," he continued. "It's criminal."
"It's only fair, Finn," you breathed out, struggling to keep your voice level. "You ruined me."
A deep moan rumbled in his chest, though it never escaped. He couldn't break that easily. He needed to remain in control. This moment, to him, seemed like an eternity forthcoming. He needed to make the most of this moment with you, needed to show you what it was like to receive earth-shattering pleasure so that you only ever wanted to receive it from him. No one else.
Despite his obvious attempts at keeping himself in check, you could still feel his thick impatient cock twitch beneath your ass. Even through the layers of clothing between you, you could tell that he was incredibly big. So much so that it worried you a little. Only, when his fingers curled again, you forgot all about it.
The pads of his fingertips buried into your inner walls with every curl. The heel of his palm struck your clit with every thrust of his fingers and you could feel your stomach start tightening. Fuck, he was amazing at this.
It had been so long since someone had touched you like this. Well, someone that was actually good at it. Just a few minutes and Finnick was already about to make you come.
"Feels so good, so—ah—good!" you moaned, eyes fluttering shut.
He reached a free hand up to your breast, lightly pinching your nipple between his fingers until you let out a gasp. At least one of you was good at multitasking.
"You gonna come?" he asked, not that he even needed an answer. He could feel the way your walls were contracting around his fingers, feel the sticky warmth of your slick leaking onto his knuckles.
You nodded fervently.
"Say please first."
"Finn," you whined in frustration.
You could hear him chuckle self-satisfyingly behind you. "Come on, baby. Sweet girls are supposed to have manners, aren't they?"
His low, husky voice almost threw you over the edge. Oh, how you would love to listen to the sound of him talking you through your orgasm. That is if he ever even let you get to that point.
Never had you ever thought you would be pleading with a man for anything, yet here you were. Though, Finnick Odair could hardly be called a man. He was so much more than that; he was bordering on divinity. And you weren't going to miss the chance of being unravelled at the hands of a divine being.
"Please, Finnick," you begged, your body literally buzzing with desperation. "Please make me come."
He pressed a kiss below your earlobe. "Since you asked so nicely."
His fingers picked up in pace. They weren't even plunging in and out anymore but were rather curling, over and over again in that electrifying spot inside you. He went hard and fast, working to bring you to your high as quickly as possible. Your moans were so unrestrained, so breathless and shallow that you started to feel the world spin around you.
Your hand flew back to hold onto his arm, nails digging into the hard muscles of his bicep. Your hips were writhing in Finnick's lap and you could hear him groan out a string of curses. He held you down by the hip to try and keep you still, then moved across to the bottom of your abdomen where he pressed down.
That is what did it for you.
You cried out as tightness spread down your stomach and pure ecstasy took control. Finnick murmured words of praise and reassurance as you rode through your high, though a lot of it didn't register in your mind. You heard only a few bits and pieces which were enough to prolong the feeling that was overwhelming your entire body.
"Taking it so well."
"That's it, sweetheart. That's it."
"Such a good girl."
As the waves of pleasure slowly began to subside, you returned to reality. The heat that had been building up inside you started melting away, leaving you in a state of relaxation. Your fingers, which previously clung onto Finnick's arm, now grazed absentmindedly across his skin. It felt like you had been sucked into a dream—a little hazy and surreal, but incredibly tranquil.
"You okay?" Finnick asked softly.
You hadn't even noticed that his fingers had left your body. He had pulled down the hem of your dress— not that your dignity really needed saving anymore—and was holding your melted figure in his arms.
"Mm," you hummed contently, eyes fixed on the view in front of you. "Warmed up."
If only you were able to see his face, his smile. Those dimples. A powerful longing to be able to see every expression known to man morph his facial features washed over you. It was a little ridiculous how attracted to him you were. Nonetheless, you indulged the desire.
You pushed yourself from his lap and pivoted to face him
You were straddling his lap before any ounce of hesitation could hold you back. Finnick circled his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into his chest. He was smiling. He was smiling and it was even more beautiful than any sunset you had ever witnessed. You concluded that you had definitely made the right choice in deciding to face him.
"Hi," you whispered.
He smiled. "Hey, stranger."
He brushed back a few pieces of hair from your face, observing the blown size of your pupils and the sultry colour of your lips. He did that—he could not get over the fact that he did that to you. Finally.
You shrunk away from his gaze, a timid smile on your lips.
Finnick tilted his head slightly. "Shy thing."
You buried your face into the side of his neck, groaning quietly in embarrassment. You could hear the perfect sound of him laughing above you. He stroked the length of your spine, somehow managing to ease the nerves from your body with a simple touch. You left a quick kiss on the warm skin of his neck and rose back up to meet his gaze.
"Feeling better?"
"Much," you replied, sheepishly. Your eyes flickered across Finnick's, hesitated, and then gestured downwards. "But... you're not." His head tilted as though he were confused as to what you were suggesting, so you leaned in closer until your lips ghosted over his. "Still need to take care of you."
A breath of warm air fanned across your face as he chuckled. He shook his head. "It's alright. I can hold off for another time."
And although the prospect of doing this again another time was downright exhilarating, you couldn't ignore the palpable heat still lingering in your lower stomach, throbbing between your thighs. You could only imagine how he must have been feeling—cock throbbing with a need for relief, though ready to deny himself the same amount of pleasure he just gave you.
You suddenly curled a hand around the back of his neck and brought him into a slow kiss. To show him he was allowed to indulge himself. That you wanted him to. You ground your hips down on his lap and felt his lips falter against yours.
You pulled back and echoed your previous words, "It's only fair, Finn."
Time seemed to pause for a moment. Your breath and his mixed with one another in a sort of hot whirlwind of anticipation. Your bodies were still. Finnick's eyes were half-lidded staring at your mouth.
Then came the explosion.
His hands were hastily tugging your sundress over your head; his lips were on yours as he reached down between your bodies to unbutton his pants. It felt like a race against time. Like if you didn't do this now, the chance would never come by again. Hell, his pants hadn't even made it off his legs before he was holding himself in his hand and you were rising to your knees, positioning yourself directly above his length.
Your lips never left his, strenuous as it was, meaning the only gauge you got of how big he was wasn't from seeing it, but from feeling it as you pulled your panties aside, guided his cock to your entrance with one hand, and felt the entire veiny length of him fill you completely as you lowered yourself onto him.
A quiet, synchronised gasp left both your lips as you enveloped him completely in wet velvety warmth. His pelvis was connected with yours and his cock was pressed right up against your cervix. So incredibly deep, you could almost feel him in your stomach.
You stayed like this for a few seconds.
"So big," you gasped against his lips.
His hands were on your back, dragging up and down. "Want to stop?"
"Never."
This was so not what friends did.
He trailed kisses from your mouth, to your jaw, and down to your neck. You were grinding sinuously back and forth, Finnick's hands now on your hips as a guide, feeling his tip bury into the sensitive walls inside you. Your head fell back with a gratified moan as he nipped your neck unforgivingly, only to soothe the spots he marked with the glide of his tongue.
At that moment, the past and future were of no significance. The idea that doing this might ruin your relationship with him afterwards didn't concern you. You didn't bother recollecting a time when you and Finnick were merely friends, nor did you ponder how you even managed to reach this point.
All you could focus on was how fucking perfect his cock felt inside of you.
The cold, which was previously a nuisance, now served as a stimulant to your nipples which were only covered by the thin unpadded material of your lace bra. They were bouncing with every movement you made, the hard peaks rubbing against Finnick's chest and creating a triangle of pleasure between them and the depravity that was happening further below.
He was so hungry in the way he kissed you. His lips were soft, but they moved with heat and determination. His tongue was supple as it pushed against yours, moving masterfully in a way you could only compare to how he swam in the ocean. A conqueror—able to bring you into submission with ease.
You pushed yourself upwards, the muscles in your thighs slightly burning as you did so, and felt his cock glide through you. He inhaled harshly through his nose when his tip almost left your wet heat, and then groaned into your mouth when your hips sunk back down, engulfing him once again.
"Shit," he almost whined as your walls clenched around him. "I fuckinglove you."
You pulled away to look him in the eyes. It was incredibly difficult for you to contemplate his words—his confession—when he was, what, eight or so inches deep inside you?
He didn't look like he regretted saying it. He was simply staring at you with raised brows pinched together in pleasure, awaiting your response as you continued your sequence of rising and sinking to fill yourself up with his cock.
"You love me?" you asked in a laboured breath. He only nodded in response. You sank fully down onto his lap, discontinuing your movements, willing him to prove his so-declared devotion. "Then show me."
He was breathing heavily and watching you through strands of sea-salted hair messily splayed across his forehead. He was so beautiful it actually kind of hurt to look at him. His eyes fell to your mouth during this brief amnesty, a decision prominent in his mind. Then he was rushing forward, crushing his lips to yours and forcing your body to lay back on the mat beneath you.
Finnick somehow managed to remain inside you as he switched your positions—him now above you as your legs were wrapped around his waist. His body pinned you down with a comfortable weight, skin warm and flush against yours.
He was overpowering and dominating, and his thrusts were laced with a sense of appropriation like he was making you his. The slow grinds of his hips were hard yet measured and so breathtakingly deep, and the gentle upwards curve of his cock made sure his tip was prodding against that swollen pleasure-inducing spot every single time.
His kisses were sensual and slow; his tongue slipping languidly into your mouth, swirling and massaging your tongue like it was made of pure silk.
You had told him what to do—now he was showing you. Finnick Odair wasn't fucking you. He was making love to you.
Your hands were on his back, fingertips leaving red marks on the curves of his shoulder blades. You moved up to his hair, scratching your nails softly into his scalp, which earned you a soft moan in your mouth. Even you could feel yourself pulsing around his cock. Everything he did, every sound and action he made, had your body yielding to him.
His hand pulled you up into him by the waist, arching your back off the palm-leaf mat so that he was thrusting more profoundly into that blissful spot inside you. He never sped up his pace. He didn't need to. He was savouring the moment as much as he could, memorising each warm ripple of your walls his cock glided over inside you, every intoxicating moan your soft lips released, the pressure of your warm supple thighs hugging his waist.
He was committing every aspect of you to memory. Inside and out.
Having that knowledge only made the moment so much more pleasurable. Knowing that he wasn't just thinking about you with his cock, but was thinking about you with his heart too.
That feeling started creeping up inside you—the blissful burn of heat pooling in your lower stomach. It made your walls flutter around him. Made you whine and moan uncontrollably into his mouth until you couldn't focus on kissing him anymore and had to pull away.
Your head fell back onto the mat, hair strewn out around you. The sounds coming out of you were pure sin. Desperate, greedy sin.
Finnick chuckled adoringly above you. "Too fucked out, sweetheart?"
He couldn't exactly talk. The second you clenched around him again, he groaned out a curse and you—the parts of your mind that were still relatively comprehensible—were sure you could feel the warmth of pre-cum ooze inside you.
"Finnick," you mewled, and he caressed the baby hairs framing your face. "Feels so good. Should—should've done this sooner."
Through your half-lidded eyes, you watched as he nodded and then descended to your forehead, pressing his lips tenderly against your skin. I know, the gesture said. You felt a rush of affection flood through your body, ultimately accelerating the build-up happening inside you.
You could feel yourself teetering so impossibly close to the brink of your orgasm. The tightness inside you was so hot and overwhelming; it was a struggle for you to keep your eyes from fluttering shut and rolling back, though you willed yourself to keep them open. You had to.
Watching Finnick's face contort with pleasure as he's thrown into his own high from feeling your walls contract around him would probably be the highlight of your entire life.
"So beautiful," he cooed as he thrusted into you. "My sweet girl's gonna come, isn't she? Can feel it."
The words flew out of your mouth. "Come inside me."
"Come inside you?"
You were pretty sure he was mocking you from the devilish curve of his lips and furrow of his brows. But your lust-drunk brain didn't really care.
"Please. Wanna feel you—" Your chest heaved with each breath "—everywhere."
Finnick was so obviously trying to keep himself from giving in before you. But you could see how delirious his eyes were as they stared down at you and you heard how every low, gratified—frustratingly sexy—sound he made betrayed him. He was so close.
"Anything for you, sweetheart," he said, finally.
He managed to unhook your hands from around his back and guided them upwards, holding your wrists together above your head with one hand before he brought his other back to your waist. It was oddly romantic how he held you, given that he was fucking you like life after that night wasn't guaranteed.
And then, without warning, he was pounding into you, bottoming out completely with each thrust.
It was almost animalistic now—how you were both unable to control yourselves anymore. You were writhing beneath him, impulsively fighting against the grip he had on your wrists. And Finnick, well, he was fucking you so hard, you weren't sure if walking home that night would be a possibility.
He was a disaster of pleasured vocals, deep moans, and heavy breaths. You thanked the absolute heavens he was because it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard in your entire life.
When your own moans started to rise in pitch, you knew you were done for. You felt so full. Stretched out to the max. Blinded by the heat that was drowning you. But your eyes managed to remain clear and locked on Finnick's the entire time, just as his were on yours.
With a fleeting glance downward, he once again placed a large hand over your abdomen and pushed down, and your back arched off the ground.
You were gone.
"Oh fuck!"
The heat, white and fiery, had consumed you. Your thighs tensed uncontrollably around Finnick, your body shaking beneath him as your insides pulsed all the way down to your stuffed entrance. White, sticky sweetness covered Finnick's cock as he continued to thrust into you, the wet sounds overpowering the waves cresting on the sands. It felt like fucking heaven.
He let out a moan, broken and breathless, and released the grip he had on your hands. In that short moment, you instantly gripped onto him, feeling his body shudder beneath your hands as his throbbing cock spurted out ropes of warmth deep inside you, the essence of both of you mixing inside your body, making you one.
You pulled him down and crushed your lips to his with a sudden intense urge to be as close to him as you could, if it were even possible to be any closer to him at that point. It felt a little spiritual, the way you practically wanted to merge your body with his. That's what having sex with someone you truly loved was like, you supposed.
The kiss was sloppy and messy, but it never lacked heat or affection. Lacking heat was impossible between you and Finnick.
A lot of time passed before either of you even contemplated pulling away from one another. Finnick was inside you for what must have been a good half hour after you had both finished. It felt close. Deeply intimate. He held you in his arms, his hands mapping out various parts of your body with unhurried measure as you lay beneath him, lazily yet affectionately making out with warm, reddened lips.
There were quiet giggles and heated words whispered between you that would have prompted another session had either of you been graced with the energy.
But it was late. The remnants of the sun had long since disappeared beneath the horizon, dimming the sky to a deep dark blue, the world's only source of illumination being the stars casting their sparkling light on the rippling water.
It was a new moon.
Eventually, you ended up laying over his chest, legs strewn across his as you both faced the ocean. Your head rose and fell with each breath Finnick took and it felt unreal.
You were momentarily worried your infatuation with him had grown too out of hand and you had imagined the whole day, or perhaps, the entire time you had known him. That it was all a figment of your vivid imagination.
Then, his warm hand slid into your own, which was draped across his stomach, and you knew that this, the newfound relationship between you and Finnick, was undeniably and rapturously real.
He slowly lifted them together above your bodies, palms flat against one another. There was a notable size difference between them—his palm was large and calloused with long fingers that squared off at the tips, meanwhile, your own fist could probably fit into his palm.
Your fingers danced delicately together as you both watched from below. He traced the length of your fingers with his fingertips; followed the etches in your palm, and turned your hand to explore the protrusions of your knuckles. There was a certain gentle curiosity in his touch, similar to that of someone who was discovering the act of human connection for the first time.
"I don't know if I can walk home," you whispered.
Finnick lowered your interlocked hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles before placing them back on his stomach. "I'll carry you."
"For an entire hour?"
"I'll manage," he said, "I've got muscles."
You scoffed quietly to yourself, smiling. "Ok, big strong man."
"Says the girl who needs to be carried home."
"Well, you are kind of the one to blame for that."
You tilted your head to glance up at him and found exactly what you were expecting to see. He was wearing a proud grin, all apple cheeks and crinkled eyes. It was something you had come to adore, even though sometimes it was out of arrogance.
Your head turned to rest back on his chest. You watched as his thumb caressed slow circles over your knuckle.
"What you said before," you began, "is it true? Do you really... love me?"
The heart beating beneath your ear genuinely sounded like it skipped a beat. You imagined that was a good sign, though your nerves were still a little frayed. What if he had only said it because of the heat of the moment?
A beat went by. "I've been trying to tell you ever since I first wove the mat for you," he confessed, his voice quiet yet holding the weight of the history that made up your friendship.
There it was—the truth laid bare. Despite hearing the words, it didn't really change anything. You suspected deep down you knew the entire time; you were just too self-doubting to accept it. To accept that Finnick Odair, the crown jewel of Panem, had fallen in love with you, an ordinary girl from District Four who just so happened to meet him at a secret beach.
Although, there was a sensation you remember upon first meeting him. That instinct that had told you to stay instead of running away, as any logical human being would do upon being approached by a stranger in the middle of nowhere. That instinct, despite sounding utterly ridiculous, caused you to believe that perhaps it was fate.
Maybe you were destined to meet. Maybe it didn't matter that he was a nationwide celebrity, nor you a simple town girl. Maybe your souls were entwined from the start and, one way or another, you would have met anyway.
Maybe.
"That's a long time," you said.
He laughed. "Yeah, well, I thought you would've gotten the hint by now."
And you couldn't help but join him. You thought you were the one who was deranged out of their mind. Here Finnick was telling you he had spent an entire year trying to confess his love without you even realising.
"I'm sorry it took me so long."
"It's alright," he said, earnestly. "I'd say it worked out pretty well. I mean, look where your obliviousness got us."
You smiled. Your legs were tangled with Finnick's; his arm was holding you tightly against his bare upper body, and his fingers were lovingly tracing over yours. Yeah, you were pretty grateful for your obliviousness sometimes. A new pair of underwear might have been something to consider, though.
A silence settled between you, comfortable, peaceful. Being in Finnick's embrace almost made you forget entirely about the reality of your existence—the Games, the dominion over Panem, the chaotic environment back home. It was the reason you had set off last year in search of a place away from society.
You had now found that the escape you were looking for wasn't a place or a hidden paradise, but a person. It was Finnick.
"Finn?"
"Yeah?"
The trees and palm leaves danced in the light breeze. Waves lapped on the shore.
You angled your head back to look at Finnick and felt him pull you closer. His expression was a picture of relaxation and contentment. His eyes gazed down at you, glimmering with the reflection of scattered stars in the night sky, just like the sea in front of you.
He seemed to already know what you were going to say. Always the mind reader.
"Say it, sweetheart." The corners of his lips twitched expectantly.
Sweetheart. Oh, how could you have ever felt for him in any other way?
"I love you too."
His face broke into one of the happiest smiles you had ever seen.
...roll credits
#when i tell y'all i went feral for finnick writing this#good lord#wife of all dilfs ✍️#finnick odair#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair imagine#finnick odair smut#finnick odair fluff#finnick odair fanfic#finnick odair x fem!reader#finnick odair x y/n#finnick odair x you#thg finnick#the hunger games fanfiction#the hunger games#catching fire#mockingjay#mockingjay part 2#sam claflin#the hunger games fanfic#peeta mellark#katniss everdeen#josh hutcherson
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24hrs with Lando | (l.norris)
summary: you also follow Lando‘s daily routine in the new quadrant video
wordcount: 1.8k words
pairing: landonorris x fem!reader
warnings: mentions of smut
notes: requested! Kinda rushed and don’t like it as much as I hoped I would :/
requests are closed!
When the doorbell rang, Lando jumped up from the couch and opened the door, today was going to be hard, but fun, you knew it. You followed Lando and welcomed Ethan and Morgan to your Monaco home, after a quick hug you also said hello to the camera, it wasn’t unusual for you to be in front of the camera, and being Lando Norris’ girlfriend comes with that. Because you were a fan favorite, they wanted you to join him for the next a day in the life video, and who were you to deny their wishes?
The day started with showing the boys and the crew around your apartment, Morgan breaking the case of Lando’s trophy and the next thing was breakfast.
The overnight oats weren’t on your normal breakfast schedule, you were more of a toast person, but for the sake of the video you ate it, making the same jokes as Ethan, saying you were full after a few bites. You stood next to Lando and offered him the rest of yours, he actually kind of liked what he was eating, and wasting food wasn’t good, so he happily ate the rest of yours.
“Yo mate, wanna eat mine too? I only spit slightly in it.“
“Nah, I’m good, I don’t care about Y/N’s spit, but I don’t want to eat yours.“
“I bet you don’t care about her spit, probably eating different things too.“
Lando laughed high-pitched and you blushed, thinking about this morning where he went down on you, making you moan and yanking on his hair until you two really had to get up.
The kitchen was filled with laughter and jokes until it was time for the workout, this was something you were used to, often joining Lando for a workout, but your own workout. You and Jon had created a workout specifically made for you, you weren’t training your neck, but a full-body workout was almost on the daily agenda.
You all went to the small home gym, and Lando looked for the resistance bands.
“They might be in our bedroom.“
“How’ve the workout bands made it to the bedroom?“, Ethan asked while Lando went and grabbed them off his bedside table, again, you blushed and turned around, so you faced the wall, laughing quietly. While the boys gasped you remembered the night before, you two forgot your handcuffs at the last hotel you were in and forgot to get new ones, so yesterday Lando wanted to tie your hands up, he couldn’t think of something else to use but the workout bands, quickly grabbing them from the gym and he could finally tie your hands to the headboard. Clearly forgetting to put them back in the morning.
When Lando came back and found the three of you giggling, well, Ethan and Morgan and you stood against the wall blushing, he knew what the topic was, a slight red tone covered his cheeks as well, he wasn’t ashamed of what people would think, but he knew his friends wouldn’t let him live that down easily.
“I’m not going to comment on that“, Lando grinned and put an arm around your shoulder while turning you back around.
The workout wasn’t as fun as the breakfast was, Lando showed the exercise before the three of you repeated it, and you did work out, but Lando’s workout was harder and with more weight than yours was, lets not even begin with the neck training, you saw Lando suffering every day, but doing it yourself was probably the hardest thing ever. You’ve tried it before, as a joke, Jon barely pulled on your neck, to not hurt it, but you almost cried when he did, and he barely used any weight.
You trusted Lando, and he knew to use barely any weight at all, he slightly pulled the thing on your head and you were already struggling to hold your head straight. With a pout, you looked at Lando and he knew that was your sign to stop, he removed the device from your head and kissed your forehead, to make up for causing you pain.
Morgan commented this with a quiet ‘Aww’, which you smiled away, you weren’t hiding the PDA in front of the camera, but you also didn’t shove it in anyone's face, which was why it always made you a little uncomfortable. You knew this would be all over Tumblr, TikTok, and Reddit when the video came out, you could already hear the comments, not that they would be bad, but the fangirls would freak out, good and bad.
The boys laughed while doing the neck workout, you also couldn’t keep your laugh in, it looked funny, but you weren’t better. The comments from the boys were the funniest too, especially when Ethan made that comment about being pulled by Lando into his crotch when Morgan said he would let go, you let out a laugh, “Y/N has let go before, I know that“, with a gasp, you hit him lightly on the shoulder.
When Lando did it, it was no surprise that he looked brilliant while doing it, you were used to pulling on the rope, Jon wasn’t always around and you tried it once, and weren’t too bad at it, so it was a normal thing for you. You had to almost put your whole body to work to challenge his neck, but you did it perfectly in his eyes.
Ethan and Morgan were surprised by how much power you could put in when doing that, Lando couldn’t be prouder of you, thanking you silently with a squeeze of his arms when you were done.
Next was the protein shake, this also wasn’t something new for you, Jon always provided a shake for you too, and you were happy that he included you like that, ordering you pre-made food when you tell him, you don’t have time to cook a meal.
After the shake, it was time for the cryotherapy, you’ve never done that before, and weren’t too opposed to trying it out either. You knew Lando wasn’t the biggest fan of it, and it wasn’t a normal coldness, it was fucking freezing. The cryotherapy wasn’t too far away from your apartment, so you walked there, getting some steps in and breathing some fresh air, everyone joked about it, but you knew they all would be shaking in a few minutes.
Because you didn’t want to stand there in your lingerie, you changed into a bathing suit and met with the guys in front of the door to the frozen hell, you were given gloves, masks, and the cute headbands, to keep the most important parts of the body somewhat warm. You did check out Lando in his boxers, and you loved the Calvin Kleins on him, the fabric did little to hide what he was trying to cover up, and that got you drooling, not only in your mouth, but you just hoped you couldn’t freeze from the inside.
Together with the boys you got in the cabin and looked at Lando with big eyes, you knew it would be cold, but you didn’t know it would be THAT cold.
When Lando said his mustache is frozen you couldn’t contain but make a little side comment: “Just shave it off then.“ He couldn’t believe you said that, he was proud of his beard and you knew it, you still needed to get used to it.
You crossed your arms in front of your chest to cover your hard nipples a little, right when you did, Lando mentioned how fragile his nipples felt, and the only thing you could do was nod. Yours hurt a lot, not only did they feel like they would fall off any second, but you felt serious pain in them. You prayed the three minutes would go over fast because you couldn’t stay in here longer, you tried to stay near Lando, to get some body heat off of him, but he was as cold as you were. He quickly knew what you were trying to do, so he pressed your chest to his’ and stroked your arms to create some warmth.
“It’s unfair, ginge, they have each other to keep warm, we need to cuddle too.“
Morgan pushed Ethan with a disgusted look away from him and they both laughed. When you pushed yourself away from Lando because it was time to leave, you accidentally touched his nipple, Lando commented: ”Ouch, Y/N, my nipple,“ which made you all burst out in laughter. You were extremely happy when you went through the door and finally felt the warmth of the room, it was way warmer than you thought before, thanks to the cold chamber.
Next was lunch, you were somewhat used to these meals, they weren’t a delicacy, but good enough to eat them, todays chicken teriyaki looked delicious, despite Morgan and Ethan saying otherwise. You and Lando dug into it, quietly rolling your eyes at the boys saying how disgusting it was, you‘d like to have a pizza now too, but that wasn’t on Lando’s meal plan, tho you might order some takeout later when you were sitting in front of the tv, but they didn’t need to know that. You chatted while eating and played some Jenga afterward, you were impressed at how high you were able to build the tower.
The last thing for the video was the simulator, which also wasn’t a new thing for you, especially at the beginning of your relationship, you often sat in the simulator and drove around the different tracks. It was a lot of giggles and snarky comments from Lando, but it was so much fun, you tried your best and almost ended up on top, but around the last corner you slipped off track and straight into the wall. But Lando kissed it better, the two boys made kissing sounds when he pressed some on your forehead, and you blushed again.
The rest of the day couldn’t be filmed because Lando had meetings with McLaren, and no one was allowed to be near him, in case someone could overhear some important things about the car and share it with the world. Lando trusted the boys, but it would be unfair for them to sit around in the flat and do nothing, so Lando send them on a helicopter ride.
In between meetings, Lando had his midday snacks, you stopped following his day because you had your own stuff to do, but after Lando finished all of his stuff, you two ordered some pizza to enjoy in front of the TV.
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#lando norris#lando norris imagine#formula 1#lando norris x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris fluff#lando norris x y/n#lando x reader#lando norris one shot#lando imagine#lando#Quadrant
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𝒥 : PLACES THEY LOVE TO KISS — enha
はい bf!enha x f!r . . . 🍵 warning. kissing duh ! + FLUFF ★ seiu msg: wanna get back on to writing stuff soon in the mean time enjoy this! rbs/feedbacks are appreciated
— HEESEUNG LEE
heeseung loves kissing your neck because he knows it gets you hot and bothered, he loves the sudden shocked squeak you let out when he random kisses your neck, he came behind you, gracing his cold lips on your neck “AH what’s wrong with you seung” you turned towards him, your hand on the place he kissed “my lips are cold, i ate ice cream” he said pulling you back “so?”
“so i gotta warm them up” he said as he bit ur neck lightly, kissing it, his breath leaving tingling feels down your spine, something about neck kisses just makes you feel light headed “i know you love it princess” he whispered, his hands roaming around your body as he blabbers like a loser.
— JAY PARK
jay loves kissing your lips, though it very common but for him it is special, he love the feeling of his lips against yours, especially after you put on lipgloss or lipstick “jayyyy i just put it on, look it’s all smeared and on your lips too” you said frustrated as you try to fix your lipstick, “it’s a nice colour i like it on you” he said snaking his hands again around your waist as he turns you around “doesn’t give you an excuse to ruin it, and we have to go or else we will be late to the party” you said resisting his touch as he leaned over again.
“doesn’t matter” he said as his lips moved against yours, his hands around you waist, him teasing your lips by lightly nipping on it, your hands in his hair tousling it.
“we got stuck in the traffic sorry” he said to his friend as you shot him glares, did i forget to tell you that he loves kissing you when you are mad at him? works like a charm, all the anger goes poof.
— JAKE SIM
jake loves to nom on your cheeks , he says it’s like bread. he loves to peck your cheeks at any given moment, or just have his face smooshed by yours, if he could he could live under your skin. jake likes to bite your cheeks while pecking them despite being warned a hundred times to not, but how can you resist his puppy eyes.
sometimes he get this kissing aggression towards you where he just keep on kissing and giggling as you try to escape him “jake too much” you say as he kissed you all over your face, “not enough” he said as he continues smooching your cheeks, biting them “nom, you taste like strawberries” jake hugs you as he calms down, cuddling you.
— SUNGHOON PARK
he loves collarbone kisses, loves to randomly feather kisses around your collarbone while cuddling, exact reason that despite being so tall he like you be a small spoon most of the times, likes to be a princess “hoon it tickles” you said as he pressed kisses, he loves when you wear off shoulder as he gives him easy excess but if not then he just pulls the piece of clothing you are wearing to expose your collarbone, now that has gotten him in trouble when he accidentally rip your clothing’s neckline but that obviously never stopped him.
“i will get you more mmm” he said as he kept kissing you, he loves to inhale the soft and mild scent of your perfume.
— SUNOO KIM
loves to kiss your forehead, to appreciate even the smallest of things you do for him, while that’s very sweet of him and you love it with all your heart, there are times when he likes to annoy you by kissing you after applying your lip tint so now you have kiss mark on your forehead, or kissing it and then telling how small you are.
towers over you sometimes so you look up at him and he can kiss your forehead.
“i got nice scores this time” you told sunoo as he smiles and kisses you forehead “im proud of you love”
— JUNGWON YANG
he likes to kiss your nose, just a little boop to make you laugh, you talking about your day? oh he is so in love, boop, you are cooking? he is drawn in by your beauty, boop, you are just laying around? you look so cute, he can’t believe you are his, boop.
“why do you like kissing my nose so much” he looks at you as he smiles, eyes closing like a cat as he kisses your nose “because you are cute” it’s a way he expresses his love, it’s his way of saying he treasures you and a simple expression of his limitless love for you
— RIKI NISHIMURA
he loves to bury his face in your neck after a long day and kiss your shoulders, just like sunghoon he loves when you wear off shoulder dress or else he just pulls on them, but lucky for him you wear his oversized hoodies all the time so it’s easy to gain excess, sometimes it’s hard to express who he feels, or how much he loves you so he just kisses your shoulder and hope you understand his attempt to say ‘i love you’s’.
“what’s wrong baby” you asked as you played with hair as he buried his face in the crook of your neck “just tired” he said nuzzling “aww poor baby” you said as you kissed his head “you better not tell how act with you” he warned you still kissing your shoulders.
“like a baby? AHH-” your giggles turned into sudden shock as he bites you “oh that left a mark” you smacked him with a pillow as he laughed and dodged it “not tired anymore huh?” you said pouting moving away from him just to get pulled back to his lap “i am” he pecked you “meanie” he snicked at your pouty lips before kissing it.
#enhypen headcanons#enhypen scenarios#jake x reader#niki x reader#sunoo x reader#jungwon x reader#jay x reader#heeseung x reader#sunghoon x reader#sunoo imagines#sunghoon imagines#park jay imagines#sim jake imagine#jungwon imagines#niki imagines#niki scenarios#jungwon scenarios#enhypen imagines#enhypen x reader#heeseung scenarios#enhypen#sunghoon scenarios#enhypen reactions#enhypen oneshots#sunghoon fluff#yang jungwon#niki fluff#can u see how i love riki pt2
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