#for one because he is not at his peak of darkness most of the time i write him
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Pins n' Needles p.2
Pairing: Chris x fem!reader
Warnings: Smuttttt / reader is a bit rough in the beginning / angst (kind of??) / piercing kink / public sex (sort of) / piercer!Chris / fem stimulation / cunnilingus / vibrating tongue piercing / nipple play / switch!Chris / switch!reader / chris gets jealous ;) / ‘sugar’, ‘ma’, ‘mama’ / Chris + vertical labret, eyebrow & tongue pierced
Summary: You have been seeing Chris for a while now. You and him have made a connection outside of his piercing shop. However, he’s taken aback by what you have underneath your clothes.
Author’s Note: Guys ik i haven’t posted anything proper in ages. I’m making it up to you today I promise. But i hope you enjoy this one bc i certainly did like writing this. From Maxine, with love ♡.
“Baby, step outside your mind. You’ve been really good, you’ve been really good. You’ve been thinking ‘bout being bad ever since I put you on.” - LIFE OF THE PARTY, THE WEEKND.
𓆩☥𓆪
A notification illuminates the dark surface area of your room from your phone. You roll over across your bed for it to be a reminder of your appointment at the piercing shop today.
The grip over your phone tightens. It had been a while since the two of you met up one on one at his workplace.
You were incredibly excited about seeing him again after what happened the last time you went for a piercing from his parlour. Your head fades into a blur for a second as you recollect everything that’s happened every single time you and your body piercer go to see each other.
Besides all the intimate times, you get along great with him. You’ve come to realise that you and him have incredibly similar interests. This has concluded to Chris latching onto you even more, although neither of you have consulted each other about taking things to the next level and trying something more serious.
Chris’ sense of style and taste in fashion has always piqued your interest ever since you first walked into his store. Ever since you first laid eyes on him you always prayed that each appointment, he’d be there working a shift. Outside of his work, you have gone over to his place from time to time. You ask him if you can borrow his clothes because you’re so obsessed with his seemingly dark yet tame aesthetic. You and him have grown to be so close.
But what you’re most fond of was the way he’d twirl and twist the metal bar clasped onto his tongue around his mouth, sliding it over the shell of his enamels, shiny from his spit.
It was your favourite piercing of his, you love it just as much as he does. You grow hot and bothered reminiscing about everything that’s happened between you and him.
You look down at the time. ‘8:30’. You rise up from your lying position and get ready for the appointment.
𓆩☥𓆪
You breathe slowly, trying to help soothe the tingling nerves jolting down the curve of your spine. Trotting down the steep stairs to the familiar sanctuary where he resides.
Again, the place was empty. A moment of confusion floats until realisation hits you.
He’s probably cleared his schedule again…
You reach over the counter to try and peak over into the back. As per usual, the room is mostly dim. The LED lights kindled a red hue along the edges of the walls.
There’s more posters propped up around the place. Chris really does like decorating the place. It’s what he does the most when he’s not busy with an appointment.
You’re trying to find any sort of silhouette of a person coming into your vision. It’s hard to see and you have to squint to view anything properly.
“Hellooo… Chris?” You ponder out. After a few seconds, you hear tussling and rushed footsteps coming your way.
Chris, your body piercer. Who you’ve been fucking every now and again ever since you got that particular piercing on that very fateful day.
His locs, which once were dishevelled and messy, are now cut short. You can actually see his eyebrow piercing as clear as day now. You grin at the thought of him pampering himself up like that. You quite like the new change in his appearance.
“Hey, sugar! I’ve missed you.” He exclaims with sheer delight in his voice. “What can I do for you today, hm?” He slouches and rests his elbows on the desk. Your arched position across him releases and you stand upright again in embarrassment.
“Hi Chris, I’m here for another piercing today.” You grip at the zip of your grey hoodie. You start to fondle at it trying to avert your eye contact from Chris.
“Is that so?” In the corner of your eye you can see Chris lick at his lip making the top ball on his labret barbell wet.
“Did you make sure I was the only appointment today again?” You giggle sarcastically. The bitter confidence in your question made him grin feverishly.
“Mhm, like always Ma.” The nickname he’s been using on you for a while now. You’re still not sure whether you’re used to it or not. You love it either way though.
Chris gathers the waiver in his grasp and hands it to you. Veins running down from his hands all the way to the end of his forearms. Sculpting around his muscles capsuled in his black graphic tee with a deer in headlights plastered on it.
He still wears the large Vivienne Westwood orb around his neck. You never noticed before, but as his finger taps to the beat of the music playing in the background, his finger has a sigil tattoo that is plastered right below his nail bed.
From what you’ve gathered from him so far, Chris doesn’t like to appear as “normal”. But he doesn’t stick out too much either. He perks out the crowd only slightly with his few piercings and a small tattoo. He doesn’t try too hard. You like that in him. Piercings and body modifications is also something he personally and genuinely enjoys. He didn’t choose this job because it was his one and only option. He loves the idea of people being creative with their own identity and partaking in helping them with that task. It’s what makes you so attracted to him. Besides the fact he’s so handsome.
“Signature here and here please, sugar.” He gestures down at the document as he mutters offering you the pen pinched between his thumb and pointer.
You snap out of your trance. You take the pen and engrave your details in. You glance up at Chris for a second to see him staring down at you. He tilts his head to the side when he notices you look up.
You immediately break eye contact and finish writing your signature and stumble back to your feet again after leaning on the desk to hand the paper back to him.
“Come head down here in the back for me, Ma.” Chris uses the middle and pointer finger to beckon you to follow him. And you do so without hesitation, just like before.
𓆩☥𓆪
You’re sitting on the stretcher waiting patiently and admiring Chris simply doing his job. Like always, Chris has his sterilised equipment and black latex gloves.
He breaks open an alcohol pad with his teeth and rubs it against your skin. He sets it down onto the steel tray with a large array of needles and jewellery.
“How’ve you been holding up, anyway?” You break the silence and Chris turns around after his focus has shifted. Your legs are rocking back and forth from the adrenaline pumping through your blood vessels in preparation for the piercing.
“I’ve been fine, mostly. I haven’t seen you in a while. Why don’t you stop by more often, sugar? You never come ‘visit unless it’s a new piercing you want.” Chris speaks as he has his back turned once again. Trying to look for the right needle gauge.
“W-well, I wouldn’t really wanna bother you at your place of work. I’m pretty sure you’re busy with other customers.” You sigh hesitantly.
“Whaaat?” Chris exaggerates his confusion. You huff out a laugh and Chris turns around again, gazing at you.
“Didn’t I tell you? You’re my favourite customer. I’d love to have you over any time, Ma.” The glint in his eye matches the shine on his piercings.
“Hmm, I’ll have a think about it.” You return slyly. Chris chuckles and moves the tray closer to you.
“Is it okay if you take your jacket off?” He asks.
You grit your teeth. You purposefully didn’t wear a bra today for the sake of the jacket being there yet you’re now starting to regret your choices.
You hesitantly pull the sleeves and drape it down and put it beside you on the stretcher.
Chris’ lively expression sank. His jaw clenched as he looked down at your shirt. The shape of two piercings on both your nipples peeking out of the fabric of your shirt ever so slightly. You look down at the floor in shame.
He scoffs bitterly because he knows, he knows that he wasn’t the one who did those piercings for you. The unpleasant surprise made his mood change almost instantaneously.
The atmosphere between you two grows thick. You try to look the other way as Chris positions the needle onto your now pink skin.
You can feel his glare on you. It’s burning deep into your skin, he refuses to look away whatsoever.
“On three. One, two, three.” Suddenly, the needle sinches your skin as the needle and jewellery goes in. The pain is harsher and more fiery. You audibly groan and sniffle, trying to stifle the tears welling up.
You’re also upset at the sudden change in mood from Chris. He was being so warm and welcoming earlier. He definitely noticed your nipple piercings.
Chris never struck you as the jealous type. You always thought he didn’t give a shit about what happens outside of meeting up to hang out or for sex. You two aren’t dating, so it’s understandable why you thought that. Chris also seems nonchalant when it comes to stuff like this. Your assumption is dead fucking wrong on your account though.
You wipe at your cheeks trying to conceal your overwhelming emotions pouring through.
Not a word came out of Chris’ mouth after the piercing. He’s gone cold all of a sudden. Not a single bit of praise, not even reassurance. He’s pissed off at something for sure.
“Chris? What’s wrong?” You ask him gently. He fails to look at you directly. He rushes to take the gloves off and throws them back into the tray carelessly.
“Nothing. Why?” He responds dryly. You’re still wondering if this is all because of what he saw beneath your shirt.
“Stop being so stale with me, Chris. I’m trying to communicate with you here.” Your tone hardens into stone. Your eyebrows furrow deeply and you grab Chris’ shoulder, swivelling him around so he’s now facing you properly.
Chris tries to dismiss you as much as he can. Even though he said nothing was wrong. You didn’t know he was this arrogant until now.
You take a step closer towards him. Your feet are almost stepping on his. Chris tries to inch away but hits the metal countertop with the tray resting on it clumsily. He swallows thickly and you can clearly see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he does so.
You can see his tough guy act go soft. He gets so nervous around you. And, fuck does it turn you on. You can hear the breaths coming out of his mouth both from how tense he is and how close you two are together.
Your tits practically grazing against his shirt. You take one step closer until your lips are almost touching.
You can feel the cold metal of his lip ring press against your skin. Sending shivers through your entire body.
Your figure is now fully pressed onto his. Chris can feel the hard bars pinched in your nipples digging through his shirt onto his skin.
He stutters as he palms the countertop behind him and grips at it. You can feel his breath turn into hard and sharp pants. You smirk, you almost laugh at yourself for being so upset about him being a dick earlier.
“What’s wrong, baby? Hm? ‘You jealous that I went to a different piercer this one time? Without telling you?” You tease him. You breathe down his ear gently while spitting these harsh rhetorics at him. His body shudders and you can feel something twitch down below.
“‘You getting hard over this? Really? How pathetic.” You utter through your teeth. Chris whimpers at your sour comment. You reach down to the bulge in his sweats and palm over the fabric.
“O-oh fuck…” he chokes up quietly. You can’t help but grin maliciously over the control you have over him at this moment in time. Him trying to act all pissed off before all this has you screaming inside with fulfilment.
You’re incredibly agitated at his stubbornness. You’re riled up especially at the fact that Chris was being so stern earlier.
He reaches down to make contact with your lips, but you refuse and glare up at him. He whines sadly with regret at your spiteful manner. He really fucking wanted to kiss you. To at least make up for his negativity towards you. Your hard stare matches his from a few moments ago. Giving him a taste of his own shitty medicine.
“P-please kiss me. I-I wanna feel your lips so bad, Mama. I’m so desperate…” He hides his lip ring in his mouth as he feeds his bottom lip inside it. His hands now clasped tightly around your waist.
“Tell me what’s wrong first, sweetheart.” You reply in his ear gently. Chris’ face fills with red as he tries to find the words to speak.
“...Y-yeah, I am jealous that you went to another piercer. Why did you do that anyway? I thought you were comfortable around me. You didn’t even tell me about it either. Kind of a dick move to be honest, Ma…”
He looks away shyly, removing his hands from your waist to rub them over his face. You sigh and wrap your arms around his neck.
“I’m sorry, baby. Honestly, I wanted it to be like a fun little surprise for when we next hooked up. I didn’t think you’d be so upset about it. I should’ve warned you beforehand.” You lean in and interlock your lips with his. The kiss is short but passionate. Chris’ hands make their way back down to your waist again.
“It’s okay, sugar. I like them a lot, actually. They’re hot as fuck.” His labret migrates slightly from the grin on his face. He cups one of your tits softly, breaking the tender moment.
He squeezes it which makes you squirm. His dick twitches harshly against you again.
“Fuck surprises. You should’ve told me you were getting these. I would’ve jerked off so much to the thought of your tits pierced.” You whimper as Chris’ hand makes its way underneath your shirt. He pulls and tugs at the piercing just enough to send a jolt down to your slick pussy.
“I-I actually might get a Christina. Do you want me to go to a different piercer or…?” You smirk up at him. He loves how fucking dirty you are. His dick is begging to be let out of his sweats. His eyebrow ring glints and he bites his bottom lip again. Fully hiding his labret.
“Fuck no, baby. I want you all to myself. Come to me when you wanna get a Christina. ‘kay, sugar?” Both of his hands are underneath your shirt, pinching and tugging at your nipples making you whine desperately, squeezing your legs shut.
Chris is so good at finding your sweet spots. You can’t say anything other than a pathetic “‘kay.” In response.
“That’s my good girl.” He whispers down your ear, still squeezing and pulling at your nipples. You whimper into his neck. You fucking loved Chris’ praise. Your puffy and red buds are fully hard and perked out now, sticking out your shirt to match with your slutty piercings alongside them.
“W-Want me to give you another blowjob? Just like the last time we were here alone.” You ask genuinely desperate for a breath. He looks back up at you after being severely distracted by your tits.
“Nevermind me, baby. I wanna make you feel so fucking good tonight. I wanna make you cum, Ma. Over and over. To make up for being such a dick earlier. Do you wanna help me change my tongue piercing? It’s for a good purpose, trust me, sugar.”
You’ve grown so impatient. You just wanted to shove him on the stretcher and fuck him senseless. But you oblige anyway.
Chris opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out. You twist the ball sitting right on top of his tongue and unscrew it carefully. You bite your lips in focus as he has his mouth agape, waiting patiently.
You successfully take the entire bar out. Leaving his tongue completely bare. He looks naked without it.
“Good girl. Now just sit down on the stretcher for me, baby.”
You sit down as Chris follows behind not long after.
He leans in slowly underneath your jaw to pepper soft kisses across your neck. You can feel the tip of his nose skim gently across your skin.
The sudden feeling of the cold shard of metal on your skin mixes with his hot breath and warm hands reaching under your shirt again.
He moves his head down teasingly to the roses of your nipples. Breathing on them slightly. That was enough for you to whine out as you start to grab onto Chris’ hands.
“You’re so sensitive, sugar…I wonder if it’s because of these slutty piercings.” He coos down into your ear connivingly. You feed your bottom lip into your mouth and bury your face into the crook of his neck.
His hands hastily tug onto the waistband of your pants. Trying to undo the button and zipper.
“Take these off, Ma… let me see that pretty pussy of yours.” As Chris pants out his words, he preps his different jewellery to put in whilst positioned in between your legs.
You sigh out a “Yes, Chris.” before twisting the button out and unzipping your pants and pulling them off completely.
You kick off your pants impatiently. You closed your legs, Chris staring down at you, completely vulnerable like this made you feel timid. What was underneath were deep, cherry red panties. Fully lace, barely hiding how fucking wet you are.
“Holy shit… you have such a perfect ass, sugar. How come you’ve never shown me this side of you before? You’re so fucking sexy.” He breathes. Worshipping the round cherries of your ass cheeks. Trying his hardest to not bite at them and leave a bruise.
“I-I like to make you feel good… because it makes me feel good.” You shiver under Chris’ touch. He rises to a full stance to lean over you, he sticks his tongue out again.
“Put the vibrator in, Ma.” With no hesitation, you screw it inside. You can already see the metal inside it start to condensate from his breathy pants. Chris pulls you into a deep kiss. The piercing feels so much more heavy. His soft and taffy tongue with the thick, steel bar in between made you so fucking turned on. You wrap your legs around Chris’ waist and he hums into your mouth in approval. Pressing his tent into your soaking wet panties.
He pulls away leaving a long and sloppy string of spit on both of your lips. He crouches down again and grips your thighs. Your hips buckle upwards in shock as he forcefully spreads your legs open.
“You’re so wet for me… such a good girl, aren’t you?” His voice echoes onto your clothed cunt. He gently rubs at your swollen clit with the pad of his finger slowly just to tease you.
He breathes on your pussy making your whole body tremble. You moan out into the air desperately wanting Chris to devour you.
He moves his head to smother gentle kisses across your thighs, his irises flushed baby pink with so much lust. He grunts into your blushing skin, glancing up at you to admire how fucking hot you look every now and again.
“Chris…”
“Yes, baby?”
“Fucking eat me out already…”
“Of course, Ma.”
He pulls your lace panties to the side slowly. Revealing your dripping wet pussy. “Fuck…” Chris moans as he drags his hand into his sweats.
“You have such a pretty wet pussy for me, Ma.” He whimpers on your clit as he touches himself underneath the stretcher. You become agitated at his slow pace and grab his hair and force his mouth onto you.
He grunts in surprise as he laps up at your juices. “Fuck yes, baby. J-just like that…” You speak into the air. You throw your head back as your back arches. Your moans and whimpers intoxicate the atmosphere and only do nothing but make Chris harder than he was before.
“You’re doing so good for me… If you keep this up I might cum soon.” You rebutt how good you feel just for Chris to hear. He moans a quick little “Mhm.” every single time you praise him. When he sucks on your clit, your legs lock and wrap around his head tightly. Keeping him in place.
He pulls away, suddenly. Your juices smothered all over his lips and chin. You raise your head to see Chris with his tongue out, turning on his vibrator piercing. As soon as he does, there’s a low hum sound.
He leans in and presses it against your hot pink clit. Your hips jolt up and your thighs shudder. “F-fuck! O-oh my god…” Your moans have become so rowdy that people from outside can hear. Like either you or Chris give a fuck.
He can’t help it. He loves it when you lose all control. He loves it when you let go. He grabs onto your thighs as an attempt to try and keep you still while he rubs the toy on your tight cunt.
“I-I’m so close..!” Chris’ tongue stays in the same motion as before. Your body still shaking and your eyes roll into the back of your skull with euphoria.
“I-I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum… C-cumming, c-cum-...” You feel your orgasm crawl up from the pits of your stomach to the furthest depths of your brain. The hold your thighs have around Chris’ head is incredibly tight, to the point where he can’t move.
Chris remains still as you ride out your high until you eventually calm down. He stands up fully and turns the vibrator off.
You gaze up at the ceiling, exhausted. Your head fuzzy and your chest rising and falling heavily from the amount of cum you released on Chris’ tongue.
The light you see is dimmed when Chris leans over you as he licks your juices off of his lips.
“How was it, Ma? ‘You enjoy it?” He beams down at you, you giggle at the way he’s talking because of the vibrator.
“You sound funny.” You sigh, he chuckles and leans down to peck a tender kiss on your forehead.
“I’ll take that as a yes then, sugar.”
“It felt so good.” You smile wholeheartedly up at him.
“I know it was, sugar. Sugar’s a fitting nickname for you, you know, your pussy tastes sweet, like sugar!”
“Oh, shut up. Otherwise I’m never coming here for that Christina.”
𓆩☥𓆪
Author’s Note no.2: YAYYY PART 2 FINALLY OUTTT. I’m so happy with this one honestly and I’m sorry it took forever to come outttt. I have another Matt one planned for y’all so stay tuned ;) I’ll see you later pookies.
༝༚༝༚, Maxine.
Taglist: @gamermattsgf @luverboychris @worldlxvlys @chrissystur @chaosisalwayscrying @bellasfavbisexual @luvmxtt @tillies33ssss @breeloveschris @mattdamunch @b2cute @stasiesturn @luvangelbreak @fmdmbaa
#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#sturniolo#smut#sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo
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The Pirate and the Siren
Chayanne loved the ocean, loved the feeling of the wind blowing in his hair, the taste of the salty air, and the sound of the waves splashing against the ship's side.
Out here, in the ocean, he felt free. There was nothing holding him back. The waters were HIS domain, his home.
Nothing could drive Chayanne out of the sea. Not the deathly battles, the terrible storms, or even the monsters that lurked in the water down below. From krakens to leviathans the ocean harbored dangerous creatures. Some beings even seemed harmless, like the one currently under the waves.
The ship is not moving, it’s offshore of an island as the rest of the crew went out to gather some supplies. Chayanne stayed behind on the ship, leaning against the rail lost to the sounds of the water below. His eyes are closed, taking in every bit of the calm serene ocean.
Two slitted eyes peak above the water to the lone pirate on the boat. Mischief laced in the small smirk they display. The creature dunks back below water, swimming up to the ladder on the side of the boat.
Their scaley hands grab onto the ropes, tugging harshly making sure it is secured. They smile. Sharp teeth peek out of their mouth, a small hiss of happiness escapes as they hull themselves up into one of the safety boats.
The pirate above them is still unmoving, eyes still closed and unaware of the commotion below him.
The creature picks themselves up by the ship's edge, head peeking through the bottom of the rails. They reach for his feet, but before their claws could swipe at him he is jumping over the railing and onto the safety boat as well.
Chayanne takes out his sword and points it directly at the creature's head, “Didn’t think I could hear you?”
Below his weapon was one of the most dangerous creatures Chayanne thinks you would ever find at sea. A beautiful magical being that can fog your mind and entrance you. It was almost impossible to fight off a being like this, one that could haunt your memories, lure, and bait you. A being half human half fish. Shiny shimmery scales decorated their body from head to tail fin. They were ruthless as much as they were astounding. A siren, one song and Chayanne would be done for.
This one was smaller than most, a kid around Chayanne’s age. She had dark black hair and white and purple scales. A necklace with a red flower sat on her chest and a few bits of purple coral sprouted on top of her head below her gills. She looked like she was wearing a crown, and she also looked angry.
With one swipe she swished her tail and sent Chayanne flying off the boat into the water below. The siren growled and peeked over the boat into the water where the young pirate had fallen.
A big gasp and a cough came out of him as Chayanne broke through the surface, “That was mean.”
The siren rolled her eyes, “Oh shut up you pointed a sword at me first.”
“Because you tried sneaking up on me!”
“Yeah and I was doing a great job wasn’t I?” The siren flashed her teeth with a wicked smile.
“Sure you were.”
“What’s that supposed to mean??” She huffs and crosses her arms, cheeks puffing out.
Chayanne giggled, “I missed you Tallulah.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Now can you please help me up and get off the boat? The others are going to be back soon.”
“That’s no way to treat your little sister Chay. Besides, I can take care of myself.”
He sighs, “I know you can, I’m worried about them.”
She laughs, “Hust one little song? Pleaaaaseee.”
“Lullah!” He scolds.
“Fine! You’re lucky I love you.” She gives a half hearted side eye.
“Yeah yeah whatever, love you too. Now go, I’ll meet you at the cove as always okay? Just give me a day to get some things ready.”
“Okay okay I’ll meet you there, see you hermanito!”
“See ya!”
The siren jumps down into the water and waves to her older brother. One blink and she’s gone into the water below.
Chayanne smiles down at his wrist, a bracelet with a red flower as a charm. Tallulah had given it to him a long time ago, when they first had crossed paths. He was human, she was a siren, and yet they loved and cared for each other as any regular siblings would. The sea was their home.
He should probably get out of it though.
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There's this weird and very gory French + Canadian film called Martyrs (exercise caution when looking it up in terms of images if that stuff freaks you out) and the basic concept is like. Some cult trying to understand what happens after death by bringing people to the brink of it in the most traumatic and agonizing ways possible. And I just realized that that's really some William Afton shit, both for the original motive and for remnant extraction.
(Accidentally wrote an essay in the tags so, ah. Read those I guess)
#i don't really write william as nearly that intense actually#for one because he is not at his peak of darkness most of the time i write him#two because i don't find gore itself inherently interesting#aside from eye scream and medical horror specifically#and 3 because i generally want my characters to SURVIVE so i can play with psychology and healing bc that's way more up my alley#but anyway. the comparison can still be made#i also don't think william would go for some of the stuff in that movie entirely because of cleanup. he has to hide his activities#and he doesn't have a cult to fall back on#but it would be interesting to see if he tried to maximize remnant extraction with some kind of psychological torture#that fits some of the things in the lonely children au by dire honey and freddles. in terms of the endless nightmare schtick#and i could honestly see some level of help wanted and the in universe fnaf games twisting that way too#harvesting the agony of players#hmm. maybe that could be why moon seems fucked up even presumably before kids start going missing again in sb#but anyway#he can only do so much murder before his. ah. resources. would dwindle#maybe he needs to harvest remnant other ways as well#and the continued murder is tied more to his obsession with death and immortality#fnaf#william afton#theorizing about william's weirdness
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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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disarm (18+)
contains: steve x reader; reader with a vagina; reader is called ‘girl’ once; sexual tension; drunk!flirty!steve; lil bit of inspection kink; size kink; teasing; no smut just whorish vibes
author note: i hope you folks like it! i won’t be doing a part 2 of this one, but hope you enjoy the tension :)
Steve’s always saying weird shit to you when he’s drunk.
You know he’s just uninhibited. That if he were sober he’d be so embarrassed. You keep telling yourself that, at least.
The first time he approaches you like this, he asks, “What color underwear you got on?”
You humor him, tipsy yourself. “Take a guess.”
Steve really looks like he’s thinking, dilated pupils staring deep into yours. “Red?”
“Nope.” you can’t stop looking at him, and he isn’t looking away either. “They’re blue, actually.”
“How’d you know that’s my favorite color?” he asks, voice low, leaning forward to rest his palm on your knee.
“Oh, you think I wore them for you?”
“I wish.”
He’s easily distracted and the conversation goes no further. It’s easy to shrug him off. You know he’s a whore, anyway - have to hear about his most recent date every time you see him.
But then it happens again.
Steve stops you in the hallway at the next party, his warm hand curling around your bicep gently. Makes you stop walking to look at him.
“Havin’ fun?” he asks. His t-shirt is cut low - your eyes are drawn to the dark patch of hair on his chest.
“I think so.”
He grins, borderline diabolical. Teeth straight and white, blunt edges that could bite bruises into your skin. “There’s a free bedroom upstairs if you wanna have more.”
“Huh?”
“I said -“ he leans in towards you, until the tip of his nose touches yours, “- there’s a free bedroom upstairs if you want to have more fun.”
He doesn’t stay very serious, however. He giggles, pulls away from you and winks before continuing on his way. You roll your eyes after him, trying to brush off the way he made your stomach flip. He apparently doesn’t fuck without a first date, anyway.
And then it just sort of keeps happening. Sometimes he’d just stare at you, mouth slightly agape, watching you from the other side of the room. Or he’d make sure his palm presses firmly against the small of your back as he “squeezes past” you to grab another drink, despite there being a five foot clearance.
One night, when he’s more drunk than usual - something to do with a bad week at work - he goes a lot farther than he has. He finds you in the corner of the living room, looking at the lines in your own palm.
“Hey,” he says, quite loudly, startling you.
When you look up, he’s extremely close to you. Eyes soft, but staring into yours. He smells like maraschino cherries, no doubt from the strawberry daiquiris he won’t admit he loves. “Hi,” you breathe, trying to look at his eyes, but they keep moving languidly from your eyes to your lips to your chest. Your breasts peak out from the scoop-neck of the baby tee you’re wearing. And, okay, it’s baby blue - you may have worn it just to see what he’d do.
“Can I help you?” you ask.
He nods, nose slanting downwards towards your tits. “Y’never really wear stuff like that.”
You shake your head. “Not really.”
“Why not?”
You grin. “Because pervs like you will stare.”
He scoffs. “That’s ‘stactly why you shouldn’t be wearin’ it here.”
Your eyes narrow at him. Now he’s just being annoying. “Oh, are you mad?”
“A little.” He licks his lips, tongue stained red from the mixer. “You should only be wearin’ somethin’ like that when you’re gonna get fucked.”
Your eyes widen, heart hammering in your chest, enough to feel it in your throat. He’s never been so forward before. And he’s backing you into the wall, trapping you in - very deliciously.
He tilts his head, highlighted hair bobbing over his forehead. “Are you gonna get fucked tonight?”
You swallow hard, blood icy cold. You’re not used to this tango, not with him. “You tell me.”
Steve blinks like he’s also shocked, goes a little slack jawed. He looks down at your tits, then back up. “I think you should get fucked tonight.”
Your hand clenches around your drink, threatening to fall to the floor. You’re weak, sore and needy between the legs.
Perhaps he’s willing to make an exception for the date rule for you.
“Will I?”
“With tits like those?” He nods down again. “Bet you’ve got the sweetest nipples. You like havin’ ‘em bit? Sucked?”
You wonder if he feels the heat radiating off of your face. “Steve,” you say, trying to give him a warning. You can’t breathe, knees beginning to shake. “What kind of friend asks that?”
His jaw clenches, then unclenches. “So you just see me as a friend?”
You bite your cheek. “That’s what you are, aren’t you? Or do you know something I don’t?”
“I -“
You’re both startled by the sound of champagne popping, shrieks and woops breaking you out of whatever you were just entangled in. And Steve, so easily distracted, groans and marches towards the kitchen, shouting, “I told you to take that shit outside!”
You inhale deep, thumping chest caving in, collarbones turning sharp. It’s suddenly so cold without him in front of you. You run a hand through your hair and look around, spotting Robin grinning at you from ear to ear. You roll your eyes at her and move through the living room to get some water and air.
You wonder if he’ll even remember when he’s sober. If he’ll apologize for asking something so insane. But he either doesn’t remember or wants to forget, because when you’re back to return tapes two days later he acts completely normal. It isn’t a bad thing - it’s a bit fun to play with him in such a non-serious way. Though you do find his hands gripping the next tape you rent for a bit too long, shoves your change into your hand and lets his palm linger against yours.
Another get together - you can hardly call it a party when there’s only ten people present - brings you back to his apartment two weeks later. It’s much more low key and he, in turn, drinks much less. He still gets drunk, though - laughing loudly, freckled neck on display. Does things he gives Robin shit for. You laugh beside her when she scoffs at him, throwing a pillow across the way to hit him in the back of the head.
“I’m gonna get a drink,” she says. “Do you want one?”
You tell her you’re okay and she’s off, leaving the couch beside you empty. Which Steve notes. Immediately.
“What’s a place like you doin’ in a girl like this?”
“You invited me,” you remind, the couch dipping as he sits beside you.
“Ohhh. And why’d I do that?”
You hum, trying to suppress a smile. “I don’t know. You must like me.”
He narrows his eyes. “You know I do.”
You’re already getting horny again. “Because I leave big tips for you?”
“And what do you know about big tips, huh?”
You laugh, a little shrill, feeling very much on the spot. Then he grabs your hand, pulling it up against his. You assume he’s comparing the size - a clear flirting tactic - and you watch him with much adoration as he examines them together. His first knuckle is able to come down on your finger tips and he grins. “You’ve got small hands.”
“Maybe yours are just freakishly big.”
“Wanna know what else is?”
Which, truly, in any other situation this would be funny. But it so isn’t. His words are deathly serious to you.
“Well, it can’t be your brain.”
Steve scoffs again. “Oh, funny.”
Out of nowhere, you’re doused with something cold. Robin’s tripped on the rug, spilling her wine on you. You gasp just as she says, “Oh, shit!”
“Rob-in!” Steve sounds more than exasperated with her, but it’s hard to take it seriously when he’s slurring.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry - I got - I tripped - with my big clown feet - oh my god, are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” you promise, despite the huge red stain on your white shirt. It’s still dripping down you, onto your skirt. Drenched. “Uh, let me go to the bathroom.”
“I’ll help,” Steve says, stumbling when he stands, helping you off the couch. You’re certain he won’t be much help but you accept his assistance anyway.
You’ve noticed how Steve gets into these dad modes. Like, one time Robin choked on a lemon seed that was in her water and Steve wouldn’t let her drink without him checking her cup for two months afterwards. And there was the time that Eddie, clumsier than Robin, tripped and scraped his knee, and Steve acted like Eddie was five. So now it’s your turn, ushered into his bathroom while he props you against the counter and scrounges around for a towel.
“It’s okay,” you say, “I’m just wet.”
“I got it,” he assures, running a washcloth under the tap. You’re sure he thinks he’s helping, as much as he can when he’s inebriated, but you’re very certain a wet washcloth won’t help. He swats your hands away when you try to take it from him, and he starts blotting the wine.
His hair in your face smells fruity, like his hairspray. “Steve, I don’t think this is doin’ much.”
His brows are knitted in concentration. “‘s almost out.”
You look down. It is not.
But you let him feel important anyway. Watching as he dabs and dabs and dabs over your sternum. His breath tickling your neck. And now that the shock has worn off, you’re getting turned on again. By his attention, how he’s trying to help, how his big fucking paws are right there. You’re practically begging god to make him do something when his hands start wandering.
Steve brings the towel over your breast, blotting as usual, then slowing. Like it’s clicking what he’s doing. And then he presses a little harder, lingers for a while. His palm touching you more than the cloth. His eyes drift up to yours as he moves towards the other. And instead of blotting, his hand cups it.
You simply let him.
The cold has made your nipples perk up under your bralette. Steve’s thumb swipes over the hardened nub. You both stare at each other, willing the other to do more, but it’s left in a stalemate. Steve throws the washcloth in the sink, lets his hand slide over your heart.
“Heartbeat’s so fast,” he observes softly. “What’s that all about, huh?”
You swallow hard. “Lot of excitement.”
His eyes drift down. “I can tell.”
You take a big breath, looking away from him. “Do you have something I could borrow?”
“Like what?”
“Like, a shirt?”
Steve blinks, looking sad. “Oh. Yeah, yeah, prob’ly.”
As you walk behind him to his room, you decide you’ll throw him a bone whenever the opportunity arises. You certainly can’t have him thinking you don’t like his attention. You watch him clumsily rifle through his closet before he finds a black sweater that’ll match your skirt well enough.
It makes you dizzy how it smells like him, even freshly laundered. “Thank you.”
“Mhm.” Steve simply stands in front of you, hands on his hips, lips pulled in tight. Looking at you like he’s thinking really hard.
You bite your lip, heartbeat fastening again. You turn from him to place the shirt on his bed, which seems to snap him out of whatever stupor he’s in. He clears his throat and turns to leave, but you call after him.
“Steve?”
He turns, brows furrowed. “Yeah?”
You inhale deep before slowly peeling your shirt off of you. Taking your time, letting it catch on the curve of your breasts. You let it slip to his floor and you continue watching him. Watching his chest rise and fall rapidly, his nostrils flaring, chestnut eyes staring right at your bra-clad chest. You’re so hot you’re beginning to sweat - and then you reach behind you to unclasp your wet bralette.
Steve’s jaw drops comically slow as it joins your shirt on the floor. You can’t help but to smile.
“What do you think?” you ask quietly.
He shakes his head slowly. “Think you’ve been holdin’ out on me.”
You press your tits together with your arms as you shrug at him, turning around to fetch the sweater he’s given you. You figure it’ll be enough for him to know you’re wearing his shirt, chest bare underneath, but then he says, “Your skirt is wet, too.”
You don’t turn to look at him as you grab the fabric, leaning forward for it. “Don’t suppose you have one for me to borrow?”
You didn’t even hear him walking up behind you. You’re suddenly pressed into the bed, his hand pushing down on the space between your shoulder blades to keep you against the mattress. Your breath hitches, stomach flipping. You feel how hard he is against your ass, and he grinds once before sliding down to kneel behind you.
“What are you doing?” you breathe.
“Checkin’ out the damage.” His hands push your skirt up, up, up, until it rests above your ass. You feel his breath fanning across the back of your thighs. “Y’know,” he continues casually, “since you said you’re wet.”
Your breaths turn shallow. Steve’s hands, warm and soft, run up the backs of your thighs slowly. You part them for him. Heat rushes to your face when he laughs behind you, but he doesn’t say anything. Must just be overjoyed that you’re letting him do this.
His hands move to your hips, squeezing them slightly before tucking his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. You’re so dizzy it almost makes you sick - but you wait patiently as he slowly pulls them down.
“Oh, you weren’t kidding,” he observes quietly. Lets your underwear hang around your knees. “All this for me?”
“Yes,” you whine. “Been - you’ve been working me up for weeks.”
“I know.”
You want to call him a bastard, but you’re stunned into silence when he parts your folds. The sound it makes is embarrassing to you, but Steve coos at it. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy. Knew you would.”
You exhale shakily. “Steve….”
“Fucked my fist to it,” he admits. “But I didn’t think it’d be so tiny.”
And then one of his fingers presses against your hole. Just enough. You short circuit, electric running through you, knees going weak. Steve’s free hand steadies them, fingers splayed out along your skin.
“Can you even get any fingers in here?” he mumbles. Circles your little hole, your eyes crossing. “Know your hands are so tiny, too.”
“No,” you force yourself to say. “Not really.”
He sounds contemplative. “Just one of mine would split you in two.”
His finger trails down, resting at your swollen clit for a few short moments before he pulls away, yanking your underwear back up.
You feel more than upset. Devastated that he’s pulled away. You want to grab him, cunt hurting from the teasing with no relief.
“Steve-“
“You know I don’t fuck without a date first,” he grins. As if he didn’t just ruin your life with whatever that was. Like he didn’t just turn you into his cock-dumb whore. Jesus Christ, if he told you to spend the rest of the night topless, you would. “So here’s what’s gonna happen, okay?”
Then he’s back, leaning over you, pushing you into his bed. His cock really straining against his jeans while he presses into your ass. He puts his lips right up against your ear. “You’re gonna get dressed ‘nd we’re gonna party, ‘kay? Then tomorrow I’m gonna pick you up and take you for breakfast.” He ruts himself into you and you moan. “Sorry, sweetheart. ‘m usually a dinner guy but I can’t wait that long to have you. How’s nine sound?”
“You… there’s n-no way you’re going to be up at nine.”
He scoffs. “‘ve got an alarm clock.”
You press your ass back into him. “You’ll forget.”
“Haven’t forgotten you so far.” Grinds against you again.
“You remember when you’re sober?”
“Honey. You’re all I’ve been able to think about.”
Then he’s off of you, leaving your tits pressed to his mattress, overwhelmed. He walks towards his desk while you desperately try to stand - your legs are still shaking. Your fingers curl around his sweater just as he comes back, arm marked up with a pen.
BREAKFAST AT 9 WITH HOTTIE :)
“See? Won’t forget.”
You’re still not so sure - you’ll have to wait and see. As you finally start pulling his sweater on, he grabs your bra, tucking it into his back pocket. “I’ll wash it for you,” he says, patting it.
“Yeah? After you cum in it?”
Steve smiles deviously. “You wanna watch me do it?”
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Neighbour | Lando Norris
WC: 2K+
Lando x reader
Summery: (REQUESTED) Your neighbour and you don’t get along, but what happens when your ex turns up to your house.
Warnings: Cursing, cheating, google translated french
A.N: Not my best work but I wanted to get something out
Masterlist
You've been living in Monaco your whole life, went to school there, went to college elsewhere before coming back to Monaco. It's true that it's a hub for all the richest of people, plus all motorsport athletes and fans. On most days you don't mind any of that, but you're starting to hate your life there. A lot of people move in and out of the city all the time, some rich some not, some nice some not, your new neighbour is anything but nice.
He isn't always there but when he is, he makes sure you know it, and makes your life a living hell.
But he's the last thing on your mind right now, you're going out with your friends and boyfriend to go clubbing. It's the weekend and you're all wanting to let loose, it's been a long weekend and your neighbour is back in town, so that adds to the sleepless nights and headaches.
Lando was dragged out of his apartment to go to a club with Max and Kelly. He just came back to Monaco a few days ago and his friends wanted to have fun. P was having a sleepover at her friend's, so it was perfect.
Lando knows who you are, he definitely does, he's seen your glare and heard your shouting more times than he can count. Always screaming in French and never letting him let a word out before you're marching off. He has no idea if you think he speaks French, or if you’re just cussing him out. That gets on his nerves, who shouts and then leaves without any explanation or waiting for any response. It irked him to no end, did it make him blast his music a tad bit louder? Yes he did, but she started it, she's the one that annoyed him and kept shouting.
Lando is dressed to go clubbing with a chain around his neck, his curls wild and free to do as they want. He met with Max and Kelly there, he chose not to drive, knowing he'd be drunk by the end of the night, and the club wasn't that far from his house anyways. Walking in the club, he felt the vibrations going through him, his blood was pumping, itching to have a drink and hit the dance floor, maybe ask the DJ for a go. The mood was amazing, everyone was having fun as if there's no tomorrow, Lando was dancing with this random girl and Max and Kelly were having a good time. An hour in, Lando made his way to the bathroom at the back of the club, he drank so much and needed to pee to be able to drink some more. It was much quieter at the back of the club, the music was muted, the lights were a bit brighter, and surprisingly there weren't that many people around. Maybe this is why Lando heard it, there was shouting, in thick accented English, different accents, but both speaking English. Maybe he was nosey, or maybe he just wanted to make sure that everyone's okay, but he quietly made his way to the corner at the end of the hallway, leading to the emergency door, he peaked around the corner. Seeing the back of a female in a short dress and hair loose, his eyes running up and down her figure, shouting at a guy much taller and bigger than her, the guy's face was pinched in anger, his hand was moving around.
"I saw you! Why are you still denying it?" The female shouted, her anger and hurt vivid in her voice.
"You saw nothing, because nothing happened!" The guy shouted back and she huffed, Lando could imagine her rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms. "Love, please believe me, nothing happened."
"How can I? When I saw you! I saw you and you have no excuse." She sounded desperate now, Lando debated walking back but he couldn't get himself to just turn and walk away, something made him stay.
"It's dark here, you're mistaken, believe me, please, I only have eyes for you." The guys said and took a step closer, his hands landing on the female's shoulders, Lando could see her tensing. "I love you, you know that right?"
"I know." Lando almost missed her words, he knew she was about to forgive him, and even though he didn't know what happened, he knew the guy was bullshitting his way out of cheating, and she was falling for it.
"Then believe me." The guy leaned in for a kiss, but she turned her head to the side, and Lando saw her face, his eyes went wide and he dipped his head back out of sight. He just saw his annoying neighbour fighting with her boyfriend and he had no idea. He checked her out and even liked what he saw. He wants to bleach his eyes for checking her out. How could he find her attractive? Knowing that her boyfriend won’t hurt her, he went to his original destination. Standing in the urinal he does his business before someone walks in and stands at another urinal one down from him. Lando looks up and sees your boyfriend standing there, looking unbothered. He even got out his phone and dialled a number.
"Hey babe... yeah, I'm going to be late... don't wait up for me.... I know, I miss you too... don't worry, I have tomorrow off and I'm spending it all with you... yeah... whatever you want... I love you... see you tomorrow my love." Lando is standing there in disbelief, that asshole is two timing girls. He may not like you, he despises you even, but that doesn't give that guy rights to cheat on you.
Lando debates telling you, as the alcohol in his system seemed to disappear and he doesn’t drink for the rest of the night, but he did manage to spot you a few times dancing with your boyfriend with a smile on your face, his first time seeing you smiling. Completely unaware, and over the fight you two had.
He decides not to tell you, you'll figure it out.
And you figured it out, one text sent to you by mistake was all it took. Scott kept calling you at all hours of the day and night, you had to block him but he'd get a new number and start calling you again, it left you sleepless and more sensitive. This is why you're standing here in your pyjamas at Lando's door pounding on his door at 8 PM, it isn't that late but you haven't been sleeping well and just wanted to get
to bed, but the music coming from Lando's house just made it impossible to do so. It took Lando a minute before he answered the door. That minute felt like a lifetime to you, you really wanted to strangle him by the time he made it to the door.
"What do you want?" Lando asked, he now knew you spoke English, he was surprised to see you there. You never come to knock on his door, usually your confrontations happen when he's going out at the same time as you or one of you is coming in and another is leaving.
"S'il te plaît, baisse la musique.” (Please turn down the music.) You say in French pinching between your eyebrows in a desperate need to stop the headache.
"Don't speak French, love." You sigh it takes you a moment to register what he’s saying and it seemed for the first time you realise he doesn't, and frown to yourself.
"What?"
"I don't speak French." He repeats amused.
"But-But that means every time-“
"Yes, I understood nothing." You huff and push your hair out your face, your pyjama top rising with your hand movement, giving Lando's eyes free access to your skin, he bites his bottom lip lightly.
"Okay, can you please turn the music down a bit, I can't sleep." You ask him to choose to ignore the fact that he can't speak French.
"It's 8" Lengo frowns and you sigh, he then realises how tired you are. "I'll turn it down."
"Thanks" With that you turn barefoot and walk back to your apartment, closing the door behind you, all while Lango is watching you. He shook his head and went back into his apartment and turned the music off.
You don't interact much but Lendo has seen you in passing during the next week, he caught your phone ringing a few times, it seemed to ring a lot lately and you never seem to answer, always declining the call and then blocking the number, he can only guess that you found out.
Finding out that your boyfriend is cheating on you is never easy, but finding out it’s more than one woman, and more than one time is much harder. How could you be so blind? you don’t get why he’s still calling you. You could only guess that he’s been dumped by all the women he was stringing along. You were going through the breakup, not getting enough sleep, not going out, spending your days on the balcony looking over the city.
You were sitting there with a glass of wine, your head leaning back on the chair as you chilled. Blindly taking a sip of the wine, only to find the glass empty opening your eyes you groan. Begrudgingly getting up to refill your glass when you glance down and have to do a double take, Scott’s car is parked in front of your building, the ugly purple car, eye-catching even in a city like Monte Carlo. “Fuck.”
Your brain came to one conclusion, you have to escape. You run inside, through your apartment and outside to the elevator, only to find it already on its way up. Not a lot of floors in the building, turning and looking frantically, your eyes fell onto your neighbours door, you run there and ring the bell while knocking on the door, repeatedly. Lando opens the door, he doesn’t have time to think before he’s pushed back and his door is slammed, his vision is filled with your hair, you have only managed to push him back a step. you’re looking through the peephole not caring that you just barged into his apartment without any rhyme or reason, offering no explanation.
“What the fuck?” Lando whispered to himself, before he heard it, pounding on your door. Your breathing picks up pace, your eye glued to the peephole.
“Shit, shit, shit.” You mutter over and over again.
“What is happening?” Lando asks and it seemed like you didn't hear him, so he gently moves you to the side and it's then you come out of the trace you're in and blink up at him, he looks through your peephole and sees your ex standing there in front of your door, he's started shouting and calling your name. “What is he doing here?”
“I-uh- I don't know.” You say weakly and look up at Lando, eyes filled with tears, shaking you head you continue voice wavering. “I don't know, he's-he's been calling me and sending me texts and I've blocked him but-but…”
You trail off as Scott starts cussing you out, and throwing threats, your eyes went wider. Lando’s jaw clenched, his hand formed into fists. Lando puts his hands on the door handle and just before he twists it, you place your hand on his to stop him, you're shaking. “Please don't leave me here, don't go out, please.”
“Okay, okay, it's fine, I’ll call security and have him kicked out and he'll be off your visitors’ list.” Lando says and places his hand on your shoulders to calm you down, you nod at his words and Lando just pulls gently to the living room where you collapse on the sofa, your head in your hands. “They’re coming up.” Lando says after his call and sits at the other end of the sofa angled to face you, you look up and Lando takes you in, eyes red, lips raw from you biting at them you're not shaking anymore, but still over all a hot mess. His heart breaks for you, all the past transgressions forgotten.
“Thank you.” You tell Lando honestly, you're grateful he didn't kick you out or tell your ex that you're here.
“No worries, couldn't let you out to that asshole.” Lando clenched his fists just in thought of your ex being outside. “Do you want to drink something, water, tea, coffee?”
“Wine?” You ask and Lando chuckles before he gets a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Thank you.”
Lando pours you a glass, the first one you down in one go. The second one you nurse, by the third you're both talking, fourth your mind is off your ex, and then you're sleeping.
Lando hadn't drank as much as you had, he debated moving you to the guest bedroom, but he's slept on the sofa a few times before and he knows that It's comfortable so he just moves you so you're laying down with a pillow under your head and a light bedsheets over you. Lando finds himself sitting on the coffee table facing you, you look so innocent sleeping, snoring lightly, and once more he just takes you in. “Maybe you're not so bad after all.”
Once he catches himself pulling an Edward Cullen he gets up and goes to his bedroom, leaving you to sleep, but all he could think about is you.
All you could dream about is Lando
Maybe he's not bad after all.
#lando one shot#lando x reader#lando imagine#lando norris one shot#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris#lando#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 scenario#f1 fic#f1#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine
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>> bones and ashes
⚔️ sukuna x fem!reader | warnings for: violence, mentions of death, possessiveness (sukuna is as evil as they come so basically every red flag under the sun), non-con that turns into dub-con (Stockholm syndrome), mentions of virginity loss, anatomically impossible size difference (if u know what I mean), blood play, etc | around 5-6k words | also important to note that I absolutely assassinated the canon lore in some points but bare with me
Sukuna doesn’t really have the ability to love. But he thinks he gets close enough when it comes to you. Of course, in his own twisted, macabre way.
Sukuna isn’t familiar to the concept of fondness, let alone anything more profound or meaningful than that. He knows want, desire, possession, curiosity even. But none of those feelings have ever tilted towards the side of affection, nor does he want them to. They’re all narcissistic pulses that keep pushing him forward — towards more power, more control, more of what he can become. He’s not even fond of his own abilities. Arrogant? Perhaps, but not fond. He can’t be fond of something he knows is not at its peak yet, that would just be weakness.
And Sukuna is everything but weak.
He sees you in a cold winter morning and he does what he knows best: he takes. Takes your pride, your virginity, your blood. Takes you like he took the lives of the rest of your village, paints your skin red and watches as the tears wash it away. Sukuna takes and takes until you have nothing left to give, just like he has done countless times before and yet… this time, something switches.
This time, he decides to let you live. Trapped in a dark cell, of course, but alive regardless.
The days move slowly, and you learn to mark their passing by the loud, clanking sound of a metal dish being thrown through a cracked door. The food is mostly raw meet and, after a few days of disgust, you cave in and eat a little of it. Not enough to be satisfied, not even close, but enough to keep you alive for at least a few hours longer.
Sukuna comes by in irregular intervals, and you soon give up on trying to find a pattern in his visits. You know it’s him from the way the door creaks open even further to accommodate his size, and you watch as his large shadow observes your movements for a moment before he kicks the disgusting plate towards you. Most of time time he’s there, you force yourself to eat, afraid of what should come if you turn down his unspoken commands. Once he seems satisfied, he exits without a word.
There is one single advantage in being in a windowless, isolated cell: you can’t hear what goes on up there. You’ve heard enough the day that Sukuna came to your village — the shattering screams, the pleads for mercy, the babies crying, the sound of wood and bone breaking almost too similar to differentiate. You saw creatures beyond your realm and heard awful whispers and threats; held you family as they died and gave up as the snow beneath your hands became as red as the burning sky above. And you know enough about Sukuna’s legend to be aware that it wasn’t an isolated incident.
When evil incarnate arrives, there’s not much you can do but surrender.
Though, when it comes to the legends, you thought that his palace was more of a manner of speak than an actual location. Once again, though, you’ve heard enough legends to know when to stop inquiring about the details.
Sukuna comes in after a week with a plan and a cloud of amusement over his head — frankly, given the state you were in, he thought you would be dead by now. Your stubborn hold on life is as impressive as it is pathetic.
“You looked so small when I first saw you,” his thunderous voice breaks the silence. There’s no food in his hands this time, only the fire cracking behind his form. You’re sitting down on the cold floor, back against the wall, and you don’t even bother looking up at him. “You look even smaller now.”
You don’t answer, because you don’t know what to say. Of course you’re smaller — you’re weak, starving, lacking movement and sunlight. Every muscle in your body aches and the aftertaste of dried blood never leaves your mouth. Smaller is a compliment; you wish you were just bones and ashes by now.
Sukuna takes a heavy step inside the dark chamber. “I killed everyone you’ve ever loved that day,” he says, bluntly. There’s no amusement nor sorrow in his tone — it’s a neutral statement. He lowers himself to your level and, on the corner of your eyes, you see his four arms. He is so wrong, even in a physical sense. Like the scar of something that shouldn’t even exist. “And yet… you live. Do you want to know why?”
You sneer. “I wish you’d just let me die.”
He chuckles, and one hand meets the side of your head. His fingers dig into the dirty, messy strings and pulls on the roots. There are tears on the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let him see them. “That’s exactly why you’re alive,” he says. “I knew you were ready to die when I saw you — all bloodied up, on your knees in the snow. It was quite a sight.” Sukuna’s voice is a malicious whisper as he comes even closer to you — he smells rotten. The tongue that licks up your cheek makes you want to puke. He tastes you the same way as he did on the first day, and you have no idea what he’s searching for. “Tell me, why were you so ready to give yourself to me? Most try to plead at least.”
“Plead for what? Your mercy?” The sarcasm is clear through your tone. The words you mean to say are knotted in the base of your throat and the odor Sukuna reeks is making you dizzy; making you remember everything that came before this. “I— I didn’t have anything else to live for,” you stutter. “You killed… you killed my mother, my father, my baby brother… why would I want to live without them? Why would I humiliate myself asking for mercy from a creature that clearly doesn’t have any to spare?”
Through anger, you look up at him. His eyes are flames bursting through the darkness, and they shine as your words settle on his skin. “Do you only live for love, my little dove?” He asks. “What a purposeless life you have.”
“Do you only live for hate?” You ask back before you can hold your tongue. Somewhere in your mind, you know that he’s capable of unimaginable evil, but you are beyond the point of caution. “What a purposeless legacy you’re leaving behind.”
This angers him. The corners of his mouth twists as he speaks. “You people fear me. Even the strongest of sorcerers doesn’t dare to go against me.”
“I pity you and your ridiculous need for destroying what isn’t yours,” you spit. “And I hate you for keeping me alive. I hate you for everything you’ve done to me and to the people I love. And I hate that you even dare to come here and talk to me like I’m the smaller person for daring to care about something.”
The hands on your hair tighten and he pulls your face against his. Sukuna’s forehead is a furnace against yours, his eyes burn into your soul. “You little insect, I could kill you with a snap of my fingers if I wanted to.”
Your voice shakes but you say it regardless: “Do it, then, what are you waiting for?”
“No,” his answer is more cruel than death could ever be. And he knows that. “And you know why?”
“If you are keeping me alive to have your way with me, so be it, have it,” you say. The tears are obvious now. You wonder if he can smell how fearful you really are. “Violate me like you did before, I don’t care anymore, but just don’t keep me alive just to waste me away.”
His lips are touching yours now, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. Sukuna’s chest is heaving like he’s in the middle of a battle, his voice like a roar in your ears. “Then ask. For. My Mercy.”
“I w-would n-never…”
“Ask!” It’s a loud command that crashes against you like a wave. You sink like there is no adrenaline in your body to keep you afloat; the anger that moved you before is no longer within your reach.
The truth is clear: you’re human. He’s a curse — the king of curses, older than you could ever imagine; probably even more powerful than the legends you’ve heard. His eyes say that there are fates worse than death and you believe them. And maybe, just maybe, if you play by his rules, he’ll grow tired of you and let you wither away.
“P-Please,” you are sobbing now, tears falling down like a cascade. Sukuna licks them and hums in satisfaction, watching as you break apart into a mountain of hiccups and trembling limbs. “Please just… have mercy on me. I’ll do whatever you want just — please, stop torturing me like this.”
“Aw,” he coos. “Was that so hard?”
You want to say that yes, somehow, that took everything still left in you. You want to say that if he wanted to break your spirit, congratulations, he’s done it. But you don’t get the chance.
Sukuna kisses you with the same ferocity you expected, sharp teeth crashing against yours and tongue exploring your mouth with no prior warning. He groans as he tastes you — you, the blood in your food, the salt of your tears — and suddenly it’s all that he will ever crave again. You whimper against his lips as his two lower arms crawl up your thighs and hold onto your hips, pushing you against him as he stands up and presses you against the wall. You feel more caged now than you have felt these past few days.
“Silly little human,” he raps against your lips, then licks your cheek for more of your precious tears. He realizes how much he likes to make you cry. You wince and give out a little sob, which only makes him smile. Finally, his grip on your hair loosens. “What is my name?”
You blink, dumbfounded by the sudden question. “S-Sukuna…?”
He pouts. “Say it like you mean it or I won’t be so nice.”
“Sukuna,” you say more firmly this time.
“There we go, that’s a good girl,” he says. “See how things just work better when you don’t misbehave? Hm?”
You nod. He doesn’t like it. “Y-Yes, I see, I’m sorry.”
“Very good.” The hand that was on your hair moves to hold your face, and it’s so huge that you feel like it would crush your skull with one single movement. As the other two arms hold onto your thighs, the fourth limb squeezes your breast. “Now, this is what’s going to happen, my pretty little human,” Sukuna starts, “I will have my servants take you to my chambers. You will be washed, clothed, and taken care of. They will feed you proper human food this time, whichever it is that your heart desires. How does that sound?”
Sounds like a trap. “And, in return, what do I have to do for you?”
“What do I have to do for you…?” He raises his eyebrows.
“Sukuna,” you complete.
“There’s my perfect little girl,” he says. You hate that something inside you likes the praise. “You will have to wait for me there. Do whatever you prefer, but don’t leave my room. Any attempt at escaping or killing yourself will be futile, and I’ve already warned every single curse that your death will result in a much more dire future for them. So you will be brought back to me. And I promise I won’t be so nice.”
“I understand… Sukuna,” you correct yourself quickly. It doesn’t go unnoticed.
The hand on your breast squeezes tighter, and you bite your lip so you don’t complain. “I knew I was right when I brought you here, something made me spare you. Yet, I don’t know what it is just yet.”
Sukuna is a looming threat above you, his limbs trapping you, and his deep voice is like thunder about to break. You know why so many fear him — you fear him too. And the sooner you act like it, the sooner he’ll grow tired of you. Sooner he’ll realize he was wrong in bringing you into his fortress.
He smirks. “But I believe I’ll discover soon enough.”
- ⚔️ -
Sukuna’s chambers are as spacious and monstrous as himself — corners switching and adjusting like breathing flesh; furniture morphing into different shapes; the weird odor of something old; the feeling for something lurking. The large windows show a world between worlds; a reality that doesn’t seem right no matter how long you stare at it. His palace is in a dimension you can’t reach, and you give up on trying to understand it. If anything, the more you wonder about it, the more you shake under the weight of the sheer power it must take to keep it all existing like solid matter.
Your passage of time is morphed and unreliable, but you would guess that a couple weeks have passed by the time that you come to terms that, perhaps, Sukuna isn’t as easy to bore as you first expected. The fire in his eyes doesn’t seem to diminish as he sees you — if anything, his eagerness to have you all to himself only seems to expand — and the way he takes care of you makes you realize that he isn’t planning on letting you die anytime soon.
Life in his chambers is far more comfortable, you admit, but it’s a prison nonetheless. Still, you can’t say that you are mistreated. In his chambers, you are bathed and clothed, well-fed and pampered. You soon come back to your normal weight and the fatigue leaves your body; there is more space to move, more things to do. The curses that come to check on you seem to be strangely kind and human-like, though you know it’s out of fear and not out of worry, and they keep your mind occupied with several stories and legends as the days move on.
Sukuna is more absent than you would have imagined, conquering and killing as often as he can. When he finally comes to you he is clean, recently bathed, but you can still see he is fresh from a battle, some mindless corruption beyond the horizon that you would rather hear nothing about. There are shallow scars and deep cuts that heal unreasonably quickly; dried blood that hasn’t quite washed away and ashes beneath his fingernails.
You ask whose village he has attacked this time, but he says it doesn’t matter, because there are no survivors.
“I never leave any survivors,” he completes, kissing your forehead, “besides you, my little human.”
You don’t push beyond that information, but the feeling of being special, chosen, starts to blossom like a dangerous rose inside your chest. It stings and stings, but grows regardless, and you see yourself less able to fight against his possessive claims. You start to enjoy them. You start to wonder if life beyond those walls is worth fighting for when you seem to have everything you would ever wish for right here.
You can always tell when Sukuna is about to arrive in this world because the atmosphere switches into something darker, heavier. The air seems thicker and the clouds beyond your windows start to bleed into a deep shade of red. Sukuna returns with the apocalypse on his back, and, when he does, he uses your body as he pleases.
Like the room around you, there is constant change. Sometimes it hurts like hell; sometimes it’s pleasurable. Sometimes you wish it would just end and you end up crying in despair; sometimes you look at him like you might get used to feeling him inside of you. Some days, Sukuna is kinder, more patient, taking time to adjust you to his enormous size and even makes sure that you enjoy it before reaching his end; fucking you full of his cum until you can’t think of one single thing besides him. Other days, you know he is angry just by the way he walks through the door — and, in those days, you are left bleeding and bruised as he uses your body in every single way until he’s close enough to satisfied. That, on itself, can take a long, long time.
You realize that, during those violent days, he could use one of his curses to please himself, but he prefers to use you — because you bleed, you cry, and you suffer. As long as your pain exists, his interest is unwavering.
However, like everything else, you adapt, get used to it. Routine becomes familiar and you learn the tell-tale signs of his rancid mood; learn how to make it a little better and what things to avoid. You stop thinking about getting away — you don’t even have anywhere else to go — and start longing for his presence as he takes more time to come back home. Sukuna is warm, safe; next to him you know you are shielded from any harm. When he appears, no one dares to look or touch you, no one speaks until they are spoken to. Just by being in his gravitational pull, you are protected and no harm will ever come your way again.
Even if it hurts, you start hoping that he won’t get tired of you.
Sukuna, on the other hand, isn’t quite sure how he feels about it all.
It’s not love — he has gone over that one a few hundred times already, has marked off every possible scenario and imagined every possible feeling, and he is sure it isn’t love. To be frank, he doesn’t even think he’s capable of it even if he wanted to, he sold his soul too long ago to even remember how normal humans love. But if it’s not love, it’s something similar — a kind of tenderness, fondness. He has a soft spot for you, to put it bluntly. Though not in the typical sense.
Sukuna adores you like a painter adores his favorite canvas; like an exotic bird in a cage — he adores you with possession, obsession, with the knowledge that you can’t ever get away from his grip. He is fond of you in a way that he would murder anyone who would even dare to touch what is his; but would never set you free. He can hurt you, he can tear you into pieces and build you to his liking. Sukuna can kiss you or bite you; hug or break you, but it’s because you’re his little pet and no one else’s.
He is fond of the way you bend for him; the way you look at him with sheer adoration in your eyes even after he has taken everything from you. He is fond of the way that only he could kill you; that your small life is in his hands and you thank him for it. Sukuna is fond of the way your tight little cunt stretches so wide to take his fat cock; lives for the little whimpers you give out and the tears that stain his satin sheets when he finally allows you to cum for him. If he could crawl inside your soul, he would. If he could take it and eat it and have you forever, he would.
He doesn’t know why he craves you so much, but he knows that nothing else gives him the same high anymore.
So he keeps you.
It’s a heavy stormy night when he comes back the next time, and his room is only illuminated by a few candles and the lightening from outside. You’re in his large bed, looking as small as that day in the snow, and there is a touch of worry in your eyes that he doesn’t miss. But he ignores it.
“Undress,” he commands.
You rush to do as he says, throwing the faint fabric over your head. It falls to the ground as Sukuna walks towards the bed, his massive weight making it dip under his knee as he leans closer to you.
“My pretty little doll,” Sukuna muses. “Missed me?”
He always asks that. And your answer is always the same.
“So much, Sukuna.”
It’s more honest every time.
He hums, satisfied, and smirks as he pushes your hair away from your face. “I have something to tell you, and I think you will like it,” Sukuna says. You look at him with wide eyes as he settles over you, his four arms caging your body as you lay down. The mouth on his stomach open and closes, a large tongue coming out before it vanishes again — it always does it when he’s particularly excited. “Would you like to know what it is?”
You know he will tell you regardless. Like all the tales of his battles, he lives for the glimpse of horror in the back of your eyes. “Yes, Sukuna.”
“Seems like you are famous now,” he starts. You furrow your eyebrows. “Sorcerers are trying to save you. The poor little human girl that Sukuna took as a prisoner months ago.” He kisses your neck, then licks the skin. You shiver — months, it has been months then. “Two of them tried to enter my domain today, stupid little insects,” he continues. Another hand lands on your exposed breast, playing with your nipple. “You have no idea how enraged that made me, my little human. To have someone try to take you away from me; to try and to enter my domain and take you from me.”
His voice turns into a growl by the end of the sentence, and you feel the familiar pulse of terror running through your veins. He’s in a bad mood, that’s obvious, but there’s something hiding beneath that as well.
“What did you do to them?” You ask. “Did they get in?”
Sukuna chuckles darkly, and the hand that was on your breast now settles on your clit, massaging it softly. “I took care of them, my sweet thing, of course,” he says. Your breath hitches at the slow pleasure of his movements, and your eyes flutter shut. “No one will ever take you from me.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” you say without a thought. In your heart, you feel it’s wrong. But without him, you have nothing. “I’m yours forever, Sukuna.”
“I know you are,” he answers.
Sukuna holds you by the throat as he kisses you — not enough to suffocate you, but enough to make you a little dizzy. Your eyes cross mindlessly as his tongue invades your mouth; a deep groan coming from his chest as he tastes your lips. He always kisses you violently, possessively, like he wishes to suck your soul out of your chest. Beneath his size you can only shrink and hold onto his large biceps, the wetness between your legs growing as he takes what is his.
He pulls back, ignoring the string of saliva that connects you two. “Pretty little thing,” he muses, shoving his middle finger inside your mouth. “Suck for me.”
You do as he says and he smirks at the feeling of your pretty lips around his large finger. Soon enough, the same digit is invading your pussy, curling up so quickly that you see starts at your peripheral vision.
“Relax or it’ll hurt again,” he says — not like he cares about it. “I want you to remember tonight.”
“W-Why?”
“Because I’ll make sure that you’ll be mine forever,” he says, a devilish smile on the corners of his lips. “So no one can take you from me. No one would even try.”
Your breath is getting heavier, and you don’t even register what he’s telling you — he could do a billion things to you and you’d still let him. The time spent only in his company made your resolution vanish, and you became exactly what he wanted you to: another possession for him to do as he pleases. Because of him, you have nothing else. Besides him, you have nothing.
“You’re not cumming around my finger tonight,” he says and quickly removes his hand from your cunt. You whine at the sudden emptiness, walls spasming around nothing, but you know better than to protest. “It’s going to be around my cock, you got it?”
“Yes, Sukuna,” you say.
“Good girl,” he muses. His lower arms move to undo his pants as his mouth attacks yours once again. His sharp teeth drain blood from your lips and he groans at the metallic taste; drinks the little sob of pain you let out. “You’re all fucking mine. Forever,” he growls, “I’ll make you live forever with me.”
Months ago, that would be torture. But now, “It sounds like heaven, Sukuna,” you say. “I love you.”
Your vision falls to where his hands are working. His cock is massive, bigger than your forearm, balls swinging out of his shorts and falling heavy under his shaft. Your entire body tingles in anticipation as he strokes himself, aligning his cockhead with your opening. “Tiny fucking cunt,” he curses, rubbing it against your soaked folds. “I’ll train you to take my cock even better than now, kitten.” Your mouth falls open as he starts to push in and it hurts — no matter how many times you’ve taken him, it always burns. “Way too fucking tight for my fat cock, you know that?”
“I-I’m sorry, I’ll do better-“
He chuckles. “I fucking love it.”
In one strong motion, he shoves himself as deep as he can, pressing against your cervix as you whine at his size. It isn’t fair — it’s so thick you can’t even breathe, you can feel him in your stomach, pressing and pulsing until you can’t think of anything but the sheer size of his massive cock inside your poor little hole. Your walls hurt to accommodate his girth, stretching as far as they can, but it never seems like it’s enough.
“It’s t-too big, Sukuna,” you whine. And it is. You know he must be doing something to your body so you can even be alive right now, because it’s not humanly possible to take such a big cock. “I c-can’t…”
His hand lands on your head and pulls at the roots. “You are my special little human, my obedient little girl,” he reminds you. His cock throbs inside you and you whimper, the small movement alone makes you drool. “You will do anything I tell you to do.”
You nod. “Y-Yes.”
“So when I tell you to take it….” He rolls his hips even deeper and you call his name so loud that you’re sure the entire world will hear it. “You’ll fucking take it.”
You don’t even have the ability to answer as he starts to pound deep inside your soaked cunt, hard and violent, as he is. Your vision is blurry with tears as you look down to see his massive cock bullying itself again and again inside your cunt, taking everything you have to give.
“Look at me when I claim you,” Sukuna warns and you do it instantly. Your legs wrap around his hips and he squeezes your ass so hard it will bruise. There’s a malicious glint in his red eyes that never quite goes away, no matter how much he tries, and now it’s deadset on you. “My precious little girl,” he calls, voice strained with pleasure. You can tell from the way his cock throbs that he is close, but it doesn’t matter. He just keeps going. “You told me you love me. Do you only live for love, kitten?”
“I live f-for loving you, S-Sukuna,” you respond automatically. “I live for you.”
Sukuna groans like an animal — he adores what a stupid little fuckdoll he has turned you into. He can never get tired of this; he can never let it get away. “You’ll die for me, kitten?”
You nod so quickly you get dizzy. “Yes, a-anything… I’m yours f-forever.”
He calls your name like he has never done before, a little insane, a little sweet. If the sheer size of Sukuna’s genitals aren’t anything to go by, he cums a lot — it oozes out of your cunt before he’s even halfway through, cock throbbing and leaking again and again until you’re filled to the brim. His huge balls smack against your ass as he continues to bully himself inside you, a little more desperate now, intoxicated by his own pleasure.
There’s no rest, there never is. He only takes and takes.
“I’ll make you mine,” he groans.
“I’m yours, Sukuna, I’m yours…” you repeat like a broken record, half-aware of your own voice through the loud moans and hiccups. You watch in ecstasy as he uses one of his sharp nails to cut the palm of his hand, blood oozing out of it and dropping on your breasts. It’s like you know what he will say even before he says it. “You want me t-to-“
“Drink it.”
Perhaps you should be scared, but you’re not. Your mouth opens without a second thought and he presses his large palm on your lips, muffling your moans and allowing the hot dark liquid to invade your tongue. Sukuna’s blood is thick and it tastes like poison, but you do as he says, liking his flesh and drinking it until he seems satisfied and takes his hand away.
It strikes your body like an arrow, straight through your chest and expanding like deep roots. You feel as his blood burns your insides, changing something in your very existence. It’s hard to think through the sensations — the pleasure building up, the venom running through your veins, the mixture of devotion and fear that dances inside your mind. Your vision is double, black around the edges, and you think you might be cumming but you’re not sure you can even feel your body anymore. Sukuna’s voice echoes muffled in the background, and you can see his mouth moving in slow motion, but you don’t understand his words. You think you are crying. You think you can’t breathe. You think you are dying and being born at the same time and you don’t know why you feel so grateful for it all.
Your lungs are on fire and your throat is dry. You try to speak, but can’t. You have the vague flashback of the time your uncle made you drink alcohol, it burns just the same, but this time, no one is laughing. This time, you’re dying.
“… at me.”
This time, Sukuna’s voice rings sharp and clear. You stare at him, confused, as the flames inside your chest slowly subside.
“Keep looking at me,” he repeats, commanding.
You try to nod, but your head doesn’t move. You can’t see the room around you anymore. “H-Hurts,” you manage to get out.
“I know,” he says, and there’s a touch of softness in his voice you don’t ignore. “Focus on me. I’ll make it feel better.”
And that’s what you try to do, even if your soul seems to be floating miles above your body. You look down at where he is still moving in and out of you, at the white-coated mess that drips from your hole and soaks your inner thighs. It doesn’t seem to hurt as badly now, like your body is changing to accommodate him even better — in fact, it feels like heaven.
You look up at him, dumbfounded. “I t-think I’m going to cum, Sukuna,” the words come easier now, and you feel like you can move again. Though, it still feels like a dream. “It’s so g-good.”
“Cum on my fat cock, then, make me proud,” he coos. You close your eyes and nod, trying to focus on the paradise that blooms between your legs. You feel every ridge and vein of his massive cock; hear the lewd squelching sounds of his cum leaking out of you. It comes to you faster than you would have imagined, washing through your body like a wave as you cry and shake miserably. “That’s my girl, fuck, there we go, that’s my perfect little girl.”
The spasming of your walls manages to milk more cum out of him and he groans loudly as he releases inside you once more. Sukuna cums so much it makes you breathless, filling you again and again until he’s satisfied and the sheets beneath you have no salvation left.
“There we go, take everything,” he says in a strained groan, “every fucking drop inside this tight fucking cunt.”
Sukuna looks absolutely insane above you — fucking his cock so hard into you that it seems like he will never have the chance again; eyes blown wide and his teeth clenched. You cum again, this time a little softer, as you feel his thick cock shoot a specially large amount of cum inside your pussy, and wait until he’s done using your body.
Eventually, he settles, pressing his forehead against yours and looking deep inside your eyes. The redness in them is shining like flames, watching every movement of your face.
“Feels weird,” you say. “I feel dizzy.”
He chuckles and removes himself from you. Another white-hot wave gushes out of your cunt, and he sits back to watch it drip. “There we go, it wasn’t so bad, was it?”
You swallow, your tongue is still numb inside your mouth. “It was horrible, Sukuna. I felt like I was going to die.”
Sukuna smiles and uses two fingers to push some of his cum back inside you. “I can promise you it was better than when I did,” he says, and you’re confused for a moment. “But now we don’t have anything to worry about anymore, my sweet thing. Those pathetic little sorcerers won’t want you.”
“H-How are you so sure?” You ask.
“Aw, my sweet, stupid little girl.” He pouts, condescending as always. “No one will want to save a curse now.”
Your eyes widen. “Did you…?”
“I told you.” Sukuna licks his own blood at the corner of your mouth. “You are mine forever.”
#sukuna#sukuna smut#sukuna angst#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#jujutsu smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#ryomen sukuna#smut#jjk smut
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demon slayer hcs: the hashira men having a demon!SO that’s immune to sunlight pt.1
characters: fem!reader x rengoku, giyuu
PT 2 with Sanemi HERE
AN: the long awaited request is finally here!! sorry for the delay! im in college and finals week was crazy! but the semester is over and i'm ready to get back to it with a bunch of new content for you guys! <3
RENGOKU
when he comes home from a mission to find the house completely trashed and a trail of blood leading to the bedroom he freezes
his first thought is that you're dead
someone or something has broken in
and he wasn't here to protect you
immediately blames himself
and poor kyo just can't force himself to walk in the bedroom only to discover your broken bleeding body
his heart couldn't take it
its not until he hears movement and small noises of pain that he pushes the bedroom door open
only to discover you hiding in the corner of the room covered with a blanket
relief
until he pulls the blanket from your head to see what you've turned into
he doesn't react
doesn't talk
doesn't move
doesn't even breathe
just stares at you
until you manage to croak out his name
this snaps his mind into high gear
immediately thoughts of the young Kamado girl are running through his head
she has never hurt a human and seems to do just fine
and if you were going to harm him you would have done it already
quickly pulls you into his arms, making sure to avoid the sunlight peaking through the curtains and carries you to the bed to set you down
scribbles a note to the head of the corps to inform him of your condition
and spends the rest of the day and that night comforting and reassuring you because of what had to have been a traumatic night
a week or so passes
you fall back into your old routine of caring for the house
and its quite obvious that you're becoming depressed
no longer able to enjoy the warmth of the sun and being cooped up in the house for your own safety
it isnt until a young man wearing the head of a boar bursts headfirst through the window
breaking the glass, ripping down the curtains
with a "comin through!"
that you realize the sunlight doesn't harm you like it does to other demons
leave it to inosuke lmao
when kyo returns home from another mission around noon
imagine his surprise when his demon SO bursts through the front door into the sun
and into his arms
takes a minute for him to process that you're not burning up
"oh my god we have to get you inside NOW"
the poor man is having a heartattack
but then he sees your smile and hears your laugh for the first time since the attack
finally he's able to realize that the sun has no effect on you
and he's picking you up and swinging you around in a giant hug
i just know he gives the best hugs
i'd let him crush me to death in one
of course kyo is still sometimes crushed with guilt
he blames himself for your transformation in the first place
but the most important thing is that you're safe and happy again
GIYUU
why can't this man ever just be happy
when you don't show up at your usual meeting place with Giyuu in between missions he knows somethings up
he rushes to your home
and there you are
sitting on the steps in front of your house
covered in blood and in tears
it isn't until he gets closer that he realizes what has happened
he has no words
everyone that giyuu has ever loved has been taken from him
and he allowed himself to love you
thats why this has happened
blames himself even though it obviously not his fault
still not speaking he looks at the sky to see the sun
and then back at you
a demon
who isn't affected by the sunlight in the slightest
and isn't attacking him
and then he disappears
when he returns several hours later it's dark outside
and with him he's brought Shinobu and the Kamado siblings
one of which is a demon
Shinobu checks you over and determines that the blood you are covered in is indeed yours
but any wounds you had have already healed
Nezuko senses what you are but seems to know that you're docile and snuggles up to your side as a comfort
and Giyuu just watches quietly
when Nezuko has fallen asleep her brother picks her up giving you a sad smile before he leaves
Giyuu helps you stand and brings you inside
he runs a bath so you can clean urself off
and goes about cleaning the house which was destroyed during your attack
it isn't until you're in bed that Giyuu lays behind you, tugs you close to him, and speaks to you for the first time
"i am staying with you. and i WILL turn you back."
and those two sentences bring you all the comfort in the world
#demon slayer#anime#demon slayer x reader#giyuu tomioka#giyuu#kimetsu no yaiba#kny#rengoku kyojuro#demon slayer headcanons#tomioka giyu x reader#giyuu x reader#rengoku x reader#kyojuro x reader#rengoku kyojuro x reader#kyojuro rengoku#kyojuro rengoku x oc#giyuu tomioka x reader
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Something fanon gets wrong
Dick Grayson is genuinely one of the greatest fighters in all of DC.
I know people have trouble believing this for some reason but a man who has defeated every single one of his enemies, other people’s enemies, and has consistently come out on top should have his abilities talked about a bit more because they’re amazing.
Let's start small to big. Firstly Donna talks about Nightwing's abilities.
When I read this I was confused by what she meant. Prowess means skill or expertise and that makes sense but Dick has a lot of power behind him though...
And then I realized she meant metaphysical power.
Dick isn't a magician. He can't run at supersonic speeds, throw buildings, speak to animals, communicate with the dark, fly above the clouds, bounce bullets off his chest (Oh, wait. He can do it off his ass instead never mind), turn into animals, or other amazing abilities. But his skill is so high that he is easily able to keep up with people who can.
M'gann, the white martian with extraordinary capabilities, tells Dick, "You are just a human, with no superpowers, yet you have consistently excelled throughout your career, despite being surrounded by godlike beings."
This is incredible.
We see Dick leading teams of superheroes and metas all the time and we take it for granted but we never acknowledge the immense power and skill he must have for him to be able to do this.
Repeatedly. Time after time. He outsmarts both his human allies and outfights his meta ones.
One of Dick’s greatest OP moments is when he takes down the entire Titans team -Gar, Raven, Donna, and Jason too when he hung around with them- single handedly. And when Jason put a gun to the back of his head in supposed victory, Dick opened his hand to let the golden bullets fall, gleaming in the light with the coldest line, “with these bullets?”
We all know how amazing Bruce is, but Dick is on Bruce's level.
No?
Okay, here's the evidence.
Dick has fought Azael in a sword fight to a standstill when Azael has beaten Bruce separately and Tim and Jason combined.
He has defeated Ra's in a sword fight and Ra's is one of the greatest swordsmen.
Sometimes he doesn't even need a sword to defeat a skilled swordsman.
He's a League of Assassins member and we all know that anyone from the League of Assassins is never just good. They're excellent. The entire fight Dick is looking for Blockbuster and he's so capable and good at fighting the entire scene was like watching Thanos flick Captain America away vibes. He's not even looking at him when he smashes his foot into Shrike's face!
Most importantly, he has defeated Deathstroke
The greatest thing about Dick is he is able to defeat Slade at the peak of Slade's abilities. Slade doesn't need to be weakened for Dick to win.
Here's where people has some hesitance accepting Dick's abilities.
"Bruce has defeated Slade but Dick has never been able to!"
He literally has in Dark Crisis but I'll give you the lead up.
Dick can easily disarm Slade.
He can predict Slade's moves ahead of time and properly counteract them.
He can go toe to toe with him and in one comic, they dance down a hallway, fighting, neither able to get the upper hand. The mercenary meta, considered by the US Government to be 1 of 2 greatest assassins (the other being Katana) isn't able to pin down and defeat a 20 year old despite his enhancements.
I left out the scene where Dick twisting Deathstroke's arm and smashing his face into a bedroom mirror despite being complete weaponless and in his civilian identity. No protection and no support. But it's another example of how Dick's poweress is much greater than people expect of him.
Of course there are panels where Dick has been defeated by Slade but Dick isn't 17/18 anymore. He isn't learning to fight without Batman hovering over his side.
Also there is a panel everyone references to when talking about Nigthwing losing to Deathstroke. This one.
sure. okay. whatever. BUT WHY WON'T YOU SHOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT COWARDS?!?
THEY DANCE-FIGHT LIKE THEY'RE ENEMIES IN A BALLROOM ON OPPOSING SIDES BUT CAN'T AFFORD TO LET ANYONE FIND OUT.
THIS IS SOME HIGH LEVEL JAMES BOND-RED NOTICE-MISSION IMPOSSIBLE- TYPE SHIT.
"Close the hold, you morons! Close the--Guuk!"
That's Slade talking by the way. To his allies. Who do you think made him "GUUK!"?
And here they were evenly matched.
But Slade had to pull out bombs he had been saving for when other people came in order to defeat dICK AND HE STILL LOST BECAUSE DICK BESTED HIM.
Yup. Dick is just that good.
Nightwing defeated Bane
Before you go into saying something like "it was a holographic construction." What the fuck difference does that make? Does a holographic construction alter the strength used by the enemy, change their fighting style, phase through when fighting, act dumber than the real deal? No, right? The fact is Dick broke Bane's back the exact same manner that Bane broke Batman's. All those scenes of Bane punching Nightwing around? Let me remind you that the guy snuck up on Dick. The second time Dick underestimated Bane's powers before getting ready to put in real effort before Batman interfered to take Bane for himself.
All those amazing scenes of him defeating enemies that we've scoffed at recently? They're just a continuation of what already is written. It's not new or unbelievable, it's expected.
Here's my final point. Dick has defeated all of the Justice League's enemies in one go.
This is Batman/Superman comic where Kara gets infected so Dick as Batman sends her to the medbay while he tears down the Watchtower to save her. As in every single defense mechanism the Watchtower has, he demolishes it with his pure skill and abilities. Furthermore, the Watchtower defenses were enhanced by cyborg Superman to be lethal. To kill on sight.
Just. Phenomenal.
He did it! He defeated all of them and made it to the electronic controls he was aiming for.
Another thing I want to point is Dick's strength is greater than what people assume it to be.
He's the world's greatest acrobrat and has a build fitting of that but the strength he packs in his body is equal to that of a meta. Maybe it's because of how he only fights with metas and has teammates that are all metas but he has raised his striking power to equal that.
He shatters cyborg superman in one blow.
He can handle blows from meta humans in a way most others can't which suggests to me that he must've done some kind of training or have maybe increased pain tolerance or have the ability to backseat the pain so it won't affect his fighting. How many can take a hit and rise up the next second?
He's not metahuman. Batman must've done several tests because he also was amazed by robin Dick's poweress lol but really Dick is just extraordinary. Give him any enemy and he will garaunteed defeat them without using cheap tricks or surprise moves which is why he is one of the greatest. The only time people have gotten an upperhand on him is when he has been emotionally weakened. Emotionally. Imagine the absolute monster he would be if he controlled his emotions like Batman.
But I would never want him to though because his emotions are the reason why he's the light of DC.
#dick grayson#nightwing#donna troy#m'gann m'orzz#shrike#dc bane#slade wilson#deathstroke#batman#kara danvers
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Our Precious Assistant (Cross Guild x Reader)
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 4.5
Warnings: 18+ NO MINORS. gn afab reader, exhibitionism, slight voyeurism, dom/ sub dynamics, dom! Mihawk, dom! Crocodile, sub! Buggy, sub! Reader, oral sex, facefucking, PiV sex, spit roasting, creampie, aftercare is important guys, Mihawk and Crocodile are mean to Buggy but in a consensual way, not beta read
Word count: 5.7k
Summary: You’re the assistant to the leaders of The Cross Guild, and after one night of overhearing them having sexual relations, you can’t help but notice their affections towards each other, and eventually… you?
Note: the cross guild can use me any day
Being the executive assistant to three of the most dangerous men in the world was terrifying.
At first.
But after one year of working with them, you’ve grown desensitized to their presence. You see them at their best and their worst. And working for them you see a lot of worsts.
Sir Crocodile is the one you interact the most with since he deals with most of the money and bounties. He works hard and barely rests, which leads him to a short temper. At first every time he glared at you you were sure his hook was about to take you out but now you know when that happens he just needs a nap. You’ve managed to mitigate a lot of employee deaths by planning his appointments around when you know his mood will be bad. And even over time you’ve learned that if you stand firm with him, he respects you more. Never in a million years did you expect that a former warlord of the sea would appreciate you draping a blanket over him when he falls asleep at his desk. You often have to stop yourself from thinking about how peaceful he looks when he actually manages to sleep.
Dracule Mihawk was easier to work with than Sir Crocodile, demanding less of you on a daily basis, but that’s not to say it’s been easy. Being a solitary man he doesn’t interact well with anyone under him (or over him for that matter) so you’re often left to smooth over meetings and negotiations. You don’t talk with him often but when you do he is always polite, if a bit short. Nothing gets past him and it’s worked out in your favor more times than not. He recognizes your work and once when he caught you sneaking a peak at his library he let you borrow the book you were after. When you tried to return it once you were done he told you to keep it. The book sits on your nightstand and helps you remember on the hard days why you stick with the job.
And Buggy?
Well. He’s Buggy. You’ve had the best and the worst times with him. It became clear after only a few months of working with The Cross Guild that Buggy wasn’t actually the one in charge. Between the way Mihawk and Crocodile treated him and how incredibly incompetent he could be led you to put the pieces together on the real power structure. Now that isn’t to say Buggy was a failure all time, quite the opposite actually. Despite how under qualified he was he pulled off the showmanship of the roll quite well and out of all of the leaders he was far and away the best with people. While you didn’t interact with him as much as you did Sir Crocodile he often went out of his way to be around you. He gets bored easily and it often falls on you when there aren’t any of his crew members in the immediate vicinity. As much as it derails your work you find yourself glad for the company. You think it’s because you do actually respect him and sometimes in The Cross Guild that’s hard to come by.
It wasn’t until recently a few things about the relationship between the leaders of the guild clicked for you. You knew the had extended meetings behind doors and on more than a few occasions you’d seen Mihawk or Crocodile laying into Buggy but it wasn’t until you had to come back to the office late one night when it all became crystal clear how their dynamic worked.
You had forgotten some paperwork that you needed to work on so you slipped back into the office after dark when you thought everyone else had gone home. When you got to your desk however, the door to Sir Crocodile’s office was cracked and light spilled out. It wasn’t strange, you knew he pushed himself to work late hours. Normally you encourage him to cut it short so you made your way over to the door and where about to knock when-
“Croc- Please-“ Buggy’s voice was pained and you almost rush in to defend him but a loud moan stops you dead in your tracks.
“I don’t think you’re sorry enough clown.” Crocodile’s voice is sharp and clearly pissed, but there’s an edge to it that you’ve never heard. You almost manage to back away from the door when a third voice speaks up.
“You’re right Crocodile, he really should be apologizing better. He certainly could be putting his mouth to better use.” Mihawk sounds almost bored, but the filth that left his mouth made your blood run hot.
“I’ll do anything- you know I will!” Buggy pleads.
Crocodile chuckles. “Oh, we know you will. You’re always so eager to get on your knees for us, aren’t you.”
The sounds of a zipper being pulled jolt through you and that’s enough to get you to run out of the office as quietly as you can. You pray to whatever gods are above that they didn’t hear you because no matter how fond of you they were- this was too much for anyone to know.
Ever since then you’ve noticed things. Face paint on Crocodile’s collar, stolen glances between Mihawk and Crocodile, or Buggy actually blushing when Crocodile threatened to knock his head off. It felt crazy to know that your bosses were in some kind of polyamorous relationship but no matter how much you want to tell anyone you didn’t. Not even for fear of your job- it was just what you felt was right. But you had to admit thoughts about what the three of them do together creeped into your mind often. It was embarrassing but some nights you got off to imagining what it would be like to be a part of something like that.
Well not something like that. Exactly that. Those three powerful men that you’ve grown fond of. But it was a pipe dream. You kept those thoughts in the darkest recesses of your mind where not even Mihawk’s observation haki could detect them.
But then things kept happening.
It started off easy to ignore. You would see Buggy blushing as you walked into Crocodile or Mihawk’s office, or Mihawk pulling away from Crocodile’s desk quickly as you passed by the door. But when you walked into Mihawk’s office and saw Buggy on his lap there wasn’t much you could do but quickly throw his requested papers on his desk and hurry away, face flushed.
After that it was noticing Buggy’s shoes under Crocodile’s desk when he called you in for a report. Then being asked to stay late and catching Crocodile and Mihawk share a kiss through a wide open door.
You wouldn’t acknowledge the incidents, and they didn’t either, so you were left flustered and confused almost every day. As if seeing them together wasn’t bad enough- it got worse.
Attention started to be directed towards you. You didn’t notice at first, Buggy’s clinging attitude was nothing new and you almost thought nothing of it when he was more touchy than normal. Then Mihawk invited you to stay after work to have a drink with him. You refused- but almost immediately were faced with Crocodile asking you to help him in his office with some more paperwork. Working close at his desk together shouldn’t have been as intimate as it was but you could see him stealing glances at you throughout the night.
Then came the pet names.
Buggy waltzing around your desk calling you star, dear, angel, and any other cheesy ones he could pull out. You hate how much you reacted to them, doing your best to act annoying and praying that he never saw the blush creeping up your neck. Mihawk and Crocodile were more subtle though. Mihawk tagging on darlings at the ends of his requests, Crocodile calling you sweetheart after you deliver paperwork to him. It was almost too much to take on a daily basis, sending you home flustered and now occasionally sexually frustrated.
But you never allowed yourself to think that any of them, let alone all three of them, would want something with you. You knew for a fact they were all in a relationship of some sorts and maybe this was their fun- being cruel to the person they all had easy access to. But you couldn’t stop your heart from soaring at every pet name and every touch or glance they would throw your way. You’d think about quitting- but you couldn’t leave them. As much as you hate it you care about the three of them too much.
But that might all stop today. Earlier in the day Crocodile approached you and said he needed you to stay after for a meeting and your blood ran cold. This was it. You’re getting fired.
You spent all day anxious, subtly packing up your belongings in preparation for the worst. When the time rolled around you knocked on the large door to Sir Crocodile’s office.
“Come in.” His gruff voice answered, and you slowly opened the door to reveal all three leaders of The Cross Guild. Crocodile behind his desk, Mihawk at one of the chairs across from him, and Buggy stationed on a couch along one of the far walls.
You weren’t being fired. You were being killed.
Your fear was clear to all three of them and Mihawk cast an annoyed glance at Crocodile. “I told you this was not a good idea.”
Crocodile rolled his eyes. “And what did you propose? Keep doing Buggy’s plan?”
“Hey!” Buggy sat up on the couch, offended. “I thought we could be a lot more flashy!”
Glares from both Mihawk and Crocodile made him sink back into the couch without another word. Mihawk looks back to you and gestures for you to sit down in the other chair at Crocodile’s desk. Scared and a bit confused you quickly sit.
“I’m sorry.” You speak up, trying to be ahead of this whole thing. “I should have been more careful with your privacy and it’s my fault and I understand why you want to let me go.”
Crocodile, Mihawk, and Buggy all share confused looks before Buggy breaks out in a laugh.
“You’re not being fired.” Crocodile speaks up, leaning over his desk. “And you haven’t been mishandling our privacy.”
“Except on that first night.” Buggy chimes in from the couch. “Not that that was a bad thing!”
Your eyes dart between all three of them, now properly confused. “I don’t understand…”
Mihawk sighs. “We noticed when you accidentally overheard us in this office.”
Of course. You were stupid to think they didn’t.
“But after that and some discussion we thought you might be interested.” Mihawk says it so casually you almost don’t register the words. They thought what?
“It was Buggy’s idea to get bold with our affections to see if you were interested as well but like most of the clown’s plans it was clearly poorly thought out.” Crocodile speaks from behind the desk, filing in the gaps.
“Honestly I think it was just an excuse to be the little exhibitionist he is.” Mihawk comments with glance towards Buggy.
“Hey, hey, maybe there was some self fulfillment there but! You all liked it and we clearly saw they liked us too. Didn’t ya dear?” Buggy leans on the couch to smile and wave at you and it’s only about now where everything is finally sinking in.
“Oh.” You’re sure your entire body is blushing, all the anxious energy now turning into something different.
“So we are sorry if this has all been too convoluted for you. I thought we should make a formal request.” Crocodile gets up from his desk and walks around it, towering over your seat. “Would you think about being a part of our relationship?”
“If you don’t we will forget this ever happened and there will be no more sexual run ins with any of us.” Mihawk adds as he too gets closer, his hand on the arm of your chair.
“And of course, take your time.” Crocodile mentions from above, taking a long drag of his cigar.
“But also could you not because I’m really excited to-“ Buggy is once again cut off by the looks of the two former warlords. But now understanding their dynamic you guess he probably riles them up like this on purpose. The line between fear and arousal is pretty thin, as you are learning right now.
“I can’t say I’m not interested.” You speak up and see Buggy beaming from across the room. “But I just- I’ve never been in a relationship like this.”
Mihawk’s hand glides from the arm of the chair to the outside of your thigh. “Neither had we before this. It’s not easy all the time but we make it work.”
It’s hard to ignore how much of an effect the small touch has on your body and you shift in your chair. “And you all really like me?”
“Yes.” All three of them answer at once, bringing a huge smile to your face. They rarely agree on anything but seeing them so automatically in sync for the answer- it douses a lot of your worries.
“So how would this work exactly?” You ball your hands in your lap, unable to look any of them in the eye directly.
“You would be ours.” Crocodile leans back on his desk to get more in your line of sight. “We go on dates occasionally. We share a bed when we are all in one place.”
“Due to our positions we can’t be as public as we would want to be. But that would be for your safety.” Mihawk’s thumb is drawing small circles on your thigh.
“But that doesn’t mean we won’t occasionally smother you at work.” Buggy bounces off the couch and moves over behind your chair. “Or at least I will.”
“You mean you don’t already?” You turn slightly to smile up at him and he returns your grin tenfold.
“And of course we would love to have you join us in our sexual endeavors.” Crocodile’s large hand creeps under your chin and pulls it over so you’re looking him in the eyes. “If you’ll have us.”
You melt under his touch and a small moan leaves you when Mihawk’s hand slides ever so closer inwards. Buggy’s hands land on your shoulder a gently rub and you are overwhelmed in the best way.
“I’ll have you. All of you.” At your words Buggy’s arms come around and hug you from behind and you can’t help but laugh a bit at his enthusiasm. “So what’s next?”
“If it’s not too fast you’ll come back to our room. Now.” The authority Crocodile exudes makes you nod your head quickly. You don’t know if you would be able to function properly if at least one of them didn’t take you to bed tonight.
Buggy tightens his hug before releasing you and bouncing to the door. Mihawk retracts his hand from your thigh but holds it out for you to help you stand. You take his hand and lace your fingers through it as you turn to the door, Crocodile bringing up the rear.
It’s a whirlwind getting back to their place- which you learn is Crocodile’s originally. None of them kiss you yet but their hands wander. Mihawk never lets go of your hand and squeezes it as Crocodile keeps a guiding hand on your lower back. Buggy’s detached hands are a bit braver, sneaking around your waist and hips and thighs. He gives your ass a light slap as you walk into the bedroom and it’s your turn to whip around and glare at him. There’s no malice behind it though and he waves at you as the offending hand snaps back onto his arm.
Turning back and looking around the room it is more distinctly Crocodile’s than anything from the simple and modern decor with his signature emerald green as accents. The other two have snuck their way in here though. You notice a large vanity mirror with makeup strewn around it and the bed is covered in dark plush fabrics. Despite being mismatched with the rest of the room it makes it more human, and you appreciate that as you slowly make your way over to the almost comically oversized bed.
Turning, you sit yourself on the edge of the bed and look up at the three men. “So, how do we start this?”
Buggy goes to walk towards you but is stopped by Crocodile’s arm. Mihawk and Crocodile share a glance and communicate something without words. Crocodile drags Buggy off to a large loveseat not too far from the bed as Mihawk approaches you.
“We’ll start off gentle, how about that?” Mihawk says as he crowds your space, looking down at you with those striking eyes.
“Hey- you never started gentle with me-“ Buggy’s voice is cut off and when you look over Crocodile has a fist full of blue hair and is harshly pulling his head up. He’s violently pulled into a kiss with Crocodile that you see the clown melt into, the gloved hands going to Crocodile’s knees to stabilize himself. You could watch them make out for hours but your gaze is gently pulled back to Mihawk with his hand on your chin.
“There will be plenty of time to watch. But I have to get you relaxed.” Mihawk grabs your waist and easily hoists you further into the bed, laying you down. He crawls over you, one hand stabilizing himself as another wanders up over your hips, waist, bust, and the finally resting gently around the side of your neck. Using his grip he brings you up and pulls you into a kiss.
Just as promised he starts off gentle, letting you set the pace. His lips are soft and you can taste his favorite wine. Breaking away to catch your breath you loop one arm around his shoulders and slide your mouth next to his ear.
“I appreciate this but-“ You lightly bite at his earlobe. “I don’t want you to be too gentle with me.”
When you retreat back to look at the swordsman’s face you see his eyes blown out, only a slim amber ring left. “I’d knew you’d be wonderful for us.”
He dives into another kiss, this time fully dominating it. His tongue presses against your lips and you let him in easily, letting him take over completely. Mihawk’s calloused hand comes around the front of your neck and he doesn’t squeeze but the thrill of it being there sends chills down your spine.
Eventually that hand sneaks down to your shirt, lightly squeezing one of your breasts before it moves down to the hem of your shirt. Fingers play with the edge before they slip under and push your shirt up as he travels back to your chest. You lean up and he allows you to break away from the kiss as you finish pulling your shirt up and over your head, throwing it somewhere on the floor. Mihawk wastes no time and unclasps your bra as you are doing so, and he pitches the garment far away as well.
Sitting up slightly the former warlord allows both his hands to wander your chest, earning small gasps from you as he squeezes and cups your breasts. He leans back down and kisses down your neck before replacing one of his hands with his mouth, kissing under your breast first before placing an open mouth kiss to your nipple. You bring your hand up to stifle a moan but from across the room a voice chastises you.
“Be loud love, we want to hear you over here.” Crocodile’s voice reminds you of his presence and you look back over his direction and are rewarded with a lewd image.
Crocodile sits wide in the seat, a cigar lit as he watches you and Mihawk. His pants are opened just enough for Buggy to work his cock, one hand on the base and his mouth covering the rest. Crocodile’s grip is strong on the clown’s hair as he forces Buggy’s head down. Seeing Crocodile so composed as he uses Buggy turns you on much more than you ever thought it would and you can feel how wet all of this is making of you.
You’re snapped back to Mihawk as he lightly bites at your nipple and this time you don’t muffle your moan. A hand wanders down your stomach and to your pants where deft fingers unbutton and unzip them quickly. After a harsh bite to the plush of your breast, definitely leaving a bruise, he leans back and brings both hands to the waistband of your pants.
“Lift your hips for me.” You obey his words and he takes off your pants and underwear in one go, and you shudder at the sudden coolness. One hand lays on your hip and another goes to your thigh. Gently he pushes your thighs open and he groans at what he sees.
“All this already?” His fingers skate down to your entrance and he pulls his fingers over it, collecting your slick. Bringing his fingers up to his mouth you watch slack jawed as he licks them clean. “I think I’ll have to taste more.”
Pushing himself back he kisses the insides of your thighs and you moan as he gets closer and closer to where you want him to be. One of your hands fists into the sheets and you bring the other gently to Mihawk’s head, tangling your fingers in his hair.
Finally his mouth reaches your folds and you buck up against him but he quickly brings a hand up to hold you down. With just one hand he’s able to pin your body and that sends another flood of warmth to your core. After another second, making sure you’ll stay still, he finally dives in fully.
His tongue flattens and draws up across your opening and up to your clit where it stops. He presses a kiss to it that makes you gasp before his tongue travels back down and dips inside of you. The hand in his hair grip hard and you’re afraid for a second he’ll stop again but he just moans in appreciation. His nose rubs against your clit and you throw your head back, again getting a glance of Buggy and Crocodile.
Buggy was still kneeling at Crocodile’s feet but he wasn’t blowing him anymore. Instead Crocodile’s own hand was on his dick, gripping the base and slowly tugging as he locked eyes with you. You were finally able to see just how big he was and for a second you got concerned with how that would ever possibly fit inside you. Your eyes went down to Buggy and you could barely make out him softly whining and it took a second before you looked even lower and realized his pants were off. One of his detached hands was steadily pumping a finger into himself and his face was nestled on Crocodile’s thigh. The sight cause you to try and buck into Mihawk’s mouth against but you were powerless and all you could do was writhe and whine against his mouth.
Mihawk’s excellent skills were quickly bringing you to the edge and he could sense it. Pulling away for only a second he called out to Buggy. “Clown, come put your hands to good use.”
You saw the unoccupied glove hand fly over and hover by Mihawk and when he dove in to give attention to your clit the gloved hand when close by, easily slipping two fingers into you. Almost immediately you’re thrown over the edge and scream in pleasure.
The world is fuzzy for a few seconds and when you come back to your body you realize neither of them have stopped their movements. So sensitive from your orgasm you loudly moaned and gripped Mihawk even harder.
Peering up at you he breaks away for a second. “You can give us one more, can’t you darling?”
Buggy’s fingers curl inside you and Mihawk lightly nips at your sensitive clit and you’re cumming again, a deep groan leaving your body as pleasure washes over you again.
Finally the mouth and hand retreat and it takes you a bit before you focus back on the world around you. When you do you see Crocodile, naked and stroking his cock right above you. You sit up and look to him for direction, earning you a sly smile.
“You’re already so obedient aren’t you.” His hand comes up and fingers gently thread in your hair as he pulls you closer to his dick. “Want to show me how good you can be?”
“Yes sir.” You say, looking up at him through your eyelashes.
That earns you a moan from him and he drags you closer, the tip of his cock pressing against your lips. Obediently you open your mouth and let him press himself further in as he guides your head. You take a deep breath through your nose as you push yourself further feeling his dick fill up your mouth and into your throat. When your nose is finally up against his pelvis he moans deep in his chest and lets himself sit there for a moment. Tears prick at the edges of your eyes but it’s worth it for this feeling.
You can only hold like this for so long, and you have to let him slide out of your mouth. You hold your mouth open for him though, thick strings of your saliva connecting him to you.
“Fuck, you’re good.” He praises, the hand in your hair gently petting you for a second before gripping again. “Gonna let me use your mouth more?”
Knowing he loved it the first time you respond with the simple, “yes sir.”
He plunges immediately back into your mouth and all you can do is focus on your breathing as he fucks your face relentlessly. You know you’re dripping onto the bed as you rub against the sheets for any sort of friction. It isn’t long before you feel Crocodile’s cock twitch in your mouth and you assume he is going to cum down your throat but to your surprise he pulls away.
You look up at him, slightly disappointed, tears and spit covering your face. His hand reaches down and wipes away some of the spit.
“I’m not going to waste my load in your mouth tonight sweetheart, there will be plenty of time for that later.” His promise sends a thrill through you and suddenly you are joined in the bed by Buggy.
When you turn to him he looks just as fucked out as you are, his face paint smeared and bruises along his neck. Buggy’s eyes dart up to Crocodiles and you can’t see what’s exchanged but in a flash Buggy is on you, kissing you.
He’s eager and it fills you with new energy as you ramp up to match him. Hands wander every inch of your body, never stopping for too long.
“Been wanting to touch you for so long.” He whispers in between feverish kisses. “So soft…”
He gropes your boobs and ass with detached hands and you gasp into his mouth, giving him the opportunity to snake his tongue in. You give into him but it’s short lived as soon Mihawk is dragging him off of you.
“Hey!” He protests, his hands still full of your body.
“You’ll have your fun.” Mihawk chides. Buggy sulks a bit but brightens up when you cover the hand on your tit with your own and squeeze.
Crocodile’s hands join Buggy’s on your body and you feel him maneuvering you so you’re laying on your stomach, ass to him. Buggy is on your side and Mihawk is in front of you, now naked like everyone else. Now it’s his cock at your mouth. Not as big as Crocodile’s but slender and curved.
“Think you can take two of us at once?” Mihawk asks, hand gently petting you.
“Yes, please.” You moan, embarrassment having left you long ago.
“You’re so perfect darling. Now open up.” You immediately obey the swordsman and he lets his tip sit on your tongue, lightly dragging it barely into your mouth and out.
You’re about to lean forward to take more of him but something presses against your entrance and your head snaps around to see Crocodile lining himself up with you. Mihawk’s hand is in your hair again as he brings your mouth back to his dick.
You feel Crocodile’s cock push into your cunt and you moan at the intrusion. Taking advantage of that Mihawk slips himself down into your mouth further, causing you to almost choke. He seems to enjoy that, lightly thrusting in at the noise.
Crocodile moves slow and you’re thankful for the time to adjust to his size. As you get into rhythm with Mihawk you realize Buggy is stroking your back, gently soothing you. Needing him to be included you reach your hand out and find his thigh, slowly reaching up until you find the base of his dick. You can’t see it but it’s heavy in your hand as you slowly begin to pump him in time with Mihawk’s thrusts into your mouth.
With one final push Crocodile has bottomed out and you feel his hips against your ass. He pauses for a second and leans down, pressing hot kisses to your back while you finally adjust to his full size. It’s not too long however before he’s upright again, and his hand goes to the base of your back as he starts slowly thrusting in and out of you.
Your senses are overwhelmed by pleasure and every moan you release is muffled by Mihawk’s dick and he picks up the pace, loving the way you feel around him. You focus on keeping a steady pace with Buggy and let the rest of your body be used by the two other powerful men.
It’s Crocodile who falters first, his thrusts becoming faster and irregular as he grips your hips firmly and pushes you down with every thrust. You feel him shudder and he reaches over and replaces Mihawk’s hand in your hair with his own, pulling you up off of him.
“Where do you want me to cum, tell me.” He demands, not slowing down at all.
“Inside.” You manage, voice wrecked.
He pulls you into a heated kiss before pushing you back down and doubling his efforts. His hand flies down to your clit as he helps you to reach your peak with him. You cum quickly from his touch and that send him over the edge too, burying himself deep and unloading into you.
Crocodile slowly pulls out of you and you can feel his cum seeping out. You feel his large fingers at your entrance and he pushes some of his seed back into you.
“Take a look Hawkeyes.” Crocodile voice was gruff.
You didn’t even register that Mihawk had walked around behind you until you heard his voice. “Fuck that’s a picture. Buggy, flip them around.”
Suddenly Buggy’s hands were on your waist, flipping you over as directed. You finally get a good look at him and he’s kneeling next to you, dick bright red and leaking. Reaching over you go to continue your earlier work with him but your hand it caught by Mihawk’s.
“He doesn’t cum until the end.” He informs you. “Don’t worry, he likes it that way.”
A bright red creeps up Buggy’s neck that confirms that fact. And you can’t help but flash him a smile.
“Think you can still take me?” Your attention is brought back to Mihawk as he drags his length over your entrance, coating it in yours and Crocodile’s cum.
You nod eagerly, desperate to please and be filled up again.
The swordsman easily slips into you and he wastes no time, roughly thrusting into you. You cry out from the feeling, overwhelmed and fucked out from your previous three orgasms. Buggy is right there besides you, gently running his fingers through your hair and whispering praise about how good you looked and how well you’ve been taking them. It’s all enough to send you quickly to the edge and it’s clear Mihawk is right there with you.
“Can I-“ His voice is cut off when you clench around him.
“Yes, inside, please Mihawk.” Your pleading sends him over and his fingers dig into your thighs as he cums inside you. You’re not far after him, Buggy’s helpful hand going between your legs to give you the final push.
Mihawk pulls out and you are full, cum gushing out of you. The swordsman stops and stares at your fucked out cunt in appreciation before Buggy stands next to him to look as well. Mihawk pulls Buggy into a kiss and when he breaks away he gives Buggy a small nod before walking away.
“Hey I’m not gonna push you love.” His hand is pumping up and down on his length fast. “Just wanna cum on you, can I do that, please babe?”
The desperation in his voice is clear and you nod, no longer having a voice to use.
“Fuck, thank you, you’re perfect, just like that-“ His words are quick and dissolve into unintelligible as he works himself faster before spilling himself onto your folds with a loud moan.
You finally allowed your body to relax, sinking into the bed, exhaustion overtaking your body. Crocodile comes back into view and he gently cleans you up with a wash cloth, pressing a kiss to your knee when he’s done. Mihawk comes to your side and helps you properly into bed, under the covers. Buggy is at your side almost immediately, arms wrapping around you as his face settles into the crook of your neck. It’s not long until Crocodile joins you on your other side and you allow yourself to snuggle up into his chest. You vaguely notice Mihawk climb into bed on the other side of Crocodile as sleep starts to take you.
Crocodile presses a kiss to your forehead right before you fall asleep.
“We love you.”
#one piece x reader#one piece x you#crocodile x reader#dracule mihawk x reader#mihawk x reader#sir crocodile x reader#x reader#buggy x reader#buggy the clown x reader#cross guild x reader#the cross guild x reader#discordantwritings
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♰ thanks sugar ༻ C. HOWARD.*ೃ˚
��� masterlist. ➻ buy me a coffee!
PAIRING ➻ southern bounty hunter!reader x Cooper Howard.
CW ➻ mention of drugs ⋆ alcohol consumption ⋆ fallout typical violence ⋆ reader sustains a bad injury ⋆ but it's not too explicitly described ⋆ mention of stitching up said injury ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!
SUMMARY ➻ "Can i request a bounty hunter reader who is always one step ahead of Cooper and he’s fed up with her? Then the reader is in a deadly situation and he decides to rescue her, because even if he’s fed up that she’s always one step ahead of him, he respects her for that." requested by the lovely @likoplays WC ➻ 2,8K.
© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!
he didn't know quite what to feel the first time he encountered you..
his hairless brows furrow the moment he lays eyes on you — his bounty, dead, beneath your boot. you look up from the body beneath you, and smile. a disgustingly sweet smile on your shockingly soft looking lips. “heya sugar,” you grin, “it appears you jus’ missed this fella here,” your tone confident and ever so slightly out of breath from the fight he had missed.
he huffs frustratedly, and when his harsh eyes drag down your form the pieces fit together in his head. so you’re the cowgirl bounty hunter that’s been cashing in his bounties.
he can see it now, why’d people mistake him for you sometimes if they can’t see his face — your body clad in tough jeans and a layer of belts draped across your hips. a worn down cowboy hat atop your head with a bullet hole going through the rim on the right side. he could spot a peak of some leather vest and a worn shirt sticking out from it and atop it all a tattered worn duster draped over your shoulders.
huh, he thought to himself. just that, a contemplative ‘huh’. the conversation that followed was less harsh then he thought it’d be now that he can put a face to your name. he still made his points very clear though.
by the third time the pair of you cross paths he’s gotten used to your honey sweet drawl and even sweeter smiles. he wondered since the day he met you why you always smiled so bright, given the world you live in and the job you do.
the bar smells like spilled liquor and blood, the air is sticky and stuffy in the summer’s heat. the people in it probably smell worse, but he’s thankful he’s can’t smell most of it.
the oh so familiar “heya sugar,” sounds from across the bar in Filly. he looked over and saw you sitting a few stools down from him, sipping on something dark. he huffs and nods in your direction before returning his attention to the bourbon in his dirty glass.
he listens to your stool creak and groan before the thuds of your boots follow you to the stool beside him. “any good contracts on the horizon?” you tease with a grin.
he looks up from his glass, watching you down the remainder of yours. his dark eyes follow a stray drop that drips past your lips and down your chin before you catch it with a finger, dipping the finger between your lips to suck up the liquid. he sighs and downs his own glass, wishing he could feel the burn as the alcohol trickled down.
“well, wouldn't you like to know, hm?” he drawls, his eyes slightly squinting at you. he knows damn well that you know what’s on his horizon. seeing as you’ve probably got the same bounties on yours.
you sigh, swirling a stray drop of liquor in your glass around. “you ain’t bein’ fun,” you huff as you tip back your glass to catch that last drop on your tongue. you stretch your shoulders, groaning in the process before shrugging your duster back over your shoulders.
you nod at the bartender and hand him a few caps, thanking him with that same sickly sweet smile before standing up. you turn back to him, tightening your holster belt. “well, i’ll be seein’ you stud.” you tip your hat to him before walking out the bar and into the fresh air.
he hasn't seen you in a while, he thinks to himself, while he walks along the tracks of his latest bounty — some guy who had plundered a large settlement. who in turn wanted the man alive, so they could convict him or some shit. they were paying a hefty heap of caps for the man, and that was all that mattered.
the trail started to head in the direction of the Super Duper Mart he frequents for RadAway, to his surprise. maybe the bounty needs a patch up or some chems, who knows. if the tracks lead there, he might as well pick up some more vials of RadAway, more could never hurt.
the tracks indeed lead to the front doors of the Super Duper Mart, though are soon joined by a second pair, one he’s grown to recognise anywhere. he groans, head dropping back in frustration. he was starting to get a little low on caps and would really fucking like a job to turn out in his favor before he has to turn to the ones he’ll hate doing.
he rummages through his saddlebags, looking for things he could offer in return, when he hears a loud slam against the window on the right side of the building. he knew what went down there, and this kind of commotion was not uncommon, but definitely relatively unusual. he ignores the sounds as his hand touches some Jet, that’ll have to do for now, he thinks to himself.
he grabs the handful of Jet, hitting the button on the speaker. “transaction.” he drawls, dark eyes trying to look through the dirty glass as if he might see his bounty there.
it’s quiet for a second, before the familiar voice of the Handy comes through, “yes?”
“ten vials for fifteen Jet.”
more silence before the speaker crackles again, “the deal can be further discussed inside, the doors will open.”
Cooper sighs, not looking forward to the hassle of making a deal with the idiots inside. the doors squeak open in a few seconds and he makes his way inside. the relatively cool building was a slight relief compared to the harsh sun.
the moment he steps inside the commotion from the room across from him rings crystal clear through the building. he supposed the guys running it are used to it and barely blink at it. he walks past the room, and reaches the guys in charge sat lazily on the couch in front of the tv.
Cooper clears his throat, the two guys looking up immediately. “ten vials for ten Jet, right?” the left guy says, slightly slurring his words.
“uh huh,” Cooper confirms.
and to his surprise the guys are probably so high they didn't hear what the Handy said and the deal seems fine to them as the left guy rummages through the box of chems to pull out ten vials of RadAway. he wonders for a brief second, if he could rip off the guys and give them less Jet and still get the vials — they don’t seem to be in the condition to properly count anything.
the left guy holds out his shaky hand expectantly and Cooper drops eight Jet into his palm, curious about the outcome. and to his surprise the guy takes the Jet, stares at them blankly, then hands Cooper exactly ten vials. huh, he thinks, well done.
he thanks them after stuffing the vials into his box with the last of his other ones and heads back to the entrance. he nears the room where all the commotion is still coming from and almost passes before he hears a familiar voice yell out.
“dagnabbit! you better get ‘ur grimey saws ‘way from me you asshole!”
your southern twang was even more prominent with your anger and panic, but he could recognise your voice anywhere. he stood before the closed door with a war inside him;
with how little contracts you left him it’d be great career wise for him to leave you here, no more stealing his high paying bounties, he’d finally be able to afford a little more supplies — but a side of him also grew to deeply respect your skill. the way you managed to handle bounties that had even him slightly questioning if he could do it. you clearly had great skill to make it this long in the business and in the world.
he groans, head dropping back as he beat himself for what he was about to do. the panic in your voice sounded genuine, it sounded like you were genuinely fighting for your life. he set his saddlebag down by the door and kicked it open, the door slamming into the wall.
he walked into the room, blood splattered across the floor, the usual tools and coolers around. and then his eyes landed on you, strapped down to a gurney with the Handy trying to hack away at you.
guessing by the blood on the floor he had gotten at least one good slice in. at the sound of the door slamming open both you and the Handy turned to him. “no people allowed in this room!” the Handy crackles, though his blades still hovering above you.
“heya sugar,” you pant heavily. “fancy seein’ you ‘ere,” you somehow manage a genuine smile, which catches him a little off guard, given the situation you’re in.
“quite the predicament you’ve found ‘urself in, huh?” he nods, eyes still watching the Handy as the robot hovers still.
you flinch at something and swallow thickly, “nothin’ i ain’t done before,” he can see the pain through your smile now, and it makes him want to kick himself for what it makes him feel inside.
he unholsters his gun, aiming at the Handy, “hey tincan, how’bout you leave the lady alone?” he drawls, eyes squinting at the robot.
“i afraid i cannot do so, she has been prepared for harvesting.” the Handy states.
Cooper sighs, knowing that whatever happens here means the end of his dealings with this place. it takes a mere inch that the Handy moves towards him and Cooper puts a bullet through it. smoke shoots out the side that was shot. “t-t-that was n-no-o-ot friendly-” the Handy malfunctions, fully turning to him now.
he rolls his shoulder before unloading the other three heavy rounds into the Handy round body. the Handy spurts out smoke and steam from everywhere, dropping to the floor with a loud crash. he really hopes the guys out back are too high to notice all this.
Cooper holsters his gun, side stepping around the dying Handy as he makes his way to you. the closer he gets, he can see what caused you to flinch and where all the blood all over the floor came from — a huge gash in your side. not concerningly deep, but still worrisome nonetheless. you had a few cuts across your bare shoulders as well, he guesses from you thrashing around while the Handy tried to cut you open.
your head drops down onto the gurney and you groan in relief. “oh crud muffin’,” you huff, the muscles in your side flexing in pain. Cooper watches carefully as he begins to unbuckle the restraints, making sure to be extra careful with the one around your hips that’s awfully close to your wound.
“what ‘m i glad to see your handsome face ‘ere,” you pant, massaging your wrists the moment they're free.
Cooper steps back from the gurney a little once he’s unbuckled the restraints around your ankles so you can sit up. he squints at your choice of words. handsome. you sit up, a little shaky. “phew,” you huff, reaching a hand to your side. “my knight in shinin’ spurs-” your voice trailing off just before your body goes limp and drops forward.
Cooper hands immediately find your shoulders, pushing you up before you’re able to drop off the gurney. “damnit girl,” he swears as he lays you down, eyes sweeping over the gash in your side. it was significantly worse than he thought, and given the amount of blood on the floor you had been fighting quite a bit.
he huffs, searching around for med supplies. it surprises him that you kept going as long as you did. he dumps whatever supplies he could find in your lap, before turning his full attention to your wound. you were gonna owe him after this..
bright lights and a warm feeling wakes you, eyes painfully peeling open. expecting the ceiling of the Super Duper Mart, your eyes instead are met with the bright sky, the hot sun beating down on you. you shoot up in a panic, though nearly cry out in pain as the stitches in your side constrict. “sugar honey iced tea!” you shout out with your eyes clenched shut, your hand immediately holding the injury.
footsteps come dashing from behind you, the sun suddenly blocked by someone. your eyes shoot open, wild eyes meeting a familiar pair of dark, hollow ones. it takes you a second, before you sigh in relief and drop back down. you’re quiet for a moment as you catch your breath, before speaking. “where are we?” your throat is sore.
Cooper huffs, the sound of your cry still pounding in his heart. “not too far out from the Super Duper,” he drawls, catching his own breath a little.
when you open your eyes again to look at him, you notice something strange — he’s not wearing his duster. and that’s when it clicks, the heavy coat is draped over top of you. your eyes flit across his form, a raggedy denim shirt sticking out from a thick leather vest that has certainly seen better days with a few missing buttons and what are almost certainly knife shaped holes.
your eyes drag down to his scarred forearms that are exposed below his sleeves that're rolled up, your distracted eyes lingering a little longer than they should.
you reluctantly sit up, groaning as you do so. the duster drops into your lap as you lift your shirt up to assess the damage. “ahw shucks, that ain’t lookin’ good..” you huff, brows furrowed in pain and eyes staring at the roughly stitched gash.
Cooper clears his throat, “did the best i could on a whim, hope that’s okay,” and this is the first time you’ve heard him speak without the confidence and strength he usually has.
you shake your head, “don’t worry ‘ur handsome head, this more than i could’ve asked you for and’m thankful for it,” you tip your head at him, a pained but genuine smile on your lips. god, he thought, was there ever a time you didn’t look so sugary sweet?
he nods in return, “you’re welcome,” he walks over to offers you a bottle of what appears to be bourbon, which you gratefully accept with a pained grin. “should ‘elp take the edge off,”
you take a generous swig, a low moan of relief being pulled from your lips as the liquid trickles down. you relish the sweet burn before handing him back the bottle. “i can’t thank you enough,” you smile.
Cooper shakes his head, “don’t worry your pretty head about it,” he copies your words. he takes a swig before shoving the bottle back in his saddlebag. he pauses as he thinks, “well, there is one thing you could do,” he trails off.
you let out a laugh, and he thinks it might be the sweetest thing he’s heard in decades. “out with it, what d’you need?” you chuckle.
he shrugs, tilting his head with a playful smirk on his lipless skin. “you could always leave me some bounties for once?” he drawls, eyes squinted to aid the smirk.
you let out another laugh, this one equally if not even more sweeter sounding then the last. “well i’ll tell you what sugar, why don’t we stop dancin' around, partner up and split the caps instead?” there's a smidge of hopefulness in your tone, yet he also feels as though you’ve left no room for a no from him.
he sucks his teeth, looking up as if contemplating his answer. though, the both of you already know what he’ll say. finally, he tips his hat to you, “alright then, 's long as you rest up till that’s healed enough. got it? don’t want you messin’ up my masterpiece,” he chuckles.
that earns him another strained laugh from you. “can’t promise i’ll stay out of a good fight, but you got it sugar.” you grin and wink.
oh lord, he thinks, he’s in for a looong ride.
TAGLIST @live-logs-and-proper @looonytooons @seeingstarks @thewastelandwriter @lacey-mercylercy
#⋆୨🩷©2024 htchnr#⋆୨⭐️cooper howard#cooper howard x fem!reader#cooper howard oneshot#cooper howard imagine#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard#the ghoul imagine#the ghoul oneshot#the ghoul fallout#fallout tv#fallout tv series#walton goggins#walton ghoulgins
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for your 2k follow celebration, could you do wife fem!reader x husband patrick? patrick has a lactation kink (reader is breastfeeding) and facesitting? angel / pretty as pet names <3
You're My Snack
PAIRING: Husband!Patrick Bateman x Wife!Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: Your husband is hungry and horny. Only you can satisfy his hunger since you're his favorite snack.
CONTAINS: Smut, Daddy kink, lactation kink, spanking, body worship, tit sucking/nipple play, face-sitting, pet names, dirty talk.
WORDS: Around 1k
A/N: Thank you so much for your request, I hope you like it! 💗🤞
LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [2k CELEBRATION MASTERLIST]
You always knew that your beloved husband, named Patrick Bateman, had many kinks, but you never imagined that he would be so turned on by breastfeeding — once he tasted your milk, he couldn't stop thinking about it, and whenever he got a chance to latch his greedy mouth around your swollen nipple, he did it with a desperate ferocity.
That night, Bateman found you peacefully napping on the couch, and he couldn't take his dark eyes off your heavy breasts that looked so captivating in your tight top. Licking his lower lip briefly, Patrick approached your sleepy form and traced a finger along your cheekbone.
"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured in a low voice, sliding his thumb down to your lips to part them. "My pretty girl."
A sudden surge of heat rushed through your body as his warm mouth found the most sensual spot on your delicate neck, and that delightful sensation woke you up. Batting your long eyelashes, you tried to get up, only to be easily positioned on his lap.
"I've missed you, Angel," he nipped your earlobe, his hands wasting no time exploring your curvaceous body. "I've been thinking about tasting you all fucking day."
"But I–" You stammered as Bateman cut you off with a searing, sloppy kiss on your lips.
"You only fed me in the morning, right?" He arched his brow playfully as his nimble fingers were busy outlining the shape of your hard little tips. " So, I'm hungry again."
His silky voice flowed through every particle of your trembling frame, making you submit as if you were spellbound. "Uh, you're so insatiable ..."
"It's all because of you, honey," Patrick grinned before pulling up your top with ease, his mouth watering at the sight of your milk-filled breasts and the next moment he was already swirling his wet tongue around your engorged nipple. "You like it, don't you?"
Considering how badly you were shaking; it was kind of pointless to deny it. "Yes, Daddy," you used that nickname faster than you could even realize it. "Please ... leave some milk for the baby."
Bateman groaned in response, sucking covetously at your tender flesh — the sweet taste of your milk was intoxicating, forcing his blood to rush through his veins. Hot and bothered, Patrick released your swollen peak with a loud pop, licking every single drop of your breast milk.
"Fuck, you're so tasty," he pulled you even closer, making you wrap your legs around his waist and grind against the hard bulge in his pants. "Do you want to ride Daddy's face after he finishes his meal?"
Oh shit, that sneaky bastard knew how to hit the bullseye when he needed to.
"Yes..." you gasped and involuntarily brought his head closer to your chest, shutting your eyes as you were about to lose yourself in the overwhelming sensation. "You're s-so hard, Daddy...mhmm...I can feel it."
With a low chuckle, Bateman painfully tugged at your nipples before slapping your ass with both hands, savoring all of your high-pitched wails, not to mention the way you frowned every time your dripping pussy rubbed against his hardness.
"Ahh, look at you," he slapped your butt once more, then gave your ass cheeks a pretty rough squeeze. "Enjoying yourself, babygirl? So eager for my cock?"
His dirty talk didn't give you a chance, as by now you couldn't control your moans or the needy rocking of your hips against his firm ones. "Lie down already!"
Your sudden attempt to take the lead took him by surprise for a moment, but instead of restraining you or punishing you for defying his dominance, Bateman just sneered mischievously and did as you asked.
"All right, Angel," he crooned teasingly as he lay back on the soft, white couch and loosened his red tie. "Go ahead, show me how well you can use Daddy's face."
Patrick didn't have to ask you twice.
Carefully but confidently, you positioned yourself on top of his beautiful face, leaving inches between your soaped slit and his ravenous mouth, ready to devour you at any moment.
"Don't doubt me, Daddy," you murmured excitedly as you moved your panties aside and descended lower, his perfectly shaped nose brushing so deliciously against your taut, lower lips. "Awww, Patrick..."
At first, Bateman lay still and only stuck out his tongue, allowing you to take control and set the pace that was comfortable for you, each slide along his scorching flesh igniting you with passion. Whimpering uncontrollably, you tangled your fingers in his brown curls, bucking your hips back and forth along his face, drowning in the pool of pleasure his mouth was giving you, exploring your oozing folds delightfully and sucking on your blushing clit.
"Daddy," you gasped, tilting your head as you felt your orgasm building in your core, Bateman noticed it immediately and held your hips tightly to keep you in one place. "I'm close... I'm so damn close!"
"Mmhm, my slutty little Angel," Patrick's muffled voice reverberated against your throbbing bud, making it hard for you to move, but now it was his turn to take control as his strong hands on your thighs encouraged you to keep grinding on his tongue. "(Y/n), you ride my face so fucking good."
As soon as he felt your body convulse, Batemn pressed his thumb to your bundle of nerves to make the friction completely unbearable, accompanying it with merciless lapping at your wet entrance, plunging his tongue inside as you reached your climax, intending to make your orgasm even more blissful.
"Pat-Patrick...mmmmhm," you gripped his arms almost painfully, but he didn't even flinch. "Your mouth...feels so good...I love...I love you..."
Patrick could barely keep himself from giggling at your pleading comments, but he couldn't deny that they worshipped his ego like nothing else in this world.
P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!
#american psycho#patrick bateman x reader#patrick bateman imagine#patrick bateman#patrick bateman x female reader#patrick bateman x you#slasher x reader#slashers x reader#slasher x you#slasher smut#patrick bateman smut#patrick bateman headcanon#christian bale smut#christian bale x reader#patrick bateman reader#christian bale#patrick bateman imagines
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Gojo's daughter insisting on him brushing her hair because he's so gentle
Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader
Word Count: 840
Synopsis: You are pretty suprised when your daughter insists on your husband brushing her hair depite the fact that this is normally your job. Until you find out why...
Warnings: I just have a soft spot for Gojo okay, I swear I already started writing the promised Geto fic, fluff over fluff over fluff, a little bit of dirty talk hehe
„Come on angel, let’s get you ready for bed.”
There you stand, wearing your most comfy pyjama while leaning against the doorframe looking so delicately that Satoru has to look twice. Are you really his wife, the mother of his precious daughter who supports him like no one else? He has to be the luckiest man walking on earth.
“Are you getting me ready for bed as well?”
That bastard, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Your beloved husband pulls up his blindfold enough for you to see the unpromising dark glimmer in his bright blue orbs, the way he sits on your couch with your daughter lounging against his arm making you feel weak all over again. There aren’t many things in the world that drive you insane like he does.
Well, to be honest, absolutely nothing has the same effect on you as him.
You shake your head. Enough of that. Weren’t you here to get your little daughter into bed?
“Let’s get going”, you ask your daughter again, desperately trying to ignore the way Satoru’s eyes seem to be all over you.
Why can’t he wait until you brushed her hair and get her into bed? All those things might seem innocent to her, but you know all too well what is going on inside his beautiful dirty head.
“No!”
Wait…What? You blink a few times in sheer confusion, even Satoru staring at your daughter in disbelief. Why did that sound so energetic? After all, you just want to brush her hair like you do every evening.
“Why, honey? If we don’t brush it, you will get horrible painful knots tomorrow morning and we both don’t want that.”
She avoids your gaze at any cost and buries herself in Satoru’s black shirt. What’s the matter? It’s not like your husband brushed her hair yesterday as well. She never complained about this process once, even seemed to enjoy it from time to time. What is wrong this evening?
“I want daddy to brush my hair. He’s more gentle”, she finally mutters.
Oh. You stare at her with widen eyes, too stunned to speak for a moment. “More gentle”? Is she really talking about her father? The man who kills curses without even blinking, who will grab your very own hair roughly as soon as she’s sound asleep? You can’t contain your amusement, throwing the brush towards your also bamboozled husband.
“Absolutely no problem, angel. I’ll go and grab you something to drink for tonight, okay? Good luck, loverboy.”
With one last entertained smile at Satoru and your daughter positioning herself between his legs, you make your way to the kitchen. Did you see Satoru doing her hair once? Now that you think of it, you can’t even remember seeing him brush her hair. He’s often still at work when she goes to bed and already gone when she wakes up in the morning which leaves all those things to you. Very much to his disliking as it seemed.
“No, let me do that. I want to brush her hair this evening.”
“You…? Did you ever brush long hair, Satoru?”
“Sure, can’t be that hard-“
“Wait, please don’t use your comb on her hair. You need a brush for that.”
“So…What’s even the difference?”
You can’t help but chuckle to yourself, the look of distress on his gorgeous face when you explained him the difference between a comb and a brush still not leaving your mind. But still…what did your daughter mean when she said he’s gentle? Your eyes peak into the living room where your daughter chuckles with her father. Well, a little glance can’t hurt, right?
“So how was your day, honey?”
“I won a race today!”
“What!? Tell me everything about it!”
Your feet carry you as muted as possible to the wide opened door, feeling like a burglar as you’re on your way to stalk the two of them.
“I was in last place but-“
You can’t listen anymore, eyes fixated on the scene laying itself out in front of you. Your daughter sits between his legs with her head laid back while Satoru strokes her hair so gently and sedately that it looks like a massage. Over and over, he caresses her scalp, strokes it with his fingers, looks at her with so much love in his eyes that you are forced to supress a sniff. Oh, her hair is definitely brushed out already. But still he keeps going, listening to every word she says while leaving a little comment here and there.
“Mommy, are you spying on us?”
Instantly his gleaming eyes dart towards you, amusement filling his expression.
“I’m being gentle, ya see?”
“You definitely are”, you reply entertained while your daughter leaves his lap in order to get into bed with you.
“You’re never that gentle with my hair, though”, you whisper into his ear, grabbing for the brush between his legs.
“Oh, I’m gonna take good care of your hair when your back, babe”, he mumbles against your ear.
Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz@darkstarlight82 @satoreo @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299 @busyreader17 @okay-it-is-ivy @starlightanyaaa
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#daddys home#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#jujutsu gojo#gojo saturo#gojou satoru x reader#jjk fluff#jjk comfort#dad gojo#gojo satoru x reader#satoru x reader#satoru x you#satoru x y/n#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jujutsu satoru#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujustu kaisen#fanfic jjk#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#gojo fluff#husband gojo
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Icy
Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader
Summary: Ingrid gets angry
You break your wrist the day Mapi does her meniscus.
You're just playing around when it happens. Mapi's got you on her shoulders, despite Ingrid yelling at you to get the hell off, when she takes a misstep. She yelps loudly, drawing everyone's attention, and crumbles to the ground.
You're thrown across the grass of the pitch and skid. It knocks the wind out of you and you can hear the snap of your wrist when it hits the grass, bent at a weird angle.
It throbs and tears spring to your eyes but you don't think of anything but Mapi and practically crawl your way towards her.
Ingrid's already there though and she fixes with the iciest glare she can manage.
You freeze.
Ingrid's got a cold kind of anger that festers beneath the surface. It's very scary and you've never been on the receiving end of it before. It's like a bolt of lightning is shot down your back and you freeze, drawing your limp wrist into your body.
She turns back to soothing Mapi and you stay where you are.
It's clear that she doesn't want you to approach, clear that she's angry with you so you sit frozen on the grass.
Her glare is scary and she's mouthing something at you. You can't really make it out but it's something along the lines of staying the fuck where you are because you've already done enough.
Mapi rolls around in pain, slapping the ground so she doesn't scream and the medics come running on.
Most of them go to her but one comes to you.
He reaches for your wrist.
You pull away.
"Mapi," You croak out," Mapi."
"She's going to be just fine," He promises you," But you need to let me take a look at that wrist."
"No." You shake your head, desperately trying to peak over his shoulder to see Mapi.
Ingrid is standing up now, looking around like Mapi's personal guard dog. Her eyes rest on you and they narrow. You look away before she can say anything again.
She's angry at you, you know this, and you try to think of whose house you'll have to sleep at tonight. You live with Ingrid and Mapi but you don't think either of them will want you around tonight.
You yelp when the medic moves your wrist, instantly tearing it from his grip.
He grimaces and you freeze.
"What? What is it?"
"I'm sorry."
"Why? No, what is it?"
"Have you looked at your wrist, y/n?" He asks.
You shake your head. "No...Mapi-"
"I need some bandages!" He yells out to the others. He glances at you. "And probably a green whistle too."
It's funny, you think. You barely felt any pain when you were focused on Mapi and pumped with adrenaline. Now that you're looking at your injury, you feel the blood rush from your face.
Your bone is sticking out of your skin. Your stomach rolls as the pain hits you in full force. You're pretty good with injuries. You're not squeamish or anything but the sight of your bone poking out makes you turn and throw up all over the grass.
You feel so incredibly sick and disorientated that you barely notice Mapi demanding Ingrid tell her what's wrong with you. Ingrid's looking at you again. No longer is there an icy look in her eyes but genuine horror instead.
You're completely out of it as the medic tries to stabilise your wrist without agitating your bone. Someone sticks a green whistle into your mouth and you suck down hard.
Your eyes are all glazed over as you watch Mapi be placed onto a stretcher. Ingrid walks with her but keeps looking back at you. She drops Mapi's hand and moves towards you but you think you flinch away when she does so and one of the older girls (Marta or Paredes, maybe) pushes Ingrid away to follow after her girlfriend.
Unlike Mapi, who is wheeled to the physios to get scans, you're brought straight to the hospital and taken into surgery.
By the time you wake up, it's already dark out and there's someone holding your non-injured hand.
"Hey," Mapi says softly," You're looking rough."
You blink groggily at her. "How's your leg? Is it a..."
You don't want to say those three letters but Mapi just shakes her head.
"Meniscus," Is her answer," I'll be alright though. Just a little surgery in a few days."
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault."
"Ingrid thinks it is. She got really scary."
"She's sorry too," Mapi says," She knows how she reacted was wrong and she's getting you ice cream right now."
You're not too convinced but you don't want to argue with Mapi so you lift up your arm. You've got a cast around your wrist and you gather they doped you up on painkillers because it doesn't even twinge.
"It was a nasty break," Mapi says," Snapped part of your radius which then pushed your ulna out through your skin. It was gnarly." She pats you soothingly. "But you'll heal up in no time. We can be rehab buddies together."
That brings a smile to your face but it drops the moment Ingrid comes through the door.
You bottom lip wobbles. "I'm sorry." You hate how you sound so pathetic and broken.
Ingrid shakes her head and takes a seat next to you. "No, I'm sorry," She says," I shouldn't have treated you like that no matter how worried I was about Mapi. I'm very, very sorry."
You offer her a weak smile. "Does this mean I can still stay in the spare room?"
"Spare room?" Ingrid laughs," That's been your room for nearly a year now. You're not going anywhere."
#woso x reader#mapi leon x reader#mapi leon#ingrid engen x reader#ingrid engen#woso community#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso
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imagining mattheo and bratty, girly kitty reader because she deserves a tiara
🎀₊˚ʚ ᗢ🐈⬛₊˚✧ ﾟ.
your the slytherin princess, all prissy meow, no claw. every single one of the slytherin boys would do really anything for you really, your dark whiskery lashes, and sweet purry voice — they always make sure your safe n sound. though they’ll always do the same for pansy, your bestfriend, they treated you like overbearing older brothers, cus your all of theirs little sweet spot. which is all nice n all until mattheo recruits all of his “brothers” (they five jokingly call eachother) to watch you like eagles if he leaves to get you one of those fruity drinks you love sipping on, dumbly unaware mattheos been giving you sheryl temples the whole party. they all just pray you keep your mean little complaints to your boyfriend, who technically told them to watch you — even they are scared of your bratty ferocious switch. (which even just convinced youve been drinking can trigger, frighteningly)
but whilst all of them protect you, its mattheos whos name you would wear on a pink collar. instead you settled with a fluttery eye roll, for the shiny gold necklace with his full name printed on the little shiny heart! — always sitting between your pushed up breasts. the curly haired brunette does keep the collar as a mental note though. future reference — and also to make you happy. he really does hate admitting but your too cute to say no too — trying not to make it too obvious its because he loves you. which you definitely does, admits it every single time you give him that candy rotting tail-swinging smile.
your his fake eyelashed kitty, and he throws it in every guys face wherever you two go — whether its grabbing your waist arrogantly while you walk ditsily down the halls, cheekily unaware of all the thirsty stares stuck on your plushy hips. or you wiggling in your seat, pussy all sticky, pouting because the throbbings so much its practically purring — doing it just so your all over him, whining and mewling, in front of whoever he pleases. he loves showing you off, but mattheo definitely could do without your bullshit excuse of fashion — or merely the lack of. cus you were not shy showing off your body. you loved making things prettier ! the ‘stylized’ slytherin skirt proudly showing half your heart shaped ass, you just loved the freedom it gave you to pounce around. most of the time, mattheo had to block the view of your frilly underwear flashing when you bend down, all oblivious to the nice pantied cunt eye full he gets. “m’flexible see matty!” huffing with a frustrated breath, “yea yea, guess so kitty — y’stay stretched like that for a good few minutes… s’good for your back or something like that” he unashamedly always takes a peak n your usually to obvious to even notice, too busy giving him your triumphant scrunch.
it’s a complete understantment to say you bounce on him like a cat to a mouse — so teary eyed and cotton panties soaked if you get a glimpse of his biceps or even just his raspy morning voice has something pretty achy n purring, your ghost whiskers twitching. (his back is always covered in your pink french nailed claw marks </3) he fucking hates but does with your whiny fits. trying to satisy his need to taste you between your sqeezing thighs and all you do is moan for his cock. only after cumming three times on mattheos greedy muscle do you shut up — not like he’ll ever complain, he’d never stop fucking into your pretty soppy heat if he had the choice. now when your being too needy, or bugging him as if he can bend you over right there in class, he has no problem sending you off what a swat to the ass n a growl to meet him on his bed, he deals with your neediness. n your always eager to oblige — all fours n pussy up. how else does he take out his anger but in you, on you?
being the girly princess you are I feel like you’d be a cheerleader too! mattheo the star seeker and you his excitedly cheering (kitty) bimbo — hes only ok with your cute tail like swinging ass showing when your squealing his name for the whole school to hear. telling you your his lucky charm, sparkly eyeshadow forever messy when he pulls you into the locker room with him. “you know it’s real hard being a seeker when I cant take my eyes off you, damn look at you baby girl — I’ve already found everything I ever need princess,” mattheos no doubt a slut for cheesy romance before rearranging your guts.
mattheos also your personal purse. except with a lot less frilly pink designs — and you also don’t wanna jump and ride a normal purse into complete bliss. but still! his hands are always full, either with your glossy lipgloss to reapply every five minutes to your puffy lips, pink coverups/sweaters that you toss of abruptly cus they get too hot, or in his perverted needs, offering to hold ‘his girls’ with a mischievous smirk — cus if only takes a little convincing to your pretty head to have you compliant to his shameless, pussy whipped, self, and sometimes they do hurt real bad. mattheos such a good boyfriend ! leaning you back mewling so he can take care them off your hands.
overall you can tell him off whenever needs be. (only you, n you only can tell the son of voldemort to knock it off n not get hurt dcbgyhyf) mattheo even sometimes tries to be extra teasing, which is mean in your glaring lashed kitty eyes — ogling when you bare your verbal fangs n hiss he gets instantly hard at the sight. mattheo still arrogantly remembers the time you beat of an overly flirty raven claw girl, his sweetheart, cat clawing a overstepping bitch — he had to stop himself from cumming right then and there. coyly letting you to kitty lick it right off <3 mattys just as much yours as your his.
. 🎀₊˚ʚ ᗢ🐈⬛₊˚✧ ﾟ.
#kitty!reader#mattheo riddle prompt#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle smut#mattheo riddle scenarios#mattheo riddle x you#matteo riddle x reader#matteo riddle x you#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle imagine#matteo riddle#slytherin boys#slytherin boy prompt#mattheo riddle x y/n
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new years day I ln4
pairing: lando norris x reader
summary: in which lando reunites with his childhood crush and only has a few days after christmas to confess his feelings, slightly inspired by new years day by miss swift
notes: pt 2 of just pr is still in the works! im also working on a few requests🤸♀️enjoy this for now and happy holidays!!
masterlist
christmas eve
Lando's hands were shaking as he impatiently waited for you to greet him. It was his family's annual christmas eve party and he watched as his sisters and mother surrounded you the moment you walked through the doors. They hadn't seen you in so long so of course they insisted for you to attend the party this year. You had known Lando and his family since you were a kid seeing as you were childhood neighbors and grew up playing with him and his sisters. As you grew older, you attended his a few of his races and supported him every step of the way, but of course time and other responsibilities got in the way of your friendship. You began to grow apart over the last few years and it was starting to break Lando.
He hadn't even realized it was happening until you stopped attending the christmas parties 2 years ago, something about being too busy on work trips to come home. He had been so busy at the time with racing and having his own girlfriend that he did not even notice he had not seen his best friend in so long. After that he tried to reach out but again, time wasn't on your side because you were now too busy with your own work to keep up with the friendship for too long. Lando watched your life through your pictures on social media and felt his heart ache every time you posted, a reminder that you were growing and living a life without him.
But you were back now. And you looked even more beautiful than you did last time he saw you. You adorned a long dark red dress with black heels and Lando couldn't help but keep his gaze on solely you. You looked up as you felt his stare on you and smiled softly at him. Lando could feel like heart start to race as you excused yourself from the girls and start your way towards him.
"Lan, it's so great to see you. It's been so long!" You extended your arms as you hugged him, missing the feeling of his arms.
Lando's brain was too scattered to even respond so he just squeezed you and nuzzled his head in your neck. He couldn't believe you were back and in his arms. He wanted to stay there for the rest of the night and he couldn't help but wonder if you were feeling the same homey feeling he was. He felt you pull away and he almost pouted, thinking the hug was not long enough for his liking.
You looked at him softly and asked, "How's everything? I watched the races as much as I could and you did amazing this season! Congratulations."
You were always pretty but now? You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He felt like he was ten years old all over again, following you around like a puppy as he started developing his first real crush on a girl. He couldn't help it, you were always just so-
"Lando? Are you alright?'
He snapped out of his daze and realized how much of an idiot he must've looked. There you were talking to him and he did nothing but watch you in silence. He heard snickering and peaked over your shoulder and saw his sister watching the whole interaction with a teasing smile.
"Oh-yeah yeah. I was just zoned out there for a second haha um it's good to see you! Sorry, um what did you say before?" He could feel his face slightly heat up and he wanted to slam his head on the wall.
You giggled finding this situation amusing. You weren't used to seeing Lando like this and were a little confused on why he seemed nervous, but you quickly brushed it off and assumed he was just shocked to see you.
"I was congratulating you on your season, you did great!"
"You still watch my races?"
"Of course I do! I promised I would watch every race, remember?"
How could he forget? It was his first season in formula one and unfortunately you were too busy with school to travel with him, but before he left you pinky promised you would watch every race from that moment on. He never told you but he felt at ease knowing you were somewhere watching over him.
"Yeah, I remember."
You both spent the next hour catching up before your mothers interrupted you both saying it was time for dinner. They placed your seats together, wanting to see you both reunited after so long. They knew Lando was hopelessly in love with you, they were just waiting for you both to realize it.
The dinner felt nostalgic as you were all finally in the same room together. It was filled with laughs, catching up and stories from your childhoods. You and Lando shared stolen glances and flushed faces when someone caught the longing stares.
christmas
"She leaves right after new years day by the way." Lando's mother told him as she handed him a plate of breakfast.
"Who?"
She gave him a knowing glance and he looked down pretending like he hadn't been asking himself how much time he had before you left again and lose contact with you. Last night was amazing and he felt himself falling for you all over again. He always knew he liked you but the less he saw of you over the years, he thought those feelings dwindled. Last night proved that wrong. He tried to date other girls to forget you and it worked for a while until he started thinking of you and wondering how different things would be if he just confessed his feelings.
"Y/n. She's been so caught up in work she wants to go back to her job right away in Spain even though it's not mandatory. That girl needs a break."
"Maybe she's eager to get back because she's met a handsome spanish man." Lando's sister spoke up from beside him. He turned to her with a questioning gaze and she smirked at him.
"No. She didn't mention a guy at all last night. I doubt she's met anyone, right?" Lando's sister and mother watched as he slowly started to panic, his sister with a teasing grin and his mother with slight concern. "I mean if she's so busy with work she couldn't have time for any guy, yeah. Yeah no she can't be with anyone. Right?"
Silence.
"Flo what do you know? Did she say anything about a boyfriend?"
She burst out laughing as she watched her brother panic, she knew there was no other guy in the picture but she liked teasing her brother. Everybody knew about his love for you and though she found it amusing, she just wanted you two to be together already.
"I was just teasing! There is no guy calm down. But if don't confess about your pathetic little crush on her soon then there will be another guy whisking her away."
"What? Crush-no I don-"
"Save it. We all already know, except for her. And we're all getting a little tired of your obliviousness. Just confess before she leaves or you'll lose your chance to. She probably won't be back for another year and a lot can happen in that time span Lan."
2 days later
Lando had thought a lot about what his sister said and later that night decided to ask you to hang out over the phone. You agreed and he felt so relieved, planning on finally confessing his feelings. He psyched himself up and even got some advice from his sisters. Be a gentleman. Don't buy her flowers, you prefer chocolate. Dress nice but not like you're trying to hard. Go somewhere lowkey for dinner. Then take her on a walk and give her your jacket. Be honest. Tell her how you've always felt. If she feels the same, ask for a kiss. Take her home and walk her to the door.
The night had been going exactly as planned and there was never a moment of silence between you two as you made your way over to have dinner, always laughing and sharing stories with each other. That was until you said,
"The waitress totally has the hots for you."
"What! I don't think so." Truthfully Lando was so focused on you, that he could've easily missed her hitting on him. He quickly tried to deter the conversation and not talk about other women when he only wanted to talk about you.
"So what are you thinking of ordering?"
"Hm, I was thinking-wait the waitress is on her way here!"
"Are you guys ready to order?" She focused her gaze on Lando and gave him a sweet smile. He squirmed a bit as he could see you watching the interaction, holding in your laughter.
"Uh yeah, I'll have the pasta carbonara, please."
"Great choice. That's my favorite!"
"Oh how lovely, then i'll have the same thing."
"Perfect, are you two celebrating anything special tonight? An anniversary?"
You could barely contain your laughter, the girl seemed very sweet but you had no idea how Lando hadn't noticed she was clearly interested. She began throwing hints the moment she got their drinks and he was so oblivious to them, you found it funny.
"Um no, we're just two friends catching up."
Two friends? Catching up? Had he not made it clear this was a date?He thought back on the phone call and realized he had said 'hang out' and not explicitly date. Shit, how was he going to make it clear now?
"Lucky me then." She mumbled but you both heard it very clearly. You raised your eyebrows at Lando, wordlessly saying 'told you so'.
The rest of the dinner consisted of the waitress constantly interrupting and focusing her attention on Lando. He was beginning to get irritated but chose not to say anything, he did not want to come off as rude. Before you guys left, you got up to use the restroom and Lando used this time to check his phone. With him distracted, the waitress slipped her phone number in the pocket of his jacket that was hanging over his chair.
You both eventually walked out into the England cold and Lando suggested a walk, happy to get some time alone with you without getting interrupted. You told him you left your jacket in the car and Lando discreetly smiled. Perfect.
"No problem! Here, just take mine."
Before you could even protest, he was draping his jacket over your shoulders and you couldn't help but blush a little. So with flushed cheeks and brushing hands, you both walked and talked about everything and anything. As the winds started picking up, you slipped your arms in the jacket sleeves and put them in the pockets to warm your hands. You felt something in there and curiously took it out thinking it was just garbage.
Lovely to meet you tonight :) Call me xxx
xxx-xxx-xxxx
You felt your heart drop. He actually took her phone number. You had found the whole flirting waitress thing funny because it was clear he didn't feel the same way but with him being too nice, he didn't say anything. You guess you were wrong. He was interested. Did he wait for you to leave to the bathroom to ask?
You quickly slipped the piece of paper back in the pocket and looked at him as he rambled about some story of his friend falling for his best friend. You couldn't listen anymore, you didn't even want to be there anymore. You thought maybe after tonight that he liked you back, but maybe that just wasn't the case.
"But yeah, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Like they had been friends for so long it was a matter of time before they, you know, got together." Lando knew he was trying a little too hard but he had no idea how to transition a normal conversation to a love confession. You had stopped responding and he looked down at you and saw you completely spaced out.
"Are you okay?"
"Uh yeah. Just cold. Maybe we should get going, you don't have a coat and it's getting colder."
Lando started panicking, he had completed all the other steps his sisters told him to do but he was about to miss the most important part.
"Oh don't worry about me. I'm fine, I promi-" Achoo!
"You're already getting sick! Come on let's go." You grabbed his arm and pulled him towards his car. He admitted defeat and let himself be dragged.
There was an odd silence on the car ride home and he felt confused on your sudden change of mood. How was he going to confess now? You were clearly tired and a love confession in his car is not exactly the romance he was looking for. As he pulled up to your homes you weakly smiled at him and took off his coat.
"Let me walk you up to your door."
"No it's fine, I can walk a few steps by myself." You didn't mean for it to come out so snarky but you couldn't help it. It stunned Lando and he suddenly felt like he had done something wrong.
"Oh um okay. I'll watch you just in case. But um I had a great time tonight. We should do this again before you leave."
"Yeah, of course."
"How about new years? I'm throwing a small gathering with Max at my old apartment. Do you um want to come with me?"
You should ask a girl you actually like instead of me. Is what you were thinking but instead you said,
"Yeah, sure."
"Great! I'll pick you up at around nine?"
"Sounds good."
One more chance to admit his feelings.
new years eve
"I dont know, she's been acting strange these past few days. Her texts are so dry and I even offered to take her shopping for an outfit tonight and she denied." Lando was starting to doubt himself, he thought about every moment during your little hangout and he couldn't think of anything he did wrong. Should he have rejected the waitress? Maybe he could've been more clear on it being a date?
"Stop overthinking mate, maybe she really just is busy. She's never home, im sure shes taking the time to catch up with friends and family." Max listened to his complaints all afternoon and was getting sick of it.
"Yeah, I guess."
"Stop doubting yourself bro and snap out of it. You have to pick her up soon and tonight's a great day to confess. Just have a drink or two for a little confidence, find somewhere quiet to do it and you'll have your midnights kiss on lock."
"Okay, okay. Tonight's the night."
"Exactly! Now go bring her here!"
Tonight was not the night.
You were wearing a small, tight black dress that made Lando's head spin, and apparently a lot of other men's too because you were constantly turning heads. It was beginning to bother him as he felt like he was competing for your attention all night which led to one too many drinks. He wasn't a fan of alcohol but he definitely needed the confidence boost and his jealousy from seeing you talk to other guys led to him staying at the bar for far too long.
He didn't realize how drunk he was until he got up from the couch to talk to you and the whole room began to spin. He stumbled slightly and Max quickly stood up to catch him.
"Woah, I said one or two drinks, how many have you had?!"
"Uhh I don't know like eight or nine or ten or maybe more, i don't know." His voice was slurred and Max winced knowing there was no way he could talk to you like this.
"Okay let's get you some water and maybe some bread? To soak all the alcohol up and then you can talk to y/n."
"Nah nah, I'm fine. Let me talk to her now."
"No bro listen-"
Lando pushed Max off of him and quickly made his way to you, eager to be in your presence. He interrupted your conversation with one of his friends that he couldn't quite name due to his blurred vision. He put his arm around your shoulder and put his weight on you causing you to stumble slightly.
"Y/N! Just the girl I was looking for, hey let's go somewhere quiet. I wanna talk."
"Okay? Are you alright, Lan? Maybe we should get you some water."
"No, no. Let's go outside for a bit." He interlocked your hands and stumbled out of the room, dragging you along. He leaned against one of the trees and faced you.
"What did you want to talk about?"
"You're so pretty."
You blushed and thanked god for the cold weather, so you had an excuse for your flushed cheeks. He pulled you closer and played with the hem of your dress.
"Thank you Lando. That's what you wanted to talk about?"
"No, well kinda." He paused as he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He took a quick deep breath and tried to swallow the feeling down.
"Are you sure you're okay? You look a little pale."
"Yes, I am-" There was that nausea again, except this time he couldn't swallow the feeling down and before he knew it he was throwing up.
"OH MY GOD! LAN."
Max heard the commotion and immediately made his way towards you. His eyes widen as he looked at you with Lando's throw up on the lower half of your dress and looking like you wanted to hurl yourself. He ran back in and got you napkins before going back out.
"Oh god, here you y/n take these and go into Lando's old room upstairs, first door on the right. There's a bathroom in there and spare clothes you can use."
"Thank you Max, do you need me to bring him water?"
"No no I got it from here, just go clean yourself up."
Lando continued to empty his stomach as Max winced but continued to rub his back. After he finished he grabbed a water bottle and took him upstairs to his old bed.
"There you guys are! How are you doing Lan, do you need anything?" You said as you walked out of the bathroom in a new change of clothing.
Even in his drunken state, he couldn't help but to feel embarrassment. He had just fucked up his chance, and it wasn't even midnight yet.
"I'm so so sorry y/n. I'm so embarrassed, I had too much to drink and I didn't mean to, I swear!" He slurred out.
"It's okay Lando, I promise. Here, lie down for a little bit and drink some water, it will make you feel better."
Max smiled as he watched you take care of his idiotic friend and walked out to give you some privacy.
"Im so stupid. Im sorry, y/n."
"Stop apologizing Lan! I promise you, I am fine. Now close your eyes you look tired."
"But it's not midnight yet."
"That's okay, it will be a new year when you wake up."
You had no idea that the real reason he wanted to stay up was to be your new years kiss. Another plan down the drain. He pouted as he looked at you, you're leaving soon and who knows when he'll see you again.
"Come on, stop pouting. I'll watch over you as you sleep."
"Really?" He looked at you with childlike excitement as his green eyes widened at you.
"Of course, now scooch over."
You both missed the fireworks and celebrations of the new year but that was okay, you were safe in each others arms sleeping.
Lando woke up quite early considering how early he fell asleep the night before. He looked down on your sleeping figure on his chest. He thought hard about what happened last night for you to end up in his arms. The memories came quickly, the dress, the drinks, then the puke. He scrunched his face up and fought the urge to groan in embarrassment. He couldn't believe he managed to fuck up again. He sighed then carefully got up to get some painkillers for his throbbing headache.
He went down to the kitchen and looked around at the mess from the party. Glitter on floor, bottles everywhere, polaroids laying around on the floor. He couldn't stop thinking about last night and started to pick some garbage up to get his mind off of it. He almost wanted to cry, though you were nice about it, it was still a hard blow to his ego. He looked like some idiot who couldn't hold his alcohol in front of you and he wondered if you changed your perception of him after last night. He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't hear you come down. He was startled by the sudden movement in the corner of his eye causing him to drop the bottle in his hands. Shit. He quickly tried to pick up some of the big pieces up which was a big mistake since he accidentally cut his hand in the process.
"Im so sorry Lan, I didn't mean to scare you. You're bleeding now, let me see."
Of course it was you. Another embarrassing moment to add to the list.
"It's okay, I'm the idiot who grabbed the glass."
You gently grabbed his hand then led him to the bathroom where you had seen a first aid kit. You were so soft and gentle with him as you cleaned the cut in his hand. The mix of you nursing his bleeding hand with last night's disaster and his hangover had his mind foggy and emotional. Lando's eyes began to tear up and he couldn't even pinpoint why. Was he still drunk? Is it because you're leaving tomorrow and he didn't confess? Or was it the embarrassment from last night?
"There you go, good as new." You looked up and you were faced with his pained expression and immediately began to panic. You knew Lando wasn't emotional, over the years you had known him you had only seen him cry a few times.
"Lan, what's going on? What's wrong?"
Your worry was his breaking point and the tears began to fall. You quickly pulled him into your embrace and rubbed his back in hopes of comforting him.
"I'm sorry, this is so stupid. God why the fuck am I crying right now?"
"No, no if it's bothering you it's not stupid and whatever it is, you can tell me, I won't judge."
You pulled away and even though you were confused with his behavior the last few days, you wiped off the tears from his face and were willing to do anything to make him feel better.
"Talk to me Lan."
"I love you."
"What?"
His eyes widened as the words accidentally slipped out his mouth. He didn't mean to say them but you were being so sweet and gentle with him even after everything. There goes the romantic confession.
"No! Um I didn't mean that, I don't even like you."
"Oh."
"NO! Ughh, fuck it."
He grabbed your face and pulled your lips together. You quickly kissed him back and felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. Neither of you could believe this was happening right now, but you were both so content with the moment. Once you pulled away, he kept his hand on your face and smiled at you softly.
"Please don't go tomorrow."
"I won't."
notes: this was not proofread at all so if there were mistakes...my bad
#lando norris#f1 x reader#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#lando norris smau#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#ln4#f1 fanfic
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