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#started out a fear to be conquered

darkestmad-er · 1 month

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Hello sexy,

I have one dare for you. If you would be kind and show us the hottest picture of yourself in your gallery rn, that would be awesome!

Thank you ❤️

You choose

#never really liked taking pictures of myself #still don't #started out a fear to be conquered #don't take my personal pictures #kinda like the art of it #photography #for the blog (mutuals ✨)#you choose #told you I'm indecisive #asks #asks open #anonymous or not #don't be shy #i don't bite 😏#which one is your favourite?#m.a.d #enjoy the blog

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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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Danny laid across his throne, legs planted across the left arm of the ornate chair and back pressed uncomfortably against the right.

"Listen," Danny started, letting his head flop to the side as he glared at a hovering Observant. "This meeting has wasted enough of my time. You all have been arguing for hours and that's without Clockwork slowing things down."

"Your Majesty, this is a matter of great importance. Belial means to overthrow and rule my-our world!"

"I am distinctly aware aware of that," Ancients, Danny couldn't wait to go home and rid himself of the formal speech he'd had to adopt in order to be taken seriously. Well, as seriously as he cared to be taken when sprawled across his throne instead of sitting on it intimidatingly or something. He slowly placed his gaze on the suddenly still demon sitting across from him. "Yet you've proposed fifteen different plans that were all unviable for whatever reasons you've cooked up. Your conclusion is that I must step in. Does your world not have heroes to take care of it?"

The demon- another lord of hell from this Belial’s universe- fell silent.

“Ah. But if they do, they would also take care of you.”

“No- no, that’s not-”

Danny allowed his voice to drop to the artic freeze he knew his core was capable of. "I opened these these doors to allow all of you to present me with reasonable concerns regarding your own universes and realms. What is not on the table for discussion is your petty politics. Do you think I am unaware of your intentions in tattling to me? That I do not know you are trying to use me to further your own position?"

"Your Majesty, I-" The demon growled out, fear slowly coating its expression.

"It no longer amuses me. You think that I am young and easy to manipulate." Danny froze the demon to its chair. It tried to break free, but Danny isn't the High King of the Infinite Realms for nothing. "Bring to me a miserable problem like this ever again, one that could be easily solved if you used even a smidgen of your intelligence, and you will find exactly how I tore Pariah Dark from his throne."

Not that Danny knew how he did it either, he just did it.

"Yes, Your Majesty. My-my apologies."

The room is dead (Danny patted himself on the back for the pun) silent. Some of the Ancients looked bored, like Clockwork who knew Danny would never hurt them, but everyone else looked close to crying. He held eye contact with the demon until it looked away.

When Danny settled back into the throne and allowed his ice to dissipate, the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

"The next item on the agenda is another demon, by the name of Trigon." Clockwork announced, the large piece of paper comically huge next to his currently toddler-like body.

"Another?"

He flicked an amused look at the previous demon, who kept his trap firmly shut.

"He is attempting to take over multiple worlds in an attempt to conquer the universe. I had thought you would be interested in this one, Your Majesty, as he plans to begin with Earth 135."

Danny stilled. That was his Earth. His haunt.

"Does he know of the Realms?"

"Vaguely, I believe."

"Then he should know the rules. I will wait to see if my Earth's heroes are capable to step to the task."

Danny would be a hypocrite if he doesn’t let the heroes of his Earth try first, even if he is one of those heroes.

"Of course," Clockwork grinned at him, fully aware of the shit Danny's about to stir back home. Ah, the wonders of being able to influence the time stream. Perhaps the young Ghost King will finally get some friends, and maybe get those pesky speedsters to stop making his jobs so hard. Cujo yipped at Danny as the King begrudgingly moved onto the next topic.

——

Raven shuddered as she watched the footage of her "brothers" laughing while steering their human "meatbags" around. She turned back to the giant circle of donated blood and herb filled candles.

“This is a nuclear option, don’t you think?” Green Arrow mumbled, clearly not against it by the half hearted way he’d said it. The Star City billionaire nursed his cracked ribs.

“No,” she floated over to where Zatanna and Constantine kneeled, trying to see if they needed help with the inscriptions. “Trigon is coming soon, and my brothers will no doubt find their way here in a moment. We are out of time.”

“Yeah. Plus, we don’t want Raven to be turned into a portal.” Garfield piped up, switching animal forms rapidly.

“No one dies.” Red Robin muttered. His wrist computer was open, monitoring the surroundings of the open field they found themselves uneasily occupying. Batman grunted in affirmation, eyeing the tree line. Every hero except the magical ones were on look out, preparing themselves for one more battle against the two demons that were trying to take Raven and force her into becoming a portal.

“Hey guys, we might want to hurrythisupbecausethey’re kind of close!” Impulse slammed into the room.

“Done.” Zatanna got up, motioning for everyone to step back. In Superman’s case, he floated back.

“Too bad you won’t get to use it,” a voice drawled, dripping with malice and the screams of a thousand souls.

“Come now, little sister. Why fight fate? Be grateful father has deigned to spare you. If not for your dirty blood being useful, you would be dead, little sister. Give up, before our patience runs out alongside the lives of your little pets.” Another, mocking, voice gleefully rumbled.

Raven would rather gouge out her own heart than to claim these two as any type of family.

“You won’t touch them.” Raven snarled, powers rising even as the marks on her body burned a painful red.

“Buy us some time!”

With that, the group of beaten and battered heroes rose to clash against just two demons, for a chance to save their world.

——

The Circle crackled. Danny felt a tug on his core. He followed the thread of the summoning. Oh. It was his haunt. Earth 135. Hm. It tasted of blood. Desperation? A hint of anticipation. Oh, an overload of fear. Could use some more hope, but Danny understood that it was rather hard to season these kinds of summonings with hope.

“Stop.” Danny commanded, straightening in his chair.

“Sire, we have more-”

“There is an issue with my haunt,” with that, he followed the summons.

——

“Ugh,” was the first thing everybody on the frozen battlefield heard. The demons had smacked away many of the heroes, but they all turned as one when the circle lit up a bright green. “Why do you people always use blood? I’m dead, I don’t need any more iron!”

A boy

Raven’s eldest brother let out a hideous rumble. “You fools tried to summon the king, and you got a dead boy. And now, you’ve doomed another.”

Constantine looked resigned, and regretful. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered. It was just a kid. John might be a lot of things, but even he found summoning dead kids for demons to devour was just a step too far. “Shite, we got the wrong fucking-”

“Hey, man, that’s rude,” the boy snapped back, waving John off.

“Brother, kill the whelp.”

“I vote on not killing the whelp. Not killing at all, really,” the boy stepped out of the massive blood circle, wrinkling his nose at the drying stains.

“This is not one of your pesky democracies, fool.”

In response, the demons lunged at him, ignoring the screams of the surrounding heroes as they shoved their human arms through the boy’s stomach.

“So,” the boy continues, “I heard your dad was after my haunt?”

“Your haunt, whelp? This earth shall be his! And through him, ours!” Raven slammed against the demons with her power, shadows enlarging and tossing them away from the unharmed… ghost boy?

“Is it?”

——

Wow, these demons are so rude. Normally, it’d be a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffy halls of his throne room. But since they’re attacking his haunt…

“Thanks. You’re… Raven, right?”

Raven nodded, arms outstretched in concentration as she held her brothers back.

“You have to go. We’re- we’re sorry you got pulled into this, but it’s not safe here.”

“Eh. It’s cool. You don’t have to do that anymore, by the way.” Danny stepped forward once more, green skin shifting and gliding as everything about him sharpened. He flew at the demons piloting the human shells, catching them around the necks and dragging the demons out of their stolen bodies. The threw them even further away as he floated in the air, a beacon of green and white. Raven thought it looked like hope.

“My name is Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realms,” let it be known that Danny always had an eye for dramatic entrances. He shifted into something more off, more eldritch, more kingly. The crown flared to life above his head. “You have invaded my haunt. You have challenged me. What do you plead?”

“You’re not-” they said.

“Wrong answer,” Danny flew at them once more, body contorting into something undeniably terrorizing, his maw unhinging and crunching down on the demons with a sound that made the present heroes cringe.

“Ugh,” Danny grunted, turning back and floating peacefully to the group of heroes- Tucker and Sam would be so stoked he met Wonder Woman and Batman!- and chewed rapidly. He shifted back into his normal form. “Eating demons always leaves me with indigestion. And their bones get everywhere up in my teeth!” Danny pulled out a giant femur looking bone from his mouth, despite it not logically fitting in there.

“Right. No eating demons, solid life advice.” Red Robin said.

“Right? So, you’re Raven! It’s nice to meet you! Think you can summon your dear ol’ dad for me?”

“But we summoned you to stop Trigon, not help him come here.” Superman said, frowning.

“One! That summoning circle is wack. Those things you piled up as offerings? Mid. Also, if you thought you could control me with those terribly written spells, you’re dead wrong. And yes, I am making puns about death.” Danny jabs an aggressive finger towards the shabby circle.

“Have you considered that maybe not every being that can be summoned wants a shit ton of useless blood? Like what if I wanted food? And two, how am I supposed to beat up Trigon if he’s still stuck in the prison realm?”

“I have a cup of coffee,” Nightwing offered. “Kid Flash could probably get you food, right?”

“Yep, surethinganythingyouwantyourMajesty.”

“You wouldn’t catch me alive accepting food from a speedster. You people fuck up the timelines so much,” Danny grumbled, crunching on the last of Raven’s brothers. Raven thought she should probably sit down.

“But you’re dead.” Batman said, something about his voice catching the sharp attention of his protégés who all started making cutting motions at him.

“Fair,” Danny pointed at him, grinning. “I’ll take two pizza and Nightwing’s coffee as payment for taking care of your little demon overlord problem. Raven, summon your dad.”

——

Didn’t much like the characterization of this piece but it’s been in my drafts for a while and I needed it out

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 4 months

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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

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sagaduwyrm · 6 months

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DCxDP Idea - Tucker x Tim Soulmate AU:

Now on AO3

So the Justice League believes the Fentons and the GIW. Not completely, but enough. That’s the bad news. The worse news is that they have Danny, and are apparently planning to use him in some kind of spell to banish all the ghosts from the living plane. Which, okay, sure, not the worst idea, except that trying to banish a Liminal is a great way to kill them instead, and guess what everyone in Amity Park is? Not to mention what powering such a ritual could do to Danny.

Tucker is not having a panic attack. He might have one later, but right now he has a job to do.

So the thing about the Justice League is that they’re powerful and together they cover each other’s weaknesses, but individually they are, if not manageable, then at least survivable. They can’t take on the entire league, but Ghosts and their ilk have fangs for a reason, and every predator knows how to divide and conquer.

Technus and Skulker are using Lex Luthor’s tech to deal with the Supers. Jazz has got emotional manipulation and FrightKnight’s sword to take down the Flashes. Desiree agreed to start a mage’s duel with the Justice League Dark. Sam, Ember, Johnny, and Kitty hopefully have the watchtower in hand, with Walker playing backup to get Danny free.

Tucker has two jobs. One, work with Technus to take down the Justice League communications without making it look like anything is up. Two, for the love of the Ancients, do not let the Bats realize something is wrong.

And you know what? He’s got this. Duul Aman was the most feared sorcerer of his time. Tucker isn’t him, not really, but he’s no slouch in the magic department. Egyptian magic, the way Duul Aman knew it, was almost like code. Relearning it was as easy as breathing, but the real reason Tucker’s job is to deal with the bats is because he took it further than his last life ever could. Sure, he’s a dab hand at illusions, his curses are almost as nasty as Sam’s, and instant sandstorms are never not useful, but where he really thrives is with tech. Afterall, if ectoplasm can be combined with computers, why can’t magic?

Tucker is the world's first technomage and he’s goddamn proud of it.

It’s his saving grace now. Infiltrating Oracle’s system took weeks, and he still wasn’t able to look at or do anything important, but it was enough of an opening for his magic. He wormed his illusion through every single piece of bat-tech he could reach, whispering in their ear, Gotham needs you. The Justice League is fine. Gotham is where the problems are.

Weeks of work and sleepless nights, and he still doubts he’ll be able to keep them from noticing anything for more than a few hours. Luckily, by that time Danny will be free and Tucker will be long gone from Gotham.

This confidence lasts until he brushes hands with another guy in the cafe. He can feel the bond snap into place, a soulmark crawling across his body. Tim Drake stares at him, eyes wide but sharp.

Tim Drake.

Red Robin.

Shit.

Time to see whether fighting ghosts extends to fighting humans, because he is not letting this asshole mess up Danny’s rescue.

+++

The first thing Tim notices when he meets his soulmate is the rage in the man’s eyes.

They’re really pretty eyes. A bright, glowing gold, lined in kohl. Almost certainly a sign of magic.

They look at him like the man wants to turn him inside out and burn the remains. Tim’s a little offended, beneath the shock and awe.

“Fuck,” the man hisses. Tim’s offense is starting to supersede his surprise. He’s a catch, thank you very much.

He says as much. The man laughs, and it’s almost friendly. The cafe is empty. The people of Gotham have good instincts, and there’s something in the air around this man that puts Tim’s hackles up.

“You know, I think that’d be more believable if you hadn’t started this.”

Tim’s brow wrinkled. He felt like he’d remember starting something with his soulmate though? What was he supposed to have started, anyway? Saying ‘this’ wasn’t very specific.

He rolled and dodged to avoid the sudden lash of golden sand. Ah. A fight. He could do that. Figure out why his soulmate was angry later, defeat him now.

He reached up to call for backup and only got static.

Shit.

He was on his own. Time to show this bastard why underestimating a bat was a bad idea.

#There's a part two to this now #Check the notes #Enemies to Lovers #potentially #Tim’s gotta put some work in #Tucker’s usually pretty chill but…#fandom #danny phantom #dpxdc #dp x dc #batman #fandom stuff #dc #tucker foley #tim drake #Tucker/Tim #technogeek

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yanderenightmare · 7 months

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Todoroki Enji - Endeavor

TW: NSFW, dubcon/noncon, fantasy AU, orc ! Enji, Elf ! darling, size difference, exhibitionism, public sex, humilation, race war between orcs and elfs

fem reader

Thinking about Orc ! Enji taking the pretty elven princess as his little pleasure-pet after winning the war between their races…

You don’t even know the language, but you know that it’s you the big men around the table are laughing at when you’re eased down on his lap. Uselessly crying while his fat cock bullies its way inside your pretty little cunt.

His hand is large enough to reach around your entire neck, while yours can't even reach around one of his fat fingers, let alone do anything at all with enough power to stop him. But though he’s very able to pop your head clean off, his hand settles for simply collaring you – squeezing your throat for fun, but more in an effort to keep you still as he aims himself against your taut opening.

And you’re sweating just from the fear of it despite the many failed attempts of breaching you – you know he's not going to stop trying until it's done. Able to peek down at the towering monstrosity, how it's blushed red and wet and swollen to a size bigger than your arm, rubbing itself against your slit, making you shake at the friction – feeling his thick ridges and veins catch on your clit where it grows even bigger and thicker against your stomach.

His other hand holds your thigh up, showing everyone how his cockhead smudges a kiss into your pussy-lips before finally pressing the fat bulb inside you – making you wince with wet cries as he slowly forces every last meaty inch inside your pretty elven pussy until he’s made a proud belly bulge protruding from your body as though he’s put a baby in you already.

You can only guess that he’s the leader – the way everyone pounds their fist on the table, cheering and hollering once he has himself bottomed out inside you. Your eyes lazy with tears as you pant with moans, gulping for breath with your little pink tongue lolled out like a dumb bitch in heat – chin resting on his thick pointer finger where drool starts dribbling down from the corner of your mouth.

He feels you go completely slack and lets go of your throat, laying you against his chest instead. You would have barreled over if it weren’t for how your hands had been tied together and hung around his strong neck like a necklace, keeping you there – pretty tits heaving with sweat – cute things, smaller than his balls.

He picks up your other thigh, spreading them wide – showing everyone how good he stuffs your cunt – lifting you up and down the length – making you feel torn in two where you clench around him in hopes of staying whole. Moaning like a brazen slut with tears spilling down your cheeks and drool running down your chin, making everyone there coo and chuckle – grinning at the sight of their leader making a bitch out of the pretty elven princess whose kingdom they’d just conquered.

You’re just his dumb little cock-pet from now on – chained to his bed and made to take care of his needs every time he gives your collar a tug. And it's the same with all your pretty brothers and sisters – put in cages to please his army while they plunder more of your land and round the rest of you up – only for every last one of you to be subjugated to the same cruel fate.

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bakugoushotwife · 1 month

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𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 // 𝖙𝖜𝖔: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗

↳ cw: minors dni, dark content. proceed at your own risk. pentrative sex x2, riding, doggy, nothing really crazy here tbh, pregnancy, soft sukuna, human!sukuna, good husband fr. ↳ series masterlist ↳ jjk masterlist

you wake up the next morning enveloped in a warmth of an embrace you’ve never known. the sun was filtered red through the sheer curtain hanging over the window; the air a peaceful kind of quiet. you smile in remembrance, at the ache in your muscles and the realization of your new husband’s hard chest beneath you. he snores, you discover, every gentle breath bringing a little growl from his lips. you stifle a giggle to avoid waking him up. you have to smother out a hiss as you adjust yourself on him for the same reason—two more discoveries coming in tow–well three. you were still naked and impaled by a hard cock. now, you had heard stories of this. the old women of your village spoke of the differences between the male and female anatomy and this was one of the biggest inconveniences of being a man–so you’ve been told. men wake up nearly every morning with erections—simply a blood flow effect. however different from most men, it seems not even your husband could avoid such a problem.

only, it’s creating a problem for you. he’s so big your hips are sore from keeping them in this position for so long–a sweet ache you know you’ll learn to live with. but besides that, you’re having flashbacks to last night, the glorious feeling of being fucked for the first time. you were so meek and unsure, but now…you feel a bit bolstered. it’s like your hips have a mind of their own, whispering to you that the only way to soothe the pain is by using the muscles. he’s asleep, your conquering king of a man. and surely, if being his wife meant being readily available for him to make use of—then the same would also be true in reverse, right? so you lick your lips, blinking the bleariness of sleep out of your eyes, and then push yourself up to lean back on him; his snoring hitches immediately. your eyes dart to study his face, to see if he’s caught you in your sneaky act. but he doesn’t move, his eyes remain closed and still. you’re safe. you set your brow in determination, getting your knees under you properly.

your heart thumps loudly in your chest. you swear that will wake him before your movements do. but you can’t deny it’s exhilarating. you know you have nothing to fear even if you do wake him after all; except maybe him taking control for himself and ruining your ability to stand for another day. you’re awkward and unsure with your movements like a newborn fawn, slowly rocking back and forth with your head tossed back. you were still naked from the previous nights’ marriage festivities, as was he. so feeling him raw and bare was no issue, a hand sneaking up to fondle your own chest. little satisfied sighs and breathy moans roll freely, a gorgeous melody for anyone’s ears.

sukuna, of course, has been awake for nearly an hour at this point. he woke up before even you, still soaking in the reality that he has a beautiful little wife tucked away on his cock. that this wasn’t all some realistic dream or cruel technique of an enemy. he spent every second admiring the way your body inhaled and exhaled; the part of your lips and flutter of your lashes as you slept against his heartbeat. he got to spend forever like this, with mornings like these, your supple body tangled up in his own firm one, your soft breasts resting like pillows beneath you. this was too good to be true.

when you started to rouse, he quickly feigned sleep. part of him wanted to see if you would admire him in the same way he did you—but you were doing one better. it was growing more and more difficult to fake his slumber, your perfect little body bouncing up and down on him, his eyes cracked just wide enough to see your pouty lips purse with the need to shower him in their kisses; cock twitching inside you with the way your tits bounced with every slam down on his monstrous cock. you lean forward, stifling little whimpers as your pussy hugs and squeezes the very life out of him. your lips find his, and he struggles to stay limp and unresponsive. you whine with need, your dainty fingers tracing the calcified mask on his face. he can’t pretend anymore, kissing you back with the unbridled passion you always get from him. you squeal with a mix of surprise and happiness upon realizing that he’s awake, leaning back with a giggle.

“good morning, husband.” you greet, a lazy smile with lidded eyes, panting with pleasure.

“what a good morning indeed, my little wife.” he purrs, his voice sending quivers to your pussy. the deep rasp of it was intoxicating, it almost embarrasses you how responsive your body is to it. his massive hands stabilize the width of your hips, a lazy smirk donning his own features. “go on, my queen. make yourself cum with your husband’s cock.” he insists, fire blazing in those already crimson eyes.

he has such a way with words. your pussy clamps around him again, fits of spasms causing you to flutter as well as rock your hips. he was sensitive from sheathing himself inside of your cozy cunt all night, and the way you look and sound doesn’t help matters. he knows he only has minute before you both cum, and these are minutes he’ll cherish until he gets to do it again tonight.

“ryo–men!” you whimper brokenly, the sound of it like a chant to his ears—a name he used to despise hearing upon the lips of others was a treasure coming from you. sukuna was too formal for his wife to use with him, he certainly used your name enough. your head bobs quickly, brows pinching in sheer pleasure. it’s the telltale sign, he’s discovered, that you’re close to cumming beautifully.

“yes, my precious little lamb, cum for me…” he demands in a tone that declared nothing but his fondness for you. your body shudders forward, jumping to obey his command, everything tightens up; your cunt around his cock, your legs on either side of his thick torso, even your pretty nipples harden up again. then he feels the gush of fluid coat his stiff length before that erupts inside you too. you slump against the comfort of his tattooed chest, purring happily at the feeling of his seed. you are trying to turn that into an heir for him after all. his hearty chuckles bring you back to the present moment, where his hands brace your hips. “what a pleasant way to start my day, little lamb.”

you smile, sitting up to meet his smitten red eyes. “i hope we spend most of our mornings this way.” you nod, just the silky sheet wrapped around your little frame. he arches a brow at that, a lazy grin that still clearly came from this softened morning state of him.

“most? not all~” he teases, sitting up to pepper kisses to your face; his arms tighten around your back, biceps flexing to hold you taut to his body. this was a version of him that was only for you, you decided, the morning time has nothing to do with it.

“i think my legs may fall off if i try to do that every morning–” you giggle, the sound so beautifully relaxing to his mind he can do nothing but laugh with you. that’s so foreign, laughing from a place of genuine joy instead of malice or brutal teasing. but it feels good. it feels like something he could get used to in your presence, a delight he could only indulge in with you. you were warm and kind and soft, the antithesis of everything he was. but you were also bold, and fiery, and honest—other traits he values just as much as waking up body on body. you complete him, a total monster, with your good humor and even temper–there is no doubt about it, you are the love of his life.

and he would do anything to protect you.

when a knock sounds at the door, he finds himself tucking you behind him with his left arms, staring at the heavy wood to register the energy behind it. he grunts his relief, covering you properly with the other fur blankets of the mattress.

“you may enter, uraume.” his deep voice thundered , giving you a nod of reassurance as the knob clicks to open. in struts someone in long robes and white hair styled in a bob, red streaks around the center.

“sukuna-sama,” they bow deeply, tucking their hands inside their sleeves. “good morning. i hope you had a good rest.” you feel something akin to jealousy bubbling in your gut. they bow again. “my queen, i am honored to meet you. i am your humble servant, please send for me should you need anything.” they hum.

“good, good. get us breakfast.” sukuna smirks, fond of the unsure smile on your face. not only do you love him, but you’ll get jealous over him? and that fact fills him with such pride he doesn’t know what else to do but smirk. oh the surprises you’re showing him daily…

uraume bows once more and exits the room on a mission to get their boss and his new wife something to eat.

“uraume is an outcast like i was. i have cared for them as my servant since we came across each other. they are loyal–but i can promise there is nothing to worry about, my love.” he says tenderly. you don’t doubt him, you would never doubt him. but his words put you at ease. you nod a few times, twisting to give him another kiss before slipping out of bed to freshen up before the faithful servant returns to see you so disheveled.

he grabs your cheek before you can escape him completely, “you trust me.”

your eyes bounce between the mask and his plain eye. “of course i do.” you grin, “i’m just going to get dressed for the day!” you hum, leaning into the warmth that takes up your entire head and face. he smiles softly.

“good, we have a big day ahead of us.” he says, admiring the glow to your skin, the happiness crinkling your eyes. “we’ll have an official coronation by the end of the week. the people from the lands i have conquered will recognize their rulers or die.” he hums, a pleasant lilt to his voice even when he’s saying something vicious like that. “then we’ll focus on the renovations to the castle and building our family.”

your heart thumps. he has such big plans, all of which include you. he wants to create a life with you, for you. the strongest man on the planet wants you to be the mother of his children and rightful queen in ruling alongside him—something he wants to share with you. he has all the power in the world to make you completely and utterly subservient to him—to take what he wants and not waste his time on anything else. marrying at all spoke volumes, but the genuine love he handles you with is enamoring in and of itself.

“i can’t wait. planning will be fun. i love to host.” you wiggle your hips, opening your closet to find some robes for the day. he lays on his side and lovingly watches you comb through your hair and wash your face clean. your body is littered with lovebites from the night before, some only reddened from his added attention this morning. you’re so radiant to a point he almost doesn’t want anyone to look at you. but alas, you’re a natural born leader and a queen too perfect to hide away. even if that will manifest his own jealousy. your happiness is his primary goal—something he never thought he would say.

uraume returns with omurice for the two of you, and eagerly discusses plans about the coronation with you. they will spread the word immediately so that the subjects from far and wide may travel in for the event. and uraume will contact the finest architects to start bringing sukuna’s designs to life. your excitement is palpable by the time you finish breakfast.

the rest of the week ticks by without much fanfare. the two of you have settled in your makeshift palace—or castle as sukuna has taken to calling it. your life as a married woman is lavish. someone brings you your food and runs your bath water for you, braids your hair as soon as it’s combed through—which your husband insists on doing himself. he dotes on you in all of his spare time, working tirelessly to “welcome” all the travelers into the growing city he was proud to call home. this was his wife’s birthplace, of course he would erect your lives here.

the night before the coronation, he comes to bed later than usual. “some of these nasty little gremlins talk incessantly–” he complains, finding you in a tight silken nightgown laying atop the sheets. you seemingly know what you do to him. it’s already hard not to destroy your little body, and then you have to go and provoke him–

“i missed you.” you purr, crawling on your knees to the end of the bed. oh the desire burning through his veins is ominous for you. you may have to be crowned seated tomorrow. “i know you were so busy today…let’s unwind?” you sit back on your haunches. he would move mountains to keep you here like this forever.

his eyes siren in on you, merely a wolf preying on his lamb. “i missed you too, tiny queen.” he stalks forward, pawing at the breadth of your hips, the swells of your breast. “you know just how to make a bothersome day better.” he mutters, tucking his face into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning over your skin—raising goosebumps in its wake. the simple touch of his hands mixed with the feeling of his voice rumbling against your veins had your eyes shutting to try and tame the yearning stinging in your pussy. “i want to put my children in you.”

a small moan slips past your lips. your black widow technique is suited for it, just an added ability to be fertile since it’s related to animals and mother earth. his promises to breed you only activated a very deep seeded part of you that only he can satisfy. he eases you back, turning you to a position on your knees. you brace yourself, the chill of excitement racing down your spine. his large hand smoothes against the soft pudge of your belly, prompting you to sink in against it in the most perfect arch.

“i’ll be nestled in so nicely my little lamb,” he promises, the deep silken baritone of his voice has you clenching, the familiar wetness drooling down your thighs. you’re so easily worked up. but he can’t bring himself to just take from you, his inability to say how much he loves you easily replaced by his need to show it. his hand angles lower, calloused middle finger petting back the hood of your precious clit, your breath catching in your throat. “so deep i’ll cum straight into your womb.”

just his presence makes your head woozy. that’s before the gentle circles to your swollen bundle, before his strong body pressed against your back had your knees wobbling against the mattress. he found it adorable that your hips moved on their own, grinding into his hand to seek your own pleasure. he loved watching it, loved listening to your little whimpers as you processed just how good a few of his digits could make you feel. “so much cum, drown your poor insides,” he sighs in faux boredom, grinning as you fling your head back with a gasp. “do it, go ahead.”

and how could you not? the perfect combination of touch and taunts to get you to the precipice. your orgasm shatters your insides, eyes widening at the intensity. that’s a feeling you’ll never entirely get used to no matter how many times sukuna gives it to you. he chuckles fondly, tapping your swelling cunt. you hear the shuffle of fabric and then you feel it; his weighty cockhead dripping against your entrance. “that’s a good little wife, let’s see how many you can handle on my cock…”

your hands fist the sheets, body going rigid to accommodate his size in this position. it hurts so blisteringly good, lightning sparkling in your vision as he, as promised, prods at your poor cervix, in for a long ride tonight. his hands position themselves on your hips, drawing the fat of your ass along the fat length of him, eliciting wanton moan after wanton moan from you. you stretch your arms out in front of you like a cat, grunting and whining from the way his hips collide with your asscheeks. it’s all you can hear though, even drowning out the sounds of your own moans. he’s drilling you; cramming inches of dick in such a small space he can’t believe you’re real. no wonder he’s so taken with you. he goes impossibly harder–faster, your arms giving out beneath you–face collapsing into the bed.

“ryo—” your voice is muffled from the sheets, body crumpled up beneath him. oh it’s so hard not to break you entirely—only out of his utter love for you is he able to keep a clear mind, be thankful that you have enamored him so. your hands brace against the headboard, nails scratching at the wood in front of you, vision completely blacked out–the only thing you can think of is how fuzzy you feel all over.

“cum, i’ll turn you over and keep going.” he growls against your shoulder, looping an arm around your neck to put you in a secured headlock. it’s not choking, but it’s suffocating all the same. the cushion of his strapping bicep makes you drool from both ends, spasming around your husband’s cock for the nth time since you’ve been married. his voice commands such obedience, so domineering in the way that he orders you cum for him. your body physically cannot disobey.

his grin is devilish once he feels the warm rush, and he stays good on his promise, flipping you to a more comfortable position on your back. “that’s one…” he hums softly, picking up your legs at their bend, pinning them to his hips as he slides back in. you scream out at the added pressure, the stimulation so much to endure at the hands of your passionate husband.

instantly, he’s rocking slowly. you know there’s a plan, a secret bite. he’s hitting you so deep, smacking into your breeding spot each and every time, warming it up to the idea of taking every drop of him. your skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat, lips swollen and pink from all the chewing on them to quiet yourself. your gorgeous tits bounce to punctuate every thrust–he can’t get enough of you. he puts your legs on his shoulders with a little snarl, nipping at the skin on your neck.

you’re drifting blissfully in waves of pleasure, barely conscious already. “so beautiful, fucked out, making cream on my dick..” he chuckles into your ear, licking the shell and nipping the lobe before giving you a hungry kiss. it demonstrates his true passion, his genuine worship of his wife. his hips snap a little faster, mouth angled over yours to swallow up all your moans. “so good for her husband. taking me so very well..”

he ends up drawing four orgasms out of you total. tomorrow he’ll try five—in the name of celebration of course! you’ll officially be king and queen tomorrow. and he intends to keep such festivities going for as long as he can. for once, sukuna has a lot to celebrate.

the next day, uraume is stretched thin trying to attend to you both. you require the most attention, as your hair and robes are rather intricate and need assistance to put together. but sukuna is impatient and doesn’t like to be separated from you for any length of time, so he insists on changing in the room with you and sitting with you as your hair is braided and weaved. no one would have pegged him as the clingy type—but it does make sense when you think on it past his brute surface. you are the only person he has ever cherished. putting you in danger was something he just simply wasn’t willing to do. problem is, he considers anywhere out of his immediate sight as danger.

eventually though, you’re dressed like the queen you’re soon to become. sukuna wore simply ravishing black robes, allowing all the color and decor for his beautiful bride. he smiles at you as you step off of the stool in all your glory.

“you look beautiful in that…you always do.” he says with a nearly dopey expression on his face. he reaches for your hand and tucks it around his bicep, leading you out on the terrace overlooking the crowd. a raucous roar greets the two of you a you come into the scene, red and black flowing fabric swaying with the gentle breeze; highlighting the complexion of your skin and the warmth of your smile.

a town shaman performs the crowning rite. it’s short and simple, your crowns anything but. while the general consensus of the crowd seems pleasant, you can pick out a few less than satisfied faces out amongst the rest of your new congregation–a hubbub of your old one. sukuna takes your hand once again, standing before everyone on an elevated platform, leaving without another word. no grand speech, no slaughtering to strike fear into their hearts. just the faint smile as he leads you back to the quarters you’ve come to love so much.

you almost expect him to get straight to it, fiddling with the tie on your dress robes, but he helps you with a gentle hand. he’s still in disbelief, honestly. these are dreams he hadn’t even dared to dream before. you make everything better. it’s…shocking. he helps you into your regular nightgown, disrobing on his own. “how does it feel..? to officially be queen–my queen?” he asks as he peels back the covers for you. he seems eager to pick your brain, and you know it’s his way of figuring out how he feels exactly too.

“i feel good. i feel like we have a lot to do, and we have a lot of support and ability to make this a really successful reign, my love.” you smile. laying on your side to look at him. he’s mirroring your posture, reaching out to paw at your hips, bringing you closer, wrapping his frame around yours in a tight hug. “i feel like we’ve already accomplished so much in bringing all these people together!”

your answer brings a smile to his face. he should have known it would be some optimistic cute utterance like that, you’re genuinely too sweet sometimes. “how about you? how do you feel?”

“i feel…like i am dreaming.” he replies, nuzzling his nose against yours. the gesture makes your heart swell and heat up. you just spend a few moments gazing at each other.

“you’re not dreaming.” you whisper between you, fluttering lashes just flirting with him. a grin spreads his cheeks.

“come here and prove it.”

he gives you the promised five orgasms that night, and your body is so spent you sleep through most of the next day, spending those remaining daylight hours out in the flower field on a picnic date with your husband.

the next week was spent hosting the contractors and architects, sitting in on the meetings with your king husband to weigh in on your own designs and choices. it’s fun to see everything laid out so simply, every image and description the two of you have was brought to life. the cobblestone kitchen idea, the long hallways, the wrapping stairs and canopy bed. all of it.

the week after that, they start construction. it’s been about two and a half months into your marriage–two months have passed already? how could that be?

“m’lady? lunch.” uraume’s voice rips you from your own head. you had yet to drag yourself out of bed this morning. you hadn’t been feeling very well at all the past few days, and the idea of eating whatever that awful smell was had your stomach bubbling. uraume hadn’t even fully entered the room yet, seeing you sneer at your food, they sigh heavily. “what is it, do you not like my cooking all of a sudden?”

your husband got up on schedule to oversee some of the work being done today and was no doubt sending his most loyal servant in to check on you. you really were feeling horrible, if it weren’t for their usefulness you’d have half a mind to be annoyed with sukuna for sending them. you shake your head fervently.

“no–i dunno, there must be some flu going around, i’m sure it will pass.” you sigh, snuggling the blankets up to your face.

“let me bring the healer. perhaps she has a tonic to ease your nausea. or perhaps it’s the news you’ve been waiting for, my queen.” they say with a giddy little grin. their reminder has you gasping.

“yes, please fetch her. do not tell the king until we know for certain, please?” you ask hopefully. it’s always a touch sell to have uraume keep anything away from sukuna. but to your surprise, they nod. this is news that you should break yourself.

sure enough, uraume returns with the village healer nearly an hour later. sukuna is still tied up with the building plans—you can hear him yelling orders from your bedroom—but you’re actually grateful to be without him for now. you lay down for her and answer her questions about your marriage dates and your last bleeding.

she feels your stomach, listening with a tool you’ve never seen before.

“ahh~ seems your servant had the right idea. it seems the queen is pregnant. congratulations.” she bows her head deeply, your eyes filling with tears as you exchange a sweet look with uraume, how special for them to be a part of this moment.

“thank you–” you manage with a gasp, absolutely over the moon, needing desperately to see your husband. this was news you’d never be able to keep to yourself for long. uraume seems to know exactly what you’re thinking; offering to fetch him instantly.

you stand at the foot of your bed, pacing in wait. you have no idea what uraume said to draw him in your direction, and you’re hurrying to think of a good way to share the news. you didn’t have very long, your husband bursting into the room with panicked eyes searching over you.

“uraume says the healer was here—are you alright?” he says, his lower set of hands reaching for yours. your grin blossoms, betraying every intention you had of playing coy.

“i’m fine, my love. i’m more than fine. i’m pregnant!” you squeal, the news like someone sucked the air out of his lungs. you squeeze his hands, beautifully happy—contagiously happy. it’s finally real, you’re going to grow the family. you’re making all his dream reality. he blinks at you, wondering if that was just his active imagination.

“what?” he blinks, bringing you closer, holding your hips, “say it again.”

“i’m pregnant, sukuna. we’re going to have a baby. a little heir!!” you grin from ear to ear, being scooped up in his strong arms a second later. you’re spinning around the room in a fit of giggles, his touch secure and tight.

if you thought your husband was clingy before, good luck getting him to leave your side now.

tags: @neon-crow @skypperlegacy @gis4greenandgreenisgre4t @secondos-slut @alltimenogoaway-blog @tragedyofabrokensoul @eiaaasamantha asukahiriko2 @t4naiis @thejujvtsupost @mymelx @maskedpacific @berranurates @enchantingartisanwitch @alastors-radio @gojosukuna2268 @hannas16 @alwaysfreakingout @thepurpleempath

#jjk x reader #kyleewritesjjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #dead dove fic #dark content #sukuna jjk #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #jjk sukuna

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enhastolemyheart · 3 months

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enha + boyfriend moments ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

pairing non idol!enha x fem!reader warnings none genre fluff est. relationship nets @k-films @kflixnet

a/n I wanted to try something different this time. sorry i went mia for so long :(( i decided to do something for all of enha boys and i hope u enjoy!! also i totally forgot abt jungwon's allergies while writing his part so less jus pretend he is not allergic to cats :((

banners by @cafekitsune

LEE HEESEUNG ツ

i feel like heeseung would always and i mean ALWAYS trap you between himself and whatever other object is there near you. I honestly feel he loves to see you flustered and ears all burning red just from a mere touch as he very smoothly traps you between his arms, nowhere to escape. like, the look on your face is such a ego booster and this little "moment" has to happen at least once a day. It is just a heeseung coded move and it gets you worked up every single time.

"hee, I just had to go get groceries real quick, can you let me go?" You try to excuse yourself from his hold as you were trapped between the counter and his arms. "no baby," he bends to meet your eye level, "you left without giving me a kiss." he moves in so close you think you'll combust. "cmon baby, make it up to me."

more under the cut!

PARK JONGSEONG ツ

we all know Jay's love language is acts of service and maybe even gift giving. cmon, its obvious that jay is the kind of person to always buckle your seatbelt for you, open any kind of door for you, cook meals that remind you of your culture and hometown, likee he is literally the sweetest boyfriend ever. he's perfect. he is also the type to always have a belonging of your in his bag whenever you both are outside. like that is so jay coded.

your day started with a quick breakfast at a cafe, and then your extravaganza at the amusement park. You and jay went through it all, the amazing food, the thrilling rides. he even held your hand the whole through the roller coaster to help you conquer your fear. he was there every step of the way and you both had so much fun. the sun had started setting and so you both get seated at a highly reviewed restaurant in the park for dinner. Just as the food came, you wanted to tie your hair up, feeling scorching due the humid air and all that walking you did. noticing you were having trouble finding your tie, Jay casually puts his wrist closer to you where a hair tie was sitting. "here, i kept an extra."

SIM JAEYUN ツ

jake is definitely the type of boyfriend to take you out on night drives. windows rolled down, music blasting in the air, one hand on the wheel and the other intertwined with yours. you couldn't have spent your night with jake in any other way. he loves you with all his heart and i feel like one way of showing it is through songs, so what's better than listening to playlist he made for when he thought of you, while riding around the city at its most quiet hour?

"baby, i just added some new songs to the playlist." he confesses, giving your knuckles a sweet kiss before bringing it back onto your lap. "yeah? lemme hear it jakey." he giggles as he presses play "i love you, my girl." he looks at you the whole time you were listening, together on a blanket as you indulge the beautiful night sky.

PARK SUNGHOON ツ

one thing that sunghoon loves but doesn't want to admit is waking up in your arms. quite literally, he loves falling asleep on your chest with your hand massaging his back and hair. ugh, he'd just melt to sleep then and there itself. don't get him wrong, he absolutely loves seeing you under his arms first thing in the morning. but, something about being in your embrace where he can be vulnerable and himself is just far much better. he absolutely love your sweet and hoarse voice as you greet him a good morning and then proceed to pepper his precious face with kisses to start of the day right. he feel so much better with you and your presence.

the little kisses being left on the top of sunghoon's hair wakes him up. he looks up at you from his place, hair all strewn, arms wrapped around your midriff while head tucked inside the crook of your neck. you giggle softly at his sleepy smile before running a hand through his hair, "good morning, sleeping beauty." he huff as you see the evident pink on his cheeks. "good morning" comes out muffles due to how close his mouth is to your skin, placing gentle kisses and squeezing your waist. he looks up at you through his eyelashes, giving you a full, sweet good morning kiss and murmuring that he wants to stay five more minutes in bed.

KIM SUNOO ツ

this is such a sunoo coded thing. but, he absolutely LOVES doing masks and manicures with you. like, imagine just sitting on your bed, face masks on and gossiping about anything and everything while painting each others' nails. sunoo is the type of boyfriend in whom you'll find a best friend. like, he is always the first you would go to share news and stuff and vice versa.

"and so because of niki, we got the rest of the day off!" sunoo exclaimed finishing the mini story of a recently occurred event. you couldn't help but laugh at the irony of the story. minutes pass, and now he is painting your nails this time, both of you rocking a baby pink color. you both end up binging 2000s rom-coms before dozing off sleeping soundly in each others' arms.

YANG JUNGWON ツ

ugh. jungwon is such a soft boyfie. he is always by your side helping/accompanying you to anything and everything. jungwon is very kind and caring and takes care with so much love, he loves you more than himself. he is the type to always greet you with warm hugs and cheek kisses. hand holding when going on a stroll outside no matter the time of day. he is also very BIG on words of affirmation. he is always telling he loves you and he makes sure you know.

"omg! won, look!" you point at the stray cat that was situated under a tree near the trail of the pretty park you both are at. he looks at it with wide eyes before slowly moving towards the cat, wanting to greet it. once the ginger cat understands that you both mean no harm, it starts to get close with jungwon rubbing up against his leg. "it is so cute won, it looks just like you!" you exclaim resulting in a chuckle from your boyfriend. he slowly picks up the cat, bringing its face close to his before turning to you. "see baby, you can't tell the difference between me and the cat, can you?" you chuckle softly kissing his cheek. you both decide to take the cat to a vet and then give it some food and shelter for the night.

NISHIMURA RIKI ツ

this kid. as much as playful he is, he is as equal in being sincere and true to himself and your relationship. he loves to tease you. i think quality time is one of his ways of loving you, so i can def see you both out on adventurous dates together. whether it be basketball dates, going to an amusement park together, spending time with each other at 4 am having ice cream, anything and everything you do, it's always filled with love and laughter that make up wonderful memories.

"come on baby, try and take it from me." niki exclaimes as yet again steals the basketball from your hold dribbling slowly towards the basket. "ugh, you and your damn long legs." you mumur. he laugh at your comment before stopping in front of you. he is so close that you know you are going to turn red soon if he doesn't back up. "here." he puts the ball in front of you, and you have to declare yourself stupid because inches before you can get the ball, he raises his arms, putting the ball way out of your hold. "riki! not fair." you out as you try and jump to get the ball. Niki simply laughs at your silly attempts. "you are so cute, you know that?" he bends to meet your eye level, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. "i love you" knowing the effect you had on him, you managed to snatch the ball before running away and yelling, "i love you too dork!" niki smirks at your escape before chasing after you.

a/n. tysm for reading!! i hope u liked it! this was not proofread!!

perm taglist: @jak-ey ; @snoowhore ; @hsgwrld ; @seungiesluv ; @1-800shutthefuckup ; @heeseungshim (send an ask to be added)

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ddejavvu · 7 months

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heyy mei :)) could you maybe write something for lover boy james where reader is starting to get out of her comfort zone a bit and wearing tighter clothes that show of her little tummy pudge and/ or thicker thighs?? i’ve myself am currently trying to get to this confidence level and I know jamie would be the biggest supporter ever <34

as someone who beat the baggy clothes plague i wish you well on your journey my love <3 tw for self-image issues, don't read if you'll be uncomfortable.

You're already awaiting a dramatic reaction when you step out of the bathroom. James Potter never does anything by halves, and you know whether he likes your outfit or not he'll make a scene. Oh, god, if he isn't dramatic at your reveal, if he's measured and controlled and contained- well, that would be worse than if he wrinkled his nose and told you that your outfit was too tight. That would be an outright lie, and you'd rather him just be mean, although you're not sure unprovoked cruelty is a quality that James Potter possesses.

You haven't worn anything quite this snug in a long time. A dip in your self confidence correlates with an increase in your clothing sizes, not because you've gained weight, but because you're not eager to show off the weight you already have. You're particularly sensitive about the shape of your body, how it hangs, how it squishes and warps within tighter clothing, but you're taking steps to conquer your fears, and tonight you've chosen a snug leotard tucked into jeans. There's no hiding your waistline, which is something you're not accustomed to. Your hand wants to subconsciously cover your stomach but you force it into your pocket, stepping out of the bathroom with all of the courage you've got in your body.

James glances up at you as you come out, one sock on his foot and the other perched precariously on his toes. He's tugging it over his sole when he notices your tight-fitting outfit, and his eyes drop to your stomach.

You feel naked, even though the whole issue is over your clothes.

You get the dramatic reaction you'd expected.

He charges towards you from his spot on the bed, and channels his never-ending supply of energy into a truly extravagant display: He drops to his knees, sliding painfully over the hardwood to reach for your waist and shove his face into your stomach. You yelp at the sudden movement and try to shove him away but he latches his grip around you quite firmly, groaning into your stomach like he's repenting at the altar of god.

"Oh, gorgeous," He moans, and you're truly saddened for the theater medium, as they'll never experience dramatics quite like James has to offer, "Oh, darling, it's out. Your stomach is out, I can see it, I can-" He curls his fingers into your belly, nails pricking at miniscule threads in the fabric, "-feel it, I can scream into it!"

It's really a pathetic display. You can't find it in yourself to be critical, though, not when he's so effectively sweeping away any negative thoughts with the way that his lips plunge hungrily into the flesh of your stomach, over and over again complete with sounds you're certain a starved animal makes when it sinks its teeth into game.

Perhaps if you loved him less, you could hate this more. But you don't, so you can't, and you let James lift you from your spot, heaving you right over his shoulder so that he can still turn his head to the side and nip lightly at the pudge of your stomach while you struggle in his grasp.

"You look fantastic, darling," He gushes against your belly, beelining for your bed, the covers still unmade and very inviting, "Unfortunately, our plans have changed. Shame we can't go out tonight and show off your outfit, but I just remembered I have to kiss you until my lips fall off."

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #james potter one shot #james potter one-shot #james potter headcanon #james potter headcanons #james potter hc #james potter hcs #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter dialogue #james potter fluff #james potter x reader fanfiction

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chitra111goddess · 5 months

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Vedic astrology notes

Based on my own experiences

• shravana girlies are loved by other women and the type to attract both genders. Their femininity is strongly felt 🎀

• anuradha is strongly associated with spiders , spiders become mostly significant for them when they're conquering their fears and owning their power 🕷

• bharani women make rly good leaders as they seem grounded but also people tend to look up to them. Venus energy is elite ✨️

• tiger yonis (chitra/vishaka) are fierceee badass bitches they can come off as Intimidating but ppl can't help but notice them 🐆

• vishaka women start out as "good girls" from a young age but the more society or people try to control them they bottle it up and then lash out or spiral out of control at one point becoming destructive, these women grow more into themselves later as they find it important to be authentic and true to who they are , thats how they shine🌻

• ashlesha women can bring out the worst in someone like they really know how to push someone's buttons lol

• mrigashira women are very smart and intellectual they tend to follow their logic rather than their heart when it comes to relationships 💭 they also can keep secrets v well

• krittika women tend to have messy love lives with love triangles or cheating but they're also v attractive to the opposite sex

• revati women have 2 sides to them they're either badass from the outside and soft from the inside or they show their softness but internally they're badass and smarter than they led on

• jyestha women have so much sex appeal and they're not afraid to show it. They tend to have issues with other women whether its jealousy or competition but that doesn't take away from their success. Jyesthas end up being on top they make sure they win 🔥

• purva phalguni fr are sex freaks both men and women , but they can also channel all that sexual energy and passion into their creations which makes them very passionate and creative people overall

• shatabhisha women are so smart especially when it comes to getting info and secrets out of people but its mostly not for personal gains but for the highest good 👀

• can we talk about swati women and how they're strongly associated with cosmetics and beautification? 💄

• purva bhadrapada women hate being controlled or restricted especially when it comes to ideologies, concepts or beliefs. They don't like to be put in a box or labeled and would push against those barriers

Let me know if I should make more of these or if anything resonates

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dramioneasks · 5 months

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Top 10 Most “Kudos-ed” (Completed) Fics on AO3 of 2023:

Damaged Goods by slytherin_after_dark - E, 50 chapters, Words: 150,499 - Hermione, now in her mid-20s, is back at Hogwarts to pursue higher education. Trying to forget the trauma carved into her by the war, she spends one lust-filled night with a certain pureblood. But that night will have consequences. While her personal life unravels, a string of mysterious murders forces her to work together with Draco Malfoy, who himself seems to carry many secrets. "He scared her. Not because he wielded killing curses like they were nothing, but because he seemed to understand her in a way that even she didn’t. The more she let him in, the more power he had to destroy her." Come for the smut, stay for the plot. Read if you like: - Murder mystery - Dark Arts - Hurt/ Comfort - Hermione and Draco both deal with PTSD - Angst, so much angst

In These Silent Days by HeyJude19 - E, 14 chapters, Words: 67,209 -Hermione is familiar with fighting: for respect, for attention, for justice. She’s even made a career of it; working on behalf of creatures and beings. But her battle against the Ministry’s marriage law is one she loses. Badly. And now, she has to contend with not only public derision and patriarchal politics, but her growing feelings for her government-mandated spouse.

The Silver Envelope by sinflower81 - E, 70 chapters, Words: 192,647 - “Tell me again to release you, Granger. Tell me again that you just want to be friends.” It’s been five years since Draco last spoke to Granger. Things are different now, and though earning her trust will be a challenge, he can’t seem to keep himself away. Hermione has been busy advocating for elves around the world, but when her breakup with Ron turns her life upside-down, she knows there’s only one person who can help her. Alternating POVs between Hermione and Draco. Slow burn, eventual smut, light dom/sub. Diverges from canon after Voldemort's defeat.

In Silence & Submission by gillianeliza - E, 29 chapters, Words: 69,694 - 10 years after the war everything has changed. Enemies turned into friends and lovers. Fear turned into hope. Pain into joy. Everyone has moved on except for Hermione Granger. Nestled within her friend group, now made up of not just Harry and Ginny, but also Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and of course Draco Malfoy, she was content to allow the trauma of her past to haunt her. More than just content - it was what she felt she deserved - until one evening Draco Malfoy decided enough was enough. This is a low stakes, split POV fic that deals heavily with life AFTER the Battle of Hogwarts. You will find the POV of either Hermione or Draco stated in bold italics, in the middle whenever it shifts. Please read all tags as this work deals with BDSM, kink, trauma recovery, & suicidal ideation.

A Game of High Stakes by In_Dreams - E, 51 chapters, Words: 263,110 - In theory, the task is simple: kill Draco Malfoy. In practice, putting a curse through the Dark Lord's favoured lieutenant will take everything Hermione has―especially since he's trying to kill her, too. Even more so when the lines between them start to blur. Sometimes, the only way out is through.

Hogwarts: A History (Hermione's Version) by Lizzie_carlile - M, 38 chapters, Words: 141,828 - Lord Voldemort has been defeated, and the children of the Wizarding War are thriving. When the heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black is adopted and takes her place in the family with her loving fathers, a new trio is formed. With her best friend and her brother by her side, Hermione Black is thrust into a world that she never knew existed. Will whispers from the past threaten to destroy the world she knows? Or will love once again conquer all? Another take of the Nice Things AU. What would happen if Draco asked Hermione to the Yule Ball before Ron Weasley had a chance to?

Teach Me How to Forget by scullymurphy - E, 20 chapters, Words: 109,646 - Hermione Granger is 27 years old when her life falls apart. Cheated-on, flatless, fed up with her job, she decides to change one thing she can--take a class and try for some career advancement. But change is never easy, especially when an old enemy is the catalyst. And the class instructor. "Just as the minute hand clicked over to the hour, the doorknob twisted and a figure slipped into the room. He was tall, a bit windblown. Hermione had a general impression of crisp cuffs and polished leather, and then a more specific one of the most beautiful grey coat—highlighting his shoulders and eyes, skimming to just the right place on his knife creased trousers. His movements were precise and confident. He was wearing the softest-looking gloves. He was not Professor Belinda Rowle. He was Draco bloody Malfoy."

The Order of Serpents by bl_crtz - E, 44 chapters, Words: 193,506 - During the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry Potter walked into the forbidden forest, died, and walked out with crimson eyes as the new vessel of the Dark Lord. Since then, Hermione Granger served as an elite member of the True Order, isolating herself from other Order members and going on missions alone, not only haunted by the loss of her best friend, Harry, but Ron who had run away after the battle. Three and a half years later, Draco Malfoy shows up with his two year old son on the Order’s doorstep seeking to switch sides. Together, Draco and Hermione are forced to deal with not only each other, but their own past and confront who they’ve become because of the war.

The Contender by rubykrishna - E, 9 chapters, Words: 58,875 - Hermione stopped walking. Her eyes scanned back up the roster until they found the name that she initially mistook for a typo. Draco Malfoy….Beater. She could comprehend the words, the name and the meaning. She understood that his name being on the roster meant he was the starting Beater for England’s national team, but for whatever reason, when her eyes ran over the black ink, her brain could not articulate any emotions or reaction.

Sincerely Yours by LovesBitca8 - E, 10 chapters, Words: 40,759 - A smile tickled the corners of Hermione’s mouth as she clicked Send. She listened to the whoosh of the message and then turned off her computer. When the ping! had come in, she’d had one foot half-out the door of her flat. She’d dropped her coat and darted for her computer desk, a wide grin blossoming at her inbox. You’ve Got Mail.

#dramione #year wrap up #ao3 #favourite fics #2023

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homoeroticbetrayal · 1 year

Text

Iconic Homoerotic Betrayal: Finals

Poll Directory

Context:

Anthy/Utena

Summarized by Anonymous Contributor

THE blueprint for homoerotic betrayals of the canonically gay (as opposed to interpretive, certainly there are older iconic examples for that) variety. listed as #2 in the infamous top ten anime betrayals video, iirc.

it is about akio pushing anthy to utena. it is about utena’s protective stance, misunderstanding. most of all, it is about anthy kissing utena’s shoulder before stabbing her.

the story has been leading us to this the whole time — utena assuming once again the protective princely position; akio, always playing divide and conquer, unable to manipulate utena to betray anthy, now reliant on anthy betraying utena; the game being rigged from the start, true victory impossible (for the duelists, who will always lose the game proper to akio, the rule maker, in one way or another; for akio himself, just as obviously); utena’s love for anthy within the princely stance; anthy’s love for utena and anthy’s fear (of the world beyond; of utena loving her truly; of utena not loving her truly but just projecting onto her still as any prince does, and turning out to be the same (as akio) in the end) and akio (framing himself) as the only one who will love her no matter what because friends turn away from you and only connections by blood are forever, the two of them are the only ones who’s real in this projected world, so on and so forth, and anthy’s bitterness towards utena (“do you know, utena-sama, how i always despised you” from that one “in the next episode” bit) and her princeliness and her being not that impossibly unlike akio (all princes are the same). everything has lead us to this moment. and yet we are shocked.

personally, i’ve never moved on from how she kisses her shoulder.

See a whole dissertation on Utenanthy here

Judas/Jesus

Summary by @this-is-a-name-dont-worry

We of course have Judas betraying Jesus, with a kiss like a last goodbye, maybe a mockery of their love, maybe a grieving goodbye. In the end it doesn't matter, because Judas would rather hang himself than to keep going. The money was unspent or returned, a change of heart from regret, or maybe a sign it was never about it

But the betrayal is also from Jesus; Jesus, who knew who Judas was, who knew what he'll do. Jesus who still let Judas be an apostle... an act of love, but also, isn't it so cruel to make it look like there was a choice, a chance at another ending for Judas? This is a story where it being a story is part of it, and the writer inserted himself among the characters, and doomed one of them to eternal hatred from everyone. And he dared let the one who will be doomed think he'll ever be saved. Jesus knew what would happen, knew what Judas would do, yet he still let it happen, because the story is more important. After all, at the Last Supper, isn't it Jesus who tell Judas to go and do what he must do?

Judas betrayed Jesus, but Jesus sacrificed them both

#rgu #jcs #utenanthy #jedas #anthy himemiya #utena tenjou #jesus christ #judas iscariot #polls #tournament poll

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erwinsvow · 1 month

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Ok but what about shy girl reader being really frightened by something to the point of tears and calling rafe but struggling to explain why shes upset only that she needs him while he’s going batshit on the other line worried about her

this was lovely ! rafe certainly has his own methods of calming down shy reader when she's scared ... hehe <3

of course it happens on a night where rafe's out of town, one of the first that he's not around since the two of you have started dating. you had become awfully accustomed to having rafe sleeping right next to you, ever since your third or fourth date, that had been the norm. if not, he was always down the street or a phone call away.

and really, you tried to keep it together. it was just one of those nights—kickstarted by the time you'd spent with your friends morning. you were only trying to keep yourself occupied while rafe was away, thinking they'd help pass the hours, but you'd all headed to the movies, and of course, it was a horror showing.

even in the broad daylight, you felt scared throughout the day the demon from the movie was going to get you. heading back home for the day, it didn't help that the only thing on tv was true crime documentaries playing back to back. the cherry on top was your parents heading out for dinner with their friends on the mainland, saying they'd be back tomorrow morning.

you tossed and turned for what seemed like hours. not even the gentle lull of your records and thirty pages of war and peace could get your mind to settle and put you to sleep.

what you really needed was your boyfriend. he could fix anything, make everything seem better. your fears needed his protectiveness near by to keep them at bay, otherwise they'd spill over and conquer like they were right now.

but you were trying to be good—trying to show rafe you weren't always so clingy, that he could have space when and if he needed it. besides for your replies to his periodic check-ins you hadn't much texted him today, knowing he was busy.

the final crack of a branch outside, cutting through the eerie whistling of the wind against your house and the sound of the waves far away had you scrambling up. you flicked on the lamp and checked that your door was locked for the tenth time that night.

deep breaths, you tried to remind yourself, like rafe would always tell you. you tried to head to the window to see what the noise was from but fear overtook, dialing rafe's number and listening to the rings while crawling back into bed, pulling your knees to your chest.

like always, he answers before it gets to three rings.

"hey. what'd you still doin' up? s'late."

"rafe-" and you can't stop the ramble that spills out, all in one breath. "um, we saw this scary movie today and the demon was outside the house and then it was in the house and then it possessed the girl when she was alone and now i'm home alone because mom and daddy left and there was this serial killer show on tv and i wasn't even watching but he killed girls home alone too and i just heard something outside and m'scared-"

"woah, woah. slow down. you saw a scary movie?" you try to catch your breath, but it's hard, picturing rafe wherever he was pacing around listening to you, instead of being next to you like he should be.

"i-um, i'm scared, rafe-" you finally get out slowly, and you sniffle, feeling hot tears run down. really, you shouldn't have gone to see that movie.

"hey, hey. s'fine. gonna be okay, just need to relax. can you do that for me?" you nod, forgetting he can't see you. "good girl. is everything locked? downstairs too?"

"y-yes..think so. i checked when i got home."

"even the back door? and the guest window, the one i come in through?" you flush at the memory of rafe sneaking in through that window.

"yes. mm-hm."

"alright, kid. no one's comin' in then. and those movies are crap anyways. y'need to learn how to say no to those friends."

"i know. it seemed like a good idea then-"

"yeah, i know. you got a light on?"

"my lamp."

"good. now get into bed. y'need to relax or you'll never fall asleep. jesus."

"okay," you mumble, sliding in and getting comfortable. "how do i relax?"

"how do you usually relax?" he questions, though your face flushes at the answer you want to give. there's only one surefire method of getting you to calm down when you're like this, something rafe is well aware of.

"um.. i don't know." your bedroom was cold a second ago, now everything felt warm and tingly.

"yeah. sure you don't. c'mon, get your clothes off. i'll help you relax."

"oh." it comes out like a little moan, soft. you comply with his instructions. "thanks rafey."

you hear him laugh, though he still sounds rough on the phone.

"yeah, y'welcome. gotta do everything, don't i? clothes off yet? good. now start touching y'self for me.."

#phone sex with rafe !! <3 #sorry babe i made this wholesome idea a little freaky at the end but sooo cute !!#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

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