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wife-of-all-dilfs · 7 months

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a darling and a virgin | f. odair

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summary: you are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. after being confronted by president snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, angst, gentle smut, loss of virginity, fingering, lots of consent, praise, happy but also unhappy ending??, reader takes contraceptives.

notes: i’ve recently found that i’m incapable of writing short smut one shots so… i’m sorry y’all. love describing every detail too much.

word count: 6.8k

Your hands were clasped over the balcony railing of the penthouse you were spending the night in, the vibrant artificial lights of the Capitol burning your retinas as you overlooked the city. You had finally completed your first Victory Tour and were offered one more night in the Capitol to enjoy its ‘luxury’ and ‘generosity’ before returning to District Four in the morning.

For the past two weeks, you had read fabricated speeches to each District, resurfacing both your trauma from the Games and the families of the tributes you had murdered in the arena. The toll it was taking on you was heavy, but you managed to put on a splitting grin for every interview, speech, and disturbing congratulation. But not for your previous mentor, Finnick Odair.

Finnick had been there for you through the whole nightmare, even during the week before your Games. His support was unwavering which was one of the many reasons you had managed to survive from the moment you were Reaped to the end of the Tour. It was hard to tell when his mentorship had turned into something more complicated, but it had. It had become more about feelings than simply survival. Not a relationship per se, but not just a friendship either. You teetered on the line between the two, never crossing it and never discussing the fact that you were both aware of it either.

For six whole months.

When the final destination of the Tour came—the grand celebration at President Snow’s mansion—Finnick had told you it was the easiest part. All you had to do was manage a happy face, mingle with obnoxious Capitol citizens, and eat an abhorrent amount of food. He would have been right if you were a different person. If President Snow hadn’t demanded your singular presence at the end of the night.

You exhaled a shaky breath, watching the white mist drift into the light-polluted sky. The President’s words bounced around your head: Desirable… Customers... Family. The conversation played on a loop in your mind. You could remember the repugnant smell of roses, the overwhelming whiteness in the room, and the way his too-pleasant face lit up as fireworks exploded outside the window.

Shivers trickled down your spine, forming goosebumps that were borderline painful. The fact that you were on the ninetieth floor and wearing flimsy pyjama shorts and a thin long-sleeve shirt wasn’t helping either. The crisp wind blew against your body, but you had no intentions of moving to seek warmth. It felt appropriate to stay in the cold when your body would soon know nothing but unwelcome heat.

So lost in your spiralling thoughts, you failed to notice as another body silently took up space beside yours, warming up the side of your arm. This heat was welcome.

“Pretty cold out here.”

A startled gasp escaped your mouth. You straightened up and turned to the owner of the voice, only to find Finnick leaning against the railing, forearms over the edge the same as you.

“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I know my presence can be a little breathtaking sometimes. Nice shorts by the way.”

He turned his head turned to you, revealing his infamous flirtatious smirk. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent and charming. His bronze hair was perfectly dishevelled as usual, as if someone had purposefully placed each strand to give him the ‘sexy bed hair’ look. He was still wearing his white button-up and black trousers; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone, revealing his toned chest. The outfit had been accessorised with a metallic golden corset-like belt among other decorations that made him fit in with the Capitol crowd, but he must have taken them off. Now the outfit sort of resembled one that a boy would wear to a Reaping. Simple yet formal. Still gorgeous, not that he needed reminding.

Normally, you would retort with a snarky remark or, on the off occasion, flirt back, but instead, you resumed your previous position over the railings. You weren’t immune to Finnick’s charms; you praised anyone who was. You would usually be internally swooning at the sight of him, especially with the way he looked right now and his obvious flirting. But this night was much different. Flirting and swooning were at the back of your mind. All you could think about was your interaction with the president; the way his guards manhandled and escorted you to his study. The conversation that destroyed your hopes of a peaceful future.

Desirable. One word that sent ice coursing through your veins. Or snow, to be more poetic.

“I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got back,” said Finnick, still a hint of playfulness in his tone. He watched your gaze—eyes distant though not really seeing. It was clear something was wrong, so he continued, this time more softly. “You were gone during the fireworks.”

You remained unmoving, staring straight ahead at the city. Only when he uttered your name did he finally gain your attention. As you turned your head to face him, tears began to well up in your eyes.

Finnick noticed the silent distress in your expression and straightened up his stance. He towered over you, brows knitted together whilst his sea-green eyes flickered across your face, looking as if pieces were slowly falling together in his mind.

“He spoke with you, didn’t he?” he said. “Snow.”

To answer his question for you, a tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to swipe it away with a sniffle.

Your arms wound around your torso, hugging yourself as the words began flowing. “After I won my Games, when I was being crowned, he said something to me that I didn’t really understand." Your voice was gentle, just above a mere whisper. “Months passed and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now at least. He told me…” You swallowed the ache in your throat. “He told me, ‘I have big plans for you, Miss (L/N). I think you will be a very valuable asset to the Capitol citizens.’”

Finnick’s face had melted into an unreadable expression. His entire body turned to stone; it was like he was a marble statue portraying a Greek God. All of a sudden, he was sixteen again. He was in Snow’s study, being told that if he didn’t cooperate and essentially sell himself to the Capitol, his family would pay the price. And they did.

With a sad smile, you whispered, “I know what he meant now.”

Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.

“No.” He vigorously shook his head. “He can’t do that. You can’t. I’ll go to him and—fuck!” His hand ran through his hair, making it even more dishevelled. The bright lights from the city were reflecting off his eyes, revealing the shine that was starting to gloss over them. “I can fix this for you, I swear I’ll—"

“Finnick.”

“He’s a fucking—”

“Finnick.” The plea in your voice ceased his panicked movements. He just stood there, looking completely and utterly helpless. You both did. Another tear slipped down your cheek as you stared at him, your voice wavering as you asked, “Can you hold me?”

He let out a breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs and in one fell swoop, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. Silent tears began to flow more heavily, saturating his white shirt which he held you tightly against. There was a hand wrapped protectively around your lower back and another stroking the hair flowing over your neck.

You were certain Finnick let a few tears slip too because you could feel the cold breeze nip at the top of your head the slightest bit more. He mumbled the words “I’m so sorry” over and over into your hair but you just shook your head. You told him it wasn’t his fault, but he wouldn’t accept it. He had told you months ago about his arrangement with Snow. You couldn’t have imagined what it was like for him then, but you would be able to now. You would know every single little detail.

His embrace tightened as you turned your head and pressed your ear to his thumping chest.

The tears had stopped, and you managed to find your voice again. “Snow threatened to kill my family. What if the customers don’t think I’m good enough and he takes it out on them? I mean, I don’t have any experience.”

You remained silent, awaiting his response. When the hand stroking your hair halted, you realised your mistake. You realised what you had just admitted to him and mentally kicked yourself. Repeatedly.

Finnick moved both hands onto your forearms, gently pushing you away from him to get a clear view of your face. The surprise in his expression was enough to make you want to jump over the balcony ledge in embarrassment.

“You’re a virgin?”

Hearing the words out loud would have sent you over the edge—literally—if Finnick’s large hands weren’t wrapped around your arms. You tried to turn away from him, but his grip was unshakeable. Your eyes began to water again, and you felt pathetic.

“Hey,” he said tenderly as he tried to regain your eye contact. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Your distraught red-rimmed eyes snapped back to him. “Not a bad thing? Of course it’s a bad thing, Finnick! I have to give my body to a stranger despite never even having my first kiss! Let alone sex!” As you said the words, the full reality of your situation began to set in. Panic turned to sadness as you realised yet again, the Capitol was taking another innocence you thought was your own to give away. You looked down, your tone becoming quieter. “I thought my first time would be special. Or at least with someone I loved.”

God, you felt so embarrassed admitting that to him. Sure, a lot of your conversations were flirty and full of sensual banter. Sex, however, was not a topic that came up very frequently. You would never want to accidentally cross a line with Finnick, especially given what Snow forced upon him. So you liked to avoid the subject as much as possible. Now, it was inescapable.

He released his grip and sighed heavily, looking out toward the view as if he were deep in thought. The vivid city lights cast an unnatural hue on his usually golden-tanned skin; even now the Capitol was changing him into something he wasn’t. His eyes shut for a quick second before he reopened them and looked back at you. The only time he had looked this serious was the morning of your Games and the night you returned. It was a little intimidating.

His jaw ticked and his gaze bore down into your own. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you something,” he began, “and I want you to know you do not have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, okay?”

Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.

“Okay,” you said warily.

The hardness on his face remained for a moment longer, but then his expression softened and became the most vulnerable you had ever seen.

His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”

*************

You were sat on the edge of Finnick’s bed, toying with the black satin sheets with a frown. Your room didn’t get satin sheets. It was probably one of the benefits of being the Capitol Darling. Not that you envied him very much. He would probably be content with sleeping on a dirt floor if it meant he got his autonomy back.

Finnick was in the bathroom doing God knows what. You weren’t sure if he was trying to make himself more presentable or hyping himself up to have sex with you. The latter worried you. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into something he didn’t want to do. Then again, he was the one who asked.

After you had told him “Yes, please”, he had tentatively but oh-so-gently taken your hand in his and guided you inside and to his room. Neither of you had spoken along the way; you just walked in silence toward something that would either ruin or deepen your relationship. Despite being two victors, this was still a mentor making sure his tribute stayed alive.

You heard the bathroom door slide open and looked up to see Finnick standing outside the door. Shirtless, pants still on, and towel in hand. It took everything in you to not stare at his perfectly sculptured torso, his equally toned arms, or his broad and muscular shoulders. Instead, your eyes met his for a split second before you returned to the satin sheets.

Blood rushed to your head and everything felt too real. Finnick Odair was standing before you, looking like an angel and willing to fu—

“You’re allowed to look, you know,” he chuckled.

But your gaze remained on the bed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You won’t.’” He spread the towel on the bed, positioning it in the middle. Then he stopped his movements as he realised what you meant. “It’s not like that. I’m not being forced to do this. I want to.”

Your head snapped up and your heart leapt as those three words left his lips—I want to. For a second, you believed him, but then reasoning came to deflate your hopefulness.

“You wouldn’t want to if I weren’t in this situation.”

He let go of the towel, sitting down mere inches beside you, his eyes amused despite the solemn context. “And how do you know that?”

“Because…” you trailed off, searching your brain for an explanation only to find none. “Because.”

He smirked. “We need to work on your argumentative skills, sweetheart.”

A small smile worked its way across your lips. He returned it with a comforting smile of his own, though the sense of playfulness never left. It never really did and that was one of the things you admired most about him. Even in the darkest of situations, he was able to provide some light.

Rosy heat crept into your cheeks and you were forced to break eye contact again. Hiding how much he affected you was pointless now; if this was going to work out, you needed to be vulnerable with him. With each other. You looked down at the space between your bodies. His hand was resting on the bed beside him and soon enough, it was slowly creeping across the sheets over to your own. He gently brushed his fingers across your knuckles before sliding his hand beneath your palm and interlocking it with yours. You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his, feeling butterflies flutter around your stomach at the small observation.

The both of you silently watched your intertwined hands. That is until Finnick decided to speak up.

“I would,” he said ambiguously, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. “I would still want to. Even in different circumstances.”

The blush on your face reddened even more; your cheeks were on fire at this point. Even in different circumstances. Was that his way of confessing… that he did have feelings for you? It wasn’t exactly explicit, but it was certainly implied. Oh god, you didn’t know what to think.

You didn’t bother to reply; words probably would have failed you anyway. You just gave his hand a slight squeeze in acknowledgement—well, it was more in appreciation. It was obvious how hard he was trying to make you feel comfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, you couldn’t shake the nerves that were rattling your entire being.

Sex was a pretty big milestone—to you, at least—and here you were, on the precipice with someone you trusted with your life. Did you love Finnick? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that your feelings for him were deep, and even though neither of you had ever clearly confessed to each other, you knew he felt something for you too. Which made everything all the more daunting.

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

“We still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head, lifting your gaze to his. “No, I—”

His eyebrows pulled inwards, awaiting your answer. His eyes were so inviting and full of understanding, if you hadn’t lost the ability to form full sentences, you would have found yourself spilling all your secrets to him. He was so patient with you. So good. You had to rethink your uncertainty about loving him.

“I…” you tried again. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his sea-green eyes to his soft, pink lips. As shameful as it felt to admit, you had imagined what it would feel like to have his lips on yours many times before. Usually right before you went to sleep. Never would you have thought the day would come when it would actually happen.

He was still caressing the side of your palm, silently reassuring you, encouraging you to communicate with him. You sighed, closing your eyes. If he wanted you to communicate, then you would.

“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

Your words drifted into the air, stilling everything in the room—the air, Finnick’s hand. Your heart. He just stared at you, unblinking, unmoving, like someone had hit pause on the television at the tensest moment. The tension was tearing you apart and you almost got up and left the room. But you didn’t. Because suddenly, the sides of your face were cupped by large hands and his lips were on yours.

Finnick Odair was kissing you.

His lips pressed against yours once more in one long close-mouthed kiss before leaving again. Shock came and left within seconds and you found the courage to copy his actions. Your lips locked perfectly onto his, remaining still, enjoying the pressure and tingly warmth of simply having them connected. Then your lips moved to kiss him again. And again, and again until soon enough, his tongue had slyly slid into your mouth and you had somehow instantaneously become a master at French kissing.

This kiss felt familiar, despite it being your first. Like something you had done millions of times before, but only with him. Like having his lips on yours was the most natural thing to ever exist.

A hand moved onto your waist and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap, legs straddling his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, mindlessly wandering and feeling the toned muscles ripple underneath your palms as he pulled you closer by the neck to deepen the kiss. Damn the people of the Capitol, but they were right to say he was an incredible kisser.

“Finn,” you huffed in between kisses, “have you got a rock in your pants?”

He pecked your lips once more with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths. “No,” he chuckled. “I’ve just got a beautiful girl on my lap.”

Your eyes opened to see him grinning at you with mischief. Oh.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

You nodded jerkily. “Ye—Yes, that’s okay.”

“Okay, good.”

Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies. Curiously, you rocked your hips along the length of his lap once, earning a quiet grunt from him.

He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” his voice was low, tempting.

And of course, in full defiance, you did it again. His warning was a bluff. He made no real action to prevent you from grinding any further on his erection, so you kept moving, and he kept revealing how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts created a little barrier between his hard lap and the growing sensitivity between your thighs.

Meanwhile, you found yourself never wanting to be parted from Finnick’s lips. With every rock of your hips, your hands ran over every inch of his upper body, eventually settling in his hair. The way he kissed reminded you of stories of District Twelve. A district full of hunger and desperation. Only what Finnick was craving wasn’t the fullness of food in his stomach, but the desire to devour you whole. To ravage you. And by God, would you give anything to satiate him.

Forget what you thought before. This wasn’t just a victor keeping his tribute alive. As clear as the sea on a sunny day, this was a man giving himself over to a woman he loved. You. Finnick loved you.

When you pulled back to tentatively lift your shirt over your head, his eyes stayed on yours. Your breasts were literally bare and he just continued to scan the features of your face. However, you did notice the subtle shift in his breathing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the side of your breast.

A shy, cheek-warming smile crept on your face and then suddenly, Finnick was rolling you over. Your head fell back onto the soft silk pillows, Finnick hovering above you. This position remained for a long while, the time spent simply kissing each other, alternating between deep tongue-filled kisses and soft sweet pecks. There were moments when you both stopped to flirt or giggle. These were the times you entirely forgot the whole reason you were doing this in the first place.

It was just you and Finnick. Two new lovers in a perfect world.

After a while, your lips had swollen with warm, passionate heat. You were flushed and you didn’t even need to look to know your hair was already a tangled mess. But you didn’t care.

One of Finnick’s hands had begun to wander down your stomach, breaking the established pattern of merely making out. You knew what was coming and surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Unlike outside the penthouse apartment, there was no danger. Not in this room, in this bed, or in the hands that caressed you. He grazed across the skin beneath your belly button, causing your body to flinch up into his.

Of course, he smirked at that—the smug asshole.

He returned to your lips before lowering down to your neck and sucking soft, red marks into your fragile skin. His fingers found the edge of your waistband. At this point, you were already breathing like a marathoner.

His lips detached from your neck. “Can Itouch you?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed.

As he travelled down, down beneath your waistband, he pecked your reddened lips once more. A soft gasp escaped you and warmth tingled between your thighs. His fingers were gentle as he began circling that sweet, sensitive spot only you had ever touched. Having someone else touch you felt so much more different, so much more exquisite. Your body responded to his touch immediately, hips following each movement of his fingers, breaths quickening in pace.

Finnick gazed down at you, observing each pleasured twist of your expression. He began to pick up the pace as he noticed your body familiarising itself with the sensation. More pressure was applied and the gasps leaving your mouth were gradually turning into quiet moans.

“This feel okay?” he asked. Obviously, he knew the answer, but after years of having others take advantage of him, he couldn’t help but want to hear your willingness. Your consent.

But you weren’t sure if the words could form. Everything felt like it was vibrating. All you could do was focus on the pleasure his fingers were building.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

His voice had taken on that seductive purr he was well-known for and you just couldn’t deny him. It took everything inside you to muster up the words. “It—it feels so good.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was so sweet, you could have cried. So sweet even with his hand stroking between your legs and his hard cock pressing against your thigh. Time slowed as his fingers sped up. Muscles in your stomach were tightening. Your insides were churning—not like when you first entered your Games’ arena, but in the best way possible. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but before it could build any more, Finnick’s hand stilled. And you genuinely whined at the loss of friction.

Then his hand moved even lower, resting a singular finger over your slick entrance. Your eyes were wide, unsure of how to feel with the sudden turn of events.

Finnick’s eyes flickered between your own. "You trust me?”

You weren’t sure if an easier question existed. “I do.”

And his lips were on yours again, deep and sensual. His tongue rolled over your own, pushing forward and then retreating in a perfect rhythm. He almost successfully distracted you from the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you knuckle-by-knuckle. Some sort of sound resembling a mix of discomfort and surprise vibrated in your throat as his finger bottomed out.

There wasn’t much pain. It was just an odd feeling.

Your lips parted from his and he looked down at you, his eyes holding an immense amount of security as he communicated through your shared gaze.

Does it hurt?

You gave him a gentle smile. No. Keep touching me.

He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.

His buried finger curled, shooting a sharp pang up into your stomach which caused your back to arch up against his bare torso. Whether you considered it painful or pleasurable was uncertain. Perhaps a mix of both. He did it again. This time you settled on describing it as a tight twinge in your lower stomach which sent a wave of chills down your legs. Definitely pleasurable. Only, he stopped indulging you with the sensation after the second time.

Instead, you felt another finger slowly slip inside you and whimpered. Now that hurt. You felt your inner walls stretch with the second addition and it stung. Especially when he began to scissor his fingers inside you. This was him preparing you for the real deal. How you were supposed to have Finnick inside you when just his fingers had you stuffed was incomprehensible. But you allowed him to keep going, trying to enjoy the comforting kisses he pampered onto you.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said.

Your hands moved to push back his messy bronze hair as he hovered above you. His dimples deepened with a grin and you swore you would endure any pain to keep them etched on his face. After he deemed you stretched out enough, he slowly rose to his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them aside. You couldn’t do anything but stare. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

The way you gulped was almost cartoonish. How the hell was he supposed to fit? You had never seen a man naked before—you weren’t even sure Finnick was human. He had a body sculptured by the Gods, a face carved by angels, and a… well, let’s just say he didn’t disappoint in any other areas. You weren’t sure if the smug look on his face was real or a carefully curated mask created for his Capitol customers. By the way it quickly washed away, you could tell it was the latter.

He began sliding your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Suddenly, you felt extremely vulnerable. Almost inferior. Your knees fell together, concealing the most private part of yourself from him. You avoided his gaze, cheeks becoming red and hot as he observed your naked frame. He had a way of looking at you as if you were a long-forgotten masterpiece, rediscovered from centuries of being lost. No one had looked at you like that before him.

Gently, he pried apart your legs and you didn’t bother trying to resist. Only when he descended and settled between your legs did the insecurity dwindle into the background of your mind. Your naked bodies were hot against each other. His weight pinned you against the bed. Everything that was yours touched all that was his. You thought this experience would feel like a dream, but it all felt so real. You were nervous, you were trembling, and your breaths were shaky.

Finnick was quick to recognise the nervousness radiating off you. His arm curled beneath you, somehow pulling you even closer, meanwhile, his other arm rested beside your head. He brushed strands of hair away from your face, soothing you with his tender touch.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded. You wanted this—wanted Finnick. It was just the anticipation that was killing you. Your thighs squeezed his sides to tell him you were ready. For a few moments longer, he restarted the pattern of sweet kisses, rolling tongues, and the warmth of blood rushing to your head. His hand was caressing your cheek; yours were splayed on his back, gliding over the rippled muscles.

Then finally, he shifted, his hand moving south to align himself with your entrance. All you could do was watch his focused expression. This was the moment. The threshold of your relationship would be crossed as soon as he pushed forward. There was no one else you wanted to share the experience with because you knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for him or for you; it was more than that. Something bordering spiritual, breaking the bounds of physical pleasure and entering into a deep emotional connection. Something no paying customer of the Capitol could provide.

He was gazing down at you, half-cradling your head as he began to say, “Are you su—" But before he could finish, you had pressed your lips to his, answering his question. You were sure. He nodded in response.

His eyes were hesitant he began to push his tip between your folds. Your fingers dug into his back, more from anxiety than anything else. It became a game of stopping and starting as he moved deeper inside inch-by-inch, allowing your walls time to adjust around him. Never had you seen someone’s face filled with so many emotions—concentration, controlled gratification, affection. So many feelings twisted his expression. Meanwhile, yours held only one. Discomfort. He was so big; you felt like you were being split apart and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.

Finally, when his pelvis connected with yours, you exhaled a heavy breath. It hurt. Bad. Finnick had the right idea to lay down a towel because you definitely needed it. He had you filled to the brim, stretched out and stuffed. Even the slightest shift in his position had your hands flying to his shoulders in pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, just—” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress a whimper. “Just go slow.”

He nodded. You smiled. Then for some odd reason, you laughed. And then so did he. Finnick’s face fell into the crook of your neck, muffling his boyish laughs into your skin. The added movements had your insides dully aching, but you didn’t pay it much attention. The moment was so innocently intimate that you wanted to stay in it forever. He lifted his head to press his grinning lips to yours and the laughter began to dissipate. Your mouths moved slowly together, full of heat and fervent emotion, and suddenly, Finnick’s body began to move too.

Careful as not to harm you, he slid himself backward in one slow motion and then pushed forward again in another. Pain stung at your inner walls and your lips left his as a gasp escaped your mouth. You were tempted to close your eyes whilst riding out the discomfort but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Finnick’s face. He was so mesmerizingly beautiful.

His cheeks were a baby pink. Lips were a rosy red. There was a thin sheen covering his forehead, slightly wrinkled by his furrowed brows. Those messy bronze locks you adored so much fell in strands across his forehead. The evident concentration and care on his face just made him look all the more picturesque.

While you admired his features, you started to notice the pain accompanying his slow thrusts was becoming more tolerable. There was still a sting, but also a dull twinge in your stomach that had you biting your bottom lip. It felt sort of… nice. And you wanted to experiment with that feeling.

Your hands were hooked around his shoulders. “Faster.”

Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.

You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.

And so, his hips started to rock back and forth at a faster pace. You could feel yourself clench around his cock from the change of rhythm but forced yourself to relax. He thrust in and out, rubbing against the ripples of your walls, tip brushing at a spot inside you that was anything but pain. That is what you focused on—that one sweet spot.

Time went on and he gradually increased his speed. Your lips were swollen and red, no doubt from the way he would nip and suck on your bottom lip in between each flick of his tongue. His breaths were coming out louder, heavier, as were your own. Soon enough, you were in a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and for you. The pain lingered but it was no longer unbearable. A shudder ran down your body and your pussy fluttered around him. Finnick broke away from your lips with a breathy groan that you swore you could feel in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His thrusts became a little faster, a little more painful. A hand slipped down between your bodies and the pain faded quicker than it came. He was rubbing circles around your clit, occasionally running his fingers across it which caused you to lurch upward. All of a sudden, you came to the realisation that everything bad that had been clouding your mind had disappeared. The ache, the confrontation with Snow. Everything. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure slowly building between your thighs and in your stomach. And Finnick. His tantalising eyes. His wicked mouth. His throbbing cock.

People always said your first time would be horrible; this was anything but. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you… loved him? Yeah, you loved him. Also because he was something of an expert at sex. You were in a pretty unlucky predicament but having Finnick willingly fucking you was a blessing.

His fingers were relentless, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that had you writhing beneath him. And added with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you, your uneven breaths turned into soft moans. He fucked, he rubbed, he nipped and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. Heat was enveloping your entire body.

“Finnick,” you moaned.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice was strained and hoarse.

His hand left your clit, hooking around your thigh, and curling it around his back so he could thrust even deeper. He restarted his rhythm of rubbing circles, but his thrusts felt different. Instead of just brushing that sensitiveness deep inside you, he was mercilessly hitting it. Over and over. Your moans were louder now; Finnick was more vocal too, grunting and occasionally uttering words of praise.

This went on for a while. His stamina was incredible—if you had a moment to think, you would have realised the depressing reasoning behind it. But you couldn’t think at all. Your heel was digging into his back; nails scratching at his skin. Both of you had a layer of sweat covering your bodies, skin wet, slapping and sliding over one another. Your pheromones had filled the room with the smell of sex, driving your need to finish.

Finnick’s mouth had been everywhere at this point. Your lips, your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Everywhere except your pussy, not that it really mattered anymore.

It was hard for you to comprehend how fucking amazing the sensations you felt were. There was heat and pressure pooling in your stomach, increasing at a slow pace, and growing more powerful by the minute. Finnick’s hips moved at a steady pace, but his hand had begun to slow. Even he had to succumb to fatigue at some point. He sounded like he had run for miles though was obviously pushing himself on for your benefit.

Instead of ceasing his tiring hand movements entirely, he switched hands. And that was when the heat in your stomach turned into a blazing inferno. He was much faster now. Applied more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow with a cry. His cock was throbbing inside you at the sound.

“That feel good? Huh?” he practically moaned.

He left kisses across the stretch of your neck, running his tongue over the skin and leaving behind red marks.

“Yes!” you cried out.

Your entire body felt like it was being dipped into a white-hot flame of pleasure and the feeling was only increasing. It was clear Finnick felt the same way. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was cursing left and right, and he was practically pulsing inside you.

The heat in your stomach was overwhelming but you needed more.

“Finnick, I feel—I feel—” You couldn’t describe even it.

Finnick nodded, breathing heavily above you. God, he looked gorgeous. “You’re gonna come.”

Your half-lidded needy eyes met his. Something about him saying those words sent a wave of acceleration through your body. You hadn’t known what the edge was until you were on the brink of coming, and there was no stopping it. His cock plunged in and out, pushing deep inside you, practically rocketing your orgasm to the surface with each thrust. His fingers moved at such an intense pace you didn’t even know was physically possible.

As your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth fell open and every frantic breath, moan, and cry was able to escape. Finnick had the same problem. Fuck, he sounded so sexy, it only spurred you on.

Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"

Every inch of your body tensed. You were sent into a space where white noise filled your hearing and bliss was all you knew. No pain. No sadness. Just ecstasy. Electric sparks jolted up and down your body, rising to your head, and causing you to see stars behind your closed eyes. Your moans were uncontrollable and desperate, voicing Finnick’s name over and over.

His thrusts were frenzied and sloppy, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. He had lifted your lower back into an arch, enhancing the sensation coursing through your body. Your walls were clenching and pulsing around him, so much that he was abruptly thrown into his own high. His hips stuttered and eventually, his cock filled you as deep as he could, spurting out warm strings of white that coated your inner walls.

He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your fingers wound into his hair, clinging to him as the aftershocks of your orgasm ravaged your body. Legs trembling and mouth panting, you lay there allowing yourself to regain your breath and ability to move.

After pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, Finnick slid off you, falling onto the bed beside you. Hopefully the towel was enough to save the silk sheets.

Now that you were resting, exhaustion had the chance to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure what the customs were after sex—whether you made conversation or simply went to sleep. The latter sounded pretty good though. A warm hand slipped beneath your back, turning your body sideways and pulling you so you were half strewn across Finnick’s chest and legs. You made no effort to resist.

Eyes closed, you listened to the heart beating inside his ribs. Thrumming intensely though starting to return to a normal rate.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a murmur, sounding utterly drained.

His thumb drew gentle patterns on the skin of your waist.

You nodded against his chest, remaining silent. After a little while you finally decided to speak. “I’m glad it was you.” And then after a few more moments of silence, you added, “I wish it was just you.”

You felt him press his lips to the top of your head. A long and emotional kiss. The whole reasoning behind losing your virginity returned to mind. It felt heavy, weighing down the atmosphere in the room. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, what was coming was inevitable. You wouldn’t get to stay with Finnick in this bed. You wouldn’t get to belong to him, or he you. You both belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. No matter how much you wished to belong to each other.

He whispered, “Me too.”

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deadghosy · 3 months

Note

I read the one from catnap, now I need dogday

HEADCANNONS OF HAZBIN HOTEL CREW WITH DOGDAY! READER

Prompt: you are a resident in the hotel who helps with trust exercises and help around with Charlie.

Let’s just say, you are a ball of sunshine everyone needs at times.

“Hi! Welcome to the hazbin hotel, I’m your assistant Dogday.” You say as your tail wags with you being slight jumpy and happy to greet the resident

I can see you walking around at day time rather than night as you are straight going to bed at night unlike catnap!reader

Your tail wags like a gah damn helicopter ready to fly! You always stand with a nice suit with Charlie.

I can see you wearing a suit with Charlie as Charlie thought about giving you one to fit you.

Like IMAGINE THE SUIT WITH A SUN ON IT!? IM CRYING AT HOW PURE THE READER LOOKS AS THEIR TAIL WAGS WITH A HAPPY SMILE🦆✨

You would make friend ship bracelets with the residents, such as the crew as angel smiles at how you made a special one for him. You could tell Angel dust needed love as you made sure you showed him love of friendship!

I can see you just being hugged everyday for being a good boy. Literally reader is just sitting there sweeping the floor, and out of no where husk grumbles hugging you and walks away as you blink confused.

You definitely thought he was drunk until you didn’t smell alcohol on him with your canine nose.

“Dogdayyyy!” Yells Charlie as she was trying to put up a banner that says “tell us about your day!” Immediately you came running with your tounge out excited on all fours as you stopped In front of her looking serious with a salute to your head

Charlie had to turn away from your face as she blushes flustered at your adorable eagerness to help. She’s actually happy to have an angel help her hotel actually.

“I don’t need a hug my dear fellow…” alastor says backing away with an irritated face still holding his smile. Your eyes glimmer with a sinister look as you immediately jumped at him grabbing him into your soft paws. “Gotcha!”

You are quite opposite from the other headcannon with catnap!reader as you have a sun ☀️pendent on your collar. It matches you, hell even Alastor said it as it taps it out of curiosity.

I headcannon your fur and basically dog day’s fur to smell like human..like literally nostalgia with a hint of vanilla to help with the relaxing feeling for the others.

Since you are basically the sun around the hotel, making everyone happy and comfortable. Ima just say, you definitely have a heater in your plushy body so if it’s winter time. You can keep everyone and even your friends warm!

You rumble in your throat like some kind of purr as you just lay down by the couch of the lounge room in the hotel as residents either pet you or lay beside you.

You do head tilts confused when someone is explaining something you never had heard of before. So you just try to learn from the person so it can be a conversation.

I headcannon dogday!reader to have slight or do have adhd as dogday!reader sways while trying to stay still or mess with their paws when bored. Like reader shakes her legs when sitting as they hum a tune to pass time

You have some fluffy ass orange fur as the fur on your head also looks like hair. So basically like angel dust and how his hair looks. But in your style of course!

And lastly, I can see reader literally chasing their tail like a dog and then stopping as they stand up to their full height. Embarrassingly coughing into their hand as they try to seem professional.

CREW HEADCANNONS!

I headcannon Charlie to give you half the tasks as she can see you are working a “little bit” too hard. She only wants you to not overwork yourself. She sees you as a leader as well, but doesn’t want to put pressure on you.

When Lucifer met you, immediately he was petting you with a soft expression. Hell, he even made you a duck a few days later that had dog ears and a sun pendent on it. You smile and made a duck wallet for Lucifer.

Basically you and Lucifer had a gift and receiving friendship as Charlie was happy you and her father was getting along.

But when Lucifer started to live here…oh booyy!

I imagine you accidentally running around the hotel and literally Lucifer is trying to do a Lego duck set. And it crumbles due to you being 8ft….lucifer was pouting and glaring at you at the next hotel meeting. You just sweatdropped at his glare.

I image people thinking you and husk won’t get along as husk is a cat demon and you being a 8ft tall dog creature like plush…but really husk purrs around you as you stand there smiling like a derp. LIKE YOU WOULD BE AT HIS BAR AND HUSK HAS HIS EYES DILATED AT YOU!

I headcannon you call the crew by different names based off summer things….more like sunny thing.

For Charlie=sunshine, vaggie= my sun, Alastor=sunny, Lucifer= sunset, nifty=crazy shine, Pentious= my lovely sun, and finally husk= sunbeam

Now for Angel, you call him Angel…but the way you say it makes Angel smile as it felt like you actually made a nickname for him instead of his name. (Might sound dumb but it’s very cute imo🦆)

I headcannon Angel will grab a ball and toss it yelling “FETCH!” As you perked up immediately with your tongue out as you chase the ball. It was so cartoony as Lucifer, Charlie, and Angel record you being such a good boy. Angel snickers as he sends this through hellgram. (Instagram)

I imagine you and Lucifer hyper fixating on things as you rant about [favorite thing] as Lucifer smiles at how comfortable you are to share these things with him. Lucifer is glad to have a friend like you as you share your emotions out loud like him.

Niffty definitely grooms you as you watch a cartoon on the show. You like to exclaim your favorite part as nifty rewinds it as she grooms your orange fur to perfection.

Headcannon on how your fur smells like a fresh summer day with a hint of vanilla and nostalgia as the crew sleeps on your body while you snore softly. Like literally it’s a cute moment as you wrap your arms around your friend like family. It’s a nice catch to be honest.

I can Imagine a resident was messing with you as you had your head down sad with your tail tucked between your legs. And Alastor popped up beside you with a strained smile as he threatened the resident to leave the hotel or he will broadcast them for his next radio show.

Alastor brought you in his next broadcast as he talked about any subject as you just wag your tail happy to be by the radio demon

I can see the hazbin hotel crew being like “I only talked to that dog for a second, and I’ll kill myself before anyone hurts him.” As you just stand in the background chasing a demon butterfly.

I headcannon the crew being overprotective on your innocence because of how innocent and naive you are based on cuss words. Like angel dust made a comment on how you never cursed before and all you said was, “what’s a cuss word?” ALL HELL BROKE LOSE AS EVERYONE DEATH GLARED ANGEL DUST-

So now if someone curses they just cover your ears as you nibble on a sandwich husk slide over to you.

I imagine sir Pentious literally snuggling against your fur with a doe eyes expression as his egg boiz comment how soft and good you smell as you wag your tail and hug them all. Your love language is definitely all and above, but the most one is touch.

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sunderwight · 5 months

Text

Liushen AU where SY transmigrates into SJ's older brother, and subsequently nopes them right out of the slavery backstory by using his general knowledge of the story and actually being an adult in a kid's body to just leave (basically) with SJ and YQ.

SY carts them both up to Cang Qiong for the next sect trials. It's actually not all that hard, the trickiest part is getting enough to eat and finding safe places to sleep between leaving the slavers and taking the trials (SY manages just barely, with considerable help from his new little brothers.) Nobody bothers to go after them because it's before Qiu Jianluo and this style of human traffickers mostly operate by virtue of their merchandise having nowhere else to go. Chasing down runaways is an expense not worth indulging, given that most of them either come straight back or die of exposure.

Anyway, they take the trials, and as expected YQY gets chosen to become a personal disciple for the sect leader, and SJ gets chosen by the Qing Jing Peak Lord, but also as (kind of) expected (by SY alone) nobody wants SY. He's older the Yue Qi, so too old, and unlike YQ and SJ his cultivation potential isn't striking enough to make any exceptions for him.

SY, however, can't leave it at that. He's spent more than five minutes with the street kid codependency gang, so he's gotten attached to both of them. And he knows what will happen if they're left to their own devices and The Plot proceeds accordingly. (Also, they keep threatening to not stay at the sect if SY doesn't stay too, for some reason.) So with a heavy heart and internal candle lit for himself, SY heads to Bai Zhan Peak. Which is the only peak that accepts disciples by way of them turning up and refusing to leave.

SY's not much of a fighter. He actually really hates the atmosphere on BZP, he's not bad at physical cultivation (his health's pretty good in this life, ironic considering how much worse his situation was) but the random ambushes and survival-of-the-fittest stuff is just not his brand. But that's okay, because it turns out that BZP actually DESPERATELY needs disciples on the actual peak who are interested in things other than fighting and cultivating their own strength. Stuff like, filling out requisition requests for An Ding every time things break, apologizing to An Ding every time things break again, organizing schedules, browbeating senior disciples into actually teaching, educating disciples on virtually any artistic or social skill, hosting lectures on how to beat vicious beasts without just overpowering them, and etc.

Okay so some of this stuff isn't and has never actually been on Bai Zhan's curriculum but Shen Yuan is going to make this place tolerable. And stop these children from needlessly getting acid burns or lyme disease or scurvy or whatever. He keeps internally chewing out Airplane for designing a sect system that means there are a lot of largely unsupervised 12-year-olds running around the wilderness on a mountain picking fights all the time. (When he actually meets Shang Qinghua and figures him out he switches to doing it in person, of course, in twice-monthly bitching sessions that look a lot like budding friendship.)

Of course one of the worst offenders is the Liu kid, who SY would suspect was actually raised by wolves if he didn't know for a fact that Liu Qingge has a younger sister, and also the kinds of nice clothing and letters from home that strongly imply not only does he have a family, but that the family is pretty well-off. Liu Qingge is at first deeply offended by SY being a BZP disciple. He rarely fights anyone, and uses tricks and evasion tactics whenever a fight can't be avoided. And he does other annoying stuff, like pestering him about meals and baths and lecturing him on identifying dangerous plants and the early signs of qi deviation. This is not what their peak is about! He should get with the program already! Just fight stuff until you're too tired to keep fighting stuff!

Also SY's younger brother, SJ, is pure evil (at least according to baby Liu Qingge) even though his other younger brother (?) is cool and nice.

Anyway, Liu Qingge stops complaining about SY after their first mission together, where Liu Qingge doesn't lose a fight but does get into a kind of pyrrhic victory situation where he's really badly hurt, and it's SY who helps him win (correctly identifying the monster and then pointing out its weakness) and takes care of him afterwards and gets him safely back to Cang Qiong. SY expresses surprise at LQG actually being polite to him, and LQG realizes that he's been a colossal ass if people think he wouldn't be grateful to someone who saved his life, so the usual Liushen dynamic proceeds from there. Liu Qingge starts bringing SY fans he leaves behind and hunts down animals that are supposed to be useful for bolstering weak cultivation, SY invites LQG to tea and keeps the critters as pets, etc etc.

SY doesn't get the Head Disciple position, because that's only acquired via beating the current peak lord in combat and lol no. Also he's not interested in stealing it from Liu Qingge, to whom it rightfully belongs (in his mind). But that's fine, because Liu Qingge takes the position when the next generation ascends and then he lets SY exclusively handle all the peak duties SY actually likes (mainly teaching). It's perfect -- Liu Qingge gets to focus on his War God antics and occasional administration/meetings without having to deal with students his has no patience for, but the disciples of BZP don't get neglected because SY is actually teaching and organizing classes and student care. BZP hasn't enjoyed a golden age like this since it was founded!

Things are pretty good overall, but Shen Yuan knows that it's only a matter of time before The Plot shows up, and so he can't rest completely easily.

Meanwhile, the will-they-or-won't-they bets on Liushen have been going strong for a while now. The thing is, most of their martial siblings are convinced that these two are already "together", and just being circumspect about it. Those who know SY well (like SJ, YQY, and SQH) know better but think that SY's romantic obtuseness is to blame, whereas those who know LQG well (LMY, WQW, and MQF) are pretty sure that it's actually LQG's obtuseness that's the problem. Of course it's actually both of them, so efforts to "fix" matters by getting through one of their thick skulls inevitably run afoul of the other's.

An additional complication is of course: SJ doesn't like LQG (mutual), and now that he's the leader of his own peak, he wants to poach SY to come and live there. Not only so he can have one of the 2 people he trusts actually close at hand, but also because SJ also hates actually teaching the atrocious little brats on his peak, and would like to have SY come and do it for him. YQY is still a total pushover for him too, and is also now the sect leader, so YQY agrees that SY can change peaks if SY and LQG both agree to it.

Liu Qingge, of course, is a no, but he's a variable "no". He's not going to hold Shen Yuan against his will or anything.

As for Shen Yuan, it's... complicated. He doesn't really like BZP, but it's gotten a lot better than it was at the start. These days he's actually pretty proud of his accomplishments, and it's more comfortable, but it's still a rough and rowdy place with fewer creature comforts, libraries, or other appealing points than QJP. Also, if he goes to Qing Jing to teach, he can personally ensure that SJ doesn't go around persecuting any of his students!

But... SJ never lived with the Qiu family in this AU, and even though SY's not totally clear on what the PIDW backstory for SJ was, he knows he's a better guy now than the scum villain in the book was. He has a reputation for making cutting remarks, not for being an abusive snake or a lecher. SY's honestly less worried about him doing anything bad at all, and there are other people on QJP who can teach. It might even be good for SJ to promote more people to fill out a social circle he can rely on! That guy needs more friends, seriously.

And QJP really doesn't need more layabout literary intellectual types who get into pointless arguments, which is all SY would be if he went there. Just yet another nerdy scholar for the rich kids with middling cultivation that the peak favors to ignore. At least on BZP he's filling a gap.

SY is clearly torn, and the fact that SY's considering it has LQG upset, and LQG doesn't handle being upset very well, so of course they have an argument about it. SY storms off to cool his head and LQG is like, this is it, he's gone to Qing Jing Peak, I've drive him off by being too aggressive and he's probably remembering all those times I told him he didn't belong here and oh no what have I done maybe if I build him a heated bath and get him books he will come back???

Turns out that SY just went to An Ding to vent at SQH while SQH was like "I think you would have fewer problems if you and Liu Qingge just got married and my disciples could call you Shigu to your face instead of behind your back" and SY threw melon seeds at him and sulked on his fainting couch (which is always cold for some reason...)

Thus begins the Liushen Divorce Arc where SY tries to be anywhere but BZP or QJP, Liu Qingge tries to figure out what thing he can punch to fix this not-punchable problem, SJ is like "I don't see what the big deal is they should break up Liu Qingge is awful and I want my brother to teach my classes for me" like the spoiled youngest sibling he's finally allowed to be, YQY is trying to moderate this Hades vs Demeter situation and is all "well maybe SY could spend half the year on QJP and half on BZP?", and Liu Mingyan is going "I know my brother if this doesn't work out he is going to die single and pining like an idiot" and so keeps conscripting other disciples to y'know, lock SY and LQG into storage closets together (ineffective: LQG can punch through walls) or at least get them in the same room (underestimating SY's willingness to yeet himself out of windows to avoid awkward social interactions.)

By the time Luo Binghe joins the sect (as a Qiong Ding disciple), the drama is in full swing and is the main topic of gossip across most of the peaks.

#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #liushen #long post #sy doesn't even realize lbh has already arrived until someone mentions 'luo-shidi' on qiong ding in passing #he nearly has a heart attack #why isn't this kid on qing jing peak?!#(why would he be on QJP now though? SJ's not gonna want him not even to pathologically torment and he's promising enough for QDP)#SY: well I guess... that settles that? not enough reason to move to QJP if luo binghe isn't even there. everything can stop being weird now #LQG: then we shall have a spring wedding #I like to think the changes to the world are so substantial that the setting just shifts to a less angsty action/adventure story #now the cang qiong crowd are the colorful side characters instead of complicit in lbh's many torments

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yanderenightmare · 5 months

Note

...part two where alpha bakugou finally tries to court reader after a few years of possessively scenting her and walks in on her in her first hear

Bakugou Katsuki

TW: omegaverse, possessiveness, awkward relationship

part 1

gn reader

He’s trying to figure out how to get you to move in with him.

He’s done at UA now, receiving steady work and paychecks. His apartment is nice, in a good and practical location. Everything is stable. Everything’s in place.

Everything except you.

He knows he hasn’t been the most reasonable mate throughout the years. His confession was nothing short of a threat – forcing you to wear his clothes so others would know you were taken.

But he did those things to protect you, to keep you safe – which is his duty as an Alpha. He's done his side of the courtship.

In all honesty, you’re the one who’s unreasonable – you’re the one not doing your job.

He’s not blind to see how doting other Omegas are towards their Alphas.

You don’t dote on him – never kissy or cuddly or lovey-dovey – at best, you’re passive with an inclination to be agreeable.

How’s he supposed to make any sort of moves on you when you don’t give him any signals? At this rate, the two of you will be left in a platonic state of… not friendship or kinship… just plain awkwardness – a stalemate.

It’s embarrassing… the two of you haven't even consummated your bond yet. In fact, and even more embarrassing – you haven't even kissed.

You may very well not even be mates at this point.

He can’t blame you, though…

He’s not any good when it comes to you. He never has been. All your conversations are of him either tutoring you in subjects, scolding you for not wearing his clothes, or admonishing you for not telling him about your schedule.

Actually, almost every conversation you have with each other is of him shouting at you.

It’s no wonder you won’t kiss him.

“Oi – I’m done. Heading over now.” He grunts as soon as he hears the tell-tale silence of you answering his call.

“Uhm,”

He furrows his brows at the soft warble, waiting for more.

There’s heavy breathing coming from your line. Then, a whimper which only makes his brows furrow tighter.

“I’m – uhm, not really feeling so good.” You finally say.

More heavy breathing, followed by a wince.

“Maybe you shouldn't come...”

“Hah? You’ sick? What kinda sick? How’d you get sick?” He immediately starts berating. “This is why you can’t live alone-”

“Just don’t come.” You interrupt a little louder, offering a sigh. “I don’t want to make you sick too…” He thought he even heard a sniffle. “I’ll stay inside, so don’t worry. I’ll call when I feel better – you can come then, okay?”

A small beat passes.

“No. I’m coming now.”

“But-” You whine, but he hangs up.

Dumb brat. Getting yourself sick. This is exactly why you should live with him. You don’t wear a jacket when it’s cold. You don’t eat what you should. You don’t drink enough water. You don’t sleep when you ought to.

“Oi! Open up, brat.” He bangs on your door when he arrives a curt fifteen minutes later – unbothered by the many other students buzzing around the dorm.

He hears you rush to open, quick footsteps padding across the floor – before the door swings open.

You pull him in by the arm, shutting it quickly behind him.

“Don’t call me a brat where everyone can hear, you dummy.” You hiss, slapping his chest in no way that hurt.

Still, he raises a brow at you.

Then he makes another grimace. Narrowing his eyes as he leans forward just a nod – his broad shoulders squared and stiff.

You curl your brows at the stance, tilting your head in askance while his nose scrunches – sniffing the air between you – almost scrutinizingly.

“You’re not sick.” He suddenly accuses.

It’s an odd thing to disagree on. But it always is with Katsuki – ever the unreasonable Alpha.

“Yes, I am.” You sigh, brushing past him. “I have a fever, and I feel funny.”

He grabs you before you get too far – although softly – holding you by your upper arms while leaning in closer – now with his nose sliding along your neck.

You feel flushed at the proximity. Odd, for some reason.

Something tickles deep down in your stomach, along with the brewing pain you’d felt all day.

“Feverish, restless, aching stomach?” He lists the symptoms with a raised brow, though more so in a statement. Clicking his tongue at the clueless look of askance you give him in return. “You’re in heat, you dumbass.”

This time, you really feel flushed. Eyes going moon-big at his claim – suddenly very nervous. And for good reason.

“No… how do you know?” You deny, shaking your head as though it would make him any less right.

“Tch-” He scoffs halfheartedly – not sharply like he so often does.

Dropping your arms, he straightens his back and looks off to the side – his voice low with something you’d never heard from him.

“You’re stinking up the whole place...”

There’s a blush dusting his cheeks.

The feeling is mutual.

He hadn’t been on board when you’d told him you were moving out of your home to your college campus. The thought of you living in close proximity to dozens of other alphas and trigger-happy betas made the vein in his forehead pulse – hands sweaty at his sides.

But he’d helped you move nonetheless – if only to make sure your dorm was infested with his scent – veering off any unwanted bidders.

“Such a dumb brat…” He sighed. Walking over to the door to make sure you’d locked it – you hadn’t, which only further made him scowl. “Got any idea how dangerous this is? Allowing everyone who walks by to know exactly how-”

“Don’t shout!” You bark back. Feeling nervous and tense and worried – all in all panicked. This wasn’t the plan. “The plan was obviously to use suppressants – but I've never been in heat before, so-”

“So yer sayin’ you had no plan. Tch, unprepared – like always.” He bites back – also panicked.

“Shut up, jerk.” Your fists ball at your sides. “You’re not helping- oww-” You keeled before you could rant – wrapping your arms around your stomach.

Heavy breaths erratically short, interrupted by whimpers and a wince.

His scowl cleared – easing up when he realized his presence might have just made things worse. He’d showered after patrol, so the scent wasn’t as intense, but it was enough for you to react – knowing his pheromones were spurring your hormones into greater turmoil.

“Shit.” He muttered – suppose with some empathy – before he scooped you up from where you were all about ready to kiss the floor, huddled over. “Alright then, brat...”

You were weak to his handlings – before you knew it, you were already placed in the bed – the two of you in a spoon – your back to his broad chest and his chin atop your head.

He was a little stiff – not unlike him – but you suppose he was feeling a little shy about the matter – his movements perhaps even slightly sheepish as he smoothed his hand over your stomach.

He went under your shirt but didn’t lift it off – placing his palm down flat atop the ache inside.

Slowly, he began rubbing circles into the flesh – a little awkwardly until finding the right pace.

It hurt at first – made you tense – but then it settled. The warmth soon soothed the churning within, making it melt, and you let out a relieved sigh – breaths still burdened, laced with pitiful whimpers you couldn’t help but let slip.

He suppressed a sound when you shimmied closer – trying to will away the warmth he felt swell in his pants.

But your scent had been clouding his head since he'd stepped into the room and was only growing thicker.

“We don’t have to do anything else.” He stated through the haze in spite of it – as though renouncing the need even though you both knew what it was that was poking against your butt.

“You’re hard.” You argued bluntly – as you’d learned was your only tactic with him.

Feeling him bristle. “Tch – blame your shitty scent – a man can only hold himself back so much…”

All clothes were still on – and yet… the fat thing that was tucked right alongside the thin cotton of your pajama shorts and undies… you wouldn’t deny it felt nice – couldn’t – not when you were so wet it was embarrassing.

“Stop.” You said – and his hand peeled off your stomach, making you grab and put it back in place. “No, not that – I mean…”

You chewed your lip – shuffling your thighs – feeling hot all over before releasing another sigh.

“You don’t have to hold yourself back…” You could only barely say it – almost unheard in how timid a whisper it was.

He took a moment in fear of having misunderstood you – remaining vigilant in his cautiousness. Every nerve recognized what a fragile state you were in – and nothing dared defy the single dominant instinct he had telling him to cater to your every need – despite the other almost equally incessant urge he felt to hump you like a pillow.

“Y’gotta explain yourself.”

This time, you gave a whine – caught between vexed and desperate. Shrinking where you lay snug against his bigger body, curling in on yourself. “Please don’t make me say it, Katsuki – it’s so embarrassing, I think I might die.”

His heart beats faster at the vulnerable cry. He swallowed the pool of drool under his tongue – squaring his jaw, doing his best to keep his voice calm. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want.”

“Ugh – you're such a bully-” You curl even further into a ball with a whimper.

Katsuki clicks his tongue at your behavior – briefly rolling his eyes before pulling you up beneath him. His red eyes, holding that pointed dour look – such contrast to the swiveling of your watery ones.

“Tell me what you want.” His voice was sturdier now – an anchor you could hold onto.

You had often been unsure whether Katsuki really was the right mate for you even though you couldn’t really picture yourself with anyone else – let alone think of him with another Omega without wanting to trash your room like a wild animal let out of the cage. But looking at him now – into those bromine eyes – once so harsh and now so mature, making you feel so safe.

He was waiting for an answer, but your lips had other plans – planting themselves on his in a spur-of-the-moment kiss.

And what left them once the two of you parted was nothing short of heart-robbing.

“Please fuck me.”

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cl6teen · 5 months

Text

affection, ln4 ❀ chapter ii. the need to know

masterlist || chapter i || chapter iii

summary: [4.5k words] drunken nights spent in lando’s townhouse are an ode to your friendship, and maybe just a little bit more.

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

contains: lando and reader are in denial, self friendzoning, lots of reminiscing and fluff, lando taking care of reader, very lazy smut, one night stands, oblivious flirting, talks of sex, intoxication, unprotected sex, pull and pray.

note: not proofread, this can be read as a stand-alone or as part of my affection series, however this is not a required read for said series. (sorry for such a long wait! exams were rough and this was difficult to write for some reason)

❀ silverstone ❀

The overarching sounds of EDM and conversation ring through Lando’s ears in a destructive harmony that’s sure to hit him tomorrow morning in the form of a stupid migraine. Still, he pushes through the sea of bodies crowding around, trying to huddle in close enough to him to hopefully snag a photo of ‘Silverstone’s P2 driver’. It has a nice ring to it, since you said that with Max in this competition, P2 is the new P1, so he should be nothing more proud of his performance.

Prideful he was, enough to confidently down shots with today’s true winner, forgetting how the Dutchman always lets as loose as he can during these after parties. And while they didn’t seem to hit whilst manning the dj turn-tables for the last hour or so, the newfound alcohol in his system was certainly making itself known now.

His hands run through brown tufts of hair as he scans the club entrance for you, “Y/n?”

“Over here.”

You’ve sat yourself in an armchair close to the women’s washroom, where you nurse a half-full lukewarm bottle of water in your hands before taking yet another prolonged sip.

“You look like shit.” He chuckles, leaning down to fix the strands of your hair that stray from the rest.

“Tell me about it,” you roll your eyes playfully, a laugh escapes you both, “you’re not one to talk, either.”

Fair point, he shrugs. With tousled hair that manages to go in every direction except for what it was originally in, sunglasses threatening to fall off the bridge of his nose, and the faint red lipstick marks stained on his unbuttoned white collar, Lando looks far from put together. He’s impossible, how can he have the nerve to talk to how you look on a night out while he was so quick to leave you with Oscar (who you had no problems being with—he just didn’t seem to be the party type) after receiving a shameless once over from a leggy blonde passing your group by upon arrival.

“So, where’s tonight’s girl?” He stares when you passively fold your arms into each other and question, completely unaware of how the movement pushes your chest together. He clicks his tongue, stop looking, Lando.

“Hell if I know.” He sighs in fake disappointment, in hopes of cutting that conversation off as quickly as it was introduced, “you’re staying at mine tonight.”

Okay, you nod. You don’t question it—you never do. Instead you sit quietly and watch him swipe around on his phone, no doubt shooting Max (Fewtrell) a quick text to let him know you were both leaving before calling up an Uber Black. Was this normal? To go home with Lando after a long night out? To you, the answer was always yes—hell, if you need him, say the word and he’s on the way, isn’t that what friends were for?

But other people can’t fathom the idea, they look at the two of you with doubtful eyes after explaining that although you can’t seem to go anywhere without one another, Lando’s just a friend. You sigh in exasperation at the thought, Lando Norris isn’t dateable; at least, not to you. He texts you about the girls he’s on dates with and nitpicks about how their breath smells, or how they had food in their teeth, or the potent perfume they drench themselves in to the point of inducing headaches in people they pass by. He’s whiney, and picky, and—

Lando’s fingers snap in your face and bring you out of your stupor, “What’s got you thinking so hard?”

“Nothing.” Your little jump earns you a perplexed look from Lando, who can only stare you down, “nothing, just want to get some rest.”

“The car is here, but it’s a little walk across the street.” He notices the heels toppled over each other next to the chair—you truly are a mess. “Do you have your purse?” You nod, flimsily holding the bag up for him to see.

Lando is no Superman, he knows that well after an ambitious jump off a bunk bed and straight into an ER visit and a three month cast at the age of ten; but now he feels like he’s got the power to do it all, looping the straps of your heels on a finger and hoisting you into his arms bridal style. It’s far from a pretty sight, but it still manages to grab the attention of partygoers nearby, who point and whisper and gush at the scene in front of them. “People will see, Lando.” You look up at him through dark lashes in an unfamiliar way that gets his gears turning—more than anything, he just wants to get you to this car.

“Yeah, but that’s okay.” He smiles nervously, letting you burrow your head into the crook of his neck to hide from the nipping British breezes outside. It's probably anything but okay; pictures might make their way around, and make both his life and your own a pain in the ass, but he can’t rain it on you like that.

The subtle aroma of your perfume invades his senses, and all of a sudden he’s become so hyper aware of his touch on your skin, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest—he shakes his head.

In Lando’s mind, you’re but one thing to him; a friend—one he intends to keep like that.

—

Silent car rides in the backseat have never been Lando’s thing, not when he’s drunk, not when he can’t use his phone because he has to watch you. He’s not complaining, really—but there’s a fleeting moment of relief when forty minutes later, the two of you find way to the steps of his townhome, and he's fumbling around in his pockets for the keys while you stay huddled close to him to keep warm despite already sporting his jacket.

He’s profane as he fiddles with the door handle. You’re lucky he’s sweet enough to give you his clothing, because even though he practically threw it at you after listening to your nonstop whines about the cold, and how he ‘wasn’t even fazed by it’, he is actually freezing now.

“Tonight was…”

Rough, Fun, you both say in tandem; Lando’s enthusiasm is unsurprising, he finds himself at home in these situations. Work hard, play harder, he would say—it makes sense, his job is high stakes, stressful, the media is a pain in the ass; you would look forward to the fun bit too.

However, you’re not Lando, you don’t vacation in Ibiza or party with Max Verstappen on weekends—you travel to Thailand and read on rafts, but your best friend making podium during a home race is more than enough reason to show face for the night, so you make your peace with it and thank whoever that you’re home now.

“I need to change out of this,” you refer to the dress you’ve spent the entire after party readjusting and pulling down only to tug back up. “Lend me a shirt?”

“Did you really need to ask?” He speaks from a hunched over position while clumsily taking off his shoes. “You know where my room is.”

It’s a painfully familiar place; Lando’s never around enough to change it up anyway. When was the last time you were here? Maybe two years ago, during summer break, your memory is too foggy, but not to the point where you can forget your first time visiting. You and Lando were nineteen and twenty, and he wanted to use his well earned ‘Y/n’s daddy’ funded bonus on something practical. A house was not what you had in mind, but twenty five year old Carlos had a bottle of wine and a pipe dream of a three person housewarming party (one your father wasn’t too stoked to hear about, no doubt). It ended just as expected, wine drunk and full on that no bake cookie dough, albeit against the wishes of the drivers’ nutritionists, and you somehow bundled up in Lando’s brand new King bed while the other two found their comforts in plastic wrapped couches tucked away in the living room.

The only thing different in Lando’s bedroom are the bedsheets (thankfully), and frames full of podiums that showcase just how far he's come.

The smile you fight while reminiscing falters when you reach to tug at your zipper and fail. For what you spent on it, the list of inconveniences following your dress just seems to grow.

“Lan!” An exasperated huff escapes you, “could you come in for a moment?”

“My zipper, it’s stuck and I can't get it.” You want to cringe at your words, it’s a cliche—one of the many the universe seems to put you two in. Turning away from him, you move your hair out the way to expose your back, “do you mind?”

His fingers feel warm on your back, it’s a foreign feeling that creeps over the expanse of your nerves and has your breath hitched uncomfortably in the back of your throat. Something is just…different—maybe the alcohol, but you’ve been drunk around Lando one too many times and never has it ended like this, with his fingers nervously fiddling with the metal zipper, tugging at your dress material while gently trying to yank it down.

“Lando, that hurts.” you breathe for the first time in what feels like ages.

He kisses his teeth in frustration, placing a firm hand on your waist to keep you from squirming around, “You need to stay still.” The thickness of his accent becomes more apparent with each word.

You feel so weak, letting just a simple touch bully you into submission, silently you nod. The zipper's journey down is agonizing and slow, for both of you; at this moment, Lando wants nothing more than to leave the room, yet his feet seem glued to the ground he stands on. It’s dimly lit, but you can still feel eyes burning holes into your bare skin, up from the nape of your neck and down to the top of your hips that the lace material underneath clings to.

He watches the thin straps of your dress struggle to stay atop your shoulders and fall down your arms, further exposing the skin of your back—he sees a tattoo, one that he convinced you to get in Vegas last year, it looks good, better than he thought it would.

“—did you hear me? Are you done?”

He should leave.

“Yeah, yup. I just got it down,” and as quick as he came, it feels like Lando’s miles away, “I’m gonna go now, just…grab whatever shirt you would like.”

–

“Hey.” You say quietly, padding your way to the kitchen island.

Okay. Things seem a lot more normal between you two. Maybe all that was needed to fix whatever tension between you both was a fresh change of clothes and some bright lighting.

“You hungry?” He prompts, leaning against quartz counters with the world famous boyish smile signature to Lando himself. “I can make us a little snack before bed, just to lighten the hangover you’ll probably get tomorrow.”

You hum sweetly, the time reads 1:53 am—it’s earlier than you thought, time always blurs together when you’re drunk. “Could you get me a glass of water please?”

“Here you are, missy.”

You scrunch your nose up at his tone, “any name but that.” He laughs obnoxiously, proud of how he manages to get under your skin in a way only he can.

The sizzling sounds of grilled cheese on the pan accompanied by the dull hum of a faulty ceiling light are the only ones in the kitchen (you’re constantly telling him to get it fixed, but Lando never seems to follow up on your suggestions, opting for the answer of ‘I don’t even live here like that anymore’). Sipping from your glass, the lipstick stain on his collar catches your eye again—you’re curious, why didn’t he just go home with her?

“So what happened with the girl?”

“What?” He turns to look at you, brows furrowed into a knot. It’s not until you make a little gesture to the base of your neck that he looks down at his own to see what you mean. “Oh, her, what was her name again…Abby, Aria—no, Amy. She was too…onto me, only talked about racing and the other drivers. Don’t get me wrong I like, love, racing, but I want to have a natural conversation.” he searches for the right comparison, “like how you and me flow.”

You and me.

Empathetic, you sigh into your hands, Lando is simple, adjacently, he likes things that are simple; routine and normal, like you two. “Lando, if you keep comparing girls to me you’re going to chase them away.” You think his attitude will be his undoing, but he says if it hasn’t happened now there’s no chance of it happening ever. “Even worse, they’ll think I'm your girlfriend.”

He shrugs calmly, so normal about the entire idea, “Max says they already think that.”

“Yeah well,” you huff out in mild annoyance, stuttering over your words at the thought of Lando discussing your relationship status with someone. “Max doesn’t know everything.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t date you in a million years,” mouthing off, he turns to look at you with a sour face, “too snobby.”

“You talk like you’re not daddy’s money too.” The reaction of your middle finger poking out is almost reflexive. “You’re not my type anyway.”

“That’s a lie. You thought I was cute when I first met you.” It is a lie, a painfully bad one at that—Lando has always been a cutie; though, his constant need to annoy you in some way seemed to drown that aspect of himself out.

“And then your personality came to light.”

The witted banter between you always comes naturally—he would poke and prod at your last fiber of patience with him until you finally find yourself giving your attention to his words and firing something back that would be surefire dig deep had it not been aimed at somebody like Lando.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t think I’m hot.” Sniggering, he shoots you a teasing wink, “don’t worry, I think you’re hot too.”

“I know that, everyone thinks I’m hot.”

He scoffs to himself, he says you’re a narcissist, you say it’s not narcissistic if it’s true.

The spurt of banter is short lived, and soon enough you’re back to hearing the hum of the kitchen lights. It’s peaceful enough, better than the crescendo of club music from an hour ago.

But you’re inebriated—and needing to talk to keep yourself from falling asleep while waiting on Lando, you start, “Have you ever thought about it?”

“About what?”

“You and me,” you repeat his words from earlier, but they’re not laced with the cool and calm confidence Lando had—instead, they’re shaky. You’re unsure if you want to know the answer to your own question.

“Like…dating?” The pitch of his accent goes higher in confusion.

“Uhm, not dating per say…” you down your saliva to slow yourself before continuing, with the liquid courage flowing through your veins, the mental filter that once barricaded stupid nonsense from revealing itself is nowhere to be seen; which sucks because you could really use it right now.

“Do you mean hooking up?” Lando takes the meek stare you give as a yes, and your sudden shyness has him wanting to press you for more, “Have you?”

Have you thought about it? Screwing Lando Norris? Embarrassingly so, you’ve always wanted to sleep with an F1 driver (to know what makes these girls so insane for them, that’s what you tell yourself), but you prefer to keep those fantasies in your head, locked away in an untouchable space where nobody can reach. Still, it would be a lie to say it hadn’t crossed your mind—even if you harbor no romantic feelings towards him, people don’t usually mind sleeping with someone they find physically attractive.

“And what if I have?” You probe, arms folding into each other as you watch Lando watch you out of the corner of his eyes.

You’ll put him into a lot of trouble soon enough, and he dreads the day you do. “You’re funny.”

“So it never crossed your mind?”

Of course it has, look at you—unbelievably pretty even while piss-drunk and dressed in an old wrinkled t-shirt riding up your thighs. Though, he would never tell you that to your face; it would do him more worse than good. Lando might not love you in that sense, but he is a single man with an appreciative eye; he thinks many of the other drivers on the grid can attest to the fact that you’re stunning, some even going as far as using him as a means of snagging your number. He does you the favor of turning them down in your stead, though, because you would never get with any of them—he’s sure of it.

At least, that’s what he hopes.

“Every guy has thought about hooking up with his best female friend, at least once.” He shrugs, not seeming to care about the way your mouth hangs open at his nonchalant vulgarity. Lando doesn’t actually know if it’s the truth, but he sure as hell feels that way about you, wrong or not. You don’t notice, but he’s already turned the stove burner off before facing you with a jerkish smirk, “what, did you want to try tonight?”

“Jesus, goodnight.” You shove at his left shoulder and try to make a b-line back to his bedroom, only to be held back by Lando's outstretched arm that wraps itself around your shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” he’s quick to plead, and he’s equally as quick to overlook the plans of goosebumps that settle across your body at his touch. “What I said was a dick move, I admit it.” Through a fanned breath, he heaves out, “but seriously, hm? What’s got you thinking about all that?”

What has got you thinking about all of this? The shots of Patron making its home in the pits of your stomach mixed with rumors that never seem to die down, maybe. There should be a warning sign, Patron & gossip: can lead to shamelessly flirting and innocently talking about topics like hookups and sex—with Lando Norris no less.

And Lando…

He’s better than this, he knows he’s better than this, letting your suggestions lurch him into a debauched daydream of the two of you coming to a head in the bedroom of his home, skin hot from fleeting touches instead of warm alcohol, hands grabbing underneath the shirt hung over your body and finally being able to do what no other man could—

“It’s not going to happen.”

—do for you.

You bring him out of his thoughts when you quickly dismiss the entire idea (disappointingly so), “I brought it up because I’m…bored, and drunk.” the tone of your voice goes high enough to pan your mumbled words out as a question, even you sound unconvinced of yourself.

Lando recognizes your doubts just as you do. “You suuuure about that?” He says in a way that has you giggling schoolgirlishly into his arms and makes this a little more not-so-awkward. “You know you don’t need to lie to me.”

While there's probably some truth to his reassuring words, he’s being bad, he wants this—maybe even more than you do, you can tell. It makes you a bit more still, knowing that he’s also, to some extent, got a hard on for you in a one-off sense. Meanwhile, Lando’s mind is going a mile a minute (it’s characteristic of someone who actually goes a mile a minute for a living), carefully observing your expressions to see what it is you’re thinking—to some degree he is a gentleman, if you say the words, he’ll forget anything was ever mentioned.

But boy does he want it.

Glassy eyes seem to pierce yours for what seems like an eternity, “Lando…” You hope your voice is calmer than how you feel, but it’s not promising; the world around you feels standstill—like you can’t even breathe for air.

“Don’t say my name like that.” He mumbles, eyes softening at how your body relaxes into his own. The two of you dance around the point of no return, still, magnetically you gravitate towards it. You want to embrace it tonight, and worry about the mess brewing tomorrow.

“Fucking hell.” He curses in the endearing way only a Brit can, arm circling the small of your back and lips ghosting against your own, “it’s just a one time thing.”

“Just this once…”

Just this once is what you tell yourselves when his lips catch your own, tongue languidly breaching your mouth whilst pulling you closer into him as you fall into his touch and wrap your arms around his neck. It’s just this once that he’ll push away plates and keys to pick you up and sit you on the kitchen counters for you to entangle your fingers within his curls, moaning for more as he kisses his way around your neck.

It’s just this once you’ll sleep with him.

—

Lando, like with everything else, is a massive tease. You should complain, but the feeling of warm hands hiking up your t-shirt short circuits your nerves and limits whatever capability you have to bite back, so you take it all; the ghostly touches, trailing kisses along your jaw, and hands wandering from the crux of your neck down to your entrance.

It aches so unfamiliarly, cotton panties are tugged haphazardly to the side and your pussy is wet and overstimulated.

Yes, that’s the word you’ve been looking for. It’s all so overstimulating, the fading pulsations of your last orgasm brought on from having two thick fingers scissoring out of you, the puffiness of your nipples still sensitive from Lando’s ongoing oral fixation, and the feeling of his dick messily slotting itself between folds and up against your clit, it’s all just so much.

“Lando…” You whine, “c’mon.”

He mocks you with a haughty smile, repeating his name shamelessly in a pitch much higher than your own. There’s little to be embarrassed about, yet you feel so exposed, in both a literal and figurative sense. He’s drawn two orgasms out of you with such ease, like your body is as simple to navigate as a track, all without even fucking you properly. Somewhere deep down you’re grateful he’s so observant; it’s a wildly different experience than what you’re used to in every way possible.

“Did you want me to do something? You need to use your words.” He feigns ignorance, like he doesn’t feel the clinging drag of your naked hips against his crotch. Right now, there is nothing nice about Lando—he’s brought you to the edge and left you to plead for him to dig his hands into the meat of your thighs and finally fuck you as promised.

And with eyes barred shut, you do ask for it, muttering a quaint just put it in with a hushed whimper that shoots straight through him, fueling some kind of excessive desire to give it to you straight.

“Lan!” Your instincts to twitch take hold of you when you feel the tip inch into you, stretching you out more than anything else.

“Relax.” He soothes not only you, lazily thumbing your clit to distract your body from the unnerving stretch of him bottoming out, but also himself; there’s a prayer he’s mumbling at the back of his mind, asking for strength to keep him from succumbing to the biting grip your walls welcome him with, he could cum on entry alone. “That feel good?”

It feels great, but you can’t find the words to talk, so you opt for the drawn out whine that amplifies to a full moan when he finds his rhythm. You guess Lando fucks like he races, wild but calculated, hard and fast. His thrusts push you up closer to the headboard, and you think you see stars with each one. Lando’s dilated eyes are focused on the way your boobs move in tandem with his hips, which roll into your own unforgivingly.

If this is what he gets when he does well, he needs to get those wins and that championship, as soon as possible.

“Just like that, Lan.” You exhale out, fingers darting to grapple at his wild brown tufts, “I want more of you. Need it.”

To hear you say you need him, it makes him somewhat insane. His body is eager to close in on your own, lips ghosting over your jaw and inching closer to your ear as a hand gently finds its way to your neck.

“You feel so perfect.” He’s so breathless, practically whining into your ears about just how good you feel, It doesn’t reach you, you’re too focused on feeling every inch of dick buried into you. It feels like he’s mushing up your insides, hitting spongy walls that desperately cling to him. Every thrust is harder than his last, and the way the trimmed hair resting above his base brushes against your clit provides all the extra stimulation that has your head lazily rolling to the side.

You’re not sure when you cum, but you do. It’s wet and his name is hot on your tongue, as if you’re cheering him on to fuck you through your orgasm, and who is he to deny you? Lando’s undoubtedly happy to see the pleasure he’s giving you, his eyes blowing wide at the feeling of his lower abdomen growing soaked by your arousal.

“Look at you,” he marvels, prideful and horny, “ever done that before?”

You haven’t—it freaks you out, yet despite all of your hurried apologies and groans of embarrassment, Lando finds himself dipping his head into the crux of your neck to suppress a groan. You’re so pretty it hurts him, his hips bore deeper into yours, hoping to get closer than humanly possible.

When he kisses you, your legs slither around his waist as if to cage him. You’ll be the death of him—the two of you are playing a dangerous game, and you both know it.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he smiles against your lips, and your body melts like putty, malleable enough for him to pry your legs from its digging into his back and push them closer towards you by your thighs.

His pace noticeably falters when you flutter around him. You’re muttering something about coming inside, pleading for it—but he pays you no mind; you’re intoxicated by the feeling of dopamine, and as much as he would love it, the feeling of stuffing you full, he’s a smarter man than that.

He cums with a guttural fuck, barely managing to rip himself away from your clutches and spill himself onto your stomach—and you just watch, doe eyed and jolted by the warm feeling on your skin. You both pant heavily against one another, until all you can hear is the noise of the London night leaking in from an ajar window.

“Hey.” He lazes out, rubbing circles on your thigh.

“Hi.”

“This can’t—” happen again, get out to anyone—there’s so much he could say, but you would rather not hear it. Not tonight.

“Yeah.”

❀❀

tags: @babyvinnie @leclercdream @im-an-overthinker@ririyulife @1655clean @sukisheadlights @harrysdimple05 @drunkinthemiddleoftheday

(if bolded i couldn’t tag you i’m so sorry!)

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #f1 x female reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 x you

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covington-shenanigans · 2 months

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so I'm on this app, Marco Polo, where you stay in touch with people by means of sending video messages. (there are probably other features, but I'm a free user, so I remain blissfully ignorant of them.) mostly I use it to annoy my sister. ("BITCH WHAT IF I GOT A PHALLOPLASTY AND HAD A BABY SHOWER FOR MY DICK. WE COULD HAVE ZUCCHINI FRITTERS. DICK-SHAPED PASTA. BANANAS FOSTER. DO U SEE MY VISION")

anyway, during the Hell Year of 2020, I saw my childhood best friend (let's call her Lee) was on this app. and like.

when I say "my childhood best friend", I mean the Weird Girl next door, who saw the Weird Girl that I was. I mean the girl I played with from age five until just shy of eleven, when my family moved away. I mean the girl I played with every day, for hours and hours, making up all kinds of elaborate scenarios involving our menagerie of stuffed animals. there were multiple overlapping, soap opera-style plotlines that lasted for years. there was drama. heartbreak. glory. she was the first friend I remember having. she was the first girl I ever loved, in my five-year-old way.

well, I hadn't seen Lee in at least 20 years and I was like, "holy shit! Lee!!!" so I sent her a "hey, nice to see you here, how you been" message.

again, this was late 2020.

now, I had been on T for a scant three months when I sent the first message, so I was a mere baby child, relative to the gruff manly man I am now. no beard, my voice had only started to wobble, still had tits... you get it. keep this in mind, it'll be important later.

I never heard back from her, but we're both Old, so I was like "eh, she probably forgot she installed the app" and forgot about it. we'd exchanged text messages at some point during the Hell Year, but like many people my age she doesn't really text, and I'm not calling anyone if I don't have to, so our communication had been sporadic, at best.

well. today I got a notification that she sent me a reply on Marco Polo.

I figured, well, she's replying to me 3.5 years late, but better late than never. I have ADHD and no friendship degradation mechanic, so I'm excited! yay! friend! :D

and then I remember. "...oh shit. she doesn't know I'm trans."

so. the thing is. I'm from Mississippi, which is. very very fucking conservative. I know Lee grew up Southern Baptist. I also know she's still living in the same town where we grew up and where she eventually graduated from high school and college. last I checked she was still attending the same Southern Baptist church where she grew up and her remaining living parent is still living in Lee's childhood home.

so this is either going to be Fine or it's going to be a disaster. lol.

in thinking it through, I figure either she's seen my updated profile pic, where I have the beard etc., or she hasn't. so either she's going to acknowledge this change or she isn't. okay. these are the possibilities. so I watch the message.

...the secret third option is... she seems to not realize when I sent the message? "sorry, I missed this when I was at work!" girl. what? I mean, you probably did miss it while you were at work... three and a half years ago. possibly she meant to reply to someone else and got me instead?

whatever. who knows. doesn't matter.

because I have the opportunity to do the funniest fucking thing in the world now

#covington-shenanigans gets personal #story time #marco polo #trans stuff #childhood friends #trans man #transmasc #trans men

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thatbitchery · 11 months

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Ladies to achieve anything worthwhile in this life you have to get very comfortable with the idea of embarrassment ,disappointment, resistance and ostracization from your current environment.

When you start out posting on socials, your current friends, family, classmates, and neighbors will laugh at you. They'll call you pretentious and put you down every step you take. Online trolls will call you a wannabe and put you down and compare you to others. You'll deal with six likes on a post that took you hours to perfect. When you get your first brand deal, it'll be as low value as it gets.Then there will be all the virtue signaling and getting canceled and character anhiliation that comes with projected envy. When you start that business, your friends will expect discounts and debt and cut you off for not giving them one. When you start getting successful, they'll feel entitled to your success and hate on you for not crediting them to it. When you decide to leave the country, your own parents will come at you from angles higher than 360°. When you decide to dress better and sit upright and smell nice, your current friend group that's used to low balling you will have a group chat called 'lmaoo she looks so stupid'.

This is the price of success. Success is lonely. Its hard work and being underestimated. It's losing best friends and rifts in your family. You'll shower in tears and triple guess every decision you've taken. Success is uncomfortable and slow, and it will cost you friendships and relationships, and comfort.

If you can't stomach this, don't try. If you can't imagine not being friends with your current friends or your own family backbiting and badmouthing you at family gatherings and your cousins laughing at you and ex classmates from 2014 trolling your work stay where you are.

If you decide to chase your dreams understand you'll be running solo. Understand your mom and bf and bestie said 'I'll support you through everything ' to be polite and they might even have meant it but the second you start showing up as a different person than what they're comfortable with there will be resistance and be ready to work through it with them while staying true to your goals.

If you choose the success way forget the romanticized success stories. It's gruesome . It's survival only for the fittest, and either go big or go home mediocre, there is no mid point.

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thef1diary · 11 months

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Do Not Disturb | M. Verstappen

Summary: Max hates your ex, so when the right opportunity falls right into his hands, he takes it. Even when he's fucking you in the hotel room.

Warnings: 18+, cocky Max, reader is a tease, champagne shenanigans, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradative terms (barely but just a warning in case)

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: max & f!reader

Note: another repost because why not

Max loves winning. Especially winning the first place trophy in his racing career-from karting when he was younger to the F1 races. Although, for a while now, he's been happier. Many people think it's because of his two back to back world championships. While that may be true, he has another reason.

You.

You have known Max for a long time, both growing up together because your parents were good friends. From the moment he began his racing career in the smaller karts, you've been there. From hating the sound of the karts passing by, to loving the sound of F1 cars passing by. You didn't really have a choice because Max always wanted you by his side.

The point is, you've known Max long enough to know everything about him. Even his fans know you as his number one supporter. But what no one knew, was that your friendship has changed overtime. You and Max got to experience things that one normally would in a relationship, without actually being in a relationship.

You two were friends with benefits. It began a few years ago, drunken celebrations led to lingering touches which eventually ended in crossing the line of a regular friendship. There were no regrets but you weren't romantically attracted to him and neither was he, so the decision was made to remain as just friends.

Today, Max had won another race. He stood on the top step of the podium, listening to his country's national anthem with a smile on his face. While he was glad to add another trophy to his collection, he was thinking of all the ways he would be celebrating with you later on. Preferably with you underneath him on his bed, naked.

While you saw him smile towards his team, his expression towards you was slightly different. A difference that no one else knew the meaning behind. See the thing is, you might've told him something when he embraced you after getting out of his car. "A little fact, I'm not wearing anything under this dress"

You knew that no one would hear you because they were too busy cheering for the man in front of you. Max was pulled away by others but his gaze was still on you. Now, as he was standing on the podium, he watched you with a look that only meant mischief.

After the podium celebrations ended, Max was taken away for some post-race interviews where the same questions is asked in different ways.

Knowing that it'll take him a while, you returned to your hotel room. Usually you would stay and converse with some other drivers while he was busy, but today was a different story.

The comment you made wasn't a lie, you truly weren't wearing any undergarments under your dress. It was definitely risky, but you knew that it would spark a reaction out of Max. And you were glad that it did.

You debated whether or not you should send Max a text, something for his eyes only, but decided otherwise because you didn't want anyone else to see. Plus, he should be waiting for his reward. Perhaps another time.

After freshening up, you sat on the couch in the main room, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, waiting for Max to arrive. However, your eyes widened in surprise when you saw a notification from your ex.

It was a text asking if you could meet him. You were debating on either being nice and meeting him once more for closure, or if you should ignore him. The thing was, you didn't like ending on rough terms. You would hate to be in his spot right now, but considering the things your ex has done, you didn't know what to do.

Before you could reply, the door to your hotel room opened and Max walked in. He was holding his trophy in one hand, and the champagne bottle that he got on the podium in the other hand.

Smiling, you got up and embraced him, "congratulations, champion"

"Don't act like you don't know what you did." He retorted, not hugging you back. "Oh I know exactly what I did." You stepped away from him and your hands travelled down his chest, teasing the edge of the hem of his shirt.

"Got me so hard on the fucking podium. Who knows what people will think?" He let your hands roam around his body, close to where he needs it the most.

"Who cares what they think? You looked so hot covered in champagne"

"Yeah? Let me return the favour" Max tilted his head towards the champagne bottle in his hand.

He placed his trophy on the table to free his hand that was itching to touch you. Wrapping that free hand around your waist, he pulled you against him. Then, tilting your head back, he instructed "open"

You obliged, opening your mouth and waiting for the cool champagne to fill your mouth. He didn't stop even after your mouth was full, letting the excess drip down your chin.

"Swallow" he said, watching closely as you listened. Then, he kissed you, savouring the familiar taste of victory that he worked hard for.

Your hands were still roaming around his body, lifting up his shirt by the hem. Parting away just for a moment to remove his shirt, then his lips were back on yours.

His lips travelled lower to your neck, lapping up the champagne that dripped earlier. His two favourite things combined, your taste mixed with the champagne. His mind was buzzing with all the things he wanted to do to you.

Pouring some more champagne on your throat, his tongue darted out to drink it. "Max" you groaned, liking the sensations but also wanting more.

"Gonna cover you in champagne, baby" he whispered as he continued his ministrations. You made a sound, agreeing to his idea. "Make you all sticky with alcohol then with my cum" he continued, and you really liked that suggestion, "fuck yes please"

"Yeah, you want that?" He asked, bringing his face back up and placing a kiss to your lips. You nodded, "yes please, Max" you replied, breathlessly.

Bringing his beloved champagne bottle up again, he smirked as he slowly poured it down the front of your dress. He watched as the cloth stuck to your body, and he also noticed how your nipples hardened underneath. It was due to the mix of pleasure radiating through your body along with the cold champagne.

"You really aren't wearing anything underneath huh?" He believed you when you said it, but seeing it was another thing. "Why bother when I know you are going to remove it after you win" you found your words and explained your reasoning behind the lack of clothes.

"Fuck baby, you knew I was going to win today?" Max loved how much you believed in him. "Not a single doubt otherwise." This time you claimed his lips with yours.

You supported him like no other. And he was so grateful for that; for you.

Pressing up against his chest, he could feel how soaked your dress was and decided to remove it. Blindly finding the zipper on the back, he tugged it down.

Before he could explore your body using his hands, you pressed one more kiss on his lips before sitting down on your knees. Both of you were now quite impatient, and it was evident in your actions.

Quickly removing his belt and tugging the last layer of clothes down to his knees, you paused for a moment. You placed your hands on his thighs and made eye contact with him, noting how he was already looking down at you. "Want a reward for winning?" You asked rhetorically.

Max nodded, "yes, give me your filthy mouth that loves my cock"

You wrapped your lips around his tip, not taking him any further. You can tell that Max is restraining himself from thrusting in your mouth, and for a brief moment you go deeper but then remove your mouth. "You want my mouth?" You asked, teasingly.

"Fuck yes. I want you" he replies, groaning. You almost break out in a smile but contain yourself, "ask nicely."

Max's glare tells you that if it were up to him, you'd be on all fours with your face pressed in the mattress. But, he also knows that even though you're the one that's on your knees, you have all the power right now.

"Please, I need you so bad. Make me feel good please?" He gave in, listening to you. And man, he definitely felt like a winner when you took almost all of him in one movement.

His hand was resting on your head, tempted to force you to take more. You loved the sounds he was making above you when you would brush against a good spot. You noticed every little movement of his; how his breath would hitch when you moaned, how his abs would tense as if he's trying to hold himself back, and the way he would wrap your hair around his fingers tightly.

Right now, all your focus was on pleasuring Max. After all, he is the winner. And you'd be down on your knees to do this every time he wins, because you love it as much as he does.

Sucking greedily on his cock along with his dirty words made a shiver run down your spine. You two were in for a long night, willing to spend a couple hours in each other's presence.

Max was looking at the way his cock made a bulge in your mouth as you tried taking all of him. You knew you couldn't, but you tested the limits. But, his eyes darted around until he could find your phone since he heard it ringing. It was on the couch that you were sitting on earlier, and the screen was facing up which meant he could see the caller id.

He wanted to make a comment on it especially after knowing that it was your ex calling, but you didn't give him a chance to do so. To bring his focus back to you, you put your hand on top on his that was resting on your head, and urged him to force you deeper.

You both simultaneously let out sounds which drowned out the sound of the incessant ringing, making Max forget about it all.

You knew he was close so you pulled off after deeply sucking him one last time, then replaced your mouth with your hand. "Gonna cover me in your cum?" You asked, looking at him as he figured why you pulled away.

The height of his pleasure almost made him close his eyes but he chose to force them open so he could see how his cum coated your chest.

Once you knew he finished, you removed your hand from him and dragged it through the cum on your chest, coating your finger. Then, knowing that he was watching every move, you cleaned off your finger using your tongue.

"You look so pretty baby" he commented as he helped you stand up.

The thing about Max, is that he would be ready for another round in no time. His stamina and refractory period was unbeatable. "You weren't really nice to me so I don't know if I should fuck you." He told you, holding back a smirk when you pouted. "I know you want to, baby. My pussy's so wet because of you."

"Is it now? Waiting for me to fuck you dumb? That's what you want right?" Max asked as his hand travelled down your body, just barely touching you like you wanted him to.

"Yes, fuck me dumb" you pleaded and he positioned you on the couch to lay on your back. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him closer.

There was barely any resistance when he slid in you due to your wetness that had dropped down to your thighs. "So perfect for me" Max groaned as he felt you clenching around him, causing his hips to stutter since he already orgasmed once.

Max's hands were on your thighs but he moved one to drag up towards the pool of his cum still resting on your body. He would definitely clean you up later, but right now, seeing you like this did something to him. And he liked it.

His two coated fingers tapped your lips and you opened your mouth, taking them in. Once you sucked them clean, he removed his fingers which was now coated with your saliva, and teased your clit.

You arched your back, feeling every single thrust deep, especially after he easily found the perfect spot and kept a relentless pace. Your hands were balling up in fists, tightly gripping on the sheets.

You were so caught up in your pleasure that you didn't hear your phone ringing again, until Max picked it up. "She's too busy being fucked by me" is what you first heard him say to the person on the other side. It didn't take a genius to figure out who it was.

For some reason, that edged you even closer to your release. "Here, listen to her because you'll never get the chance again." Max told your ex, and held the phone closer to you so the man on the other end could hear your moans only meant for Max.

At the same time, his thrusts became stronger and faster. With that plus his fingers circling your clit caused you to moan Max's name out loud as you came undone.

Your ex heard it all. Max slowed his thrusts but didn't completely stop to prolong your orgasm, and held the phone to his ear again. "Don't you dare think about calling her again." He instructed before hanging up and tossing the phone to the side.

You were all fucked out, just like he wanted, looking up at him with a small smile. Seeing Max's smug expression, you forgot about any embarrassment regarding the fact that your ex heard you moan Max's name.

#f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1blr #formula 1 #thef1diary fic

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princeoftheeternalbog · 3 months

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Op characters with a clingy/handsy drunk? let's go

suggestive in Sanjis, Luffy, Brooks, DEFINITELY in Namis and Frankys and maybe Usopps? Mostly vague stuff, on that note would you guys actually be interested in like nsfw stuff? I know I'm really toeing the line here and i have drafts but I'm nervous to post😭.

Feel like this could be ooc in some places but who cares😻(me :()

Luffy

Giggles a lot, he finds it so cute and it really makes him feel warm in his chest. He can't get enough of you to be honest. Like this man loves physical touch but be warned he will think it's a sudden new level in your 'friendship'(read:in love with each other) and start acting that affectionate all the time. Willing to carry you around and also wrap himself around you so you can walk with him just there, yes this includes to the bathroom-

Zoro

Adores it. I think he actually loves affection and physical touch but just doesn't say it because he thinks it's obvious (it's not). So when you come up to him, wobbly and on your 6th drink, and just practically throw yourself into his arms hes just like :/). Makes sure you stay nice and close to him because he doesn't want you clinging to anyone else, and he always makes sure you drink water before bed even if bed involves falling asleep on top of him.

Sanji

Makes him nervous to be honest. Usually he's the forward one in the relationship but here you are untucking his shirt just to shove your hands up it. He absolutely will shriek if its in front of other people, and he's trying to wrangle your grabby hands but he really enjoys it so his resolve is so weak. Tries to satiate you by being affectionate back but it just makes you worse and he ends up taking you to a more private area so he at least doesn't have to blush in front of others.

Nami

She thinks it's so cute. Let's you do whatever you want as long as the people around you are comfortable and you've said it's fine(when sober ofc), but she doesn't really care about people seeing until you start trying to either get undressed or undress her and then she takes you to a private space because she's ever so slightly possessive. Listen for a girl who didn't have much, you add a lot of value to her life and she wants to treasure you properly, she doesn't trust anyone else to appreciate you the way you deserve.

Usopp

Surprisingly confident. You come up to him with this big dreamy smile and you're practically falling over yourself so he just- scoops you up. Front piggyback style yk, he's got one arm under your ass supporting your weight and the other one is holding his drink, listen this mf is strong okay you think a man who can build a boat isn't strong? Fool. He just lets you do what you want to be honest, one of your hands is tucked in his back pocket, the other is trying and failing to undo his overalls and he's just like "You okay honey?".

Robin

She's flustered. She's not that used to physical affection so it makes her really giggly and blushy, though she's still quite confident in her words and actions, she's fr twirling her hair around her finger. She has quite a high tolerance for alcohol but she actually gets a bit similar when she's drunk, she's more reserved of course but she just melts into you like butter on a hot pan. The crew always take so many pictures because they think it's so cute, literally every celebration you two just end up cuddling and then it sorta turns into a big cuddle pile with the crew because seeing her relax gets them emotional.

Franky

Oh baby you are looking in a mirror. He is just as bad if not worse- when he gets drunk he is a massive flirt and a massive tease. He's so giving in relationships and usually you don't have to ask twice but being drunk will mean he wants you to practically beg for a kiss. Half because he thinks it's funny and half because he's a horny bastard- Though if you get upset then he immediately drops the teasing, even when drunk he's so considerate of your feelings and your boundaries.

Brook

Doesn't mind at all but prefers to be in private when you're like this.

Quick headcannon that his bones are more sensitive than skin because there's less external protection-

Lets just say one time you touched a sensitive area in public and he will never get over the reaction he had or the fact that other people saw it. So you go to room jail as soon as you start trying to practically crawl inside his clothes to be as close as possible. He's not mad though, he giggles the entire way, he's just very shy about his interests.

Jinbei

Flustered as hell but makes him feel really secure in your relationship. Also, he lowkey loves being able to bring it up to tease you later, like he pulls an uno reverse when you're sober and you're just like omg omg omg- He's a sneaky guy fr, does so many unexpected things in a relationship. Don't get me wrong though he'd never let you do anything inappropriate, even when drunk he's very aware of boundaries and social etiquette so if he notices you getting a bit grabby then he takes you somewhere private for both your benefit and the people around you.

Sabo

Oh baby. This man is feral don't even start. The first time he experiences it, it's actually really unexpected, it's quite early in your relationship so you havent been too affectionate yet, but you come up to him and just sit down. On him. And you can practically see his brain melting out of his ears, his face goes so red you think he's going to pass out but the second you stand up, drunk and lowkey sad, he snatches you back down. You wanted to sit there, you are going to sit there now you have no choice. (You do but would you want to get up?)

Ace

Menace. Cannot even state how much of a menace. He's so physically affectionate that it usually flusters even the most confident people, and this is while sober, so if you start getting clingy when drunk he just becomes obsessed. But he absolutely hates it if you're like that with other people so once you start getting to that stage then he's whisking you away to your shared room, usually you stick to him like glue anyways but the crew love to wind him up by coaxing you away from him with food and funny stories.

#mdni #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #nami x reader #nico robin x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #franky x reader #brook x reader #jinbei x reader #jinbe x reader #usopp x reader #sabo x reader #portagas d. ace x reader #one piece fics #one piece x gn reader

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reidsqlick · 3 months

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You’ll be back, right? || (S.R)

pairing(s): Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

summary: Spencer and you had been close friends, but due to an unexpected, sudden reason that friendship had fallen through, and led to what seems to be a rivalry.. what happens when you confront him of this?

warning(s): (MDNI 18+), softdom!spencer, unprotected sex, p in v, swearing, I don’t believe there’s any more but if there is please enlighten me 💔💔.

word count: 3,7k

Working for the FBI was a challenge, everyone who looked into the FBI, or had been an agent would tell you the same. As an agent, you’ve definitely come close to death many times throughout your career, you had known that’s what came with the job, and you more than ready for that. You were quite honestly ready for whatever this job could bring your way. Ready to tackle each obstacle with such ease, so much to the point you didn’t even care what could be thrown your way.

That’s what you thought until you had met Dr. Spencer Reid. Being transferred to this unit of yours was something you had no issue doing. Ready for whatever it brought you, whatever new challenges this career brought you. Nothing, and I mean nothing was going to get in the way of that mindset of yours you were so, ultimately set on.

Unfortunately, that mindset hadn’t met Spencer Walter Reid. The genius of the BAU. Mr. “187 IQ”. Once a twenty-four year old kid prodigy who knew more than most at that age. Now, obviously not twenty-four, and not quite a ‘kid prodigy’ anymore.

The man had gotten on your nerves since the day he chose his ego over you. Not cause he was necessarily a bad guy, he was actually friends with you. However, the shit that got on your nerves was the fact he was open about disliking you, his ego slowly becoming more important than your friendship sometime during your duration of working there.

Forever you thought about what you had done. At first, you two were oh so close, as close as one can get with Reid, at the time he at least could have tolerate saying more than at minimum, five word sentences to you in passing, or because Hotch had asked you two to pair up to go check things out.

He always teased you at work. Either making some snide comment about your intelligence, or critiquing the way you had gotten your part of the job done. God, it was aggravating to say the least. With each snide comment that was said in passing, the more he pissed you off.

You really hadn’t hated him. You had hated the way he was so rude towards you. You truly never got it, never understood how he could be so nice to you when you had joined, talking to you more than a friend should, but, hey.. he probably talked to everyone like that, right?

One day it snapped. He just… started being an absolute piss poor son of a bitch who couldn’t get enough of himself. Wafting in every comment of some girl on a case in passing, it stroking his ego. God, the man was so aggravating in every way possible. You just couldn’t understand what changed with him.

Yeah, okay. If we’re being honest with one another, I liked him, okay? I more than liked him. I kind of slightly loved him. When I first joined the unit, I had clicked with him the most. It was almost instant. Your shared love for ‘Doctor who’, and books. Most of all, you listened to him ramble. Not many do that, and when they do they always tease him for it.

Now he’s teasing you? Jesus, you couldn’t get over it. The man you once let into your heart, expressed your interests to him, let you be yourself around him, becoming such an asshat. That was beyond what you could’ve expected. Especially since it was so out of the blue.

Life is very against you as of late. You and the team are out on a case in Boston, where you’ll have to be staying in one of the “lovely” hotels there. The issue is that the team actually had gotten done with the case early. The hotel had been booked for a whole extra day.

So, due to Penelope Nagging Hotch so much to the point he actually gave in, you’re all going drinking. The hotel bar, obviously. Can’t stray too far from one another, yes we’re all FBI agents, but… safety first, always.

You weren’t one for drinking if you were honest, but it was a team thing, so you’d go. This case had ended up being much more stressful than it let off, and you kind of needed to cool off, and with the people you considered family.

You hadn’t dressed up, Jesus, no. Never. You aren’t one for dressing up. Yeah, you’re feminine.. just, sometimes dresses aren’t the comfiest, that’s one. Two, for fucks sake.. this is a hotel bar. It’s truly not serious enough to dress up for.

Just your leisure wear you brought, jeans, and a t-shirt. Don’t even get me started on the “Pick me” or “You’re so basic” shit, it’s just leisure wear, at a hotel bar. Fuck if I care, I’ll dress how I please.

Leaving your hotel room, you walk up to the elevator, pressing the ‘down’ arrow. Awaiting the elevator, to your surprise the one and only Spencer Walter Reid decided to waltz to catch it as well. Jesus Christ. He’s really not one for drinking. I know I’m not one for drinking, but he isn’t last time I checked.

The elevator dung open, and you stepped in, Spencer walking in behind you. You click the ‘one’, and wait for this ride to be over. You look around, trying to ignore the fact he was here. You look over at him for, what? A split second, and he catches your eyes.

Fuck. That was accidental… oh, what? He’s still wearing his suit. Jesus, you’d think the man would get into something more comfortable, yet… he’s Spencer Reid. He’s not getting more comfy than this.

Shit, this elevator ride is longer than you remembered it being. Yeah, you were on the twelveth floor, but why is it taking so long. You speak up, hating the silence. Might as well embarrass yourself more than you already had, mhm. Great fucking idea!

“Didn’t take you as much of a drinker, Boygenius.” You said, loud enough for him to hear you, but not quite loud at all. “You don’t know me, (Y/LN). You can’t ‘take’ me as much of anything.” He said, obviously annoyed. Shit.. why’d he have to be such an asswipe about everything he did. Jesus Christ you can’t say anything anymore, can you?

“Actually I do-“ he cut you off, “You do not know me. You think you know me, and I hate to break it to you, but you don’t know me. Don’t know why you somehow think cause we were close years ago when you first started working here, that you know anything. You don’t know me enough to classify me as a drinker, that’s one. Even if I wasn’t before, people change (Y/LN).”

Before you could even add, you were disrupted by the ding of the elevator. Thank god. But, seriously? Where does he think he gets off? You both leave the elevator, him in-front of you now. Walking to the bar, you were greeted by the rest of your team. Penelope enveloping you in one of her hugs.

Chatter between the team had went on for an hour or two, you hadn’t gotten drunk, but you were… tipsy to say the least. You really, seriously weren’t one for drinking, but Spencer being there, and his snarky ass comments from earlier truly set you off. You decide it’s better to go to your room before you get shit-faced drunk, so you say your ‘goodbyes’ to the rest of the team.

Pen pulled you aside, “Hun.. what’s up? You’ve barely spoken a word tonight. You’re just away from us, the group. Did we.. do something on the case that we missed? I can make someone apologize, cause (Y/LN)… I’m not gonna let stuff like that slide-“ you just sit silent. Giving her that look.

She looked confused. “(Y/N).. who,” you cut her off “Spencer. It’s nothing. Just.. we got on the elevator together and it got awkward again. Pen, you’re so lucky I love the rest of you cause I’d have already left cause of Spencer ‘I’ve got a stick in my ass’ Reid.” She and I chuckled.

She nodded, waving you goodbye. Telling the rest of the team about your departure for the night. You left the bar, walking towards the elevator, and clicking the ‘up’ arrow. It dinged not too long after, you entered, and clicked number twelve. As the doors were close to shutting, a hand came between them, forcing them to open back up.

Cause life hates me, who else could it possibly be except Spencer goddamn Reid? Jesus. Why’d we have to leave at the same time, why’d we have to get stuck in the same elevator again!? The ride was silent, well… for a while it was, until he decided it was just lovely to open his mouth, yeah this is just what you needed right now after your previous six drinks.

“Didn’t take you for much of a drinker, either (Y/L/N).” He chuckled, opening up the topic of conversation started just hours ago. “Hah, very funny Reid, I’m really not one.” He shrugged. “No? You didn’t sit at the bar and consume six too many drinks? That wasn’t you? Guess I’m imagining someone else as you.”

You sighed, staying silent. Not wanting to speak to him anymore than you already have tonight. You’re intoxicated, scratch that, you were more than intoxicated, and this really is NOT the proper setting for this. “Don’t wanna talk? Oh, wait.. you don’t want to speak to my face? That’s right. Okay, (Y/LN). I see, you can easily just tell people I have a “stick in my ass” and yet, won’t respond to me? That’s fine with me..”

Those words lingered.. oh they’re pissing you off. You looked at him, he was already looking down at you with the most aggravating smirk on his face. “You do have a stick up your ass. There? What do you want me to tell you!? What can I tell you? Last I remember I ‘don’t know you’ so how will I speak to you if I don’t even know you. Oh, and what can I say? Hmmm? Enlighten me, Spencer. Every time I do something you don’t like, you start running your mouth. Last time I checked, that’s the only time I’ve spoken about you behind your back, so you obviously need to get a grip, Reid.”

“You need me to enlighten you, do you?” He began, “Let me enlighten you, (Y/LN). You can say whatever you want, that’s fine with me, you simply just don’t bring me into it. We got that clear? I don’t need my coworkers thinking im some sort of dick cause you’re butthurt,” he looked at your eyes carefully “and intoxicated.”

“Why don’t you like me anymore,” I let out quietly. “Hm?” He said, clearing his throat. “Why. Don’t. You. Like. Me. Anymore!?” I said, louder. Tears violently threatening to spill. “What’re you talking about?” A tear rolled down your face “What am I talking about!? Jesus, how many times do I have to say it. We were friends, Reid. I liked you,” he was taken aback “I loved you. Jesus, did you forget about our friendship? I know it’s been a while.. but how many girls have to flirt with you to forget your friend? God, Spencer.”

He didn’t even say anything. You stood there, unaware of what was happening, obviously intoxicated. Tears spilling out of your eyes slowly. He looked over at you, looking at you, reading your expressions. He took two steps, making you two mere inches apart. He then leaned down, putting his forehead on yours.

You sniffled, “Reid, what’re you doing-“ “Can I kiss you, (Y/N)? Please say yes..” you nodded. “I need you to tell me I can kiss you, need you to tell me you want me to kiss you.” “Yes, Reid,” before you could even finish he grabbed the sides of your face, pushing his lips onto yours.

You kissed him back, with just as much eagerness as confusion. Don’t you hate him? What’s happening? Before you could even think properly the elevator dinged, you’ve made it to your floor.

He then moved his hands to your waist, leading you out of the elevator, lips still on yours, you pulled away. “Reid. What’re you doing?” Then, it came out. The years you wanted to know what happened, and he’s about to tell you. “I love you, too.” Your response? You pulled his lips back onto yours, walking backwards, finding your room.

You broke the kiss for a second, turning around to unlock the door, reaching for the keycard in your pocket, as Spencer wrapped his hands around your waist. When the door unlocked you basically ran into the room, closing the door behind you two. Once you turned around, your lips were already back on his.

You might be asking, why aren’t you talking this out? Why aren’t you asking what this is? His lips are telling you all you need to know, and you weren’t mad at all. Stumbling around the room, you made it to the bedroom and closed that door, as well. His hands still firm on your waist, he then pushed you against the bedroom door.

His mouth moved from your lips to peppering kisses on your jaw, to then sucking down onto your neck. You were letting out small whimpers, nothing too loud, but it was making him absolutely crazy. As he was marking your neck with visible bruises that weren’t going to be gone anytime soon, he moved his knee between your legs.

You began to grind down on this knee to create some form of friction. Fuck, you were getting louder. Seriously, (Y/N). I mean… seriously? You hate him. You hate how snarky he gets, hate how he makes snide comments, hate how good his lips feel traveling down your neck, hate how good his knee feels against your already aching cunt.

He then started to move his leg with the movements of your hips against him. Jesus. You’re putty in his hands, aren’t you? You’re done for. He then moved his hands under your shirt, starting to ride it up, asking you a question “Can I take it off,” he asked, all you could do was let out sorry whimpers as you were essentially getting yourself off on him, he stopped the movements of his leg, his grip on your hips tightening again “Hm?” All you did was nod, giving him your approval.

Once that was gone, he went back to working on your neck, sucking small bruises, moving down to your collarbone, receiving whimpers and low moans from you. He then moved his hands to the buttons of your jeans. “Can I?” He asked, you nodded again. “Can I?” He repeated. You speak up, “Mhm-“ he nodded, beginning to unbutton your jeans, and then unzipping the zip on them, causing them to fall to the floor.

There wasn’t much light in the room, only a lamp in the corner illuminating the dark room. Enough light for him to be able to see the wet spot in your underwear. He smiled, “You’re already so wet.” He said, circling small circles on your clothed clit, making whimpers fall from your mouth so desperately.

“You know,” he said, pushing your panties to the side, gathering up your arousal on two of his fingers “I love you. It’s why I ignored you so much,” he said, bringing his fingers up and down your slit, “too distracted to do my job sometimes, you know.” He said, inserting one finger into you, causing a breathily gasp leaving your mouth with such ease.

“Just thought if I ignored you, it’d help me from getting distracted with my job.” He said, moving his finger at a slower pace, curling it so every so often to get a reaction out of you. “It didn’t help much, though-“ he said, “I was still getting distracted, all the time. Couldn’t even focus on work, princess.” He added another finger, stretching you out even more. “You know what happens when I can’t focus on work? I get upset, love. Wasn’t even you I was mad at, I was mad at myself, for getting so fucking pent up over you.” He said as he continued his pace, curling his fingers every so often.

He then pulled them out, a soft, disappointing whimper leaving your lips. “Shh, I know. Let’s get you comfy, yeah?” He said, moving you onto the bed, beginning to fully undress you, leaving you exposed. “What about you…” you chimed in nervously. He chuckled. “Oh, right. Sorry, princess. Let me just,” he said as he begun to rid himself of his own garments.

When he rid himself of his prior clothing, all but his boxers, he then hovered over top of you, beginning to gather up more of your slick, rubbing your clit in small, tight circles leaving you an absolute mess. You then began to grip the hand he was using to prop himself up with, needy with greed, your eyes practically begging.

“You close already, princess?” He asked in that cocky tone of his, smirking. If he hadn’t been making you feel this good, bringing you this close to release, making you feel better than you could ever do yourself, you would’ve already hit him upside the head. You then nodded, moans leaving your mouth the easiest they ever had. He had then removed himself of his boxers, his cock springing up and hitting his chest, glistening with all his pre-cum.

Your mouth all but fell to the ground in shock, it was so pretty, he was so pretty. Looking down at you, he had begun alligning himself with your glistening cunt, gathering your slick, finally positioning himself at your entrance, “You ready for me, princess?” You bucked your hips, nodding quickly, “Are you ready?” He asked again, the need to be in you was strong, but the need for your consent was stronger. “Yes, please Spencer—“ He smiled, “Good,” he said, slowly sinking into you, disappearing into you inch, by inch.

He fully sunk into you with a low groan, and slowly begun thrusting into you, warming you up for him, he had then moved his hand between your bodies, and began rubbing your clit in painfully slow circles, watching your face contort with a dumbfound smile on his face. He had then began to move faster, causing you to get even louder than before, and then he finally found his pace, the perfect pace, the pace that hit that spot of yours so well, the spot you were sure never existed, as the men before him were never able to find it, let alone you.

But, fuck. You had to admit, it felt so good. “Spencer— fuck… keep, keep going,” you were putty in his hands, you were his to mold, “yes— like that! Fuck…” he couldn’t help but let out small grunts, and groans. He never knew he could have such an effect on you, he had played this moment so many times in his head, but he’s so, so thankful for his eidetic memory so he can actually remember this moment exactly.

“Feel good doesn’t it, Angel?” He groaned, “Hits where it’s supposed to,” your whimpers got needier, his thrusts got sloppier, “ts’ like this cock was made just for you.” that was it, that was truly it, drunk off his words, his every moment, “Spencer, I’m—“ he got even sloppier, faster, rubbing your clit with such speed you could explode right then and there, your legs began to shake around him.

“Let go, princess. I know you can, ‘know you want to, let it all out for me,” he said, groans getting louder, getting close to his own release himself, two more strokes and you were a dead woman, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave, head thrown back, moans louder than ever.

“Fuck, Angel..” he said, pulling out, stroking himself fast, needing his own release, and seeing you like this, cum dripping out of you, it’s just what he needed, it’s the prettiest thing he had ever seen, and now it was ingrained in his mind forever. “Where do you want me, I—“ you whimpered, he was so pretty like this, fucking his hand, head cocked back, groans leaving him.. “T-tummy’s fine—“ and there it was, leaving his cock just seconds later.

His body plopped next to you, hand finding your cheek, caressing it softly. “You did so good for me, Angel..” he smiled softly, you giggled at his compliment, words more innocent than the action you had shared just moments earlier. “Hey, hey let’s get you cleaned up, don’t need you a mess, now do we?” He chucked, leaving the room to grab a washcloth, and coming back with it, wiping his cum off your stomach.

Once you were cleaned up, he had grabbed clothes from your go bag, dressing you slowly, not wanting to overworked your already tired self, “Thank you, Spencer—“ you said softly, almost a whisper, he smiled with pride, “No need to thank me, princess. It wasn’t a favor.” You couldn’t help but giggle, “Mhm, I know— just thought I should thank you, mm never felt that good before, thought that was worth a thanks.”

Once you were in comfy clothes, he had lied next to you, caressing your face, “Angel..” he started, “I’ve gotta go back to my room..” he trailed off, not wanting to leave you like this, sleepy, and alone..

Before he could even finish what he wanted to say, you interrupted him “Don’t—!” He chuckled softly, “I don’t want to, I promise you.. I just need to grab something, okay?” You nodded, but a low groan left your tired lips.

He had gotten up from the mattress, it springing up due to the loss of his weight. Once he reached the handle of the door you yelled out to him, “You’ll be back, right?” your voice drowsy, dripping with tiredness.

He looked back for a moment, smiling softly, “Right.”

A/N: oh my god this is my first published smut my teeth are jittering, hands shaking… please please PLEASE tell me how I did if you could cause I actually can’t tell how bad or good this is. but yeah, I tried. P.S: this smut has been sitting in my drafts for over a MONTH.

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savannahsdeath · 10 months

Note

hi i love your writing SO MUCH and idk if i requested this already but… do you think we can get a brothers best friend ellie?? readers brother DOES NOT want them together but they end up fucking when he’s asleep/not home. or reader goes to ellies house and eats her out while shes on call with reader’s brother?? either one is fine i would just love to see you write it

i think you requested that but i made it likee the brother didnt care so heres a second one🤭ill post the first one too tho!!

BBF!ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! smut, almost getting caught

writers note: im sorry its so short whateva💔

You couldn't decide whether you like it or not.

Well, of course you did. Ellie never failed to make you feel good, her strap hitting all the right places while her hands caressed your thighs. She was rough, but not too rough. Degrading, but also praising. Basically, she was all you could ever ask for and more. What was there to hate?

But at some point, there was this little voice in your head telling you you're pathetic. Pathetic for liking this, agreeing to this and... just admiring her overall.

Because, jesus, 'she's my brother's friend. Best friend. What am I going to tell him?'

You, as the little sister, always let him insult you. Your opinion didn't matter, you gave up on trying to be important long time ago. You didn't hate him, he wasn't that bad. It was just sibling love language. He just couldn't be nice. If he knew about you and Ellie...

You were good at hiding it, though. When you first met her, you didn't believe she's really friends with your brother. Not to be mean, but you didn't thought he'll get along with someone who seems so... perfect.

'She probably has a shitty personality.'

That's how you explained their friendship. And you were terribly wrong.

After she visited your house once, she kept coming almost every day. At this point, you got used to that.

Oh, well, not exactly... There was some awkward situations, like when you exited the bathroom in only a towel wrapped around your bare skin and you saw her leaning against the handrail in the hallway. She only ruffled your hair and laughed at your embarrassment, seeing you blush and holding onto the fabric like your life depended on it. Maybe it did, actually?

It wasn't long after that before you began to wonder -'She can't be friends with my brother... can she?'- You started to notice more things - her kindness towards you, a tender touch here and there, and the way she looked at you made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So what if she was his best friend? Would he really mind?

But what if he did? What if he found out?

Suddenly that little voice in your head was screaming louder than ever, and that feeling of shame and guilt crept up on you again.

But no matter how much of the guilt you felt, and despite the small voice in your head telling you you're pathetic, it felt right. You felt accepted. Accepted by someone who was perfect in every way. The thought of telling your brother filled you with dread, but it seemed so far away. You could figure out that little problem later, right? Just for now, you could feel a rush of emotions - mostly guilt, but also a rush of lust that made you want more.

More and more.

And she gave you more.

A quiet -'fuck'- escaped her lips as she saw your cunt throbbing against her strap. Her hands continued firmly holding you down as you didn't even bother to stay quiet. You felt so good... and so ashamed... You wanted it to stop but at the same time, you knew you'd beg for more if she would even simply slow down.

It was really your own fault.

This was the first time in ages you were left home alone, so you immediately invited Ellie over. First time you won't have to bury your face in the pillows. First time she won't have to shush you. First time you could actually do everything.

You were fighting your own thoughts, not knowing which one are the bad ones. You had no idea if you're doing the right thing. And you most definitely weren't but you were too fucked up to realize that.

Ellie chuckled, hearing your not-muffled this time sounds. "Were you always this loud? Jesus, how did we manage to keep this a secret for so long?"

The truth is, she wasn't silent herself. Fine, she wasn't a whining mess, unlike you, but still - the little 'fuck's and praises escaping her mouth weren't too quiet.

You continued squirming and whimpering about how big she is and how much it hurts, hoping it'll magically change, though you didn't really wanted it to. Or maybe you did? You weren't sure. Your mind continued the fight wether it's good or pathetic, none of the sides prevailing.

She clicked her tongue in disappointment, but her smirk told you how proud she really is. "I know, I know, so stop moving so fucking much." She said.

Her raspy, tired voice was enough to make you squirm again. You weren't used to hear it in these circumstances before, since it's obviously the first time she could speak loudly and clearly, without worrying about your brother.

"I said something, doll." Her grip on your hips hardened, almost aggressively pinning you to bed.

You heard the ring hanging near the door, meaning someone opened them. Just by footsteps you could tell it was your brother.

"Should I stop?" She asked with mock-concern and interest. You realized your answer won't change anything - maybe just the intensity of her moves, so you didn't waste your energy answering. That was a sign of your obedience and helplessness Ellie waited for. "Good girl."

She rolled you on your stomach and tangled her fingers in your hair, pressing your head into the pillow. She shoved it down with every thrust - every hit of your climax - to stop you from moaning. And of course it didn't work completely, but they faded enough to be inaudible outside the room.

She was intentionally going faster and faster. She loved playing with you, feeling the thrill of it, even though you didn't find it so amusing. You digged your nails into the tattoo on her forearm, hoping to slow her down.

"Ya know what will happen if he hears?" She didn't seem to care that your fingers were literally drawing blood from her body. "You'll handle it. Unless you want him to find out?" She whispered.

You immediately shook your head, pursing your lips and squeezing your eyes shut.

Then, your moment of focus broke as you heard knocking, on the door to your room this time.

"I'm back!" Your brother announced.

You asked him to tell you whenever he goes out or cames back, mostly so you knew if Ellie's free, since he only goes out with her. Today was the first time he went outside on his own and the poor guy had no idea she found a reason to visit your house anyway, just like he had no idea she did so even when he was home, in his room, right above yours.

The lack of response surprised him, so he knocked once more before shouting confused -'You there?'

Ellie looked down at you, daring you to answer, mouthing silent 'go on' in the most taunting voice she could.

"Yes! That's good!" Your voice was shaky and you knew he will notice.

He wasn't really caring, just curious, so he had to know everything. His first sentence sounded cute, like he really cared, but you figured out he's making fun of you as soon as you heard the other questions. "Are you crying? What, you weren't invited to some lame party? Or a boy you know for a week broke up with you?"

And what were you supposed to say? -'No, your best friend is fucking me for... probably more than an hour now, and her dick is probably bigger than yours, so I can't control my tears'

"Yeah, something lik- Oh, fuck off!" You screamed back, succeeding to pretend you're really hurt because of one of the pathetic things he accused you for.

He laughed. "Mhm- Whatever!"

The footsteps climbed up stairs and got silent. Ellie bit her bottom lip, holding back a chuckle.

"Does he really think of you so low?" Her hips slowed down again, but became more precise. "You did good, don't worry. It'll be over soon."

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #reqs open #wlw smut #ellie the last of us #bbf!ellie #bbf!ellie williams #bbf!ellie x reader #bbf!ellie williams x reader #brother's best friend #thank you nonnie #i love you nonnie #send anons

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unmarlou · 4 months

Text

time to pretend.

pairings. slytherins x fem!reader

summary. a typical day at the summer house.

lacy says. saltburn inspo but no bath water :/ this is bad lol purely for the aesthetic.

· · ౨ৎ · ·

"oi!"

the morning sun was beaming down stronger than yesterday. your sunglasses weren't even enough to keep you from squinting, though the book in your hands did good job if held at the right angle. and had it not been for the towel between, your skin would've been sticking to the lawn chair.

"morning blaise..." pansy said dreamily at your right. she was still half asleep.

you looked over your shoulder and saw blaise approaching, draco in tow. "didn't even bother to tell us you were out here, i see."

"we wanted you to get your beauty sleep, darling. nice swim trunks." they had tiny hula girls on them.

"i am a man of fashion." he plopped himself at the chair to your left, adjusting his shorts and sunglasses. he flashed a smile - a pretty one that only he could own and flaunt regardless the time of day. he quickly nudged your leg and pointed to draco, who sat at pansy's feet.

he was covered in noticeable amounts of sunscreen, head to toe. not only with a look of distain on his face but his slouch conveyed a message just fine on its own.

involuntarily a snort escaped, followed by stifled laughs.

"oh shut up."

even pansy, who was curled on her side away from everyone, sticking her hand out to some small animal, laughed, "we're only admiring you.”

all he could do was roll his eyes.

"stolen my chair then, have you?"

everyone’s attention turned to the voice, only to see enzo, also in his bathing suit, holding a platter of fruit. he almost looked like the cover of a magazine your mother wouldn't let you buy.

glancing over the back of the chair you could see mattheo and theodore walking in the field, talking lazily, probably sharing their first hellos of the day.

lorenzo placed the silver plate down on the small table between the chairs. you had asked him to bring something to eat expecting a piece of toast, though with him, you should've known better.

"well we can share, you know?"

"thank you, enzo."

he gave you a quick nod and wink, his way of saying no problem, never wanting to make a big deal out of gestures he found to be the minimum in his friendships.

"want me to sit on your lap then, blaise?"

draco rang on your left, "past a strawberry… please."

your arm extended to him, presenting three instead of just one. he cracked a reluctant smile, always surprised at how well you all knew him, never letting him stay miserable for long, "thanks."

a new shadow appeared on the ground in front of you causing you to peer up and greet theodore, "fruit?"

he shook his head, eyes still puffy and barely open, indicating he had just awoken. he stretched and rested his hands on either side of yours and pansy's chairs. bringing his forehead down to his left hand, he seemed to be taking a chance at sleep again.

"theo's had a rough morning."

you turned again and almost cackled at the sight of lorenzo sitting in blaise's lap, and mattheo sitting in lorenzo's. you could've sworn you saw the chair slightly give way under their weight.

pansy teased, "but an excellent night, isn't that right, teddy?"

he groaned loudly. drinking was never his strong-suit. he could roll and smoke all day, even on his worst, but going shot-for-shot was something he did only when feeling the most audacious. and something he always came to regret.

he shuffled his way to the small dock at the pond in front of you. eyes still closed, he laid down on the edge, his arm hanging over and into the water.

"hangover so bad he had to reconnect with nature."

“we’ve all been there.”

you smiled idly. placing the book on your stomach, not even considering an odd tan line. tilting your head back, your eyes closed.

a breeze blew, giving your skin a break from the exhausting heat it was under. you could feel the full trees above sway, and hear the water of the pond move with theodore’s helping hand. the low indistinct chatter of your friends simply background noise to remind you you weren’t alone in this oasis.

most mornings were like this. easy and quiet, any and all problems excluded from this place, this bubble of a world you had. if ever asked what moment you wished you could relive again and again, it would always be this.

the large, wall lining, arched windows of the left wing hallway made it the sunniest place in the house at this time of day. and the cold tile felt nice under your concrete-burnt feet.

the windows were wide open, allowing the plants and hung-dry linens of the courtyard to creep in and fill the corridor with a scent that could make one nostalgic for a place and time they’ve never even been.

your steps were the only sound until they multiplied. by the cadence of the walk, you knew who it was.

“theodore feeling any better?”

“loads,” in the corner of your eye you could see him pull a cigarette out and spark a light, he took a long drag before continuing, “gave him one of my cures.”

you shuddered, twisting your face. mattheo had an affinity for putting ingredients in a pot, mixing it up, and saying it would fix any and all problems. sometimes you thought even he didn’t believe his own words, he just liked seeing your face contort in disgust. “let me know when his tail starts growing.”

entering the room at the end of the hall, the sound of the shower running became clear. the french doors of the back wall were open, allowing air to flow freely.

you spun on your heel and allowed yourself to fall onto the four-poster, now staring at the charm displayed up on the canopy. one you recognized, as all your parents used to do it when you were children; a depiction of the night sky, to lull you to sleep and wish you sweet dreams.

mattheo was on his stomach next to you, carefully tapping ashes off the side of the bed. in the lighting of the room you could see how summer had be treating him, skin tanned by the sun, while his hair only got lighter. he tapped your arm for your attention, and pointed to the bathroom, furrowing his brows.

“pansy.” you answered.

an oh formed on his face.

the sound of wind chimes rang in the distance, accompanied by tree leaves brushing against each other, and birds singing softly. there were actually a few birds gathered at the small balcony just outside the french doors. they always seemed to gravitate towards pansy, all the beauty in life resided to her.

“i wonder what snape is doing right about now.”

you groaned, putting your hands over your face, trying to hide from the imagine of your professor in your mind, “don’t mention him, his energy will invade the space.”

“say his name three times and he’ll appear, you know!” pansy’s shouting voice carried into the room. there was actually no need for her to, you could hear her perfectly fine seeing as the bathroom door was wide open; she hated having it closed, never wanting to be separated from the rest of world for too long.

you shouted back, “says she who flirts with him for a higher grade!”

“it’ll work one day, just you wait!”

this was true, she was absolutely convinced she could charm her way to at least Exceeds Expectations. not that anything had given her an indication it had worked in the past. or ever.

mattheo sat up, almost choking on his laugh, “just do what enzo does, pretend your best friends with him.”

the shower turned off, followed by long rustled movement before she walked out. she held a stark white towel to her body, water droplets coming off her hair and onto her freckled collarbones. “does it work?”

he ran a hand through his hair while reaching to put his cig out on the bedside ashtray, “ ‘course not. but easier to watch and keep the lunch down than your attempts.”

she made a face before opening one of the dresser drawers next to her and chucking a pair of balled-up socks at him.

suddenly the door bursted open, presenting blaise and lorenzo. they wore cheesy smiles and had their arms extended out beside themselves, “OUR DINNER OUTFITS!”

both were still wearing their swim trunks from earlier in the day, yet this time accompanied by suit jackets, ties, - that certainly did not match and they definitely dug up from the attic - dress shoes, and jewelry to go with. theo ran up behind and wrapped a boa around blaise’s neck.

“no fair! i want one!”

“there’s a whole lot more in the boxes we found, hurry up and we’ll get you one.”

“didn’t think to include me, then?”

“those have to be at least 60 years old.”

“jesus enz, what kinda parties did your dad used to throw?”

he flopped on the bed, a dust cloud emerging from the jacket, causing you to cough and wave your hand through the air. “no clue,” he leaned closer to you, showing his wrist, “but look at this fancy watch i found.”

it looked as old as time.

“no doubt you’re sweating enough for all of us in those?” draco leaned on the doorframe.

“would be unnatural if we weren’t.”

pansy walked to the armoire, and shuffled her hanging clothes along until she found what she was looking for: a silk black dress. she picked the hanger off the rack and walked it over the french doors, putting on the doorframe. she turned to everyone’s eyes on her and shrugged, “might as well.”

playing dress up was always fun, especially when all the glamour was real. watches and diamonds, boas and silks.

the dining hall was lit, wall to expansive wall with candles. the curtains up high drawn back, displaying the rising moon. the long table in the center was decorated with the most gorgeous grand arrangement.

the house elves had absolutely outdone themselves, platters of food spanning each end of the table. and though you didn’t see much of them, you made a mental note to seek at least one out and thank them.

after more digging around and even a trip to the attic, which made you consider taking a second shower of the day, you had found the best box of all; charles berkshire’s record collection. bowie, zeppelin, beatles, queen - it was a 60s/70s wet dream. so for the first time in what must’ve been years, the gramophone record player of the dining hall was to be put to use.

with everyone now standing at their respective seats, prosecco was to be poured.

mattheo, who sat on the right head of the table, was the one to open it; he always was. his naturally mischievous smile was one to be admired, especially when each of you wore the same one. with a big POP! he went around and filled everyone’s flutes - although you all cheered, the night hadn’t started just yet.

each with your drinks, lorenzo danced over to the record player and placed the needle down. a night at the opera began. he slowly turned to face you all once again, raising his glass and walking back to his seat, the left head of the table. all other glasses were then raised high, and his role as host was to be fulfilled, “live forever!”

“live forever!” you chorused, arms extending closer to each other before cheers erupted once again, louder this time, accompanying the crescendo of death on two legs. cups were brought to mouths, and taking your first sip you could’ve sworn you recognized that phrase, somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, but couldn’t seem to place it.

pulling chairs forward, everyone was sat. looking around, under the immense candle light their faces had a new glow, one that filled you with an unexplainable excitement. the night had begun.

the feast was lovely, you all agreed it must’ve been the best you’d ever had. though you could’ve just been drunk and hungry.

“this is the best food i’ve ever tasted.”

“best.” emphasized lorenzo.

mattheo covered his mouth, still chewing, “never been better.”

this conversation happened multiple times since you had started eating. each time blaise ended it by saying, “god we sound like our parents.”

the room smelled like the extravagant parties back home, the boys smoking their macanudo’s - inspirado black’s, they swore by - leaving strong cigar smoke lingering above you. pansy had drank enough to pull out her cigarettes, and one was passed around the table. your glass was bottomless, literally, allowing your feeling of weightlessness to continue.

the conversations around were indecipherable, you just sat picking at whatever food was left on your plate, intent on listening to the music in the background. the record player was enchanted, never needing for someone to get up and change the record; once the needle was down, and an album was over, a new one would take its place.

you took another sip of whatever it was in your glass, listening to the end of some song, what was going to play next didn’t even cross your mind until the beginning chords of a new one rang out. standing up suddenly, causing your drink to slightly spill on the hard wood, you gasped, “this SONG.”

your arm immediately shot out to pansy, who looked up at you mid-drag and smiled. you couldn’t even remember what song it was or where you had heard it before but you knew it was imperative to give it its own moment. meeting each other halfway, arms waiting for the other person and giggling, your hands interlocked with hers.

dancing, spinning around, and laughing; you had never felt so blissfully unaware. or dizzy.

more bodies appeared around the two of you, but ones you knew well and invited with the most love one could feel for another person. blaise’s boa wrapped around him and draco as they danced and sang, theodore holding a bottle of champagne while mattheo bent lower to waterfall it, and enzo grabbing both yours and pansy’s hands to spin you simultaneously.

you weren’t sure who’s laugh was who’s, or what song was playing, who’s hand you were holding, or what drink was being poured, not like any of it mattered. once again you had entered a bubble, impenetrable from the outside world.

the library couch was the comfiest in the whole chateau. the fire had been crackling for some time, accompanied by lorenzo’s piano playing on the west wall. he was actually the best you’d ever heard, though he shyly kept his talent close to his chest - until the proper moments.

you watched the embers pop off the fire mindlessly, not thinking about anything in particular. a book sat in your lap but it had been forgotten long ago, your unfocused eyes unable to retain the words. they were however able to travel upwards to the painting on the mantle, for the first time you truly looked at it - it was a group of people, slightly older than yourself. you immediately recognized lorenzo’s father, although here he was more handsome, his son certainly took after him. searching farther you spotted a woman, and after some staring you deduced it was bellatrix, her cheekbones being the exact same as mattheo and enzo. she truly was beautiful, regardless of the sinister look she was giving through the paint. you couldn’t make out the others, though you noted a boy, who was definitely younger than the rest, with curls that fit his face well and a solemn expression that carried a worlds worth of weight.

mattheo and draco sat on the rug, silently playing chess. they had become more and more fond of muggle chess as the summer went on.

pansy was sprawled out on the lounge chair to your right, the spaghetti straps of her dress daring to slip off her shoulders. her eyes were closed as she hummed - incorrectly - to the piano. she hung her head over the edge, causing her bangs to fall off her face, and her now open green eyes found yours. your smiles matched each other.

blaise, who was seated next to you on the couch, had his legs resting on the ottoman. he was holding a letter from his mother that had arrived a couple days ago, just now finding the time to read it. theodore was in the opposing lounge chair, eating the chocolates that accompanied the letter. she had sent them just for him - his favorites from honeydukes he had sorely missed. he watched mattheo and draco’s game intently.

“play that last one again.” you had called out to enzo.

he scooted his chair and looked over his shoulder, “liebestraum no. 3?”

“sure.”

“you like liszt?”

you paused, turning to face him and furrowing your brows in obvious confusion, before replying to the best of your ability, “…i like you?”

he gave a smile that was only reserved for you. liebestraum no. 3 began again.

you slumped down on your side, your feet now hitting blaise’s clothed thigh, he gave a tap to your ankle, indicating recognition but not taking his eyes off the letter. with your ear now against the armrest, your breathing slowed.

you focused on every sound. the chess pieces gliding across the wood board followed by draco’s or mattheo’s huffs of concentration, the faraway wind chime carrying in through the open window, lorenzo playing that piece you had grown to love in the last few minutes, the pops of fire, pansy’s subtle soft humming, and the crinkle of the papers blaise held.

your eyes closed, whether voluntarily or not you weren’t sure, but you didn’t fight it. overwhelming comfort and content had taken you, warmth from all over allowing absolute relaxation.

“hey… hey, wake up.”

“y/n… y/n…”

the harsh nudge of your arm made you open your eyes. squinting up, you could make out blaise and theodore. you, unintentionally, matched their tone by whispering back to them, “what?”

“wake up, we’re going for a swim.” blaise flashed you the same smile from the morning, it was so genuine even your groggy mind thought of how you’d never know anyone else with one like that. theo had moved on to wake pansy.

draco’s voice came from behind the couch, “she awake?” before an answer came he peered over from above and your eyes met, “lovely. now get pans and let’s go.”

sitting up and looking around you finally realized why everything looked different - the fire had gone out. now the only light was the full moon shining through the windows. the room was coated in silver.

you rubbed your eyes harshly to adjust and looked over to see pansy doing the same, “what do you want again?” her voice was raspy and tired.

“swimming.” you answered, standing up with the help of blaise’s hand. once to your feet you realized you were still in your dinner attire, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. you stuck an arm out to her. grasping it and standing, she opened her eyes wide and blinked rapidly. her voice was abruptly normal again, “well c’mon then.”

the boys were close behind the two of you, exiting the library. the entire manor was the same coloring of silver and blue. any other place and you would’ve been creeped out and uneasy, but in this place with these people, you could never feel anything other than safe.

going your separate ways from them to change, you and pansy walked the corridors, chatting nonsensically.

entering your room, you undressed quickly, happy to get the confining dress clothes from what seemed like hours ago, off of your body. you picked a bathing suit from drawers, tossing one to pansy too, who couldn’t be bothered to go to her room. both of you helped the other tie their suit.

voices in the hall approached your door, before a series of knocks. you both called back, “yeah?”

draco’s head peered in cautiously, before noticing you both were clothed, then opening the door fully to reveal the others. he held his arm up, “we’ve got towels, come on.”

all the boys said some iteration of come on and let’s go, eager to get out. rushing, you both were handed towels. excited chatter overtook the group, voices echoing and bouncing off the expansive walls. lorenzo appeared suddenly from the back, running, and yelling at the top of his lungs.

this triggered a domino effect, everyone was now chasing each other down the halls. something in the back of your mind told you to look around, and when you did, it seemed as though childhood had come back. playing games and having races with the same people that ran beside you now. watching their faces as they passed you saw summers long gone, of late night swims and early sun-basking mornings, dress up dinners and quiet library lounging. you ran and ran and ran.

your bare feet hit the concrete of the patio before hitting the dewy grass. though night, it was still warm, humidity latched to your skin. you had joined hands with blaise, a silent agreement. the moonlight illuminated the pond, beckoning you to come forward. it was just a ways away.

lorenzo had made it first, his shout as he jumped in rattling everything in a 10 mile radius. for the rest of the summer he would go on to say that he had to have made the world record for largest splash.

mattheo was close behind, so close in fact you thought he might land on enzo’s head, though he resurfaced just in time to watch him jump in and moved out of the way.

you and blaise were next, hand-in-hand again, running off the dock, your screams silenced by the water. cold consumed your entire body for the first time in months. it was relieving to have your body soaked in something other than sunscreen or sweat. feeling the last of your friends enter after you, you opened your eyes and found them. swimming to each other, you grazed skin as if to say even in water, i’m right by your side. if you didn’t need air, you would’ve considered staying down there forever.

breaching the surface and taking a deep breath, you brushed all the hair out of your face. you looked around to find some with droplets combing through from their hair to their eyelashes, and others with water slicked-back hair. each was breathing as heavily as you, half from having to catch their breath, half from pure exhilaration.

water splashed from all directions, making you squint and do the same. you weren’t sure who was splashing you for the fun of it and who was splashing you because you had splashed them. yelps and laughs were echoing off the surrounding trees. the plants were drinking well tonight.

“let’s play chicken!” someone had shouted over all the noise. cheers of agreement erupted from the chorus and subsequently the excessive pushing of water was halted.

you had fond memories of chicken. it used to be the boys on the girls shoulders, back when they all were still shorter than pansy and you. but now they were taller and had built quidditch bodies. as much as you believed in yourself, you didn’t desire feeling a draco sized weight on your shoulders.

“girls versus boys!” you announced.

theo shrugged, “not much of a competition.”

blaise took him by the shoulder, “ay, beware of the black haired one, she likes to go for the eyes.”

it was decided you and pansy versus theodore and lorenzo. they were a great duo, the two of them were the beaters on the quidditch team. they surely knew how to work together.

theo stood behind enzo, waiting for him to dip underwater.

“oi try not to pull the hair, i’ve got a sensitive scalp.” enzo reached a hand up and combed the back his head. theo looked like he was going to say something, before just shaking his head and sighing, “m’sure i’ll manage.”

a countdown from three began, then hitting one, you and lorenzo went under. water engrossed your entirety once more. feeling pansys hand upon your shoulder for balance, then her leg, you held on. within less than a few seconds she was securely on and you rose. you took a big breath once again, pushing your hair out of your face. the boys were in sync with you.

almost immediately pansy and theo were at each others throats. their arms went up, interlocking, and their bodies casted a shadow on lorenzo and you. it was like a tiny pocket. shouts came from beside you; blaise, mattheo, and draco each yelling out what could’ve been tips but when shouting over each other it really just sounded like a bunch of nothing. you were pretty sure whatever they were saying was going to be unhelpful anyways.

between keeping your balance, trying to push enzo, and still treading, you were determined to win.

“ah! ow! STOP TRYING TO PUT YOUR FINGERS IN MY EYES!”

pansy clearly was as well.

it suddenly hit you who you were up against. this was lorenzo, the single most ticklish person you’d ever know. you weren’t sure why you hadn’t thought of it earlier. with a mischievous smile and lots of trust that pansy could remain on your moving shoulders, you reached to his bare stomach and began prodding at him.

just as you expected, he started to freak out. “hey! HEY!” he laughed between his shouts, “STOP- STOP THAT! NOT- FAIR!”

the boys on side were having a field day.

“ENZ!”

“I CANT-”

“DONT YOU DARE DROP ME.”

and with a strong push from pansy up top, and another prod to enzo’s side from you, both of their exclamation were stifled by gurgles of water.

pansy dived down, quickly coming up and hollering. cheers were shared all around, even from theo and enzo.

“let’s stick to quidditch.”

“agreed.”

in the midst of it all, you turned to face the house. it wasn’t foreign to any of you by any means, yet catching it in this moment you couldn’t help but feel amazed by its beauty. as if you were truly noticing it for the first time. it harbored your love within its stone. your love for this season, your love for this place, your love for these people. looking at the scene you saw your friends, you reached for them and they accepted, reaching for you. you heard their laughs, saw their smiles, and felt the same on yourself.

all in one breath you realized what lorenzo had said earlier was not just some toast; it was a definitive proclamation.

in this bubble of a world, you would live forever.

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