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osaemu · 7 months

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GOJO SATORU: THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: what do you do when your boyfriend cheats? you go to his house and look for revenge, and you get it by fucking his dad! NSFW

contents: fem!reader. age gap, blowjob, praise, degradation, use of slut, slight dumbification, dirty talk, and possibly more. 2.6K words.

you should've known that dating a rich boy came with more than just the money—it came with a shitty boyfriend too.

as you walk to his house, rain falling in your eyes, you curse every time he had you do his homework, his bills, even his fucking laundry. that's what you get for dating the spoiled heir to the massive gojo fortune.

you step onto the gojo estate's porch, wondering what possessed you to come all the way here in the middle of the night without an umbrella. thank god you still had the key your ex had given you, since he was too stupid to remember to take it back after he dumped you.

hands shaking from the cold, you slip the key into the lock and turn, a small smile dancing across your lips when it opens as easily as your ex's legs. he was probably out fucking another girl right now, if the pictures on his instagram story were any hint of his whereabouts.

you push the door open with your shoulder and dry your feet on the doormat. his parents are never home, and it's late enough for the staff to have all gone back to their quarters. besides, even if one or two were still here, they probably didn't know you weren't their spoiled brat's girlfriend anymore.

humming the post-breakup revenge song you'd been listening to for the past hour, you tie up your hair and look around. the only reason you walked all the way here in the middle of a dark, stormy night was for revenge, and you weren't leaving without it.

on the way to your ex's room, you stop in one of the bathrooms to dry off. rainwater slides off your body as you wring out your hair in the sink, water dripping down your wrist as you do so.

you walk the familiar path to your ex's room, rolling your eyes when you see a bra on the floor that definitely isn't yours. funnily enough, you aren't surprised. there's no hurt, no sadness, just disgust. your suspicions were right—he was fucking other girls while the two of you dated.

a sigh slips through your lips as you look around his room. it's messy, even with the help from the gojo estate's numerous staff. they say bigger rooms naturally look cleaner, and yet your ex's room still manages to mirror his mind—filthy.

you're so immersed in the thousand ideas you have to ruin your ex's life that when a deep, sleep-ridden voice asks you what the fuck you're doing in his house, you nearly jump out of your skin.

you spin around, words caught in your throat when you come face-to-face with satoru gojo, your ex-boyfriend's dad and the infamous head of the gojo family.

it's more than shameful that the first thought you have is that shit, he's hot. you've met before, but it was only in passing. satoru's never around, and the extent of your relationship was a brief nod as he passed you in one of the many passageways in the gojo estate. in fact, you aren't entirely sure if he even knows who you are.

satoru gojo's well-known in japan—not only is he the reason the gojo family has its reputation, but he's made quite a name for himself by being the most affluent and handsome of them all.

you've heard stories about him back in his prime. most sound too far-fetched to be true, but the photos of him in his twenties that resurface from time-to-time make good material for your late-night fantasies.

and satoru's even more intimidating in person. he's easily over six feet tall with well-defined muscles, and he's the definition of a dilf. he's probably twice your age, but the glint in his eyes and casual arrogance in his stance makes him all the more attractive.

it's a shame his son is such a dickhead.

"are you one of my son's whores?" satoru asks dryly, eying the bra on the floor. you scowl and kick it away, a soft huff slipping through your lips.

"no, i'm— wait, he never told you?" you cut yourself off with the question, a hint of incredulous disbelief in your tone.

satoru shrugs, reaching up to ruffle his hair. his shirt slides up just enough to expose his abs, which are really fucking hot by any standards. "if you're asking about my son, he thankfully leaves me out of his sex life," he says amusedly. "so, who are you? and what the hell are you doing in my house this late?"

"i—" well, you couldn't just say you were here to ruin his son's life. "uh, i'm his... girlfriend."

satoru barks out a laugh, looking down at you through his long, white eyelashes. "really? you sure you're dating my son?"

you narrow your eyes and nod. satoru shakes his head, slipping one of his hands in his pocket and gesturing to the bra on the floor with the other. "either you aren't his girlfriend or you just found out he's cheating. which is it?"

well, you tried. "both." satoru raises his eyebrows at that and takes a seat on the chair across from his son's bed, exhaling as he does so.

"so, sweetheart, what's the story?" he asks, a bored expression on his face. he leans back and spreads his legs enough for you to wonder what it'd be like to be in between them.

not sensing that you really have a choice, you sit on the corner of his son's bed and start explaining. at first, you sugarcoat his son's actions, not wanting to sound like a whiny brat, but at one point he interjects with a sigh.

"i know my son," he says dryly, brushing his floppy white hair out of his eyes. "and i also know a liar when i see one."

"s' that so?" you mutter under your breath, ignoring the way satoru's eyes narrow at your side comment. from then on, you list every detail of just how shitty your ex was to you. you tell satoru how his son made you fold his clothes, how he dragged you to parties even when you swore you had homework, how he'd make you fu—

you stop there, not wanting to divulge every detail of your sex life. sure, your ex forced you to fuck him every night in every way he knew existed from watching porn, but that wasn't for his dad to know.

satoru, who's been listening intently for the last five minutes, studies your irritated expression thoughtfully. rather than comment on the way you suddenly stopped ranting, he asks, "so you're here for revenge?"

you nod, crossing your legs. satoru eyes you for another second before placing his hands on his knees and standing up with a soft grunt. "do whatever you want, but i want you out of my house in fifteen minutes. and whatever you do stays in this room. no fire."

satoru looks down at you and raises an eyebrow. "is that clear?"

it would be easier to agree if satoru wasn't looking down at you with an expression like that on his face. it's somewhere between mild irritation and disgust—whether it's directed at you or his son, you're not sure, but he probably has better things to do than listen to some girl's breakup story. so you nod, and satoru starts to leave.

just before he steps out the door, you think of a really fucking insane idea—one that would absolutely shatter your ex. and for some reason, you say it out loud.

"you should fuck me."

oh my god.

satoru turns around slowly, hand clenched around his phone. "the fuck?"

you swallow, eyes wide and a stupid grin plastered on your face. "shit, i—" you were ready to apologize for just about every word you've ever said, but satoru holds up his hand before you can start, cutting you off.

he scoffs, blue eyes glimmering with either amusement or annoyance. "you really are a piece of work, aren't ya?" satoru narrows his eyes, surveying you critically. his gaze settles on the way your shaky hands, and you hide them behind your back self consciously.

"you want me to fuck you on my son's bed?" he says dryly, stifling a laugh. when you force yourself to nod, he grins. "not bad, sweetheart. not bad at all."

"i-is that a yes?" you hate yourself for stuttering, but it makes satoru laugh.

"sure, why not?" he says, walking over to where you're still sitting on his son's bed and resting a hand on your shoulder. satoru rubs the side of your neck with his thumb, cerulean eyes fixed on your lips. "might be about time to teach my son a lesson anyways."

satoru's agreement surprises you enough to make your mouth fall open, and soon enough, his dick replaces the empty space between your lips.

"shit, you're takin' me so good, baby," satoru groans, hand tangled in your hair as he pushes his dick deeper into your throat. "yeah, that's it, jus' like tha— fuck," he cuts himself off with a breathy laugh as you nearly choke.

he's big, way bigger than your ex, and you wonder how his dad's big dick gene skipped him. and even better, satoru's skilled too. he knows how to fuck you good, and you can tell that it's from experience, not from watching porn—unlike his lame excuse of a son.

"tell me, sweetheart," satoru drawls, looking down at you with a cheeky smile. "was my son half as good as i am in bed?"

when you shake your head no, satoru clicks his tongue in disapproval. "shit, now y're gonna expect every guy you fuck with to be as good as me. well, sorry 'bout that, because they aren't."

at least you know where his son gets his arrogance from.

it's getting a little hard to breathe, especially since you have ten inches of dick shoved down your throat. despite all satoru's talk, you can tell that he's getting close to cumming down your throat—his eyes are twitching and his breaths are starting to become more and more shaky as you suck him off. soon enough, the coil in his stomach snaps and he cums, cursing and praising you as he does. satoru's grip on your hair tightens, and it's borderline painful as he tugs you deeper by the hair.

"shit, that was the best head i've had in a while," he groans after his breathing starts to go back to normal. satoru grins at you, shaking his head and pinning you on your back on the bed.

"you've already been fucked by a gojo here, haven't you?" satoru cooes, tracing your jawline with one of his fingers. "tch, i'll fuck you better than my shithead son ever could. show ya the reason we gojos have a reputation for our dicks."

and fuck, he does. after quickly making you cum on his fingers with the excuse of loosening you up, he roughly shoves his dick in your already-throbbing pussy with a grin. he's so fucking big that you've convinced he's gonna rip you in half.

"g-gojo, i can't—"

"sure y'can," he cuts you off, jaw tightening as you tighten around him. "fuckin' hell, you're just tight as a virgin. my son must be shit in bed, yeah?"

"mhm," you hum, tilting back your head and gasping for air as you feel your body heat up. "shit— right there—"

satoru grins, dipping his head and meeting your tear-lidded eyes. he's far from gentle—it's barely been a couple minutes and your back is already in the highest arch of your life, and it's hard to form coherent thoughts as satoru continues bullying his cock into your pussy.

you lose track of time easily—fuck, you forget there's even a world outside of whatever this is. at some point your tongue falls out of your mouth, lolling to the side as your eyes roll back—just a dumb slut for satoru; or at least that's what he calls you.

as you approach what must be the hundredth orgasm of the night, satoru asks you to say his name. it's almost embarrassing how much effort it is to say—he's fucked you dumb enough to the point where you're a babbling mess.

"shit, you can't even talk," satoru says with a grin, flicking your forehead playfully. "cute." he rests his elbow by your head and shoves his hand over your mouth, amusement dancing in his eyes. "you talk too much anyways, princess. take a break."

you whine against his hand and satoru shakes his head, a faux pout on his face. "c'mon, it's not like you can talk anyways," he tsks. his next thrust is particularly rough, and you can't seem to remember who the name of the dickhead who got you in this situation—what was your ex's name again? does it matter?

"yeah i can" you mumble, voice muffled by satoru's hand. when his pout deepens, you can't help but giggle, a sound that soon turns to a squeal when he pushes the side of your face into the mattress.

"what's so funny?" satoru grumbles, dipping his head and pressing his lips against the hand seperating your mouth from his. satoru's glimmering eyes are fixed on yours as a cheeky smile spreads across his face. "fine then."

he pulls out, cursing under his breath as he presses his back to the headboard. satoru ignores the hm? that slips out of your lips and removes his hand from your mouth, resting it on his dick instead and stroking it with a smirk. "what is it, princess?"

"wha— why'd you stop?"

satoru lifts his other wrist, studying the watch on it and turning his hand so you can see too. your vision is still so fucked up that the numbers look like swimming otters, but you can vaguely make out the time.

"it's been fifteen minutes, kid. time to go."

your mouth falls open and you sit up, still breathing heavily. one second you're having the best sex of your life, and the next your ex's dad is calling you kid and telling you it's time to go?

"not fair," you mumble, pulling your legs into your chest and resting your head on your knees. "that was a stupid time limit," you huff, chest heaving. "i couldn't have done anything to him in fifteen minutes anyways."

satoru snorts, stretching his arms and resting his hands behind his head. "i'd say we did something in those fifteen minutes," he says dryly, white hair falling into his eyes.

"hmph."

satoru raises his eyebrows, biting the inside of his lip as he continues stroking himself. you notice the way his abs flex and tense the closer he gets; something that shouldn't be as attractive as it is.

"can't believe my dumbass son fucked up so badly with a girl like you," he groans after a minute, back resting against the headboard as he continues stroking his dick. "won't be seein' you around here again, huh?"

you blink, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as satoru eyes you intently. "what d'you mean?"

before satoru can answer, the two of you hear footsteps, and before either of you can do anything, standing in the doorway to his own room is your ex, a giggling girl on his arm. the faint scent of alcohol floods through your nose as they stumble in, and it's all you can do to stop yourself from laughing when your ex sees that his bed is already occupied.

"why the hell is my dad in bed with my ex-girlfriend?!"

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 3 months

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what friends do | f. odair

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summary: you were a simple town girl. finnick odair was the crown jewel of panem. both of you needed an escape and found it at a secluded beach just outside district four. these were three ingredients that created a year-long friendship. but were friends supposed to have… impure thoughts about one another? you weren’t so sure.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: smut, wayyy too much detail, dirty thoughts, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, mostly readers pov, pre-rebellion, HEAVY dirty talk, fingering, unprotected p in v (big no no), multiple orgasms, so much pining, creampie, cock-warming

notes: i’m so sorry this took me so long. life has been up my ass lately and, as y’all know, i’m a slow writer. but thank you sm to everyone who patiently stuck around, i love y’all <3 this was supposed to be a short smut fic but um, apparently not. anyway, this has taken long enough to come out so imma stop rambling. ENJOY <3

word count: 11.7k

Mid-Autumn was closely approaching District Four.

Harvest in the fishing industry was at its peak and the docks were chock-full with boats bringing in their plentiful catches. The town centre was a bustling scene, crowded with people selling produce and trading for food to bring home to their family's kitchen table.

Last year's autumn harvest was the same picture—overflow, hustle, commotion; chaos like this was something you never came to enjoy. So, it was also around this time last year that you had decided to set off in search of the perfect location away from the rest of society. A place where you could be at peace, where you could forget the disastrous world you lived in.

District Four was home to many popular beaches, but the one you discovered was uninhabited, isolated, found after an hour-or-so-long trek through overgrown dirt pathways and a thicket of sea-grape and palm trees. A true paradise away from society. Or so you had thought in the first few weeks.

You weren't too sure when he had started showing up or how he had even discovered the beach.

However, one evening, as you were seated in the sand watching the sunset on the darkening horizon, you noticed a dark figure diving and surfacing in the flat, glimmering water. Their movements were so poised and fluid like the ocean was something they had conquered. You guessed it to be a dolphin or shark because there was no way a human being could move so gracefully.

But then the figure started wading to shore, and the next thing you knew, they were standing on two legs and exiting the water. You knew then that you had guessed wrong. The sun behind him obscured the bronze of his hair and the swirling lukewarm sea that pooled around his pupils. All you could see was the outline of his tall broad figure as he hiked through the sand toward you.

Fear had told you to bolt from the approaching stranger. You were in the middle of nowhere—it was the perfect place to be murdered or kidnapped. But something else, some deep and tangible instinct, also told you to stay.

"Didn't realise I had a captive audience," thestranger spoke, droplets of gleaming water sliding off his body and into the sand as he stood a few feet away.

Taken by surprise, you fumbled over your words trying to form a sentence in response. "I wasn't—I didn't—"

"Easy, honey," he chuckled. The sound was so warm and pleasant that it almost alleviated the slight chill in the air. "Just pulling your leg."

Your mouth formed a small circle. "Right," you said, gaze locked on the golden sand in embarrassment. "I, uh, didn't think anyone else knew about this place."

To be honest, you were pretty sure it was a restricted area. Probably the reason it was so isolated. If a Capitol official found you, the consequences would most likely involve your tongue, a scalpel, and a hell of a lot of pain. All for a wanting a little peace and quiet.

"Neither did I," the man said. "I only come every now and then. Need an escape from the constant buzz back home. Time for myself, you know?"

"Yeah." You smiled, feeling the stranger's words resonate in your soul. "Yeah, I do know."

You thought you saw the corners of his lips curve into a smile, but the shadows on his face were so prominent that you couldn't tell.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked.

Well... if he were going to murder you, he would have done it already. So, you nodded. Sometimes you questioned your survival instincts. Or lack thereof.

He didn't leave much space as he sat beside you. Only an inch or two, meaning you could feel the humidity of body heat and salt water emit from his skin. Even sitting down, he was still quite tall compared to you, but that wasn't what caused your heart to drop into your stomach.

The setting sun, which no longer disguised his face with shadows, now illuminated his entire figure and revealed his identity. His hair was a mess of wet wavy strands, the colour alight like a pale fire beneath the sun's orange radiance. His skin was sun-kissed, no doubt from days he had spent perfecting his swimming abilities. And those dimples... wow.

He was gorgeous. A man sculpted by the gods of beauty, just like everyone in Panem had depicted him to be. Even his sea-green eyes were as striking as everyone said.

Finnick Odair.

The man who was crowned victor of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games at fourteen. Who trapped multiple tributes at once in a net and killed them one by one with his famed trident. A killer.

The man whose reputation in the Capitol was known nationwide. A proud womanizer.

That was what everyone made him out to be.

Only, in the brief interaction you shared with him, he seemed like quite the opposite. He radiated effortless charm and warmth, but not in the arrogant way the media had portrayed him. Then again, did the media ever accurately portray the truth of anything?

It was then that you determined it didn't really matter who people said he was or what he had done. He was a human being—just like you. He deserved a chance.

His pink lips stretched into a knee-weakening smile; you were grateful that you were sitting down.

"I'm Finnick, by the way."

The both of you knew he didn't need to introduce himself. The whole of Panem knew his name and face. Though the fact that he humbly did so anyway made you like him the tiniest bit more.

You returned his smile with one of your own and introduced yourself.

Time passed and the sun had set; the moon had risen, but you both remained sitting side-by-side in the sand. Conversation flowed so naturally between the two of you that it was difficult for you to remember that stopping and getting some air into your lungs was an important factor in keeping a conversation going... as well as keeping you alive.

You told him about yourself as he did himself—some things that were meant to remain secrets, some things that seemed too strange to tell anyone else.

At some point, he had offered to walk you back to your house. The trek was over an hour long but neither of you seemed to care. The time flew by.

When you were standing at your front door and he was gazing up at you from the bottom of the steps, you both promised to meet again the next day. And you did.

As you did the day after that... and the day after that... and the day after that...

**********

As soon as the nights carried that familiar chill and the town congested with markets and fervent buyers, you knew mid-autumn had made its return. This meant most of your evenings were spent at a certain secret beach with a certain District Four victor.

Having already finished his pre-sunset swim, Finnick was sitting beside you, fingers weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath you. A couple of weeks after you had first met, he had shown up one day holding it all rolled up in hand.

"Made this for you to sit on," he had said with a proud smile. "Took nearly all night and earned me a few good finger cramps, but I think it was worth it."

Pinpointing the exact moment your attraction to him first formed was tricky. However, that gesture was one your mind returned to often. That little palm-leaf mat, the time and effort he put into making it, was scored on your heart.

Finnick was very much a gentleman.

He would always offer you a hand when standing up and whenever you walked back through the overgrown seaside forest. Sometimes he picked fruits for you such as sea grapes and mangos or would climb one of the palms and knock down a few coconuts. One thing he always, always did wasmake sure you got home safe; he never let you out of his sight until you were safe inside your front door.

All those gestures, big and small, added up. Soon enough, Finnick Odair had infiltrated your heart and consumed all your thoughts. You saw his sea-green eyes staring back at you whenever you gazed out at the ocean by your house. Felt the ghost of his hands on yours whenever you picked a grape from the kitchen fruit bowl. Heard his voice calling out your name in your most vivid of dreams.

But there was more to it than innocent adoration.

The guilt came when your gaze started lingering on his body a little too long whenever he left the water at the beach. Shimmering droplets would glide down his beautifully tanned skin; his arm muscles would flex as his fingers raked back his dripping wet hair. It wasn't yourfault he was the walking definition of perfection.

Unholy was the closest word to describe the filthy thoughts that had perverted your imagination. What started as endearing daydreams soon became fantasies that had you seeking relief between your thighs late at night. Your thoughts went wild whenever he dropped you off at your house. It took everything in you not to invite him inside and ask him to fuck you senseless against the front door.

All you had to do was ask. You knew he would say yes.

A year is a long time to know someone. A long time for feelings to grow. It also serves as a lot of time for things to happen between two people—things that linger in your mind even months after they have happened.

Like the times he would walk by you and teasingly whisper something provocative in your ear, then disappear for an hour of swimming, leaving you all hot and flustered in the sand. Neither of you would acknowledge it when he returned. Or when conversations took such a flirtatious turn, the tension only dissipated when houses were separating you at the end of the night.

But that's just what friends do, right? They tease and banter?

Maybe.

However, not all things could be chalked up to being just friends.

Another thing about Finnick's eyes was that they were transparent. You saw how helplessly they clung to you the days you stripped to your underwear and joined him in the water. He had this sort of reaction that turned his eyes into a dark violent sea, like you were some divine temptation planted to test the strength of his resolve.

Sometimes he could resist. Other days it was obvious he couldn't help but reach out and touch.

He would try to be subtle about it. Hands holding yours a little longer than necessary when he helped you stand up. Sitting too closely beside you so that your arms and legs would graze against each other. Brushing off pieces of seaweed that would stick to the dip of your waist and then constantly using the same excuse just to feel the heat of your soft skin.

There was one interaction, though, that you fell asleep to the thought of every night. It was a moment when things almost went too far; an interaction friends definitely did not share.

You could remember it clear a day. Hell, you could still feel it clear as day.

It was a hot summer evening. Both you and Finnick were at the beach and swimming in the water since being in the muggy coastal heat for more than five minutes was parallel to roasting in a thousand-degree sauna.

You were about twenty meters offshore, bobbing beside Finnick as he dived to collect various seashells. That boy could hold his breath for an unbelievable amount of time which meant sometimes you spent minutes alone on the surface, waiting, listening to the calm waves lap eerily around you.

This is exactly how people die in shark movies, said an unwarranted voice in your mind.

As usual, a minute went by. Nothing to worry about. Then a minute turned into two and you were starting to become a little concerned. And then it was two and a half minutes and you were now panicking.

"Finnick?!" you called out, hoping he could somehow hear you from the dark depths.

Three minutes had totalled, and you were pretty certain he had drowned. Just to add to the utter dread coursing through your veins, something slimy brushed against your foot. Most likely a piece of seaweed, but you didn't make that connection at the time.

That very same moment, Finnick burst through the water's surface, only mildly breathless and pinching a small iridescent shell between his fingers.

"Look at thi—"

Before the words could leave his mouth, he found himself enveloped in your distraught embrace. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, crying tears of relief.

Damn that stupid seashell.

He automatically secured you in his arms, concern palpable in his voice as he asked, "Are you okay?"

You pulled away, an indistinguishable combination of tears and saltwater rolling down your cheeks. Though it was hard to miss the look of distress found in your furrowed brows and trembling lips.

"Don't ever do that to me again!" you exclaimed, gripping his arms to emphasise your urgency. "You hear me?! Ever!"

Finnick's head tilted slightly, surprised by your emotional reaction. He hadn't realised he meant so much to you. The surprise faded into remorse, softening his features.

"I won't. I won't, I promise," he said sincerely. His eyes flickered over the worry lines etched on your forehead. He unconsciously brushed his thumb over the lines, hoping to draw out the anxiety with his touch, and then tucked away a strand of hair. "I'm sorry I scared you."

You took in a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to compose yourself. A mess of emotions stirred inside you—worry, embarrassment, irritation. You were partially frustrated with Finnick for making you fear for his life. Mostly annoyed with yourself for showing such vulnerability in front of him.

"God, you're an idiot sometimes," you sighed, shaking your head.

He smirked. "Didn't think you cared so much about me."

"No, you just don't think, Finn."

He glanced off into the distance for a moment with furrowed brows. "Well, that's definitely not true," he countered, meeting your gaze again with a half-smirk. "I think about a lot of things, actually."

"Oh? Like what?" you asked, slightly annoyed. "Do tell me what the great Finnick Odair thinks about instead of his own safety."

Slowly, the smirk faded from his lips. Something new tinged the atmosphere and suddenly everything around you seemed hotter than it previously was. Not an uncomfortable or sweltering heat, but one that held an intensity that sparked the air with electricity.

You suddenly became very aware that Finnick was still holding you in his arms. You recognised the confined proximity between you and him and realised that, before this moment, your bodies had never been so close.

Your legs were curled around his hips, pelvis pressed firmly against his. The position of his hands, which were keeping you afloat, was bordering on inappropriate but would only be deemed as such if you cared. Which you didn't. You liked it—having his hands on you.

One thing you couldn't ignore was the flickering of his gaze. How his eyes kept dropping to your lips. How they blatantly revealed a long-awaited confession that words just couldn't capture. Still, you wanted to hear him say it. You wanted to hear the purr in his voice as he told you.

Then he was leaning in. You weren't sure whether it was on purpose or if the pure magnetism of the tension between you was drawing him closer. Regardless, you started to lean in closer too, eyes drooping as you focused on his mouth.

And before the short distance between your lips and his became immeasurable, you whispered, "Tell me, Finn."

The hands keeping you afloat trailed up and down your back restlessly as Finnick forced a tense exhale through his nose. He seemed to be wrestling with thoughts. You waited in anticipation, and right when it seemed like he was going to make a move—

"I think..."

—you were interrupted. By no less than a pod of dolphins as they leapt from the water, causing you and Finnick to jolt from each other's embrace.

The rest of that evening was not worth mentioning. Not because you had forgotten what happened, but because the sheer awkwardness between you and Finnick afterwards was so torturous that you wanted to keep the memory squashed in the recesses of your mind. Neither of you acknowledged what happened. Finnick still walked you home, but it was done so in agonising silence.

Surprisingly, you both returned to the beach the next day. You hadn't expected him to be his usual upbeat self, but he was. So, in turn, you too acted like the previous day was erased from history. But your friendship with him was never the same.

Flirty conversations no longer felt like a joke; they now had a deeper meaning. Fleeting touches caused full-body goosebumps that didn't happen before. There was so much unresolved tension, and it was painfully thick. Inescapable.

So, as Finnick sat beside you present-day, weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath your bodies, you couldn't help but notice the transparency of your body language and his. The gap between you both was comparable to the size of a pearl and even though neither of you acknowledged it, you kept catching each other stealing quick glances every half-minute or so.

When you were sure he wasn't looking, you found your gaze drawn to his fingers. They were sturdy, yet nimble; curling and manoeuvring in ways that had your face feeling hotter than the heat of any sunburn or warm summer's day. This heat was beneath your skin. Spreading through your limbs in little tendrils and wrapping around your nerves. A dip in the salty sea wouldn't cool you down nor would a gulp of cold fresh water.

As you stared at his hands, you knew only the source of the sensation could offer reprieve. But that wouldn't happen, so there you burned.

The fact that he was shirtless and that his hair was a gorgeous mess of damp bronze curls helped not one bit with taming the consuming desire inside you. God, you were a mess yourself.

You sighed.

The sun, glowing intensely with a divine orange, was beginning its descent on the horizon. Your feet were buried beneath the soft sand, trying to retain some warmth as a slight breeze blew against your exposed skin.

Wearing a short sundress probably wasn't the most practical idea. Embarrassing as it was to admit, practicality wasn't what was going through your mind when you decided to wear it... Someone—Something else was.

"Something on your mind?" Finnick asked suddenly.

Your heart fumbled in your chest, terrified that he had somehow heard your thoughts. "Sorry?"

"You sighed," he said, turning his head to look at you. "Or am I just getting so old that I'm already starting to hear things?"

With relief of his lack of mind-reading abilities, you laughed softly. "You're definitely getting a bit old, Finn," you teased. "Any nursing homes you've been considering?"

"I heard retirement by the sea has its perks," he quipped, subtle dimples present as he returned to his weaving. "Although, I will need someone to make sure I don't fall asleep while swimming and get carried out by the tide. What d'you say, sweetheart? Up for becoming my personal lifeguard?"

Absolutely. "Depends. Will you force me to wear one of those awful flowery swimming caps with a matching tankini?"

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I'm thinking more like those little red bodysuits. You know, the ones that zip open down the front?"

You reprimanded him by pushing his shoulder, wearing a betraying smile. "Very charming."

"I just think red's your colour, that's all," he laughed.

Your stomach fluttered. You knew he was teasing you; teasing was basically the foundation of your... friendship. Deep down, you knew there was also some truth behind his words. A truth that was as electrifying as it was upsetting—how long were you both going to keep up with this whole 'friends' charade? Could you handle it if the answer was forever?

Best not to think about it. For your sanity's sake.

Finnick finally settled into a comfortable position with his forearms locked around his bent knees, apparently having decided to continue his mat-weaving another time. He had been extending it bit by bit ever since he first made it for you. At this point, you were sure he was attempting to cover the entire beach. For now, it was only big enough for two people to lie down on.

Sounds pretty convenient, came an abrupt thought.

And then you fell down yet another rabbit hole of depraved daydreams... A pair of hands interlocking your own above your head. Hot lips pressing kisses to your neck. Tongue gliding up the sensitive skin of your jugular. Your fingers tugging at bronze curls between your thighs.

You were sick. Diseased with immorality. Finnick was your friend. If not your best friend. You're not supposed to fantasise about fucking your best friend.

"Thinking about anyone in particular?"

You almost choked on your saliva. "W—What?"

How did he keep doing that?

Finnick seemed to find joy in your perplexity. It was written all over his face. God, those fucking dimples. "You've been completely still for nearly five minutes and your legs are covered in goosebumps," he pointed out. "Hence the question: who are you thinking about?"

As you looked down, you found that your skin was in fact riddled with goosebumps. It didn't occur to you then that the only reason he could have noticed was if he was staring at your legs in the first place. It also didn't occur to you that Finnick obviously had the very same debauched thoughts running through his own mind.

Why did you have to wear such a revealing dress? He already struggled enough with resisting you at the best of times.

If you had been paying attention, a simple glance in his direction would have revealed how his ears were pink and his pupils were dilated. More importantly, you would have seen his legs constantly shifting to ease the discomfort tenting his pants. Fortunately, he had mastered the art of winding himself down in a short amount of time.

Unfortunately for you, that ability was not within your skill set.

You scoffed. "In case you haven't noticed, Finnick—it's autumn," you said, a quick snappy lilt in your tone. "I know you've got some weird internal space heater built into you, but normal people tend to have a reaction to the cold."

Well, it's a good thing you didn't sound defensive...

Finnick raised an eyebrow at you, displaying a puzzled half-smirk that spoke a thousand words.

You lowered your head in embarrassment, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry," you murmured. "I just, uh, don't really like the cold."

"Who could've guessed."

Despite serving as an excuse, it wasn't entirely untrue. You really did dislike the cold. And it was now that you seriously regretted your choice of sparse attire. The breeze kept blowing up the dress's skirt, threatening to expose your dignity to the world. Or more accurately, to Finnick. Thankfully, you had decided to wear a pair of delicate lace underwear that morning instead of old granny panties.

Nevertheless, now that it was on your mind, you couldn't think about anything but the cold gusts of wind blowing against you. Chills ran over your skin and you were shaking like a leaf.

Finnick, being the gentleman that he was, scanned the surrounding area for anything he could use to keep you warm. He would've given you his shirt had it not been crumpled in a ball of wet sand on the ground.

There was nothing else of use. Nothing except a single apprehensive idea sitting in the forefront of his mind. It was all he had. He bit the inside of his cheek as he contemplated the potentially disastrous idea.

Then, after taking a silent deep breath, he finally said, "Come here then." Your eyes snapped to his. You must've looked like you had seen a ghost because his brows knitted together in confusion. "What?" he breathed out a chuckle. "I'd prefer not having to carry you home as a block of ice."

You thought about it for a moment. Was it really such a good idea after the thoughts that were just swarming in your mind? Another gust of wind blew by and you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself.

"I won't bite, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to," he added.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, shut up."

With that, you slid across the mat, positioning your body, which was still facing the sunset, in front of his legs. There was a moment of hesitation. Anxiety. But before you could reconsider, Finnick wrapped a strong arm around your middle and pulled you back against his chest, situating your body between his legs.

The exhale that left your lips was instantaneous and you couldn't help but shudder at the warmth of his skin. "God," you sighed, overwhelmed by the sudden change in temperature. "How are you so warm all the time?"

"Oh, you know. Weird internal space heater."

You laughed softly, then felt Finnick's chest vibrate against your back as he joined you. His bare arms wound tighter around you, motivated by the affectionate atmosphere. Your body seemed to melt into the cocoon of warmth he provided, and a soft smile graced your lips.

"Better?" he asked.

You nodded, responding with a whisper, "Thank you."

"Anytime."

You could hear the smile in his voice and how intently he was trying to hide it. You wished you could have seen it. To see the sense of peace you shared. However, feeling it in the way he held you was enough.

Instead of blood, your heart now seemed to be pumping out rather odd alternatives—waves of sea-green salted ocean, iridescent seashells, smiles paired with heart-stopping dimples. How could he? How could Finnick condemn you to loving him like this? So unwaveringly; so without a hope of ever being able to return to life without him in it.

He made a mess of you. A ruin. And even with wholesome affection running through your veins, you still couldn't ignore the hazy images conjuring in your mind from the way his body was pressed firmly behind you.

How could he?

The sun had just touched the horizon, granting the sky a few more minutes of light, meaning it was almost time to head home—an upsetting reality. You weren't sure how much time had passed before your body started to ache from lack of movement.

You wiggled your toes which were buzzing like television static. The feeling started moving up your legs and you knew if you didn't stretch, you would later embarrass yourself trying to stand on dead legs. So that is what you did. You started moving.

First, you stretched out the muscles in your legs and then moved onto straightening your back against Finnick's chest, feeling the faint pops of your spine offer you relief. And then you started readjusting your position and wriggling your hips to fit more comfortably between Finnick's toned thighs. That was your first mistake.

"Stop moving."

You were taken aback by the rigid inflection in his tone. "What?" you asked, ignoring his warning and continuing your restless movements.

"Stop. Moving," Finnick repeated, sounding more strained.

His hold on you became stiff. Completely frozen.

You were confused. Everything was perfect a moment ago, and all you were doing was stretching—why was he being so weird and snappy?

In response, you exhaled sharply. "I'm just trying to get comf—"

"Fuck," he breathed out.

Your eyes widened and it was safe to say your stomach had flipped inside out.

That was the moment you finally realised your second mistake. The rigidness in his voice wasn't him being snappy with you at all. Not even close. He was just trying to prevent the pleasure he felt below from reaching his vocal cords.

But it was too late. It wouldn't have mattered if he managed to keep quiet because you could feel it now. The achingly hard length that was pressed against your backside, reaching all the way up to your tailbone.

"...Oh," you whispered.

"Yeah," Finnick said. "Oh."

Now it was your turn to freeze. Fear consumed you, similar to what you imagined having to remain motionless in front of tyrannosaurus rex to prevent from being eaten alive was like. Thanks to the damning wind, strands of your hair blew behind your shoulders, undoubtedly tickling the exposed skin of Finnick's chest. Even that minuscule movement had your heart threatening to explode with anxiety.

As per usual, panic wreaked havoc in your mind.

What do I do? Do I get up? How will we come back from this? Does he—

Finnick cleared his throat. "Uh, you still alive in there?" he chuckled nervously.

You felt minor relief enter your bloodstream upon hearing the normality in his voice. At least one of you was composed enough to act normally. Well, as normal as one could act after becoming hard due to their best friend sitting in their lap.

"Is it—" You swallowed the nerves rattling your voice "—is it because there's a girl sitting on your lap, or is it because it's me?"

That was the million-dollar question. Was his reaction simply biological? A natural response to stimulation? Or was it deeper than that? More personal.

Finnick was silent.

The rapid thumping in your chest moved to your ears, like a drumroll leading up to some grand reveal. You felt dizzy; both filled with dreadful anticipation and exhilaration. Your senses were so heightened, fuelled by an inane bout of adrenaline. You swore you could almost hear the gears turning in Finnick's mind, smell the smoke as they rotated over and over, trying to make sense of your question and form a suitable response.

Religion never played a factor in your life, but, oh, how you were zealously praying his answer would be the one you spent all your nights fantasising about. But still, he was silent.

And right when you believed he wasn't going to respond at all, his lips finally uttered that single life-changing word. "You."

Fireworks seemed to light up every nerve in your body. You.

You weren't sure what to make of your thoughts at first. The overwhelming abundance of emotion caused by a singular word was difficult to fathom. Only one sentiment stood out from the rest—and that was the fact that Finnick felt the same as you did for him.

It was no longer a speculation. It was a fact. A truth. An undeniable reality. You had both verbal and physicalproof, literally digging into your backside.

Finnick slowly, very slowly, unwound an arm from your torso, and you held your breath. His hand slid across your waist and then plastered itself over your hipbone, careful not to apply too much pressure to make you feel uncomfortable. When you felt the slight movement of his thumb gliding across your clothed skin, you exhaled the burning air in your lungs with a shaky sigh.

"Do you want me to get up?" you asked softly while staring at the sunset, although you were focused on anything but.

"Not a chance." And then he unwound the other arm, now cupping both sides of your hips with two large hands. The heat from his palm sank into your skin, sinking deeper layer by layer until it reached the rapid flow of your bloodstream. "Do you want to get up?"

You felt a pulsing sensation between your thighs that had your parted lips inhaling slow deep breaths, and you knew the only logical answer was no. So, you shook your head.

Finnick reached up to skilfully tuck a lock of hair behind your ear before placing his hand back on your hip. He then leaned down beside your ear, voice a hot, velvety whisper, "What next then, sweetheart?"

A wave of chills ran down your entire body.

What next? Another question for the ages. You had dreamt of this moment a million times over. You had pictured the unholiest, most vivid of scenarios, and yet here you were, mind blank as an empty void.

Then it hit you. Rather than acting from a pre-planned script, wouldn't it be better to just let your body act on what it naturally desired? On instinct? You took in a deep, stabilising breath and gave yourself into moment.

You slowly began turning your head to the side until, for the first time since he pulled you into his arms, your eyes flickered up and found Finnick's. His lips quirked with the ghost of a smile at the exchange, but he held it back. His jaw clenched and unclenched, muscles ticking with tension.

He was looking at you in a way you had never seen before. Or perhaps, you were just never close enough to notice, and he had always looked at you this way. There was a blazing intensity in his eyes, dark and penetrative, a bridge between yearning and total reverence. It was so enticing that you could feel your hands itching to undress yourself in front of him.

Finnick murmured your name.

"Yes?" you managed to whisper.

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?"

Those words—he had stolen them from the tip of your tongue.

You couldn't find the strength to muster any profound response. So instead, you found your head tilting back and the crook of your elbow winding up and around the nape of his neck. You didn't need to guide him down; he came willingly.

His lips caught yours in a soft, warm exchange. Singular yet prolonged. Then there was a brief pause of disconnection, a calm before the storm. And with Finnick, when it rained, it poured. Suddenly, a hand was cupping the area where your jaw and neck connected, and his lips were on yours again.

There was so much more heat in this kiss. A depth that kept growing with each connection of your lips. You could hear the fervour in the breathless exhales that exited his nose, the quiet groans that slipped into your mouth. Though the same could be said for you.

You couldn't subdue the moans and meek whimpers that leaked out. Especially when his tongue slipped into your mouth and took control over your own. At this point, you couldn't even be called putty in his arms; you were pure liquid, totally and completely submissive in his embrace.

It was impossible to tell who was throbbing beneath you anymore. All you were sure of was that the pretty lace panties you had put on that morning were now soaked. Though even if he never touched you, you wouldn't have cared. Having his lips on yours, his tongue on yours, was enough. And if he kept at it long enough, you were sure it would even be enough to get you off. That's how much power Finnick had over you.

Apparently, he felt the same too. Because when you leaned further back into him and your ass pushed against the length of his erection, his fist scrunched the fabric of your dress by your hip and his lips left yours to let out a shuddering breath.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he huffed, half chuckling.

Technically, it was a suppressed moan. Either way, you swear you almost came then and there.

With one last gentle kiss, you opened your eyes, pulling away to replenish your lungs with air. Finnick's eyes were already locked on yours in a drunken haze from the taste of your lips. Your arm unwound from his neck, grazing down his broad shoulders and bicep. During so, your eyes caught on the tiny bumps and raised hair scattered across his arm.

"You've got goosebumps," you smiled, trailing your fingertips across his skin.

His gaze moved to follow your hand, wearing a boyish grin. "Would you believe me if I said I was cold?"

Your throat buzzed with a suppressed giggle. Seeing the way his body reacted to yours was incredibly motivating. Someone telling you they lusted after you could easily be spoken with deception. But having visual confirmation, witnessing a reaction that couldn't possibly be forced, was a whole different story. Finnick's body craved you.

Given that incentive, the slight trepidation still holding you back now disappeared into the back of your mind. Your fingers curled around his wrist, dragging the hand beneath your jaw down to your neck, and then down to your chest. It didn't take him too long to figure out your intentions. He overtook your influence and autonomously moved his hand to cup your breast.

You were essentially caged in his embrace. Exactly how you wanted it.

You stared ahead with relaxed eyes, watching as the sun slipped into the dark water. Night had officially blanketed District Four and, now being shielded by darkness, the stars were your only witness. Strangely enough, you felt a new sense of shamelessness.

So as Finnick kneaded your breast in his warm hand and pinched the sensitive peak of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger through the lace of your bra, you allowed a soft moan to escape your lips.

It was almost as if you could actually feel the smirk growing across Finnick's lips behind you. One thing you actually could feel was the twitch of his achingly hard cock beneath you.

"You like that?" he asked, definitely smirking.

"Yes," you sighed almost immediately.

If only he knew how truly euphoric you felt. If only he knew how many times you had imagined being in this exact situation. Having him touching you like this. The guilt of imagining him in such a way used to eat you up. But now that you were past the guilt, there was no shame connected to the thought of Finnick eating you up.

Fuck, he would look so perfect between your thighs—bronze curls all messed up from your pulling and tugging; sea green eyes squeezed shut as he dedicated his attention to dragging you down to the pits of hell with his tongue.

Your head fell back against his collarbone. He took this as a signal to move your hair aside and start planting hot kisses onto the curve of your shoulder. Then he trailed further across, brushing his lips across your skin until he reached the side of your neck and started sucking gently, though enough to leave behind pretty little red marks of possession.

"What about this?" he murmured against the delicate skin.

The faint taste of sea-salted air sat in the back of your throat as your breaths deepened. You felt his tongue glide partially up the length of your carotid artery, and your entire nervous system seemed to short-circuit.

"Yes,"you practically whined.

He must have found this amusing because you could feel the vibrations of his chuckle against your neck. But he wasn't finished yet. Hell, the finish line was a lifetime away regarding the things he planned on doing to you. They probably couldn't all be done in one night though, unfortunately.

You had completely forgotten about the hand still splayed on your hip. Why would you pay it any attention when it was sitting idle? Only it wasn't simply resting on your hip anymore. No. Now it was moving. Moving down.

His lips were still on your neck and he was still cupping your breast, but all you could focus on was the carnal descent of his hand. He found the hem of your dress, fingers toying with the flimsy material as one did when deciding whether or not to go through with something potentially consequential. Ultimately, he began to drag the fabric up your thighs, knuckles grazing over your soft skin until the skirt of your dress was ruched around your hips.

You sucked in a sharp breath. The vulnerability of suddenly being exposed in such a manner hit you like a tonne of bricks. This was really happening. Finnick, the Capitol's darling, District Four's golden boy, and more significant;y, your best friend, was touching you. He was kissing you. He was seeing and feeling parts of your body you had never let him see or feel before.

Naturally, this unfurling web of thoughts produced a surge of insecurity.

But, when his hand curled around your inner thigh and spread a wildfire of warmth across your skin, every thought that was previously passing through your mind disintegrated and was replaced with unadulterated yearning.

Finnick's mouth finally detached from your neck to hover beside your ear. "And this?"

He lightly kneaded your thigh to emphasise his question, dangerously close to the place that undoubtedly crossed the boundary between friend and lover.

You were speechless. The desire running through your veins was paralysing. All you could do was look, see, feel, and hope to god you didn't pass out from the shallowness of your breathing.

"Come on, sweetheart," he roused in that low, seductive purr. "Don't go quiet on me now. Use your words."

And how could you ever disobey a voice like that? It took every ounce of strength and concentration you had in you, but eventually, you managed to find your voice.

"I—" You cut yourself off with a gasp as his thumb purposefully wandered up to the edge of your underwear. Asshole. "I lie awake every night imagining us like this, Finn. You don't need permission to touch me. You've already had it for months."

Suddenly, a gentle finger was turning your chin, compelling you to meet Finnick's gaze. His eyes lacked the intensity from before and were now brimming with awe, brows knitted as if he was asking for confirmation if what you had said was truthful. And it was, painfully so.

To answer his wordless question, you leaned forward and connected your lips with his. He responded with ardency, and not long after, you could feel his hand wander up to the waistband of your panties.

He wasted not a second before dipping his hand beneath the lace material and finding that sensitive spot that had been begging for his attention.

Your lips separated from his to let out a breathy moan. "Finnick."

He simply smiled, two fingers rubbing circles around your clit. He pressed gentle coaxing kisses to your lips, and you really did try to respond, but you were never one for multitasking. Especially when the man you had fallen in love with was touching you so.

His other hand wandered across your torso, holding your waist, grazing over your stomach, tracing the length of your sternum. All very loving adorations compared to what his other hand was doing.

"I think I'm going to hell because of you," he murmured, millimetres away from your lips. Such a disconcerting thing for someone to admit, but all you could manage was a hum in response. "Every time I see you, I can feel myself getting closer and closer. You derange my thoughts, sweetheart. You corrupt them.

How am I supposed to be around you if I want to fuck you every time you say my name? And what makes it so much more impossible is that you don't even mean to make me feel this way; you just do. God, you're maddening. So sweet and maddening," he cooed, fingers picking up in pace which caused you to melt back into his chest and let out a pretty little moan. "Drives me crazy."

"And to think," you managed, "I thought you had your hands between my legs because you hated me."

Your hips were rolling lightly along with the rhythm of his fingers.

At the very same time Finnick's thighs tensed around your hips from the friction against his cock, he abruptly plunged two fingers inside you. Punishment.

The moan you let out was positively filthy.

"Such an attitude you have," he said. "Anyone would think you're completely innocent in a dress like this. But I know better than that." His fingers slid in and out, curling every time the base of his fingers bottomed out inside of you. "I know exactly why you wore it. Just like I know exactly why you wore those lace panties you pretend that I can't see whenever you bend over."

Heat crept up into your cheeks from hearing his words. You wanted to provoke him by saying 'And look where it got me'but who knew how his fingers would respond to your attitude.

"You can't do that to a man," he continued. "It's criminal."

"It's only fair, Finn," you breathed out, struggling to keep your voice level. "You ruined me."

A deep moan rumbled in his chest, though it never escaped. He couldn't break that easily. He needed to remain in control. This moment, to him, seemed like an eternity forthcoming. He needed to make the most of this moment with you, needed to show you what it was like to receive earth-shattering pleasure so that you only ever wanted to receive it from him. No one else.

Despite his obvious attempts at keeping himself in check, you could still feel his thick impatient cock twitch beneath your ass. Even through the layers of clothing between you, you could tell that he was incredibly big. So much so that it worried you a little. Only, when his fingers curled again, you forgot all about it.

The pads of his fingertips buried into your inner walls with every curl. The heel of his palm struck your clit with every thrust of his fingers and you could feel your stomach start tightening. Fuck, he was amazing at this.

It had been so long since someone had touched you like this. Well, someone that was actually good at it. Just a few minutes and Finnick was already about to make you come.

"Feels so good, so—ah—good!" you moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

He reached a free hand up to your breast, lightly pinching your nipple between his fingers until you let out a gasp. At least one of you was good at multitasking.

"You gonna come?" he asked, not that he even needed an answer. He could feel the way your walls were contracting around his fingers, feel the sticky warmth of your slick leaking onto his knuckles.

You nodded fervently.

"Say please first."

"Finn," you whined in frustration.

You could hear him chuckle self-satisfyingly behind you. "Come on, baby. Sweet girls are supposed to have manners, aren't they?"

His low, husky voice almost threw you over the edge. Oh, how you would love to listen to the sound of him talking you through your orgasm. That is if he ever even let you get to that point.

Never had you ever thought you would be pleading with a man for anything, yet here you were. Though, Finnick Odair could hardly be called a man. He was so much more than that; he was bordering on divinity. And you weren't going to miss the chance of being unravelled at the hands of a divine being.

"Please, Finnick," you begged, your body literally buzzing with desperation. "Please make me come."

He pressed a kiss below your earlobe. "Since you asked so nicely."

His fingers picked up in pace. They weren't even plunging in and out anymore but were rather curling, over and over again in that electrifying spot inside you. He went hard and fast, working to bring you to your high as quickly as possible. Your moans were so unrestrained, so breathless and shallow that you started to feel the world spin around you.

Your hand flew back to hold onto his arm, nails digging into the hard muscles of his bicep. Your hips were writhing in Finnick's lap and you could hear him groan out a string of curses. He held you down by the hip to try and keep you still, then moved across to the bottom of your abdomen where he pressed down.

That is what did it for you.

You cried out as tightness spread down your stomach and pure ecstasy took control. Finnick murmured words of praise and reassurance as you rode through your high, though a lot of it didn't register in your mind. You heard only a few bits and pieces which were enough to prolong the feeling that was overwhelming your entire body.

"Taking it so well."

"That's it, sweetheart. That's it."

"Such a good girl."

As the waves of pleasure slowly began to subside, you returned to reality. The heat that had been building up inside you started melting away, leaving you in a state of relaxation. Your fingers, which previously clung onto Finnick's arm, now grazed absentmindedly across his skin. It felt like you had been sucked into a dream—a little hazy and surreal, but incredibly tranquil.

"You okay?" Finnick asked softly.

You hadn't even noticed that his fingers had left your body. He had pulled down the hem of your dress— not that your dignity really needed saving anymore—and was holding your melted figure in his arms.

"Mm," you hummed contently, eyes fixed on the view in front of you. "Warmed up."

If only you were able to see his face, his smile. Those dimples. A powerful longing to be able to see every expression known to man morph his facial features washed over you. It was a little ridiculous how attracted to him you were. Nonetheless, you indulged the desire.

You pushed yourself from his lap and pivoted to face him

You were straddling his lap before any ounce of hesitation could hold you back. Finnick circled his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into his chest. He was smiling. He was smiling and it was even more beautiful than any sunset you had ever witnessed. You concluded that you had definitely made the right choice in deciding to face him.

"Hi," you whispered.

He smiled. "Hey, stranger."

He brushed back a few pieces of hair from your face, observing the blown size of your pupils and the sultry colour of your lips. He did that—he could not get over the fact that he did that to you. Finally.

You shrunk away from his gaze, a timid smile on your lips.

Finnick tilted his head slightly. "Shy thing."

You buried your face into the side of his neck, groaning quietly in embarrassment. You could hear the perfect sound of him laughing above you. He stroked the length of your spine, somehow managing to ease the nerves from your body with a simple touch. You left a quick kiss on the warm skin of his neck and rose back up to meet his gaze.

"Feeling better?"

"Much," you replied, sheepishly. Your eyes flickered across Finnick's, hesitated, and then gestured downwards. "But... you're not." His head tilted as though he were confused as to what you were suggesting, so you leaned in closer until your lips ghosted over his. "Still need to take care of you."

A breath of warm air fanned across your face as he chuckled. He shook his head. "It's alright. I can hold off for another time."

And although the prospect of doing this again another time was downright exhilarating, you couldn't ignore the palpable heat still lingering in your lower stomach, throbbing between your thighs. You could only imagine how he must have been feeling—cock throbbing with a need for relief, though ready to deny himself the same amount of pleasure he just gave you.

You suddenly curled a hand around the back of his neck and brought him into a slow kiss. To show him he was allowed to indulge himself. That you wanted him to. You ground your hips down on his lap and felt his lips falter against yours.

You pulled back and echoed your previous words, "It's only fair, Finn."

Time seemed to pause for a moment. Your breath and his mixed with one another in a sort of hot whirlwind of anticipation. Your bodies were still. Finnick's eyes were half-lidded staring at your mouth.

Then came the explosion.

His hands were hastily tugging your sundress over your head; his lips were on yours as he reached down between your bodies to unbutton his pants. It felt like a race against time. Like if you didn't do this now, the chance would never come by again. Hell, his pants hadn't even made it off his legs before he was holding himself in his hand and you were rising to your knees, positioning yourself directly above his length.

Your lips never left his, strenuous as it was, meaning the only gauge you got of how big he was wasn't from seeing it, but from feeling it as you pulled your panties aside, guided his cock to your entrance with one hand, and felt the entire veiny length of him fill you completely as you lowered yourself onto him.

A quiet, synchronised gasp left both your lips as you enveloped him completely in wet velvety warmth. His pelvis was connected with yours and his cock was pressed right up against your cervix. So incredibly deep, you could almost feel him in your stomach.

You stayed like this for a few seconds.

"So big," you gasped against his lips.

His hands were on your back, dragging up and down. "Want to stop?"

"Never."

This was so not what friends did.

He trailed kisses from your mouth, to your jaw, and down to your neck. You were grinding sinuously back and forth, Finnick's hands now on your hips as a guide, feeling his tip bury into the sensitive walls inside you. Your head fell back with a gratified moan as he nipped your neck unforgivingly, only to soothe the spots he marked with the glide of his tongue.

At that moment, the past and future were of no significance. The idea that doing this might ruin your relationship with him afterwards didn't concern you. You didn't bother recollecting a time when you and Finnick were merely friends, nor did you ponder how you even managed to reach this point.

All you could focus on was how fucking perfect his cock felt inside of you.

The cold, which was previously a nuisance, now served as a stimulant to your nipples which were only covered by the thin unpadded material of your lace bra. They were bouncing with every movement you made, the hard peaks rubbing against Finnick's chest and creating a triangle of pleasure between them and the depravity that was happening further below.

He was so hungry in the way he kissed you. His lips were soft, but they moved with heat and determination. His tongue was supple as it pushed against yours, moving masterfully in a way you could only compare to how he swam in the ocean. A conqueror—able to bring you into submission with ease.

You pushed yourself upwards, the muscles in your thighs slightly burning as you did so, and felt his cock glide through you. He inhaled harshly through his nose when his tip almost left your wet heat, and then groaned into your mouth when your hips sunk back down, engulfing him once again.

"Shit," he almost whined as your walls clenched around him. "I fuckinglove you."

You pulled away to look him in the eyes. It was incredibly difficult for you to contemplate his words—his confession—when he was, what, eight or so inches deep inside you?

He didn't look like he regretted saying it. He was simply staring at you with raised brows pinched together in pleasure, awaiting your response as you continued your sequence of rising and sinking to fill yourself up with his cock.

"You love me?" you asked in a laboured breath. He only nodded in response. You sank fully down onto his lap, discontinuing your movements, willing him to prove his so-declared devotion. "Then show me."

He was breathing heavily and watching you through strands of sea-salted hair messily splayed across his forehead. He was so beautiful it actually kind of hurt to look at him. His eyes fell to your mouth during this brief amnesty, a decision prominent in his mind. Then he was rushing forward, crushing his lips to yours and forcing your body to lay back on the mat beneath you.

Finnick somehow managed to remain inside you as he switched your positions—him now above you as your legs were wrapped around his waist. His body pinned you down with a comfortable weight, skin warm and flush against yours.

He was overpowering and dominating, and his thrusts were laced with a sense of appropriation like he was making you his. The slow grinds of his hips were hard yet measured and so breathtakingly deep, and the gentle upwards curve of his cock made sure his tip was prodding against that swollen pleasure-inducing spot every single time.

His kisses were sensual and slow; his tongue slipping languidly into your mouth, swirling and massaging your tongue like it was made of pure silk.

You had told him what to do—now he was showing you. Finnick Odair wasn't fucking you. He was making love to you.

Your hands were on his back, fingertips leaving red marks on the curves of his shoulder blades. You moved up to his hair, scratching your nails softly into his scalp, which earned you a soft moan in your mouth. Even you could feel yourself pulsing around his cock. Everything he did, every sound and action he made, had your body yielding to him.

His hand pulled you up into him by the waist, arching your back off the palm-leaf mat so that he was thrusting more profoundly into that blissful spot inside you. He never sped up his pace. He didn't need to. He was savouring the moment as much as he could, memorising each warm ripple of your walls his cock glided over inside you, every intoxicating moan your soft lips released, the pressure of your warm supple thighs hugging his waist.

He was committing every aspect of you to memory. Inside and out.

Having that knowledge only made the moment so much more pleasurable. Knowing that he wasn't just thinking about you with his cock, but was thinking about you with his heart too.

That feeling started creeping up inside you—the blissful burn of heat pooling in your lower stomach. It made your walls flutter around him. Made you whine and moan uncontrollably into his mouth until you couldn't focus on kissing him anymore and had to pull away.

Your head fell back onto the mat, hair strewn out around you. The sounds coming out of you were pure sin. Desperate, greedy sin.

Finnick chuckled adoringly above you. "Too fucked out, sweetheart?"

He couldn't exactly talk. The second you clenched around him again, he groaned out a curse and you—the parts of your mind that were still relatively comprehensible—were sure you could feel the warmth of pre-cum ooze inside you.

"Finnick," you mewled, and he caressed the baby hairs framing your face. "Feels so good. Should—should've done this sooner."

Through your half-lidded eyes, you watched as he nodded and then descended to your forehead, pressing his lips tenderly against your skin. I know, the gesture said. You felt a rush of affection flood through your body, ultimately accelerating the build-up happening inside you.

You could feel yourself teetering so impossibly close to the brink of your orgasm. The tightness inside you was so hot and overwhelming; it was a struggle for you to keep your eyes from fluttering shut and rolling back, though you willed yourself to keep them open. You had to.

Watching Finnick's face contort with pleasure as he's thrown into his own high from feeling your walls contract around him would probably be the highlight of your entire life.

"So beautiful," he cooed as he thrusted into you. "My sweet girl's gonna come, isn't she? Can feel it."

The words flew out of your mouth. "Come inside me."

"Come inside you?"

You were pretty sure he was mocking you from the devilish curve of his lips and furrow of his brows. But your lust-drunk brain didn't really care.

"Please. Wanna feel you—" Your chest heaved with each breath "—everywhere."

Finnick was so obviously trying to keep himself from giving in before you. But you could see how delirious his eyes were as they stared down at you and you heard how every low, gratified—frustratingly sexy—sound he made betrayed him. He was so close.

"Anything for you, sweetheart," he said, finally.

He managed to unhook your hands from around his back and guided them upwards, holding your wrists together above your head with one hand before he brought his other back to your waist. It was oddly romantic how he held you, given that he was fucking you like life after that night wasn't guaranteed.

And then, without warning, he was pounding into you, bottoming out completely with each thrust.

It was almost animalistic now—how you were both unable to control yourselves anymore. You were writhing beneath him, impulsively fighting against the grip he had on your wrists. And Finnick, well, he was fucking you so hard, you weren't sure if walking home that night would be a possibility.

He was a disaster of pleasured vocals, deep moans, and heavy breaths. You thanked the absolute heavens he was because it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard in your entire life.

When your own moans started to rise in pitch, you knew you were done for. You felt so full. Stretched out to the max. Blinded by the heat that was drowning you. But your eyes managed to remain clear and locked on Finnick's the entire time, just as his were on yours.

With a fleeting glance downward, he once again placed a large hand over your abdomen and pushed down, and your back arched off the ground.

You were gone.

"Oh fuck!"

The heat, white and fiery, had consumed you. Your thighs tensed uncontrollably around Finnick, your body shaking beneath him as your insides pulsed all the way down to your stuffed entrance. White, sticky sweetness covered Finnick's cock as he continued to thrust into you, the wet sounds overpowering the waves cresting on the sands. It felt like fucking heaven.

He let out a moan, broken and breathless, and released the grip he had on your hands. In that short moment, you instantly gripped onto him, feeling his body shudder beneath your hands as his throbbing cock spurted out ropes of warmth deep inside you, the essence of both of you mixing inside your body, making you one.

You pulled him down and crushed your lips to his with a sudden intense urge to be as close to him as you could, if it were even possible to be any closer to him at that point. It felt a little spiritual, the way you practically wanted to merge your body with his. That's what having sex with someone you truly loved was like, you supposed.

The kiss was sloppy and messy, but it never lacked heat or affection. Lacking heat was impossible between you and Finnick.

A lot of time passed before either of you even contemplated pulling away from one another. Finnick was inside you for what must have been a good half hour after you had both finished. It felt close. Deeply intimate. He held you in his arms, his hands mapping out various parts of your body with unhurried measure as you lay beneath him, lazily yet affectionately making out with warm, reddened lips.

There were quiet giggles and heated words whispered between you that would have prompted another session had either of you been graced with the energy.

But it was late. The remnants of the sun had long since disappeared beneath the horizon, dimming the sky to a deep dark blue, the world's only source of illumination being the stars casting their sparkling light on the rippling water.

It was a new moon.

Eventually, you ended up laying over his chest, legs strewn across his as you both faced the ocean. Your head rose and fell with each breath Finnick took and it felt unreal.

You were momentarily worried your infatuation with him had grown too out of hand and you had imagined the whole day, or perhaps, the entire time you had known him. That it was all a figment of your vivid imagination.

Then, his warm hand slid into your own, which was draped across his stomach, and you knew that this, the newfound relationship between you and Finnick, was undeniably and rapturously real.

He slowly lifted them together above your bodies, palms flat against one another. There was a notable size difference between them—his palm was large and calloused with long fingers that squared off at the tips, meanwhile, your own fist could probably fit into his palm.

Your fingers danced delicately together as you both watched from below. He traced the length of your fingers with his fingertips; followed the etches in your palm, and turned your hand to explore the protrusions of your knuckles. There was a certain gentle curiosity in his touch, similar to that of someone who was discovering the act of human connection for the first time.

"I don't know if I can walk home," you whispered.

Finnick lowered your interlocked hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles before placing them back on his stomach. "I'll carry you."

"For an entire hour?"

"I'll manage," he said, "I've got muscles."

You scoffed quietly to yourself, smiling. "Ok, big strong man."

"Says the girl who needs to be carried home."

"Well, you are kind of the one to blame for that."

You tilted your head to glance up at him and found exactly what you were expecting to see. He was wearing a proud grin, all apple cheeks and crinkled eyes. It was something you had come to adore, even though sometimes it was out of arrogance.

Your head turned to rest back on his chest. You watched as his thumb caressed slow circles over your knuckle.

"What you said before," you began, "is it true? Do you really... love me?"

The heart beating beneath your ear genuinely sounded like it skipped a beat. You imagined that was a good sign, though your nerves were still a little frayed. What if he had only said it because of the heat of the moment?

A beat went by. "I've been trying to tell you ever since I first wove the mat for you," he confessed, his voice quiet yet holding the weight of the history that made up your friendship.

There it was—the truth laid bare. Despite hearing the words, it didn't really change anything. You suspected deep down you knew the entire time; you were just too self-doubting to accept it. To accept that Finnick Odair, the crown jewel of Panem, had fallen in love with you, an ordinary girl from District Four who just so happened to meet him at a secret beach.

Although, there was a sensation you remember upon first meeting him. That instinct that had told you to stay instead of running away, as any logical human being would do upon being approached by a stranger in the middle of nowhere. That instinct, despite sounding utterly ridiculous, caused you to believe that perhaps it was fate.

Maybe you were destined to meet. Maybe it didn't matter that he was a nationwide celebrity, nor you a simple town girl. Maybe your souls were entwined from the start and, one way or another, you would have met anyway.

Maybe.

"That's a long time," you said.

He laughed. "Yeah, well, I thought you would've gotten the hint by now."

And you couldn't help but join him. You thought you were the one who was deranged out of their mind. Here Finnick was telling you he had spent an entire year trying to confess his love without you even realising.

"I'm sorry it took me so long."

"It's alright," he said, earnestly. "I'd say it worked out pretty well. I mean, look where your obliviousness got us."

You smiled. Your legs were tangled with Finnick's; his arm was holding you tightly against his bare upper body, and his fingers were lovingly tracing over yours. Yeah, you were pretty grateful for your obliviousness sometimes. A new pair of underwear might have been something to consider, though.

A silence settled between you, comfortable, peaceful. Being in Finnick's embrace almost made you forget entirely about the reality of your existence—the Games, the dominion over Panem, the chaotic environment back home. It was the reason you had set off last year in search of a place away from society.

You had now found that the escape you were looking for wasn't a place or a hidden paradise, but a person. It was Finnick.

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

The trees and palm leaves danced in the light breeze. Waves lapped on the shore.

You angled your head back to look at Finnick and felt him pull you closer. His expression was a picture of relaxation and contentment. His eyes gazed down at you, glimmering with the reflection of scattered stars in the night sky, just like the sea in front of you.

He seemed to already know what you were going to say. Always the mind reader.

"Say it, sweetheart." The corners of his lips twitched expectantly.

Sweetheart. Oh, how could you have ever felt for him in any other way?

"I love you too."

His face broke into one of the happiest smiles you had ever seen.

...roll credits

3K notes · View notes

fangswbenefits · 10 months

Text

Tension

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Miguel walks in on you late at night doing something unexpected, which makes things really awkward afterwards…

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

𓂅 𓄹 Warnings: 18+!!!. Dark Miguel. Pining. Increasing sexual tension. Masturbation. Oral sex. Breeding kink. Creampie. Cumplay. Size kink. Fangs. This is very filthy… you’ve been warned.

𓂅 𓄹 Words: 3k

In the dark of night your thoughts were your own.

You had absolute freedom to indulge in your desires and quenching that thirst that had been consuming you as of late.

A deep sigh left your left as one hand slid inside your panties, seeking to offer a much needed comfort. Your eyes were glued shut and in the dark of your mind, you had a blank canvas to paint an erotic scenario that would be effective.

His face came up first as the pad of your fingers began circling your swollen clit.

How you wished it could be his long and slender fingers instead.

Red eyes watching you intently as he slowly but surely built up your orgasm.

Wet sounds began to fill your ears as two fingers entered your soaked pussy. A sudden gasp left your parted lips as your mind tried its best to keep the illusion alive.

Your fingers were promptly replaced with his. Back arched and heat quickly spreading across your entire body almost snapped you out of it, but had become quite accustomed to this late night endeavour.

In your mind, Miguel O’hara was a pleaser when it came to intimacy. All his walls would crumble at the prospect of bringing pleasure to his partner.

There was nothing you could do about this.

You craved him more than anything.

More than anyone.

In your mind, he would go for a third finger, just so he could properly prepare you to take all of him.

“Fuck…” you moaned as you pictured him struggling to make it fit.

Your walls clenched around your fingers wishing it would be his cock instead. That bulge left nothing to the imagination. He had to be well endowed.

Soon enough, your mind had you see a flash of his fangs.

Miguel was a predator.

And, in your mind, he would not shy away from baring them as a clear sign of control.

“Miguel…” his name rolled out of your tongue too easily. “Miguel… please…”

Your other hand came to fondle one breast through your shirt wishing it would be him instead.

“Migueeeel, squad 239 is ready for briefing.”

That voice…

Your eyes snapped open as your senses detected someone else in the room. Before you could fully process what was going on, your instincts kicked in and you grabbed your webshooters from the nightstand, ejecting twin strings of solid web at the tall figure in the dark.

Two thin flashes of red and orange tore through air, effectively tearing the webstrings to pieces.

“I’ll be right there.”

You audibly gasped, removing your soaked hand from your underwear.

Miguel O’Hara.

You let out a shriek, hurrying yourself to pull the covers up to your neck, preserving some of your modesty… or what was left of it.

Lyla’s hologram turned to face you. “Oh? Are you okay?”

You could only nod, not trusting yourself to speak any words.

“What did you do to her, Miguel?”

The eyes on his eyes narrowed. “Lyla…”

She ignored him. “Want me to check your vitals?”

“No!” you immediately panicked.

“Lyla,” Miguel’s stern voice was heard again.

The obnoxious assistant appeared next to you in a heartbeat and you were blinded by her orange beam as she scanned you.

“Pupils fully dilated, heart rate at 123 beats per minute, temperature rising, respiratory rate at 20 breaths per minute…” she tapped her chin pensively. “Did you just run a marathon?”

Before you could come up with a ridiculous lie, Miguel intervened. “Lyla, that’s enough. Inform them I’ll be right there.”

She adjusted her pink glasses. “Ooookay!” she chirped before disappearing.

Miguel was fully covered in his suit, his mask hiding whatever thoughts he might have on what he had just witnessed.

It felt like hours as he stood there in silence, facing you.

Fuck.

He had definitely heard you…

“Miguel…”

You thought you saw him take a step towards you, but maybe your vision was betraying you as he turned around instead, and jumped through the open window.

Flashes of his red webbing tore through the night sky like lightning.

Your travel watch suddenly beeped on your wrist, alerting you to catch some sleep.

Out of sheer frustration you ripped it off and threw it across the room with such force that it hit a wall crumbled into pieces.

“You look absolutely terrible, girl.”

“Thanks, Jess.”

Jessica Drew had been a good mentor to you ever since you first joined eight months ago, so you gave her a pass.

The cafeteria was buzzing with the early morning commotion of a few spiders getting some breakfast.

She kept eyeing you with interest. “Rough night?”

“I guess,” you mumbled, before bringing the spider-man themed glass to your lips and taking a sip.

“Because of Miguel?”

You nearly choked on the orange juice, sending a spray across the table that Jess easily avoided.

“W-what?” you stuttered panic came crashing in like a wave. “Miguel?”

Did she know?

She arched an eyebrow. “I mean… he’s been kinda pushy lately, so it adds to the stress.”

Relief poured down on you and you sank into your chair. “Oh, yeah, yeah…”

“I think it’s time he settles, you know?” she carried on, rubbing and staring at her belly with adoration. “Having a family might help him more than he thinks.”

Last night, this topic might have come in handy as a new unlocked fantasy of yours: having Miguel O’hara’s children.

But today, the mention of him at all had your stomach doing somersaults.

“Heeeeey!”

You jumped in your seat and your heart skipped a couple of beats.

“Lyla, you need to stop popping up like that. You’re gonna scare someone to death one day.”

“I do this all the time witn Miguel just to annoy him,” she beamed happily as she started hovering closer to you. “He wants to see you.”

“Speak of the devil…” Jess drawled out with a yawn, taking a bite off an apple.

“Me? Me?” You felt your life drain from your body in that moment.

Lyla nodded. “He can’t get a hold of you through your comlink.”

Oops… the dimensional travel watch that you had smashed to pieces a couple of hours ago.

“Huh… left it at home,” you quickly said. “I think it’s malfunctioning or… something…”

“You should have that fixed soon,” Jessica chimed in.

“Yeah…”

Lyla was staring at you with with an ear-to-ear smile. “Can I tell him you’re on your way?”

“Oh… now?”

“He’s in a terrible mood, so try to be quick.”

Fuck.

“I have stuff to do… can this wait?”

Lyla’s smile didn’t falter. “I wouldn’t keep him waiting if I were you.”

You felt like throwing up, the events of last night replaying in your head like a broken record. He had surely heard you moan his name multiple times. It was obvious he was now ready to confront you about it and probably send you back home never to return.

“Fine…” you mumbled in defeat.

You parted ways with Jessica and started making your way though the busy streets to reach HQ.

As you landed swiftly onto a nearby bridge that led to the elevator, you threw a look a the tall building in front of you, dreading going inside.

“I’m sorry!” you automatically said as you bumped into someone.

“You look awful,” came Hobie’s voice from behind you.

You waved your hand dismissively, keeping your pace, but Gwen suddenly showed up at your side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why?” You tried your best to sound convincing with a forced smile.

Hobie was now in front of you, hands shoved in pockets, guitar hanging from his back and inquisitive eyes on you. “Bad mission?”

“Nah,” you sighed as you entered the elevator nearby that would lead you straight to HQ and your early demise. “Just on my way to see Miguel.”

Gwen offered you an understanding look while Hobie merely shrugged. “Yeah, that explains it. Terrible aura that bloke has.”

You pushed the button that would bring you to the top floor and as the doors were sliding shut you saw Hobie saluting you. “Give him hell, kid!”

Easier said than done, but you were thankful for the brief distraction and gave him a heartfelt smile.

You stepped out and into the long corridor that led to his chamber.

By the time you reached the entrance, Miguel’s platform had already began descending.

In its usual torturing pace.

“Hi, Miguel!” you waved enthusiastically as if you weren’t about to go through the humiliation of your life. “Sleep well?”

You cringed at the ridiculous attempt at small talk.

Deafening silence filled the room until the platform had finally come to a stop.

He turned to face you as the multiple screens behind him flashed with different images and text.

“You look… tense,” you added as he stepped down in your direction.

“This is about last night,” he started, red eyes fixed on yours.

Fuck. This was it. You were backed into a corner. There was no way out now.

“Miguel… I can expl—”

“Where are your mission logs?” he quickly cut you off.

Your eyes widened . “What?”

He now had a finger pointed at you, his face drawing near. “You were supposed to register the logs of your mission with Pavitr last night, remember?”

Oh.

“We came in late and…” you were rubbing the back of your head and chuckling throughout in a miserable attempt to lighten the mood. “You know! Headed back to my place and… huh…” your words faltered momentarily. “… I-I… got distracted.”

“Clearly.”

Your heart clenched at his remark.

Miguel kept eyeing you as if expecting you to go on, but you couldn’t bring yourself to work through the humiliation of having the subject of your innermost desires confronting you about it.

Just as you were about to change the topic, he quickly turned his broad back to you, bringing his hands to move files around in front of him, archiving some and swiping through otheres.

You managed to catch a quick glimpse of a few ones of his daughter that he promptly closed.

“You need to start taking this seriously,” he went on, pulling out footage from all around Nueva York. “Where’s your travel watch?”

At this point, you started to wonder if he had actually heard anything. Maybe you hadn’t been that loud. Maybe he had arrived just as Lyla’s hologram showed up. Maybe all this worry was for nothing.

“Huh… it’s… not working properly,” you managed to say as your mouth went dry.

“You need that fixed.”

“Yeah, I’ll bring it to tech later today.”

Miguel’s head turned to face you. “I created it. I’ll fix it.”

Panic spread inside you like wildfire. “Oh! No-no! It’s fine. Really. Can’t you just give me a new one?”

In a blink of an eye, he was already facing you again, towering dangerously close. “Do you have it with you?”

You shook your head, too scared to breathe.

“Then let’s go to your apartment.”

“Why?”

His face was so close you felt as if he’d swallow you with his red eyes. “Time is valuable. Don’t waste mine.”

This was definitely an overkill. As grateful as you were that he would personally try to fix your watch, you soon realised you had put your foot in your mouth.

And as the two of you made your way out of HQ and to your place, you couldn’t push away the feeling that something was… off.

Miguel seemed on edge.

Maybe it was just your paranoia, but he seemed tense. Well, more than usual, that is.

The rest of the trip — through immense crouds of various spiders to web-swinging — was done in utmost silence until you reached your destination.

“Lyla?” he called out all of a sudden.

The tiny hologram popped up instantaneously. “Yes, boss?”

“Pause your live updates, unless it’s an emergency.”

“You gotta say the magic word first.”

Miguel growled. “What word?”

She had a devious look on her face as her heart-shapped glasses slid down to the tip of her nose.

He sighed. “Please.”

Lyla snapped her fingers with a smile. “Not so hard, was it?”

The hologram vanished just as you were about to unlock the front door with the fingerprint scanner. You walked in first, grateful that you had left the apartment in a presentable state, safe for a few books and shirts scattered all around.

Miguel just stood there.

“Hmm… I’ll go get… it…”

You hurried inside your bedroom, trying to pick all the tiny pieces of the deceased watch that lay on the carpet.

Having Miguel here would have been a delight under much different circumstances, but now you just wished a hole in the ground would swallow you whole.

He was still standing where you’d left it and when you handed him the object, you saw a frown settle on his face. “No wonder it’s not working. What happened?”

“Oh! Yeah! I stepped on it… accidentally!” you quickly added with a chuckle, embarrassed pooling inside you.

“Can I sit down?” he asked point at the couch.

“Of course! Mi casa es tu casa!”

You mentally slapped yourself at the abhorrent accent and winced at Miguel’s unimpressed expresssion.

“How often does it happen?”

That threw you for a loop. “Huh… it was the first time, actually.”

“Are you sure?”

What?

You blinked a couple of times, waiting for him to clarify.

Something dark flashed across his eyes. “Was it the first time you touched yourself thinking about me?”

Nothing could have prepared you for the words that had just left his mouth, and you jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

On Miguel’s end, he seemed unbothered, returning his attention to the object in his hands.

“I… huh… you… you heard that…”

It wasn’t a question. You already had the answer, but he had completely caught you off guard.

“You were being particularly loud.”

Heat rushed to your face and you felt absolutely mortified. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know you were there…”

He shrugged. “I had come by to check in on you after your mission,” he informed, tinkering with some screws. “You had your window open.”

Ah… yes… spiders and windows. Why knock on doors when you can simply swing inside?

But something wasn’t adding up. “Why… would you check on me? Pavitr delivered the report, right?”

Miguel stood up at once and flashed in front of you. “I’ve been watching you lately.”

You swallowed. “What… what do you mean?”

He backed you against the wall behind you and you vaguely wondered if this was some sort of test. Maybe a joke?

“Playing innocent, now?”

He was not making any sense at all. “Miguel… what…”

“I know how you feel about me,” he said in a whisper. “I’m quite good at reading people and their intentions.”

You wanted to disappear right there and then.

“Last night… I took a detour and decided to remind you to be a good girl and do upload your mission logs, but…” he paused, eyes landing on your lips. “I was presented with something that stirred something in me instead.”

You could feel his body nearly touching yours, heart racing at an alarming rate and the urge to arch into him.

“You were so lucky I had to brief that squad…” he went on, lips ghosting your cheek. “I would have ravaged you right there.”

Your knees almost gave up under you. “Miguel… I..”

“What? Do you think it was easy to turn away from that sight? You were so wet I could nearly taste it.”

And just like that, your clit started throbbing and your eyes fluttered shut.

All reason abandoned your mind. Logic would have told you to go slow and easy, but your primal instinct spoke louder.

“Then why didn’t you come back later?” you whispered into his lips, whishing he’d take yours at once.

“I would have broken you.”

Your eyes shot open.

Now you knew why he seemed off.

It wasn’t tension from the overload of work. He wasn’t on edge, because protecting the multiverse was taking a toll on him.

“You’re so willing… so responsive to my touch,” he said, planting the faintest kiss to your lips before breaking it. “Last night I felt an overwhelming need to breed you.”

You vaguely remembered Jessica’s words earlier on.

“So, tell me… what were you thinking about last night?”

“You…”

Miguel pressed his lower half against yours, making you fully unware of how much he wanted you. “Be specific,” he snarled.

Your clit was throbbing so painfully, you considered rubbing yourself on him for some added friction.

You did want to tell him all about your fantasies. How you have been craving him for months. How you’d have wet dreams time and time again. How you’d make up excuses to visit him at HQ. How you wished you could be his.

But no words came out.

“How many fingers were inside you?”

“Two…”

He started rolling his hips slowly, providing much needed satisfaction to your swollen clit. “Can you take more?”

You buncked into his impressive erection, knowing fully well why he wanted to know.

“One more…”

And then Miguel O’hara growled.

He had one hand loosely wrapped around your neck as he finally captured your lips with his. You had been experienced many types of kisses before. Soft, needy, sloppy, hurried… but you had never once experienced this level of hunger.

You let him deep the kiss with his tongue and felt yours brush along his sharp fangs.

He kept you in place with one hand when you heard and felt the sound of fabric being torn. You immediately tensed up, but Miguel reassured you by breaking the kiss to stare down the length of your exposed front, your spider suit now ruined.

The cool air hardened your exposed nipples and you saw more hunger in his eyes.

“I want to breed you.”

You arched your back, offering more of yourself to him, sure that this was just wordplay coming from him to spice things up.

Conveniently enough, Miguel had the ability to make his suit disappear at free will, eliminating the process of having to undress. The moment your eyes landed on him again, he was fully naked and you were left speechless.

He looked so inviting… from his toned torso all the way down to his thick cock pressed between you two, beads of precum sliding down the tip.

“It’s too big…” you mumbled as it dawned on you how much bigger than you he was… in every sense of the word.

Miguel pressed you against the wall, lifted one of your legs to wrap around his waist and allowed his cock to freely slide along your wet folds.

The hand on your neck tightened lightly. “Miguel… it won’t fit…”

“It will.”

You shuddered from the delicious friction against your clit and felt a gush of wetness drip from your pussy. Your body was trying its best to get ready to accommodate him, but you feared it wouldn’t be enough.

He kissed your jawline before sliding down to your shoulder and then you felt his sharp fangs teasing your skin.

“I heard that you can paralise someone with a bite…” you moaned as wet sounds filled your ears.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he chuckled as he applied some pressure teasingly. “I won’t do that to you… for now.”

He removed your leg from around him and brought one hand down to his cock. “Grab it.”

You did as you were told, enjoying the feeling of his hard cock being completely soaked. He set the pace by wrapping his own fingers on top of yours.

“Just like that…” he hissed, baring his set of fangs. “Tighter…”

You did try, but he was too thick to do that properly. Your eyes were glued to the sight of more and more beads of precum sliding down his knuckles. He was deliciously ready to take you.

“If you’re any tighter than this, I won’t last…” he mumbled, biting his lower lip until it drew blood.

He was driving you over the edge with his words and you weren’t sure you’d be able to withstand so much stimulation all at once.

You gave his cock a few more pumps before he hauled you into his arms with little no effort.

“Hey!”

“I want to taste you,” was his response as he lowered you on the couch. “Eyes on me.”

He parted your legs and settled between them, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh, giving you goosebumps. Your back arched again as he tore through the rest of your suit with his retractable claws.

“Look.”

Your eyes landed exactly on what he wanted you to see: your clit was so swollen it was nearly peeking through your folds.

“So pretty…”

His tongue glided along your folds, parting them gently before he started sucking on your clit. You immediately jerked reflexively into him and fell flat on your back, not able to hold back your moans.

Every fantasy and wet dream you had had of this man could never come close to the real deal.

“Miguel…”

He groaned into you, the vibration making you buck your hips, yearning for more.

And be provided. He started with one finger slinding inside your pussy, but soon added a second one.

As he let go of your clit you promted yourseld on your elbows to revel at the sigh of Miguel O’hara having your juices running down his chin.

“Think you can take another one?”

You pouted.

“Please don’t do that… I’ll fill you up with my cock right now if you give me that look again…”

You rode his two fingers slowly, enjoying the stretch, but feeling more and more emboldened by the ego boost he was giving you.

“Miguel…” you moaned, eyes fixed on his. “I… think I’m ovulating.”

Honestly, you had no idea. It wasn’t something you bothered keeping track, but you figured he might enjoy it if you joined his game.

But, as they say, be careful with what you wish for…

He mumbled a string if curses in Spanish, immediately removing his fingers from inside you and flipping you onto your stomach.

“Why would you say that…”

You saw his face from the corner of your eye. He looked utterly unhinged.

“I thought you might want me to play along…”

Miguel placed his hand on your hips and had you arch your back to him, giving him better access to your dripping pussy.

“Oh, you think I’m joking?” He growled and you felt the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance. “I really, really want to breed you.”

Your eyes widened. “Miguel?”

“You’re perfect,” he said. “I want you to carry my child.”

Your pussy clenched around nothing and he seized the opportunity to slide the tip inside, earning a muffled cry from you. You had to bite down on a pillow to keep from screaming at the overwhelming sensation.

“Stop clenching…” pleaded, gripping your hips tighter. “You have to relax… or…”

Miguel bucked his hips and you felt more of his cock stretching you and you couldn’t help but to clench tightly from the pain.

“Miguel… it’s too much… please,” you cried out, squirming under him.

He let out a guttural groan. “You have to stop clenching…” he said. “Can you do that for me?”

You nodded and tried your best to relax.

“Good girl…” he praised you, rubbing your hips gently with his thumbs. “Almost there… look at me.”

You did so.

“Bite down on that pillow.”

Your eyes widened.

“No, no! Don’t clench or I’ll cum… I won’t last longer if you keep doing this,” he seemed desperate at this point.

But you did as he had asked and he took the opportunity to bottom out, letting out an animalistic growl.

Just as your were getting adjusted to his size, Miguel began to set a rhythm that would leave you gasping for air and gripping the fabric of your couch with such force you feared you might pull something.

You suddenly felt two fingers rolling your clit in between, which had you arching your back even deeper, craving more and more.

“I need you to cum first…” he was panting heavily now and you figured it was taking all of his will-power to not blow his load right there and then.

He rubbed your clit in unison with his thrusts and the familiar coil started to grow in your lower abdomen.

“Miguel…. Miguel….” you moaned in between gasps as you reached the point of no return.

By the time you had reached the edge and were hit with an overwhelming wave of orgasm, you noticed he had pulled out, leaving your to clench around nothing and being sent into your peak with just his fingers on your clit.

“Put it back!” you protested, backing into him and nearly crying from the loss of friction. “Fuck you!”

“Go on… that’s it… ride it out,” he said, having to steady your hips with one hand.

Your legs started spasming uncontrollably and then you felt him shove his cock in one go.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck….” you moaned.

Miguel was too far gone and it was obvious he had wanted you to reach your orgasm first so he could feel those rhythmic contractions.

That was what brought him over the edge.

You were now coming out of that haze of unmatched pleasure when he bottomed out once more and spilled inside you.

Miguel was gripped the back of your couch and you saw and heard his claws digging into it as he pumped more and more cum. His growl of pleasure echoed across your apartment and you wondered how many of your fellow spider neighbors had been able to hear it.

You felt broken… exhausted… read to go to sleep and never wake up.

Your breathing was erratic and your heart drummed loudly in your ears. Miguel pulled out slowly and you collapsed on your side, feeling splurts of his cum pouring out.

“Fuck…” he panted, nearly stumbling back.

Out of curiosity, you reach between your legs and gathered a small amount of his cum in your fingers so you could taste him.

“Do I taste good?” he asked as he shoved the rest of the spilling liquid back inside your pussy.

Your tongue darted out to lick your fingers. “Come find out.”

It didn’t surprise you that Miguel’s stamina insanely high and that he had managed to regain his composure.

He slid to the floor and kneeled in front of you, kissing you and, as you parted your lips, you allowed him to taste himself on you.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you,” he grinned, helping you shift on your back. “Now stay still for a couple of minutes.”

“Why?” you mumbled, finally able to get your breath under control.

Miguel O’hara had his suit on once again. “Did you actually think I didn’t mean what I said?”

His mask now covered his face as he leaned to plant a kiss to your forehead through the fabric. “You are going to bear my child.”

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara fanfiction

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bluesidez · 21 days

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GymRat!Miguel Part 1

I’ve seen everyone doing these drabbles/aus and I wanted to join! 🤠

content warning: It gets suggestive towards the end so MINORS BEWARE.

word count: 719 (kind of proofread, I got excited)

Daydreaming about GymRat!Miguel x PlusSize!Reader / Chubby!Reader and the dynamic of big tall bf x shorter chubby gf 🚻

Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who started off as an awkward, lanky, nerdy teen using the gym to blow off steam. His mom felt that he wasn’t a great influence to his brother, his father wasn’t his real father, and his step-brother was an asshole.

GymRat!Miguel who’s nearly triple his weight by the time he starts college, body full of muscle. His mom has calmed down despite him previously eating her out of a house and a home. His biological dad agreed to help with any leftover college expenses and his step-dad helps him move on campus. He’s tearful when he hugs Gabriel goodbye, promising to call and play their weekly games.

GymRat!Miguel who stays loyal to his nerdy roots and aims for a Science degree with a minor in Robotics for fun. He sticks out like a sore thumb in his classes, body taking up the ends of lab tables. Even though he prefers to sit in the front of classes, he opts to sit in the back so that everyone can see. He’s constantly using office hours and lingering after class so that he can make sure that his notes are correct.

GymRat!Miguel who first meets you in one of his bio labs and is immediately enamored by you. Your clothes hug your curves, you smell sweet, and something on you always matches. Your shoes and your backpack, your skirt and your jacket, your accessories and your nails.

GymRat!Miguel who ends up being in your group for a project and watches in awe as you take the lead, helping everyone decide which parts to complete. You go out of your way to make the powerpoint colorful and creative. You’re ecstatic when he turns in his parts extra early as everyone else has gone a-wall.

GymRat!Miguel who calms you down when the deadline is near and the rest of the group still hasn’t done their part. You two meet late in the library to finish everything. He thinks you’re adorable despite how stressed and tired you are. He makes the last minute decision to delete the other two group member’s names off of the title slide, taking the initiative to email the teacher before hand.

GymRat!Miguel who walks into the lab building on presentation day 50 minutes early and sees you being cornered by the other group members eyes full of confusion. He quickly walks over asking if there was a problem. Seeing him looming over them, the two decide give up, and scramble together a last minute presentation.

GymRat!Miguel who explains everything, telling you not to worry about the others and just focus on you all’s presentation. You two have great presentation, chemistry blooming as you bounce off each other. You both get an easy A and you hug Miguel out of an excitement before the next lab starts.

GymRat!Miguel who imprints the feeling of your body against his in his memory. Your smell, how soft you were, how small you felt in his arms, how tight you squeezed him.

GymRat!Miguel whose dreams of you have him tossing and turning in his twin sized bed that was far too little for him. He scares his poor roommate to death when his body hits the floor with a big boom. The dream of you under him shattering as he collides with the ground. He groans and apologizes to his roommate, pain in his side and his groin.

GymRat!Miguel who takes a cold shower, too aroused to go back to sleep. He bites his fist trying to quiet his moans, not wanting to wake his roommate for a second time. He replays images of you in his mind, pulling at his length until he shutters against the tile walls.

GymRat!Miguel whose heart drops when he checks his phone after his shower. You followed him on Instagram three hours ago. He checks your page and sees that you're private, but your profile picture is a lot. It's an angle from above you, your cleavage on display.

GymRat!Miguel who stands in the bathroom ogling at the photo like an idiot. He clicks the follow back button, watching as it shifts to pending, and stares down at his body again. He sighs and turns the shower back on, banking on his roommate sleeping through everything once again.

You had no idea the effect you had on him.

dividers by @y-onb 🩵

Leave a like and a comment! Let me know how you feel 😶‍🌫️

#love lab drabbles 💊#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara au #miguel o'hara x plussize!reader #plus size reader #miguel o'hara x chubby!reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 au #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction #I still want him deeply 😶#miguel o'hara imagine #GymRat!Miguel 💪🏾

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yanderenightmare · 3 months

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TW: yandere, dubcon/noncon, size difference, captive reader

gn reader - fem clothing (doll costume: dress)

Just thinking about the creep yandere captor who insists on taking pictures of you when you're all dolled up in his bed...

The contrast is nauseating.

He’s too big. Too tall and too strong. Thick threatening muscles lined with scars like a tiger. A set of hefty shoulders on a torso so broad you find yourself shunning yourself each time the slightest silly thought of uproar surfaces.

He’s too scary for you to ever dare anyway. His eyes alone have a darkness that makes you whimper every time he looks you up and down.

It doesn’t help that he’s always dressed in only black. Black boxers and black sweats hung low around his waist, showing the fine-toned muscles of his pelvis and the manly happy trial of curls growing thickly from beneath the band to his briefs up to his belly button.

A black tank shows off his upper body strength where he takes heavy breaths like a beast, chest rising and falling along with a large black camera - like a heavy-duty weapon hanging around his neck, snapping pictures of you dolled up in all lovely intricacies.

You can’t help but flinch each time the light flashes, the snap sounding like a gunshot. And he can't help but chuckle each time you do, loving how you jump and bounce a bit on his bed, your tiny fists balling up the plush layers of tulle and lace to your poofy skirt as you press your knees tighter together - shivering from head down to the tiny black shiny shoes adorning your feet clicking as they bob against each other where they dangle off the bed - feeling like a decorative doll sat on a mantle.

The pink skirt to your overly extra dress lay perfectly spread like a blanket around you with a silly white apron tied tight around your midsection, fastened with a great large bow on your back. All in all, making you feel humiliatingly ridiculous. With no thanks to the equally silly white bonnet situated on your head with just as stupid enormous bows tied above each ear. Looking so adorably sheepish beneath its shadow, your pretty face sweetened with that lovely look of anxiety he loves so much.

So picture-perfect with those sparkly eyes welling with tears.

One or two of them splash down on the white of your apron as you sniffle at the harsh flash of another picture being taken.

Your captor growls while viewing the last set of images, or perhaps it was a groan.

You peek up from looking down at your gloved hands folded neatly upon your lap to find what you’d been dreading.

He gave the constrained area of his crotch a tug and hissed out another scary sound that had you whimper all the more.

Despite all the hefty sets of inane layers to your getup, he never ever bothers dressing you in the first.

Underwear would just make it complicated.

BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Deku, Shoto, Shinso, Enji, Aizawa, Overhaul, Mirio, All Might

JJK – Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Megumi, Toji

HQ – Kageyama, Kuro, Sakusa, Miya twins, Suna, Tendou, Ukai

CSM – Aki, Yoshida

DS – Doma, Akaza, Tomioka, Sanemi

HxH – Chrollo, Illumi, Uvogin

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut #yandere csm #yandere aot

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soullessdianthus · 10 months

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𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚

Warnings: yandere themes (manipulation, kidnapping, imprisonment), smut (overstimulation, dubcon/noncon, breeding kink if you want to interpret like so)

Word count: 1.6k

A sound of pouring rain tapping over the window kept you awake. You glanced over the glass and saw the same image as for the days before - dense, forest line cutting the grassy, wild meadow off. The temperature inside and out was warm and it almost felt like summer in the countryside of your homeland. But it was all an illusion.

A high-tech screens had been put inside the window frames to imitate your well known surroundings. He put an effort to make this place look like a decent place. Somewhere you would feel comfortable. But this wasn’t even a real home, it was your prison.

After you interfered a little too much with the canon events in one of the spider-verses, Miguel O’Hara visited your world in person. He demanded an explanations from Peter Parker, a friend from college, about your doings.

Because you two learned lately about the up-coming death of uncle Ben and tried to avoid it by all means. And you almost succeed. Almost.

Miguel, a tall man with a dark look on his face, threatened Peter about the consequences of avoiding such occurrences. Parker appeared to be frightened of the stranger as Miguel’s eyes seemed to glow brightly red from frustration.

Those piercing eyes finally found your form, standing still behind your Spiderman and only then you processed what you just heard.

━ Wh-What? It was OUR idea to save your uncle! ━ You interrupted those two men, gesturing with your hands. But Peter didn’t even bother to look at you, he didn’t have enough courage to do so. He tried to frame you and put all the guilt on you. Which in the end, somehow worked out.

He agreed to that mysterious spidey-guy from another universe that someone had to bear the consequences of messing up with the timeline. And Parker pointed at you. An ultimate betrayal, ripped your heart apart.

Soon after you found yourself in that damn prison with a bracelet over your wrist to “stop you from glitching”. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Miguel was some kind of boss around the place you found yourself in. At least that's what Lyla told you, a artificial intelligence present in the technology around you. It was him who was responsible for you from now on as he visited you every day.

At first, each time you saw him, you tried throwing things at him purely out of rage - a book, a small picture frame or a chair, but each time he managed to catch or turn down anything you tossed. He kept trying to explain to you what was happening and why he couldn’t let you go back into your world. Miguel stated that it was dangerous enough when a non-variant person was messing up with the timeline.

But was this all true? There was no one else you could ask for a second opinion, you had to believe, everything Miguel told you was the truth. Obviously, you questioned everything about him and this place. It felt like you were losing your sanity and a part of yourself.

The well-built man with brown, combed hair was very patient and understable with your rage and sorrow. Until he was not.

O’Hara had enough of your tantrums and one time he scared you truly. Eyes turning bloody red, his veins popping out and his teeth turning into long fangs. He charged at you, shoving your whole body to the wall behind. When your eyes were filled with fear and lungs emptied themself due to the force he pushed you, Miguel contained himself and moved away quickly.

You rarely saw him in this form, but when you finally did - you kept behaving well, not wanting to anger him again. Because you knew nothing about him. What if he was able to hurt you? Or even murder you?

Since then, you tried to suppress any anger and try to figure out how to return to your world, your life. And the brunette kept coming back, each day just to visit you. In the end he was your only company.

Miguel brought you new books or art supplies if you asked Lyla or him directly. The man would spend some time with you - cooking, watching movies, anything you liked to do. But it was months ago.

For the last couple of weeks, you were practically silent and apathetic. Curling inside the armchair near the “window”, napping or sobbing quietly. You’ve been in this prison for too long and it began to crush your spirit.

He acknowledged the change in you and tried talking about it. He kept assuring that he has to keep you here for the world’s sake and balance. Because if someone messes up with the canon again, the universe will collapse. You reprimanded yourself for leaning into his chest when he offered you a comforting hug. Because how could you ever want solace from your captor?

That evening was no different. Miguel visited you after work and found you sitting in silence on that damn armchair. When he crouched down, trying to catch your sight, you scooted backwards in the seat.

━ What’s wrong, cariño?

━ I want to go home. ━ Your voice full with sorrow gained his attention. Where was your spirit he adored so much? The pain in your voice almost made him feel bad. Almost.

Miguel reached towards your exposed calf and started rubbing it with his pointing finger.

━ This is your home, tú lo sabes. [sp.: you know it] ━ His voice sounded peaceful when he reached both of his arms in your direction. His embrace was welcoming, but you knew better. It was like a sweet flavored poison, spreading slowly under your skin, killing you slowly. ━ Come here.

You pushed firmly against his shoulders as you jumped out of the chair and took a few steps back.

━ Miguel ━ you said his name loudly, gaining his full attention. You were being hysterical again. ━ I’ve been here FOR MONTHS. I had life before, I had A PURPOSE. You took it from me!

He tried, he really tried holding himself back this time you talked back. But your whining became annoying and Miguel just knew what would make you feel better.

He stood up to his full height, easily towering over you. Brunette came closer, taking each step slowly, like he was giving you time to calm yourself or at least apologize. But you didn’t even back out.

Miguel was leaning to look into your glimmering eyes and he saw how much you hated him at that moment. “We need to work on that temper”, he once told you, but you thought nothing of it.

His little, feisty nymph. That’s what he liked to think of you.

━ Fine ━ he growled right in your face, before grabbing your arm. ━ I’ll give you a purpose.

The sound of your heavy panting echoed through the room. You tried straightening your hands again, but unsuccessfully as your muscles gave up a long time ago. Only his strong hands kept your ass higher than your head, by the tightening grip over your already bruised hips.

Miguel kept thrusting into your tight cunt until you were a sobbing mess. He already pushed you over the edge at least three times, devouring the little noises you made and how your pussy clenched around his swollen shaft.

Brunette kept one of his palms spread between your shoulder blades, keeping your upper half down, making your spine arch better.

The sweat covered the back of your bent knees, him sliding in and out of you with ease, because of your wetness. Miguel certainly knew where to touch you to make you break into pieces between his fingers.

━ See, doesn't that feel good to be by my side, cariño? ━ He leaned over your puffing frame, cheek dipped in the sheets while he kept fucking you stupid.

━ Mig-Miguel… I can’t… n-no more…. ━ You whispered to him, feeling as each thrust of his hips pushed his cock deeper inside of you. The coiling sensation started to build up again between your trembling legs and in stomach. ━ Please!

━ Just one more, darling. ━ He heard you clearly, but yet he kept sliding in and out of you violently, chasing his own sweet release.

Miguel took his hand away from your back and sneaked between your puffy lips. He spreaded them, opening you up and making it easier for him to find your clit. And when he finally did so, the brunette started rubbing it in a rhythm that quickly made you reach your another orgasm that night.

Your body tensed suddenly and then collapsed into his pelvis, sinking his swollen cock deeper. When your cunt fluttered around him uncontrollably and your eyes rolled backwards, he came inside you, clenching his teeth.

He tilted forward and placed both of his strong hands on each side of you, while coming down from his high. He noticed your grip tightening over bed sheets and smiled, before giving you a tender kiss on the temple.

━ Mi pequeña ninfa. Do you understand now, that only I can protect you? [sp.: My little nymph]

Miguel loved his girl no matter if she had a bad day or not. He was going to make sure, no one will ever take you from him. You’re his precious troublemaker, aren’t you?

━ You belong with me. ━ He growled into your ear.

#yandere miguel o'hara #yandere #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #spider man 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #reader insert #smut #miguel o'hara smut

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mazamba · 10 months

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"You need what?"

"I know it's a lot to ask," cut in Danny before Batman could go from confused to angry, "Just let me explain. I swear it's for a good reason."

Batman eyed his teammate skeptically. King Phantom was one of the League's newest and youngest members. Despite his unorthodox introduction to the team, he and his sister, Stray, had proven to be valuable additions to the Justice League and to the Teen Titans respectively. He was tall and imposing, despite his relatively slender frame. His visage was made the more menacing by the Crown of Fire that hovered above his head in a tiny version of the Aurora Borealis instead of his predecessor's green flames, the royal armor over his jumpsuit, and the fur-trimmed coat made of a rippling window into space.

"Ok, so you know how Bruce Wayne adopted Cassandra Cain, but she's David Cain's biological daughter, right?"

"..."

"...right! So, at some point, David sold human eggs on the black market," he continued, "you have no idea how hard it was to get the information on Vlad's supplier, but we did figure out that he bought the eggs from Cain for his experiments and then completely messed up the cloning process."

"How?"

"We have no idea! But my clone, my sister, has my ghost DNA, but part of mine and someone else's human DNA."

"What makes you think it's Cassandra's?"

He pulled out his phone, a two-year-old model with a cracked screen, and showed him the face of his sixteen-year-old sister in her human form next to a picture of Bruce's own eighteen-year-old daughter from a tabloid.

"She looks a lot like me," he admitted, "but she also looks a lot like Cassandra Cain, so we think Vlad got a sample mixed up or forgot to take out a nucleus or something and made-."

"A daughter instead of a clone."

It was a good thing Phantom wasn't particularly good at reading body language, or his tightening fist might've alerted him that something was wrong.

"I mean... sort of? It's different with clones. She's technically my daughter but I turned nineteen, like, a month ago, so I don't thi- I'm getting off track! The point is, Dani's destabilizing again and I need a clean DNA sample to help her. I tried to get into Wayne manor, but the place is warded to hell and back. You know Bruce Wayne, right? Can you help me talk with Cassandra?"

Batman sighed and turned his head to Phantom's right.

"Orphan."

"Motherfu-! How long has she been standing there!?"

She didn't respond to his yelp/question and instead turned to Batman.

"Take a tube to Gotham and ask Cassandra Wayne for a DNA sample."

Orphan nodded and walked off to the tubes.

"... Is it just me or was she a little quieter than usual?"

Bruce sighed, not looking forward to whatever his week was about to become.

#dp x dc #danny phantom #dani fenton #dani phantom #danielle fenton #danielle phantom #batman #cassandra wayne #cassandra cain #NGL I always assumed Jason was way older than Cass #But apparently they're the same age

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8siangemini · 11 months

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Everything I Do Is For You (Miles Morales!Earth 42 x Reader!Spiderwoman)

Summary: You are SpiderWoman on Earth 42 and Miles is still the Prowler. The Prowler has a mission to kill Spider-Woman due to the high bounty on your head. For months now he has been tracking you down and has focused so much on tracking you down that he does not realize you are right under his nose. One evening when you followed the Prowler back to his hideout you find something you wish you never saw.

Word Count: 2,282

Author’s Note: Based on how Earth 42 looks and based off of the Prowler’s mask I am going the make SpiderWoman a little more cyber-ish. Hope y’all enjoy :)

“Fucking A” You say underneath your breath as you look at yourself in your full body mirror you had in your mirror.

You had an interaction with the Prowler earlier tonight and the beating he gave you took a number on you. Bruises on your arms, parts of your suit torn up, scratches and cuts on your face, and worse your backpack and gauntlets were fucked up. Your backpack was initially a project for your engineering class that Miles had helped you with that slowly became a weapon you used while fighting. The backpack was compact yet was able to hold yourself up by large metal spider legs. Your gauntlets were like claws but had the same function to spew out webs.

But due to the Prowler multiple legs on your backpack were broken and he had punctured a couple holes into your gauntlets with his own claw. That was until you were able to crush his claw while his hand was still in it. Your fight ended when you finally retreated before he could total your backpack. But luckily you are going to finally be able to find him.

“You think you won this fight Prowler?” You ask yourself.

You go to your desk that had multiple monitors on it and took off your gauntlets. You typed some things into your computer and pulled up a map and in the middle of the map was a moving red dot. You smile to yourself as you lean back in your seat and look at the dot like it was the proudest thing you had accomplished.

“Lucky for me, you ‘n I kept doing at each other’s gauntlets that you did not even notice the tracking device I embedded into your claw when I crushed your hand.” You chuckle to yourself, waiting for the red dot to stop to figure out where the Prowler hides out.

After a couple of minutes of movement the dot stays still. You smile to yourself and zoom out of the dot to figure out where the location is. You grab your mask again and pull it over your face and jump out of your window with just your webslingers, no backpack and no gauntlets.

You make it to the location and the only room that was still active with the lights still on was the one on the very top. You shoot your webs up at the railing and quietly and stealthily you land on the metal railing without making a sound. You peak inside through the windows and see the room was lit with a purple color. Gym equipment running across the window closest to you and at the end of the room there was a large connect web with a large map and multiple pictures of you.

You began getting scared. Looking on the web you begin seeing more and more accurate information laying on the board. Your age, the places you recently been, possible schools you go to, possible places where you would go as a civilian, and your nightly patrol routes. But the picture on the top of the board was what scared you the most. A printed out bounty poster of you. $900,000 on your head.

Just then two figures come into the room. The room was very dark but you tried your best to figure out who the figures were. Luckily the two stand under one of the brightest light sources in the room. Your heart dropped at the uncovered person, tall and slender, Uncle Aaron. Miles’ Uncle, in the same room as the Prowler. They were discussing something, like they were partners. They showed no threat to one another but you could still not believe what you were seeing, there was no way. Why would he be doing this sort of business? Then in front of him stood a slightly shorter figure, he was in the mask, the Prowler.

You carefully open the window quietly to try and hear what they may say. The Prowler’s claw was off laying on the table his actual hand was bandaged up with blood staining the gauges. Just then his mask begins to move, begins to open up. You stare with eyes wide open to make sure you see who the Prowler is. Your heart begins racing, eager to find out who the Prowler is.

Then your heart drops, breaks. As the mask disappeared two braids fell down, you knew those two braids. The mask completely disappears and there he stood, Miles, with furrowed brows. Your Miles, your boyfriend, but also your nemesis.

“You’re gonna have to take a few days off with that hand like that.” Uncle Aaron says as he helps Miles take off his jacket and shirt, leaving him shirtless.

“Yeah I know. What do I tell (Y/n)?” Miles asked which pirked your ears up. Miles exams his hand and you begin to feel guilty that you were the one to hurt your boyfriend so badly.

“Just say you cut your hand or some’.” Uncle Aaron quickly says. “You haven’t told her right?” He asks strictly and Miles just shakes his head.

Miles kept on looking down at his hand with his eyebrows furrowing and his eyes glaring down.

“I’m gonna get her, for sure. The next time I see her, I’m gonna get her.” Miles says with determination. His voice was laced with venom and determination, it shook fear throughout your whole body right down to your core.

“You sure as hell better. With that money,” Uncle Aaron says as he points at the bounty poster at the very top of the web. “You, your mama, and your girl could live in luxury. So you better get her the next time you see her or else the cops are gonna get suspious.”

Was he going to use the money for all of us? Is this where the money comes from whenever he gifts you one of your many pieces of jewlery or the multiple pairs of matching Jordan’s you two have? This was the reason why he never picks up your calls late at night whenever you wanted to call him while you were on patrol. This was the reason why whenever you came by his place to make sure he was safe after your nightly patrol he was never there. He was also patrolling too. He had a night life full of violence, violence you should have prevented as Spider-Woman. But in the end you had to admit it was him, the Prowler, that kept causing the violence and fear in Brooklyn.

Uncle Aaron goes to the claw and picks it up and begins to examine the damage you brought upon it. His eyebrows furrow but soon his eyes widened at the slightest bit, he found it. He plucks out a small red device crammed into the mess of the claw and looks at Miles. He holds out the small device to Miles with a pissed off expression, knowing full well on what it is.

“Miles!” Uncle Aaron yells. “Do you know what this is?” Miles just shrugs. “A tracking device Miles! A tracking device!”

Just then you shoot my webs at the top of the window and use your momentum to break through the window, landing in the center of the room. You place your hands on your hips as you turn your head back and forth to crack your neck.

“Let’s try this one more time, Prowler.” You say.

You begin webbing up Uncle Aaron down to his knees and you quickly knock him out cold with a punch to the jaw and his body falling limp to the ground with a loud thud. You web both of Miles’ shoulders and use your momentum to kick him in the jaw. For a couple of hits you kept on doing the same thing, using your momentum to kick him in various of areas until he finally caught your foot with his good hand. He yanked you down and pinned you down with his two knees digging into your two thighs, causing enough pressure to create bruises. His good hand tried to hold both of yours but you were able to keep on escaping for at least one of your hands to throw a punch at him.

You did not care that you were punching the shit out of your boyfriend, he wanted to kill you for a price. He wanted to kill you for money. The person you love the most wants to kill you. He also kept secrets and kept on telling lies to you. Yeah, you were doing the same thing but he was doing it because it was a violent and dark job. All of your glamorous and luxiorous gifts he gave you, you were know questioning if the bought those with the money from these dirty jobs. It made you sick to your stomach.

“You’ve been lying to me Miles!” You yelled at him as he kept trying to pin you down. His eyes widened at the slightest bit.

“How do you know my name?” He asks as he manages to finally pin you down properly.

“What? You wanna kill me? Kill the girl that bandaged you up when you were all bloody without asking any question?” You yelled as tears began to fall through your mask. Miles expression started to somewhat soften. “You gonna kill the girl that was there for you when your dad died?”

Miles slowly starts to reach his bad hand carefully towards the edge of your mask. Your breath started to quicken as his hand started touching your masked face.

“I thought you said that you would burn the world down just for your girl?” You say meekly as tears still start beading from your eyes.

“(Y/n)?” Miles asks and carefully takes off your mask.

Face sweating and bleeding and eyes full of tears. Miles stared at you with his eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Kill me Miles.” You whispered.

“What?” Miles questioned.

“Kill me!” You yelled. “If you want the money so bad then just kill me now!”

Miles looked so broken, so betrayed. He could not believe you kept a secret like this hidden from him. He slowly let go of his wrists.

“Yeah,” You started. “Doesn’t feel good does it? Knowing your amor has been keeping a secret from you for so long? Imagine how I felt about you just a couple of minutes ago when I found out you were the Prowler. Imagine how I feel knowing I was the one that hurt you.” You say with a voice full of pain but Miles stays quiet for awhile.

“Miles say something!” You demand.

“I wanted to do this job for you.” Miles whispers. You look at him confused.

“What?” You ask.

“I wanted to do this job so that I could plan our anniversary.” Miles begins to explain. It was true, your guys’ anniversary was now only less than a month away. “I wanted to plan a nice dinner with you, get you nice things, and give you money for your engineering projects you want to carry out.”

Now everythings just washed over you and all you could feel now was guilt and regret. You regretted the fact that you beat the shit out of Miles, you were mad at yourself that you were the reason he wanted to kill someone, just so he could get you some nice things.

“I-I am so sorry Miles.” You begin to apologize.

“Why are apologizing ma? I should be apologizing for getting you roped into this.” Miles chuckle and you could not help but laugh a little. He began to get up off of you and offered his good hand to help you up.

“For not telling you about,” You start as you wave your body over your tattered suit. “This.”

“Then I’m sorry for not telling you about,” Miles says as he begins to sit on the couch and spread out his arms to jesture to the apartment. “this.” You laugh a little as you scan the room.

“Prowler huh?” You say through a laugh as Miles smirks a little while he slouches into this couch a little, spreading his legs and adjusting his pants.

“Spider-woman huh?” He says with a cocky smirk.

You smirk back and bend down to give him a deep kiss. He places his good hand on your hip as his tongue roams your mouth. You pull away a little bit and go back to standing up with your arms crossed as you scan his body.

“I gotta admit,” He leans forwards and places his hand on your hip and draws you in to stand inbetween his legs. “Tu te ves hermosa mami.” (You look beautiful, Mami) which causes you to smirk and chuckle.

“Then I’ll have to admit,” You place your hands on his bare toned shoulders as you lean down and peck his lips. “I dig you in the suit.”

You two stay like that for awhile as you rub his neck and he squeezes your hip every now and then. An idea comes into your head.

“Why don’t we make a deal?” You ask him.

“What is it, mami?” He asks you which causes your stomach to flip.

“If you stop messing with me as Spider-Woman I’ll make sure you won’t get caught by the cops.” You proposed and Miles raised an eyebrow in interest. “I have connections and have a little,” You raise your hand up away from Miles’ neck and your hand begins to emit yellow electric sparks and glitches. “advantage when it comes to hacking.”

Miles looks up at you with a smirk and he guides your hips down to lower you to his level.

“You have a deal, mami.”

#spider man #spider woman #miles morales x y/n #spiderman #miles morales x reader #into the spider verse #spider man across the spider verse #spiderman spoilers #earth 42 miles morales #the prowler #prowler miles #miles morales

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lewsnumerounofan · 4 months

Text

dirty (theodore nott x reader)

summary: in which theo seeks to remind you who you really belong to (hint: it’s not your boyfriend).

notes: fingering (f receiving), cheating, kinda dick theo, kinda jealous theo, angst, 1k words, smut

+ part two

His eyes—dark, haunting—trailed you through each room and interaction. Well, trailed you and your boyfriend.

All was fine until your boyfriend went to get you both drinks. As soon as he disappeared from sight the Slytherins tall presence appeared at your back.

Despite your protests, Theo managed to drag you from the crowded dance floor, down the hall and into a dark bathroom, all the while avoiding your curses and flailing elbows.

“Let go of me, Nott. Are you fucking crazy dragging me out of the party like that? He could have seen,” you hissed, trying to break for the door. He beat you to it, coming to stand squarely between you and your escape route.

This boy, you thought. He drove you mental—had done since the first time you’d laid eyes on him. It was only a matter of time before one of you had slipped, boyfriend or no. Since then it had been long months of broom closet hook ups and secret astronomy tower rendezvous.

But you had sworn all that off. Your boyfriend was nice. And Theo was… well, Theo.

“Come here,” he said.

You scoffed and focused hard on the bathroom tile to your right.

“I fucking said come here,” Theo repeated, but now his accent was thick and his voice was loud. Lip curled he waited for you to slowly stand before him. You couldn’t meet his eyes, instead watching as his chest rose and fell with angry breathes.

“You can talk about your boyfriend all you’d like, principessa,” he spat, “but I’m the one fucking you, hm?”

His crude words had you forgetting your fear and raising your chin to argue. There was no need to make this messier than it already was—and who was he to talk? He seemed to have a new girlfriend every other week.

But Theo didn’t give you the chance. He was in your face in an instant, backing you up until you’d hit the opposite wall.

“I’m the one you call when you’re horny or lonely. I fucking own you.”

Your faces were almost touching. Theo angry was something you could never forget—his eyes were almost black as they incessantly tracked your movements. Mouth in a permanent snarl he kept your body caged in with his long arms, even as you tried weakly to pry yourself away. His voice changed too; every time he yelled his Italian accent became stronger, words sometimes reverting back to his native tongue. It made you dizzy.

“Theo-“

“Boyfriend or not, you’re mine. Sei mia,” he said, this time crushing the words onto your mouth.

Blood bloomed in your mouth as his lips slanted over yours. Theo was always rough with you, but now he was angry. And that proved to be wholly different.

Hands harsh on your skin, he pulled up your skirt. Not a second thought was spared for your lacy (expensive) underwear; Theo barely pushed them aside enough to fit two long fingers into you.

He handled your body deftly, taking what he wanted and doing so roughly. You tried to be mad at his obvious disregard, but something about the clench of his jaw and the heavy heat of his mouth made protest impossible. Thought of any form seemed beyond you; as he forced a long leg between yours you ground down, whimpering at your own vulnerability.

“So pathetic. Look at yourself,” he murmured, lips kissing along your neck. Indeed, it was a rather indecent picture. With your skirt ridden up and your underwear pushed away you could easily see where he was touching you. The slick on his long fingers, the flex of his arms as he pushed into you. The stutter of your hips along his thigh, pants already wet.

“What would your boyfriend think if he saw you, hm baby?

You wanted to scream. Possessiveness laced every flux of Theo’s voice, and his dead eyes were black as they watched you.

“Theodore-“

He tsked. His full lip curled, thigh pressing hard between your legs.

“Don’t call me that.”

You desperately tried to shift away from the pressure he forced on your clit, whining gently.

“Teddy,” you corrected, “Teddy please. Need you.”

The boys ego exploded at your words. Your boyfriend didn’t have you saying things like that, he was certain. Only he made you feel like that. Only he would ever make you feel like that.

Theo let his thumb replace his thigh between your legs, rubbing back and forth. Almost desperate to get away from the growing tightness below your stomach, you shifted your hips back and forth for relief. Feelings were too close and warm—sparks seemed to tense the muscles of your limbs over and over as Theo worked you meticulously.

“Cmon now, doing so good,” he said. His voice was raw with lust and admiration as he watched your face crumple.

“Teddy Teddy Teddy Teddy,” you were saying. Name a ceaseless prayer from your lips, body strung out he kissed you hard. That was all it took; your orgasm broke through you, bringing tears and pitiful moans. You clutched at the boys shoulders, breaths heaving through you.

“Teddy.”

A whisper this time, onto the fair skin of his neck. He held your limp body gently in his big hands. You started to shiver, but urged your trembling fingers to find his belt.

“Wanna feel you,” you said. But your hand was pushed away.

“Isn’t that what you have a boyfriend for, amore?”

And just like that he brushed past you, not sparing a backwards glance as he left the bathroom.

You didn’t move for a second, orgasm-fuzzy brain trying to process what had just happened.

Theo had left you. Theo had left you here after making you cum on his fingers.

You felt cold all of a sudden. Cold and dirty, you realized, as you tugged your underwear back into place. It was still damp—because of Theo, because of the way he mocked you and rolled his fingers in you.

Tears were quick to gather in your eyes. Fuck Theo and his stupid comments and his stupid, stupid eyes for leaving you here.

Fuck Theo for making you feel like this—like something to be used and mocked and discarded.

As you wiped fiercely at the hot tears tracking your cheek you promised yourself no more of the brooding Slytherin.

No more Theodore Nott.

#theodore nott #theodore nott smut #theo nott #Theo nott smut #Theo nott x reader #Theodore nott x reader #slytherin fic #Theo nott fic #bigkeepup

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storiesforallfandoms · 5 months

Text

height advantage ~ jacob elordi

word count: 2857

request?: yes!

“Can you write how a 5’2 photographer was having trouble getting good shots at the Met Gala because people kept pushing in front of her so Jacob Elordi held her hand and helped her get to the front so she could get some good shots and then she gave him her business card to hook up in the future please and thank you”

description: in which the tall actor helps the short photographer to get good shots

pairing: jacob elordi x short!female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two, three)

Being short as a photographer was a major disadvantage. Sure, sometimes you were able to get to the front of the pack at events, but most times the other photographers were too hungry for the money shots to remember common decency. You were shoved and stood in front of and completely ignored on more than one occasion. Most nights, you were lucky to get some good pictures of the first few people to arrive at the red carpet. You were terrified that your agency was going to can you soon.

You were given the opportunity to photograph the next MET Gala. It would be huge for your career, if you could get any pictures. You were determined not to let anyone shove in front of you tonight. You were going to get good pictures tonight. You were determined.

There was a dull chatter among the photographers as they waited for the event to start. It all went away basically immediately when the first vehicle pulled up. The interviewers got into place as every camera was immediately raised. The dull chatter became yells and camera flashes as the first celebrity stepped onto the carpet. You had been holding onto the barrier to really make sure no one stood in front of you, but now there were enough bodies pressing you against the barrier that you felt confident that you wouldn’t be moved. You got a lot of good snaps as more guests began to arrive. You were feeling almost giddy.

You paused long enough to check a photo you had just taken, but that was enough for a photographer next to you to start elbowing you to get in front of you.

“Hey, watch it!” you snapped.

“You snooze, you lose, kid,” he said before stepping on front of you.

You tried to step around him, but the space around him was quickly filled in. You sighed and got onto the tips of your toes, raising you camera over your head and hoping the shots you were getting were good ones.

Someone hit your arm and snapped, “Move, you’re blocking my shot!”

You almost dropped your camera and turned to curse out the person who hit you proved to be a mistake when you were just shoved further. You started to panic. You couldn’t see the red carpet anymore, so you certainly weren’t going to get any good pictures. Your boss was going to kill you if you came back with a small handful of pictures again.

“Hey! Is she okay there?”

An accented voice cut through the commotion around you. You tried to get a look at what was going on, but your efforts were for naught. You were starting to wonder if you should just leave and take whatever verbal lashing you were going to get from your boss.

Until the sea of photographers suddenly parted and a towering figure was looking down at you.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

You were so taken by him that you couldn’t form a single sentence. He was so handsome, and so goddamn tall. Not just tall by your standards; everyone normally towered over you, but he towered over everyone. And he was looking - talking - directly at you. The photographers around you weren’t sure if they should be taking pictures or not, so they just kept looking between the two of you in shock.

You remembered he had asked you a question and finally managed to snap out of your trance. “Oh, you, I’m okay. Just being shoved around a bit. That’s par for the course with this profession.”

He extended a hand to you. You took it and gasped when he pulled you forward towards the barrier again. To those around you he said, “She stands here and she stays here. I get that you all have a job to do, but there’s no reason you need to trample one of your own for a good stop. Especially when she’s the smallest one among you all. No offense.”

You shook your head, once again unable to speak.

He smiled and winked at you before stepping back. “Here, get a shot of my good side.”

It took you a moment to remember what you were even supposed to be doing, and quickly fumbled with your camera to start taking pictures again.

Your fellow photographers were quick to move on from the encounter when a new celebrity arrived to the red carpet, but your gaze lingered on him as he started to walk away. You were almost embarrassed to say you had no idea who he was. He was obviously someone famous, but you didn’t recognize him. Either way, he was your savior tonight and you didn’t get the chance to thank him for helping you.

The rest of the night passed quickly after that. No one else shoved or trampled you, so you managed to get a lot of good photos. Once the last celebrity had arrived and entered the building, the reporters and photographers began to disperse. Some went into the building to photograph the events of the night, but you weren’t one of those so you were able to get ready to leave. You started texting your boss to let her know you’d scan the pictures onto your laptop when you got home and send them along right away when you heard someone behind you say, “Hey, was everything alright after?”

You turned to see the tall guy from earlier coming up to you.

“Oh...hi,” you said. “Yes, everything was fine. Thank you for your help there, by the way. I thought for sure I was going to be leaving another event with more pictures of the back of people’s heads than the actual event.”

“Does that happen often?”

“I mean...look at me.” You gestured to your small stature.

He chuckled. “Okay, point taken.”

“My name is (Y/N), by the way.”

“Jacob.”

You shook his hand. “Shouldn’t you be inside, by the way? The event is just starting.”

“I stepped out for some air. I come to these things for the charity aspect, but they’re not really my thing. I plan to eat and slip out immediately afterwards.”

Before I could respond, my Uber pulled up.

“I won’t keep you from getting home,” Jacob said. “I saw you out here and just wanted to check in.”

“I appreciate it, and I appreciate you helping me out back there.”

“Hey, I had to use my height advantage for good eventually. In this case, it helped me to spot a cute photographer before she was turned into a pancake.”

You felt your face heating up at his compliment. Suddenly you were tongue tied again and didn’t have enough time to try and figure out a response because your Uber driver was impatiently waiting for you.

You suddenly remembered the business cards you kept with you in case you ever got to talking with event organizers or celebrities looking for photographers for their photoshoots (or agencies with better pay and benefits, but you’d never say that out lout). You dug one out of your purse and passed it to Jacob. “In case you ever need a cute photographer for a shoot. Or...I don’t know, if you just want to talk.”

He looked down at your business card before smiling at you. “Is this your personal number or a business one?”

“Personal. It’s easier to reach me on my cell than to try and call my workplace.”

“I’ll remember that, then.”

You nodded and finally managed to break yourself from his trance. Your Uber driver was glaring at you through the rearview mirror as you climbed into his car, but you could’ve cared less. You glanced out the window as the car began to pull away. Jacob was still looking down at your business card, a light smile on his lips. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself in return. You hoped it wouldn’t be too long before you heard from Jacob again.

~~~~~~

The next day you were at your desk, going over some of the pictures from the night before to submit to your boss. You had managed to scan the photos onto your laptop when you got home the night before, but it was so late that your boss told you to wait until this morning to submit them. Most publications had their pictures from the Gala posted immediately after they were taken, so your boss said she wasn’t in any rush to have them.

“It gives you more time to pick out the good ones to be submitted,” she had told you.

Your phone vibrated, pulling your attention away from work for just a split second. You looked down to see an unknown number was trying to text me.

“looking for a cute photographer. know anyone who fits the bill? :) - j”

I smiled to myself.

“i may have some ideas. depends on what you’re looking for.”

The response came almost immediately.

“looking for someone to join me for coffee. say in about 15 minutes?”

The urge to shut down your computer and immediately run to meet Jacob was strong. But you knew you had work to do first, even though you would much rather be sitting across from him at some coffee shop than in your cubicle.

“finishing an assignment for work and then i’ll be free for my break. just text me a place and i’ll meet you there :)”

Within 20 minutes, you were approaching the place Jacob had told you to meet him. You didn’t have to look for him as he was stood waiting for you, his tall stature basically sticking out like a sore thumb. You didn’t think you had ever met anyone as tall as him before. It was almost intimidating, if he wasn’t so hot.

He looked up as you approached and smiled. “Hey!”

You were shocked when he pulled you in for a hug, but graciously took the display of affection.

“How was the rest of your night?” you asked as you both stepped into the shop and got into line.

“It was alright. Did as I said and slipped out after eating, but not before hearing a couple of the speeches they do talking about the event’s history and why they choose the yearly trends and stuff.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m lucky I didn’t die of boredom.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“If you really think that, I’ll take you to the next one I get invited to and you can sit through all the speeches. Then you can tell me if it’s not that bad.”

You tried not to dwell on the fact that he was already talking about taking you to an event with him. You knew that it was way too quickly to be thinking about stuff like that - this was literally the second time you had met him and the first time you were actually spending any amount of time together - but there was something about the fact that he was already planning ahead like that that gave you some hope for where this was going.

After ordering your coffees and stepping aside to wait for them, Jacob asked, “How was your night? Surely it was much better than mine.”

You chuckled. “I wouldn’t go that far. I got home, put on my pajamas, and watched some trashy Netflix reality until I fell asleep.”

“At least trashy reality has some excitement.”

“A lot more than listening to speeches about the history of the MET Gala.”

“I could’ve looked up a Wikipedia article and read the whole thing from start to finish and it would’ve been more exciting than listening to that.”

You giggled. The barista gave you your coffees and you moved to a table by the window to sit down.

“How long do I have you for?” Jacob asked.

“Our breaks can last anywhere between 30 minutes to an hour. Usually if it’s 30 minutes, you get another 30 minute break later on. If it’s the full hour, I only get this one break today.”

“Well, I’ll try not to be stingy with your time, but I think I’m going to have some difficulty in letting you leave.”

“I gotta say, you are quite the flirt.”

“Only when I really like someone.”

We spent most of the time getting to know one another. You admitted that you hadn’t heard of Jacob before, so he told you about some of the movies and shows he had done. You had only heard of Euphoria, but had never watched it nor did you have any desire to. Jacob told you he wouldn’t hold it against you that you hadn’t seen any of his work. You told him about going to college for photography fresh out of high school because you knew that was the one thing you wanted to do more than anything. You were lucky enough that the company you did your work term with wanted to take you in full time after you graduated, and you were still there years later.

“You mentioned that stuff like what happened to you last night is a normal occurrence?” he asked.

You sighed. “Yeah. I mean, in general it is par for the course that photographers at such events can be a little ruthless. We all want the good shots that can and will be used, that’s how we make our money. But it’s especially hard for me because I am a short woman. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of female photographers who get taken just as seriously as the male ones, but there are also plenty of male photographers who aren’t afraid to shove a woman out of their way to get their shot instead of another man. Throw in the fact that I’m usually the shortest one in attendance and I become an easy target. Get me out of the way, get in my space, and then that’s it for me.”

“That’s awful,” Jacob said. “You’d think being shorter than they are would make it easier for them to just shoot around you instead of moving you out of the way.”

“You would think, but that’s not the case.” You shrugged. “It’s nothing new for me. I was always the shortest person in the room, and thus was treated one way or another because of it. It’s just now I’m worried that if I can’t do my job properly I’ll be fired.”

“They can’t fire you for being short.”

“They can if I’m not getting any pictures when I’m sent to red carpet events. Most of the time I only get the first one or two people to arrive and that’s it. My boss is mostly understanding about it, but I know realistically she can’t keep me if I’m not able to do my job. Or at least she won’t send me out to events anymore, which would be just as bad as getting fired honestly. I don’t want to just sit behind a desk all day using photoshop to fix up pictures before they’re published.”

The mention of your job had you glancing down at your watch and realizing how much time had passed. “Shit! I gotta be back to work in 10 minutes.”

“Already?” Jacob had a crestfallen look on his face.

“I know. I would much rather stay with you. I’m enjoying our conversation.”

Jacob stood as you did. “Let me walk you back to work at least. We can prolong the goodbyes that way.”

You accepted and you both headed towards your job. The walk was silent at first. You were trying to find something to ask him so that the time wasn’t wasted in silence, but nothing was coming to your head right now.

Luckily, Jacob broke the silence by asking, “When do you usually get off work?”

“Around 5,” you responded.

“Maybe we could pick this up when you’re off then. If you feel up for it, that is. I get it if you’d rather do nothing after working all day.”

“Well...normally I do prefer to spend my evenings by myself after work. But, if this isn’t too forward to ask, maybe you could come over and we could keep getting to know each other.”

His face lit up. “I’d like that a lot.”

He took you by surprise once more as he leaned down to kiss your cheek. If you weren’t already so enamored by this man, you probably would’ve been thinking about how funny the two of you looked together - the under 5′ photographer and the over 6′ actor. But all I could think about was how Jacob wanted to see me again so soon, and how much I did want to see him too. It was hard to break away and go back to work, but I knew I’d get in trouble if I showed up late from my break.

The only thing that kept me going was the smile on Jacob’s face as I turned back around to look at him, and the thought that it wouldn’t be too much longer until I got to see him again.

#jacob elordi #jacob elordi imagine #jacob elordi x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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luversgirl · 5 months

Text

TO BE SO LONELY, part two

summary: after the pouges forget her special day, y/n meets someone the pouges aren’t too pleased with. (heres part one if you haven’t read it yet)

notes: here is the long awaited pt two, im sorry this took to long. i’m in the middle of finals and im trying to get back into writing (p.s theirs another important note after the fic)

warnings: language?

after the big fight at the chateau rafe drove them to the beach, more specifically the one they first interacted at.

y/n quickly slipped off the helmet and walked towards the water without a word said.

as she got closer and closer she placed the helmet and shopping bag down and continued walking.

“y/n!” rafe yelled trying to catch up.

“y/n!” he yelled again a bit more sternly making her stop in her tracks.

he quickly caught up seeing as he was walking very fast to keep up with her “please talk to me” he softly spoke as he stopped in front of her.

“there’s nothing for me to say” she spoke back clearly lying as many tears rolled down her face.

“you’re allowed to be upset y/n” rafe says placing his hands on her face, wiping her tears away.

“how come everyone forgets me” y/n’s voice cracks as she speaks.

after y/n broke down at the beach rafe thought it would be best for her to stay at the cameron household for the night.

waking up to the sun peaking through out the expensive silky curtains the rougtledge girl rubbed her eyes.

her eyebrows furrowed at the unfamiliar smell of the sheets she was laying on, turning her body around she saw a sleeping rafe.

she sat up, carefully doing her best to to wake rafe and succeeding.

y/n’s eyes gazed around the room that was clearly rafes. it pleasantly surprised her how organized his room was, the way all his expensive colognes were organized, no laundry on the floor and the pictures of his family and him displayed along the walls.

“good morning” y/n turned to rafe who was now rubbing his eyes as she was minutes before.

“good morning” she smiled as he pulled her closer kissing the top on her head.

“how you feeling baby” rafe asks.

“better now thanks to you” y/n grins looking up at him “what time is it?”

rafe grabs his phone from the nightstand by his side “its 12” he says.

“i have a shift at 1” y/n sighs leaning against rafe.

“can you cancel it?” rafe trys to reason.

y/n chuckles “thats not exactly how a job works, wheres my phone?” she asks.

“under your pillow” y/n reaches for it, hopingit doesn’t explode with messages when it powers on “i also put it on silent so we could sleep through the night” rafe chuckles.

“thank you” y/n smile up at him before checking “jesus christ” she quickly says as she was right about the phone blowing up and

scrolls through all the missed notifications.

“you okay?” rafe asks observing her face.

closing her eyes, y/n takes a deep breath then setting her phone down onto the bed and started to get out of the plush cameron bed.

“woah, woah, woah, where you going sweet thing?” rafe quickly followed now standing in front of her with his hands on each side of her face caressing her soft cheekbones with his thumbs.

“rafe” y/n smiles and tilts her head up looking at the tall boy.

“you know, not all of us can be kooks” sending him a sad smile.

shortly after rafes constant attempts to get y/n not to go to work he accepted his loss in the battle and dropped her off.

she was 2 hours into her shift and nothing had gone wrong yet, but of course she knew something was bound to happen seeing as her brother and his friends new where she worked so it was all just a matter of time.

as soon as her break hits she’s pushing the back door of the the store open for some fresh air only to be met with the pouges.

“what do you guys want” y/n spoke sitting on her usual break bench and gave into her fate.

“i don’t understand why’d you do this to us” john b speaks up first.

y/n eyebrows furrow “i didn’t ‘do’ anything to do” she emphasizes the ‘do’ “not everything is about you bee” using her brother nickname only reserved for her.

“i never said tha-“ john b interjects.

“but thats what you meant, you know i’m actually happy?” y/n humourless laughs then begins to raises her voice “i don’t remember the last time i’ve even been this happy and the second you find out its not in a way you ‘approve’ of you want to try and take it from me”

“we-“ jj tries to interject something else but y/n doesn’t even give him the chance as she grows angrier every time they say something.

“you know he hasn’t bothered you guys in months but you’re all too self absorbed in your fucking shit to even see that and where the fuck was all this when john started dating sarah” y/n’s voice quivers but also grows louder as she stands up “huh?”

“i always supported you and sarah” y/n addresses the young couple making eye contact with the cameron who continued to remain silent “nice to know kindness is a one way street with you guys”

“y/n we never meant to try take away your happiness” kie spits out as y/n starts towards the door.

she turns around to face the pouges “then what were you trying to do?” they all look down at the ground or just stay silent.

“that’s what i thought”

important note!: hi! recently i reached 2k followers (what the actual fuck) so i’ve decided to come up with a little celebration. this celebration would guys yall the option to send in a prompt, blurb, rec list request and stuff like that for any of the characters i would list (like obx for example) would that interest you guys or am i dululu as fuck? lmk through a simple anon or commenting, thanks! ♡

taglist: @faeaura @prettyboystarkey @euthoricspidey @pankowfruitsnacks @rafecameronswhore @yunho-leeknow @outeredits-jess @totallynotkaibiased @jjmaybankslittleslut

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buckys-wintersoldier · 8 days

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Dinner with the mobster | Bucky Barnes

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> Mob!Single!Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> Your boss - who is also the most feared man in town - asks you to go out for dinner with him. When he suggests to take his daughter with him, you agree to go out with them.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 2.295

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> (G) none, just fluff

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 -> Hi I absolutely love your work. I was wondering if you could write a mob boss! Single dad!Bucky Barnes x reader. Feel free to ignore if it makes you uncomfortable. Thank you 🤎🤎

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you so much for your nice words, they really mean a lot and thank you for the sweet request. I wanted to write more for Mob!Bucky and your request was the perfect opportunity to do so. I hope you like what I made with it.🩷🩷 Divider made by @firefly-graphics.

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 -> AFG Fluff Bingo | Row Two-One | First Date | @anyfandomfluffbingo

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

James Buchanan Barnes, the most popular mobster in town, has at least one hundred men who are protecting him and another one hundred men as well as women who clean his house, cook for him, or do other chores. His house - his villa - near the forest is almost not even in town anymore. The man could have every woman, and almost every woman admires him. He has long brown hair, mostly tied into a bun; his beard is trimmed; he has ocean blue eyes; and he has a smile that could light up the darkest night. James has a muscular body, is tall, and is just the dream of every woman. But even though he could have it all, he lives with his daughter alone. But he has an eye on someone, someone who doesn’t look really interested in him, which slightly confuses him but makes her more interesting for the mobster.

“Daddy, look what I found,” his princess says with a proud smile, holding up a book in her hands.

He furrows his eyebrows, his legs spread, while he sits on his couch and waits for the woman he asked to come into his office. In his hand, he holds a glass of his favorite Bourbon while he looks at his daughter. She walks closer to him, pushing herself up to sit on his lap before she holds the book closer to his face. James reads the title on it and smirks.

“That’s the book your friends - my employees - wrote into, isn’t it?” he asks with a smirk.

He told all his closest employees to write into the book after his princess was sad about having just four people - next to her - written into it. Those people were James, Sam, Steve, and Natasha. And then she asked her daddy if he knew if some more who wanted to write into it. Of course she also has friends, but the little girl prefers the big men around her, commanding them around like her daddy does, and he enjoys seeing his well-working education.

“Do you wanna see it?” she asks, kissing her daddy’s cheek softly.

The small girl looks like James - just the smaller, female version - but she has the same brown hair, ocean blue eyes, and the same smirk and pout on her lips as her daddy.

“But just until Y/N is here,” James says, and he turns his daughter around.

With his hands wrapped around her tummy, he looks over her shoulder. Her small back is pressed against his broad chest. Then she opens the book and waits for her daddy to start reading. James does, and his princess is always telling him something about the pictures before he can turn to the next side.

After a few minutes, it knocks at the door, and he looks up to see you standing there, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. You play with your fingers, looking down, while you just stand there and wait for James to give you instructions.

“I- I can- I’m sorry for distracting you,” you mumble when your nervousness grows.

“No, it’s fine. I asked you to come here, so please come in,” he says with his rough voice, and you shiver slightly.

When you met him for the first time, he was scary, and being so close to such a dangerous man can still be scary, but he is all soft and sweet around you and makes you feel like you are special to him. Little do you know you’re special to him, and he would buy the whole town, the moon, or the whole universe for you just to see your smile and hear you laughing while he is the reason for it.

James leans closer to his daughter, kissing her cheek before he lifts her off his lap and places her in front of him.

“Tell Uncle Stevie he has to give you some cookies,” James says, laughing when he sees his daughter jumping around with a giggle before she runs out of the room.

His ocean blue eyes then meet you again, and he gets off the couch as well. James walks closer to the door, gripping the doorknob while he waits for you to walk into the room to close the door behind you. It makes you a bit uncomfortable to be all alone with him in a room, but you know you’re safe.

“Wanna drink something, Bourbon? It’s a good one, my favorite bourbon.”

“N-no, thank you. I- Uhm- I’m fine, really,” you mumble.

You could face palm yourself when you realize what you just said. He didn’t want to know more, just if you wanted to have a drink. You inhale deeply while he leads you to the couch. When the two of you are taking a seat, he smiles and turns his head toward you.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?”

“N-no. I can take care of your daughter when you have plans for tonight.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” he laughs softly and takes a sip of his bourbon. “More like, do you have time to go out with me?”

Your mouth drops open, and you swallow hard, rubbing your palms over your pants to dry the sweat.

“I- You’re my boss, James,” you say quietly, turning your head away.

He chuckles softly and slides his hand to your back, stroking it softly while he takes another sip of his bourbon. The shiver along your spine makes him grin even more, and the way your body reacts to his touch lets him admire you even more.

“I’m not asking you, actually. Babydoll, let me take you out, please.”

“I-I don’t want to overstep boundaries. I- James, I should go back to my room,” you mumble.

Bucky chuckles; the way his body vibrates against yours sent another shiver along your spine. His thumb moves closer to your lips before he slides it over them, making you gasp. Your boss is so close, you can feel his hot breath on your skin; his touches are like electricity, causing more goosebumps all over your skin. Bucky leans closer, his lips almost touching your ear, inhaling your scent before he kisses your earlobe.

“How about we take Mia with us? You love her, and she loves you.”

None of the two of you mentioned that there are feelings between you and Bucky. You nod softly, but he sees it and smiles, kissing your earlobe again. Then he pulls away.

“I will pick you up in an hour,” he says, getting up, and you follow.

The two of you walk to the door. He opens it and runs his fingers over your back before you walk out of the room and to yours to change into something better to go out with your boss.

Like he told you, he is knocking at your door an hour later, wearing a suit - like always - his cologne all around you, and you smile softly when you look into his beautiful face. His brown hair is tied back, and he holds the tiny hand of his daughter. She is smiling at you as well as her daddy, both admiring you in your dress. Bucky in another way as the girl, but they both can’t get their eyes off of you. Bucky clears his throat and takes a step to the side, letting you walk out of the room.

“You look beautiful, doll.”

You blush, scratching the back of your neck.

“Daddy said we gonna go to my favorite restaurant,” she tells you with a proud smile.

You’re still not pretty sure what to say or how to act since your boss has invited you to go out with him. So you smile nicely and walk with him and Mia to the cars in the garage.

Bucky is a gentleman, opening the door for you, making sure you’re comfortable, but always taking care of his daughter too.

When you arrive at the restaurant, he takes your hand in his, stroking his thumb over the back of your hand. He makes sure you’re comfortable; otherwise, he would immediately let go of your hand. But there is not even a hint of discomfort on your face, just a small smile on your lips. Together with you and Mia, he walks to the entrance, letting the two of you walk into it before he follows you.

“Good evening,” the waiter says, his muscles tensing when he sees Bucky.

“Good evening, a table for three by the name of Barnes.”

The man in front of Bucky nods and shows you the table. You’re helping Mia out of her jacket and talking to her while you walk through the restaurant. The eyes of the people widen when they see James walking with his daughter and a woman through the room. He smirks when he offers you a seat, takes your and Mia’s jackets out of your hands, and sits across from you, smiling widely with his steel blue eyes piercing into yours. His tattoo-covered arms rest with the sleeves slightly up and his arms on the table, and he just admires you while you look between Mia and him with a small smile.

“Good evening. Have you already decided what you like to eat?” a woman asks, her smile shy, and her eyes dart from Bucky to you and back to the muscular man.

“As always, for my daughter and for me,” he says, then turns his face to you and smiles softly. “And you, doll?”

A shiver rushes through your body, and butterflies go crazy in your belly when he calls you by that nickname in front of other people. Then you look at the waitress and order your food as well. She just nods, takes the menus, and walks back to the kitchen.

“Y/N?” Mia asks, her hand touching yours.

“Yes?”

“Do you like daddy?”

You almost choke on your own saliva when she asks that. Of course you do; who doesn’t? He is a gentle and soft man; he is beautiful, muscular, and makes you laugh. You feel safe with him, not just because there are always some of his men around, but just because of him. On the other hand, he doesn’t act in a soft way with others like you always thought, which makes the feelings you have for him stronger. Bucky doesn’t say anything to the question; he just smirks and waits for you to answer, wanting to know what you think about him.

“I-I- He is nice, but he is my boss,” you mumble.

“But you like him?”

“Yes, but I like you too, Mia.”

“So do you want to be my new mommy?”

This question caught you off guard, and your jaw drops immediately. Bucky chuckles are low and rough, causing your skin to tingle. He makes you feel things you never thought you would feel, especially not for him. The most fearful man in town, a mobster. But also your boss, a wonderful and sweet man and daddy of a beautiful and cute daughter.

“Say yes, and I’m gonna make you mine tonight,” he says.

Your breath hitches, your body shakes softly in anticipation, and you nod. Do you want it? Want to be his? Of course, you definitely want to be his.

“Y-yes.”

Mia smirks, ready to throw herself around your neck, but the food arrives at your table and she learned manners from her daddy, so she just squirms a bit in her seat but starts eating and smirks the whole time at you. Your cheeks are red, and you fix the plate with food in front of you instead of facing Bucky. What if he just wanted to know what you feel for him, but he just wants to play with you? But he is just so soft with you and not with any other woman around him.

“Doll?” his rough voice interrupts your thoughts, and you look at him. “Please let me make you mine. I know the way you look at me, and you’re the only woman I want to have. I have loved you since we first met.”

“O-Oke. B-But I can’t work for you then. H-How can I pay for my things?”

“You don’t have to pay anything. Don’t forget who you’re talking to; you will get everything you need, and you just need to ask me,” he tells you with the softest smile you have ever seen.

When you nod again, his eyes light up, and he can’t help but get up to walk around the table. He gets on his knees next to you, capturing your cheeks with his big hands before he leans closer and presses his soft, plumb lips on yours. Kissing you in a way no one has ever kissed you before, so filled with love and passion. When you kiss him back, he smirks, pulling you even closer, and your hands grip his shoulder, your fingers sliding along his neck. Mia cheers quietly, giggling and looking at the two of you in awe while he bits into her nugget. You blush when Bucky leans back, his thumb stroking your lips, and his blue eyes say more than words could ever say.

“I love you, doll. My precious doll.”

“I-I love you, too.”

“Andddddd I love you. And my nuggies,” Mia says, holding her nugget up to show it.

“Yeah. We love you too, little girl,” Bucky laughs and kisses you again, then he gets up and takes his seat again to finish eating.

Your cheeks are still red, especially when you recognize that everyone in the restaurant was looking at the two of you. But when you look at Bucky, every fear fades away, and you feel just loved by him.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨

𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

Taglist: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @lives-in-midgard @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry

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erikatsu · 1 year

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DON'T LET ME GO ⋆.ೃ࿔* ═ FUSHIGURO TOJI

˗ˏˋ PAIRING ˎˊ˗ fushiguro toji x fem!reader

˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ˎˊ˗ your ex’s dad comforts you after your break up.

˗ˏˋ WARNINGS ˎˊ˗ kinda angsty and soft. age gap, body worship (?), unprotected sex, pet names (baby, sweetheart), multiple orgasms, cervix fucking, baby trapping, creampie, aftercare, unedited

˗ˏˋ NOTE ˎˊ˗ repost from old acc !

The soft tapping of the beginning rain hitting your windshield calmed you as you shut off the car. You couldn't help but think it was funny that the sky matched your mood. Dark, cloudy, and crying for you since you refused to do so yourself. Not anymore. Not over him, the boy who broke your heart after being together for over two years.

You sighed, shutting off your vehicle as you talked yourself up. You’ll be fine, you assured yourself. Just get your things and go.

Easier said than done.

You blindly reached for the door handle, slowly pulling it open. Your heart raced as you yanked your hood over your head, dashing out into the soft rain. The petrichor hit your nose as it began to pick up, and you pulled your jacket tighter around you as you quickly walked up to the large house. You'd been here countless times, but the traditional Japanese style of the home always left you in awe. The dark zegiel tiles that lined the roof and met the kawara with the family crest in the center on top of the white clay walls accented by black wood fed your aesthetic for juxtaposition.

You could remember the first time you came here. You were left breathless as you stared into the koi pond in the backyard, watching the fish swimming and the reds of the palmate maples and whites of the plum blossoms dance across the water’s reflection. You made a comment to your ex’s father that a Wisteria would suit the garden nicely between the black and white pines, as it lacked blues and purples, upon meeting him before you could think about what you had said. Fortunately for you, he agreed. Seeing it planted exactly where you pictured made you smile to this very day.

Fushiguro Toji had always given you what your heart desired. When questioned about it by his son, the answer was always a simple, “You two remind me of your mother and I.” But, that wasn't it. Not really. In truth, Fushiguro Toji had always been taken with you. It was wrong, as you were his son’s age and (at the time) his son’s girlfriend. However, it wasn't like Toji would truly act on these feelings.

No, Fushiguro Toji was a gentleman. All class with a smart mouth and dashing good looks to top it off, not only would he not come between you and his son, he wouldn't risk his career. Pulling away from the Zen’in clan and getting married at a young age had been the wildest thing he’s done in his life. After losing his wife and working full time to support Megumi, he had to do and be better than his family. Risking everything he'd worked towards for a woman half his age would be a waste. Instead, he showed his interest through material things under the guise of “one day she’ll be part of the family, she gets the Fushiguro treatment.”

Because a thing like money was no issue to Toji, he didn't mind spending it on you if it meant seeing you smile. Being the King of Kabutochō meant as long as he had investors, there would always be money.

Even in the dreary weather, the landscaping of the property was still breathtaking. You didn't realize you'd been standing, staring into the yard instead of walking up the wooden steps to take cover underneath the extension of the roof, supported by tall wooden beams. With one last look, you made your way to the door, raising a hesitant hand to knock. You were so used to just walking in, a backpack slung over your shoulder and full of clothes to stay the weekend instead of staying on campus. Having to knock was another reminder that this would be your last visit here.

You let your hand fall against the door, causing the dogs inside to bark. A voice barked back at them, telling them to be quiet and go lay down. You recognized it, wondering why Toji was answering the door instead of Megumi. He knew you'd be by today. Was he avoiding you? Or was he with the girl who had stolen his heart from you?

The door swung open, revealing Toji and all his morning glory. His hair disheveled, still in his silk pajamas. His eyes widened when he saw you, not knowing you were coming over. Before he could ask why you were knocking, he saw the red of your eyelids and your bloodshot eyes. His brow furrowed, bottom lip pushing outwards in confusion.

“You've been crying. What's wrong?” He questioned, causing the familiar sting of tears to torment you as you tried to keep yourself composed.

You wanted to tell him you'd been crying for three days now, and that you swore you wouldn't anymore before leaving the house. But, when you opened your mouth to tell him the truth, your voice caught in your throat. Just like that, your resolve crumbled. You allowed the tears to form, unable to stop them from flowing as Toji pulled you into the house.

You refrained from answering as you took off your shoes and faced them towards the door. As soon as you turned back to face him, he pulled you into his chest, causing you to break down in his arms.

“He– He broke up with me,” You managed to choke out, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would stop the tears that fell from them. A harsh sob wracked your body as you felt yourself latch onto him, clinging to him for comfort that you desperately needed. His large hands rubbed your back, trying his best to console you as you gasped for air and dampened his shirt. “There's– There's someone else.”

The twinge of anger he felt flare up was nothing compared to his heart breaking at the sight of you like this. Crying over his son, who damn well had been raised better than to play with something as fragile and delicate as someone’s heart.

“I’ll kill him,” Toji muttered before placing a gentle kiss atop your head.

You sniffled, trying to quickly compose yourself. You were already embarrassed that you had gotten snot and slobber on his expensive silk. But bringing it back up had all your insecurities floating toward the surface. Your lower lip trembled as you found yourself questioning, “I-is there something wrong with me? Am I not pretty enough? O-or–”

Toji pulled away slightly, softly hooking a finger under your chin. He gently lifted your head up so you'd look at him, his eyebrows furrowed with bewilderment. He shook his head at you. “Stop right there. You're the most stunning person in the entire world. You're kind, you're funny, and anyone would be lucky to have you. Only an idiot would let you go.”

The sincerity in his tone had your heart racing as you stared at him, wide eyed at his revelation. Before you could realize what you were doing, you were leaning into him. Your lips met his, reminding him of honey with how soft and sweet you were. He was too stunned to move, never expecting you to kiss him. But, just as quickly as you leaned in, you were pulling away with apologies falling from your mouth.

“Mr. Fushiguro, I'm sorry!” You stepped back, shaking your head as you internally scolded yourself for being an idiot. “That was wrong, I don't know what came over me. I just need to get my things from Megumi and I'll be gone.”

“He's not here,” Toji cleared his throat, letting his hand drop from your chin. “You can go to his room, I'm sure he's got it all there.”

You nodded, promptly heading upstairs so you could grab your things and scatter. You were absolutely abashed, kicking yourself for kissing him like that. He was a grown man, old enough to be your own father. You didn't know what came over you, just chalked it up to being lost in a moment of weakness. What person wouldn't swoon at his words? Or read too much into what he said and how he said it?

Shaking the fleeting thought away from your mind, you entered Megumi's room to see a box of your things sitting on the edge of his nicely made bed. You frowned, knowing your relationship was truly over. Your heart clenched tightly as you picked the box up and took one last longing look around his room.

Another sigh left your lips as you left, going back downstairs to see Toji staring out the window in the living room, watching the steady rain turn into a harsh downpour. No matter how much he squinted, he couldn't fully make out the purple blooms of the Wisteria he'd planted for you in the thick of the gray rainfall.

He turned, looking over his shoulder as you approached him. Your eyes were locked on the outside, wondering if it was even safe to drive home when the rain could turn into a monsoon at any given moment. Toji apparently had the same thought, taking the box from you and setting it off to the side.

“I'd be more comfortable if you stayed until it calms down out there,” He admitted to you, just now noticing you were still soaked from the rain earlier. “I'll have a bath drawn for you and get you a fresh change of clothes.”

He insisted, even though you assured him you'd be fine. He wouldn't take no for an answer, leading you to the private ofuro at the back of the house. He slid the shoji out of the way, revealing the large wooden tub full of already steaming water. The warmth hit you as you stepped inside the sunroom, watching the rain heavily hitting the windows that allowed in the natural light.

You'd never been in this room before, knowing this was part of Toji’s bathroom. You were taken away with the dark hinoki wood that not only made the tub, but filled the room with its natural lemony scent. You weren't listening as Toji told you where you could find everything, walking towards the tub and lightly feeling the water. It was hot, but not scalding as you pushed through the surface tension, swirling your hand for a brief second before pulling away.

When you turned to ask for a towel, he was already behind you, smiling at you in amusement. You jumped, not expecting him to be right there. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest again, more due to his close proximity than anything else. The thought of kissing him crossed your mind again, a thin veil of heat covering your cheeks as you looked away. He cupped your cheek, slowly bringing your gaze back to him. His free hand grabbed your hip, pulling you closer before delicately catching your lips with his own.

You don't know what drove you to move your mouth against his, but you didn't stop yourself as you wound your arms around his neck. Your head was spinning as he gently tugged at your bottom lip, unable to believe you were kissing your ex-boyfriend's father. Toji’s fingers dug into your side, gently rubbing his thumb over your hip. You opened your mouth, allowing him in as your mind went blank. Your hands trailed from his neck down to his chest, and just as he thought you'd push him away, you were undoing the buttons of his shirt.

His breath hitched as you broke the kiss, looking up at him almost innocently, “Stay with me.”

All his morals had gone out the window the second he decided to kiss you. His hands were pushing your jacket off your shoulders and he was lifting your shirt over your head in response, knowing full and well this was crossing one hell of a line. But, it's not like Megumi would know. He'd already texted, saying he'd be at Yuuji’s until the weather slowed so he wouldn't be coming home anytime soon.

Clothes were haphazardly thrown across the room before you slipped into the ofuro with Toji, back pressed tightly to his chest as he peppered light kisses against the soft skin of your neck and shoulders. The heat of the water mixed with the feathery soft touches caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. You tilted your head back, resting against him as hands traveled over your body, like tracing lines on a map. He'd sear every inch of you into his twisted mind, memorizing the soft gasps that fell off your lips as he gently cupped your breast and ran his down your belly. Once his fingers brushed your clit, you let out a sharp noise.

He tenderly rubbed at your sensitive bud, kissing at your neck. You allowed your eyes to close as he toyed with you under the water, a whimper escaping you from the stimulation. Wrapped up with him had you forgetting why you had even come over, had you overlooking the fact this was Megumi’s father and he was over twenty years older than you. No, brushed all of that aside as you twisted your body, sitting in his lap as your mouth found his and you rolled your hips against his hard on.

You were going to drive him wild.

Your perfect body pushing flush against his as you squeezed him in all the right places, your soft lips against his tasting like strawberries and mint. His mind was reeling, already intoxicated by how you felt and leaving him wanting more as you rocked your hips.

You shouldn't have been surprised when he lifted you out of the water, carefully stepping out of the tub, but you scrambled to lock your legs around his toned waist as he carried you towards his room. Water dripped onto the floor, leaving a trail from the sunroom to the bedroom. He never broke contact until he placed you on the bed, kissing his way down your body until his head was between your legs as his tongue ran up and down your slick.

“God, you're so fucking beautiful,” He mumurmed against your skin before gently pressing his lips to your clit. You whimpered as buried his head between your thighs again, lapping at your wet core as if his tongue was trying to memorize your sweet, gummy walls. Because he was lost in you and your moans, adding fingers and not stopping even as you came in his mouth. Overtaken with the need to have you, he ended up drowning in your heat, pussy drunk off the idea of making you cum until you couldn't anymore.

You tangled your fingers into his hair, pushing him even further as you whined at the feeling of his fingers curling in and out of you, along with his mouth gently sucking at your clit.

“Toji–” You panted, breath catching in your throat as your head spun from the overstimulation he was putting you through. “Nngh, s’too much.”

But he wasn't listening, working his two digits and mouth even faster. You keened, back arching as you rolled your hips up. Your entire body tingling and about to go through another wave of euphoria when he finally pulled away.

He towered over you, cupping your cheek as he leaned in. Instead of kissing you, he rested his forehead against yours. He ran his thumb along your bottom lip, breathing heavily, “Do you want this?”

You were nodding before he even finished his question, staring into his dark blue eyes, “Yes. I want you.”

God, did you want him. Your mind was so overclouded with the thought of him, you had completely pushed Megumi far from your mind. You'd forgotten you'd spent days crying, sobbing over a boy as you were under Toji.

He groaned, reaching down to grab his cock, rubbing it over your entrance a few times before pushing inside. Your eyes fluttered, closing completely as he slowly fucked into you. He kissed you as he evocatively rocked his hips, high pitched gasps leaving your body at the feeling of his raw shaft working deeper inside you and stretching you out. You whimpered against his mouth when he bottomed out, brushing up against the entrance of your womb.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby,” He moaned into your mouth, finding a steady rhythm to roll his hips to.

He was savoring the way you felt as you squeezed him, the way you tasted, how soft your lips were. He couldn't believe he finally had you, underneath him and taking his length like a champ. He never would've acted on his attraction for you if you hadn't done so first. As his cock dragged along your walls and his tongue danced with yours, the thought of filling your pretty little cunt full of his seed briefly crossed his mind.

Toji pulled away from you, sliding out before rolling you over and pulling your hips up. He sunk back into your slick with heavy curses flying from his mouth. You mewled as he pressed his chest to your back, his lips brushing where your shoulder met your neck. He reached even further than before, his cock kissing your cervix with each stroke, eliciting soft yelps from you every time.

“Toji, please,” You whined out, gripping the sheets tightly in your hands. “Faster.”

His slow thrusts only picked up slightly, teasing you as he smirked against your skin. You let out a noise of complaint as he chuckled, moving his head to whisper in your ear, “You gotta be more specific, sweetheart.”

You groaned as he pushed deep inside, rutting into your tight hole as he turned your head to once again kiss you. As he locked lips with you, he kept his strokes short and deep, but faster as you had asked. Your moans filled his mouth, spurring him on as he bullied you from behind. The sound of his balls smacking against your wet cunt was all he could hear besides you, pushing you closer to the edge with each thrust.

Your knuckles were turning white as your pussy clenched around his cock and you gripped the sheets even tighter. He groaned, pulling away from you as he murmured, “That's right baby, cum for me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, crying out as you felt a tight knot building inside you. Toji pushed himself up, grabbing your hips and forcing them back each time he rocked into you. A choked noise left you as he fucked you into your high, cumming around with his cock with a sharp whine. He rode you out, slowing down as your grip on him loosened and you were left breathless.

He gradually pulled out, flipping you back over. Pushing one of your thighs back, he lined himself up before slipping back into you with ease. Your back arched as he worked his rhythm back up, long thrusts instead of short as he began to chase his own orgasm. Grunts fell from his lips as he rammed into you, yelps emitted from you in turn. You cried out his name, sending his mind into a frenzy.

He loved the way his name rolled off your tongue instead of “Mr. Fushiguro”. You had always addressed him as that, even though he had told you several times that Toji was fine. He’s glad you waited though, making the experience that much better.

As you squirmed under him, pleasured noises leaving your mouth, he found himself close to his own high, warning you he was going to cum. He had every intention of pulling out, but something in you snapped and you locked your legs around his waist, jerking him in as far as he could go.

“Nngh, you're playing a dangerous game here, sweetheart,” He groaned, losing all control of his hips as your actions threw him into his high. He drilled into you, his balls slapping your skin so hard you were sure they'd leave marks. With one last thrust, he pushed as deep as he could go, spilling his hot seed into your tight cunt.

You both panted, catching your breath as he finally pulled out of you. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips before standing. Toji dipped back into the bathroom before coming back with a towel and silk robes. As he cleaned you up, you couldn't help but let your mind wander.

Toji had always been intimidating, but you got to see that he wasn't. He was sweet and more gentle than he seemed. You couldn't help but wonder what would come from what just happened. Whether it continued, became serious, or was forgotten didn't much matter to you.

You slipped on the robe, lying back down on the side of the super wide king bed that wasn't soaked from the bath water or your juices. Toji flopped down beside you, running a large hand up your leg and stopping as he decided to rest it on your ass.

“If you wanted me to breed you, baby, you should’a just said so,” He teased, causing heat to rush to your cheeks.

The two of you had been so invested in each other, you didn't realize the rain had stopped shortly after it started. But, you were still wrapped up in the older man and how he made you feel so good that you'd completely forgotten the reason for your visit.

You walked your fingers up his chest, about to give a coy response when a voice from the doorway had you immediately halfing in your tracks.

“Dad!?”

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