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pucksandpower · 14 days

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Oscar Jack Piastri-Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x wife!Reader

Summary: congrats … it’s a boy!

You wake up to the sound of the apartment door closing, followed by Charles’ familiar footsteps down the hallway. Sunlight streams in through the curtains as he enters the bedroom, still dressed in his sweaty workout clothes.

“Mon amour, you’ll never believe what just happened,” he says, unable to contain his excitement.

You rub the sleep from your eyes. “What is it, babe?”

“I adopted Oscar Piastri.”

You blink a few times, unsure if you heard that correctly. “You … adopted Oscar Piastri? The McLaren driver?”

“Yes!” Charles exclaims, flopping down on the bed beside you. “It all started when he tweeted about wanting to find Monégasque roots so the Monaco Grand Prix could be his home race.”

“Okay ...” You try to wrap your head around this bizarre situation.

“So I replied saying I could just adopt him if needed. And you know how Oscar is, always ready with a witty comeback.” Charles grins. “He said to call him Oscar Jack Piastri-Leclerc and that he wants to meet Leo on Thursday at McLaren.”

“Charles ...” You can’t help but laugh at the sheer absurdity. “You can’t just adopt a fully-grown man! Especially another F1 driver!”

“Why not?” He throws his arm around you, pulling you close. “We’re gonna be one big happy family. The two of us, Leo, Oscar, Ollie, and whoever else we decide to adopt along the way.”

You playfully shove him away. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe a little.” Charles winks. “But you love me for it.”

Rolling your eyes, you get out of bed and head for the kitchen, Charles trailing behind. “So does this mean Oscar is coming for family dinner this Thursday?”

“Of course! We have to celebrate properly.” Charles scoops Leo up from his bed, cradling the puppy in his arms. “What do you say, Leo? You ready to have another big brother?”

Leo licks Charles’ face, tail wagging excitedly. You lean against the counter, watching your husband and puppy with a fond smile.

“I suppose I’ll have to set an extra place at the table,” you muse. “Your mother is going to flip when she finds out about this.”

“Maman keeps asking when we’ll give her grandchildren, she’ll be thrilled!” Charles insists. “Who wouldn’t want Oscar as a grandson?”

You snort at that. “Grandson? You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

“I’m serious!” He sets Leo down and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “We can make it official. Have a baby shower and everything once this weekend is over with.”

“You’re unbelievable.” You shake your head in amused exasperation, resting your hands on his chest.

Charles leans in close, his warm breath fanning across your face. “Admit it, my particular brand of crazy kinda does it for you.”

You bite your lip to stifle a grin. “Keep talking and maybe I’ll consider it.”

His eyes spark with mischief and he dips his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You melt against him, tangling your fingers in his hair and kissing him back with equal fervor. A loud bark from Leo breaks you apart, both slightly flushed.

“Not in front of the puppy,” Charles teases, booping Leo on the nose.

You swat his arm. “Stop being a brat and go take a shower, you’re all gross and sweaty from the gym.”

“Mmm, why don’t you join me?” He waggles his eyebrows in an over-exaggerated leer.

You laugh, shoving him away playfully. “Not a chance, mister. I have to go out and buy another place setting for our new family member.”

“Can I at least have a good luck kiss? It’s Monaco race week, after all. I’ll need all the luck I can get.” Charles bats his eyes at you in an exaggerated pout.

Shaking your head fondly, you rise up on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “There. Now go get ready.”

Still grinning like a loon, Charles saunters off to the bathroom. You crouch down and scoop up Leo, pressing a kiss to the top of his fuzzy head.

“Your dad is something else, you know that?” You murmur affectionately.

A few hours later, you return home laden with groceries to find Charles lounging on the couch scrolling through his phone. He looks up as you enter, eyes bright.

“Good timing, I was just about to call you.”

“Oh yeah?” You set the bags on the counter and start unpacking. “What’s up?”

“I was thinking ...” Charles gets up and comes over, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “We should do something special for Oscar’s first official family dinner. Maybe a nice home cooked meal out on the balcony?”

You lean back against his chest with a contented hum. “That does sound lovely.”

“I’ll cook!” Charles volunteers immediately. “My famous carbonara?”

“You just want to show Oscar you can manage to make something without burning the apartment down, don’t you?” You laugh, twisting in his embrace to face him.

Charles ducks his head sheepishly. “Maybe a little.”

“Well, I’m not complaining.” You peck him on the cheek. “Go ahead and make your carbonara for our new adopted son.”

“Yes!” He pumps his fist in the air victoriously.

You shake your head at his antics, warmth blooming in your chest. “I love you, you big goof.”

The smile Charles gives you is utterly radiant. “I love you too.”

He pulls you in for a deep, lingering kiss, holding you close. You get so lost in the moment that you don’t notice Leo trotting up and pawing at your legs until he lets out a pointed bark. Laughing, you reluctantly break the kiss.

“Sorry, baby.” Charles scoops up the puppy, scratching behind his ears. “We didn’t mean to leave you out.”

You take Leo from his arms, pressing a smiling kiss to his soft fur. “Don’t worry, you’ll always be our favorite.”

“That’s right,” Charles agrees, booping Leo’s nose. “No matter how many race car drivers we adopt, you’ll always be number one.”

The three of you spend the rest of the afternoon lounging contentedly together, Charles and Leo snuggled up on either side of you. It almost makes you forget the madness that kick started this whole situation in the first place.

Almost.

A few days later, after the drivers have finally been freed from their Thursday media obligations, your doorbell rings. You share a look with Charles as Leo starts barking.

“I’ll get it,” he says, already knowing who it is.

Sure enough, a few moments later Charles returns to the living room with Oscar in tow, looking rather sheepish. You rise to greet your new son.

“Oscar, hi! Come on in.” You pull him in for a hug, which he returns tentatively.

“Sorry about all … this.” Oscar gestures vaguely as you part. “I was just joking on Twitter but then Charles actually went and-”

“Adopted you, yeah.” You laugh. “Don’t worry about it, we’re happy to have you as part of the family.”

“Still getting used to that idea, to be honest.” Oscar scratches the back of his neck.

You wave a dismissive hand. “Well, get ready for lots of family gatherings and parental nagging from this point on.”

“Oh boy.” Despite his words, Oscar’s mouth quirks up in an amused grin.

“Starting with tonight’s big family dinner out on the balcony,” Charles interjects, slinging an arm around Oscar’s shoulders. “You like pasta?”

“Do I ever.” Oscar brightens. “Is Leo gonna be there too?”

“Of course! Can’t leave out my favorite son.” Charles scoops up the puppy, plopping him in Oscar’s arms. “Here, get acquainted with your new little brother.”

“Hiya little guy,” Oscar says softly, instantly melting as Leo licks his face. You watch the tender interaction with a warm smile.

“He’s taken a real shine to you already,” you comment. “I think Leo approves of his new big brother.”

Oscar ducks his head shyly but you can see the corners of his mouth tugging up into a grin. “Guess that makes me an official part of the family then.”

“Damn right it does!” Charles crows, throwing an arm around each of your shoulders and pulling you both in for an enthusiastic group hug.

You laugh, squished between them. “Easy there, dad. You’re gonna smother the poor kid before he’s even settled in.”

“What, you’re not excited to finally have your dream son?” Charles teases, ruffling Oscar’s hair affectionately. “Our little family is complete now.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you extricate yourself from the embrace. “Why don’t you boys go set up for dinner while I start cooking? The balcony still needs to be prepped.”

“You got it, mon cœur.” Charles drops a kiss on your cheek before herding Oscar out towards the balcony, Leo cradled in his arms. “Come on, son. Let’s get this place looking perfect for your first official Leclerc family dinner.”

You shake your head as their voices fade down the hall, chuckling under your breath. Only your husband would take a silly Twitter joke this far. But as you start gathering ingredients for your grandmother’s legendary bolognese recipe, you can’t help but feel a swell of contentment.

Having Oscar around is certainly going to take some getting used to. But there’s no denying the warm affection and familial love you already feel towards the bashful but kindhearted young man. He fits right in with the playful, chaotic energy that defines your little household.

By the time the sun begins to dip below the horizon, bathing the apartment in a warm golden glow, the balcony is set up beautifully. You carry out the steaming pots of food to find Charles and Oscar setting out plates and glasses, Leo scampering around their feet. Your heart feels full just looking at them.

“This all looks wonderful, you two,” you say, setting the food down on the table. “Now we just need the guest of honor to arrive.”

“Maman’s never been late to dinner a day in her life,” Charles assures you. “She’ll be here any minute.”

Sure enough, there’s a rapid knocking at the door only moments later. You share an amused look with Oscar before going to answer it, Charles and Leo trailing behind.

“Maman!” Charles exclaims as you pull open the door to reveal his mother waiting on the other side. “Perfect timing.”

“Of course, we can’t start dinner without-” She breaks off abruptly as her eyes land on Oscar hovering behind you. “Charles, darling, who is this?”

“Maman, I’d like you to meet Oscar.” Charles beams as he gestures between them. “Your new grandson.”

A heavy silence falls over the room as Charles’ mother processes this bombshell. Her gaze flicks between the three of you, searching your faces for any sign that this is all an elaborate prank.

Finally, she seems to deflate with a sigh. “Oh Charles … what have you done now?”

And just like that, the floodgates open as both of you rush to explain the situation, talking over each other eagerly. Watching the animated scene unfold, Oscar catches your eye with a helpless look.

You just shrug, a soft smile playing at your lips. Chaotic as it is, this is your family now and wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

The following week, the doorbell rings just as you’re putting the final touches on dinner. Charles bounds over to answer it, Leo hot on his heels.

“Oscar! Ollie! Good, you’re both here.” Charles’ voice carries easily through the apartment.

You poke your head out of the kitchen, oven mitts still on. “Is that our other son I hear?”

“The one and only!” Ollie Bearman strolls in behind Oscar, looking completely at ease.

Oscar raises an eyebrow at the younger driver. “Why is nobody surprised you’re here?”

Ollie shrugs nonchalantly. “Teen pregnancy?”

You let out an undignified snort of laughter as Oscar gapes at him. “Don’t look at me, Charles carried you for nine months himself.”

“What?” Ollie whips his head around to stare at Charles in abject horror.

Charles just grins, slinging an arm around each of their shoulders. “You heard the woman. My body is a wonderland.”

“Oh my god.” Oscar buries his face in his hands as you dissolve into peals of laughter. “Why are you like this?”

“Because it’s fun to watch you squirm,” Charles replies cheerfully.

You wipe tears from your eyes as you head back into the kitchen. “Dinner’s just about ready, come grab a plate! Oh, and pray you don’t get food poisoning.”

Soon you’re all settled around the balcony table, tucking into plates piled high with food. Ollie kicks things off by turning to you with a smile.

“This is amazing, thanks for cooking!”

“Don’t thank me, it was all Charles this time,” you say, gesturing to your husband sitting across from you.

Ollie’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You cooked all this? Damn, maybe having you as a dad won’t be so bad after all.”

Charles throws his hands up in mock offense. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’m an excellent father.”

“If you say so.” Ollie smirks, shoveling another forkful of pasta into his mouth.

Oscar just shakes his head in amazement. “I still can’t believe you actually went through with adopting us.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Charles leans back in his chair, casual as can be. “You’re both great kids. Perfect sons.”

“Even if we didn’t ask for it?” Ollie points out around a mouthful of food.

You tsk disapprovingly. “Mind your manners, young man.”

Ollie’s eyes go comically wide and he quickly swallows his bite. “Sorry, mum.”

That sets you and Oscar off into another round of laughter. Even Leo gets in on the action, letting out a little bark from where he’s curled up nearby. Charles watches the scene with fondness.

“See, you’re already fitting right in,” he says warmly once the laughter subsides. “My two idiot sons.”

Ollie opens his mouth to retort but you cut him off, leaning across the table to affectionately pat his hand.

“Don’t listen to your father, Ollie. We’re happy to have you both here.” You shoot Oscar a wink. “Even if you did get adopted under … unusual circumstances.”

“You can say that again,” Oscar mutters, but he’s smiling.

Over the course of the evening, you take great delight in watching Charles easily slip into the role of devoted dad. He makes terrible jokes and embarrassing comments at every turn, clearly intent on annoying his new children as much as humanly possible. Yet it’s impossible to miss the deep well of affection beneath his teasing words and actions.

For their part, Oscar and Ollie play along enthusiastically. They roll their eyes and groan as if put-upon, but you can see the sparkle of happiness and contentment in their eyes as the night wears on. An easy camaraderie develops between the trio, fueled by plenty of back-and-forth needling and good-natured ribbing.

You sit back and watch it all with a permanent smile etched on your face. Your strange little family just keeps growing, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

At one point, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. When you return, the three of them have their heads bent together conspiratorially, hastily falling silent when you reappear.

“What’s this?” You raise an eyebrow as you retake your seat. “Am I being left out of the loop here?”

Oscar shares a look with Charles before turning to you with a sly grin. “We were just thinking ...”

“This family isn’t quite complete yet,” Ollie picks up easily.

You glance between them, utterly perplexed. “What are you two on about?”

Rather than answer, Charles pulls out his phone and starts typing furiously. A few moments later, your own phone buzzes with a Twitter notification — a new tweet from your husband.

Your jaw drops as you read the words over and over. “Charles! You can’t be serious!”

“Why not?” He shoots you an impish grin, clearly reveling in your stunned reaction. “Kimi’s a good kid, he’d make an excellent addition to the family.”

“I … you ...” You sputter, completely at a loss for words.

Oscar and Ollie watch the exchange with matching looks of unrestrained glee. Ollie raises his glass in a mock toast.

“To Mum and Dad, the most extra parents on the grid!”

You shake your head in bewildered amusement as they all crack up. This family just gets more ridiculous by the day.

A short while later, Kimi responds to Charles’ tweet.

The notification sets off another round of laughter and delighted hollering from the three drivers. You hide your face in your hands, torn between mortification and hysterical giggles.

“I can’t take you three anywhere,” you mutter, though you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

A warm arm wraps around your shoulders as Charles leans over to press a smiling kiss to your temple. “But you love us anyway.”

You catch his gaze, momentarily speechless by the contentment shining in his eyes. For all the silliness and absurdity, it’s clear just how much this strange little family truly means to him.

Swallowing past the sudden lump in your throat, you reach up to cup his cheek tenderly. “More than you’ll ever know.”

He beams at you, pure adoration written across his features. Then the moment is broken as an Italian-accented voice rings out from the hallway.

“Hey, did someone call for a new son?”

Oscar, Ollie, and Charles practically tumble over each other in their haste to greet the newcomer. You hang back, taking a moment to catch your breath as you watch the now quartet bound back onto the balcony, a fresh wave of chaos and noise in their wake.

One thing’s for certain — life is never going to be boring with this group around. You shake your head with a soft chuckle, heading back to join your one-of-a-kind family.

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 7 months

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bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after receiving a late-night call from your ex-boyfriend, finnick odair, you can’t help but agree to meet with him. what happens when you mix a sound-proof train car and an ex you haven’t seen in months?

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: rough-ish smut, a teensy bit of angry sex, swearing, unprotected sex (zon’t zo that), kinda ooc finnick, choking,

notes: based on 'bad idea, right?' by olivia rodrigo. i lost the person who sent the request so sorry this took so long to come out!! i don’t know if i like how this is written, but smut is smut so… enjoy :)

word count: 4.6k

Neon beams of light pulsed in time with the heavy bass blasting throughout your unnecessarily large home in the Victor’s Village. District Two. Masonry. Big houses.

Two shots of tequila and some other very unnatural concoctions were soaking deep into your brain. Everything was swaying—the room, the people, even you. Your small group of friends danced by your side, keeping together to avoid the creeps that might have entered your home. Although, to you, entertaining a stranger that night did not sound like such a terrible idea.

You felt lonely. Undeniably and pathetically lonely. The alcohol only enhanced your emotions and libido, leading you to search the room for anyone who interested you enough to take them upstairs. But there was no one, because in reality there was only one person you really wanted, and he was no longer yours. He hadn’t been for months.

Replacements had come and gone, but they never stuck. None of them made you feel the way he did.

“Excuse me!” an exasperated voice yelled. “Would you please get out of my way?!”

To your right, your housekeeper, bless her poor deafened soul, was pushing through a crowd of intoxicated partygoers and heading straight for you.

“Claudia!” you shouted over the music, tugging down your short black slip dress out of respect for her modesty.

The elderly woman stopped in front of you, her disapproval of the vibrant scene clear as day. You always paid her double in exchange for putting up with the chaos whenever you threw a house party, which was almost every weekend.

She hovered close to your ear. “There is someone on the phone for you!”

“Did you get a name?!”

After she shook her head, you escorted her through the thick crowd of dancers, into a quieter room and thanked her before beelining for the landline.

With a heavy sigh, you brought the corded phone to your ear and said, “Whoever this is, you better make it quick. I’m not nearly as intoxicated as I need to be and in dire need of another shot.”

Over the scratchy static, you could hear a quiet chuckle—a sound you had spent months trying to forget, along with the person attached to it. How many drinks did you have again? The alcohol must have messed with your mind because this could not be real.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the caller said, his voice low and amused.

Everything you had longed to forget came rushing to the surface at an overwhelming pace. Wisps of hair the colour of a dying fire. Eyes resembling the sea. Arms that once acted as a life jacket. A dangerous mouth that had explored every inch of your body.

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

Stupid. This was so fucking stupid. You were attempting to sneak out of your own party. A good old Irish Goodbye in your own house. With luck, you would make it out the front door without being caught by your friends, or worse, Claudia. Now that would be scary.

Water flushed through your system, a weak attempt you made at sobering yourself up because meeting up with your ex while drunk was a recipe for disaster. Then again, so was meeting up with your ex in the first place. Nothing will happen, you thought to yourself, we are just going to talk.

A thought even more unbelievable than thinking you would be able to be able to escape the watchful eyes of your friends.

Your high-heeled foot had just crossed the front door when someone called your name. “Damn,” you muttered, turning back around.

Valeria, your closest yet heavily intoxicated friend strutted over to you, her feet wobbling every few steps. “You sneaky little minx,” she slurred. “Someone said they saw you on the phone. It was him, wasn’t it? He asked you to go see him.”

“Just as friends. No, not even. As acquaintances.”

“Oh, my sweet, sweet silly friend.” She grabbed you by the shoulders. “We both know you aren’t that foolish.”

You looked away because you knew damn well that she was right.

“Look, I get it,” she continued. “Your hot, he’s hot.” You smiled. “You both have a history. I just want to make sure you know all the outcomes of what you're about to do. I’ll be here for you if things do get messy but expect a well-versed speech of me saying ‘I told you so’ afterwards.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Val,” you laughed, prying her hands off your shoulders. “I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise all we’re going to do is talk.”

“Alright, but if things go south, call me. Immediately!” she called a little too loudly as you took subtle steps away from the front door and onto the street. “Have fun with your innocent little ‘talk’!”

“Thanks, mum!”

You waved goodbye as you walked down the street, body buzzing with exhilaration and apprehension. Finnick had told you his train stopped in the district’s station for the night. He and his new victor were travelling throughout Panem for the Victory Tour and were currently in District Two. You didn’t know much about his tribute, only that they were a she. The thought of Finnick spending all his time with another girl had that green-eyed monster inside you writhing.

Enough to make you agree to meet with him after midnight while moderately drunk and slightly horny. What a fantastic plan.

District Two’s train station was a short distance from the Victor’s Village, but it was long enough to cause you to remove your heels. You finally reached the train, barefoot and with the wind softly blowing your hair. Finnick had specified a particular door to knock on so as not to alert the peacekeepers residing within the train. So, you knocked. And then you waited.

Your heart was pounding; your hands were trembling. Not long after, a dark figure appeared behind the door’s tinted window. With a click, the door opened and revealed a shirtless smirking Finnick Odair.

Oh, fuck me.

He was even more gorgeous than the last time you saw him. His crossed arms bulged with thick muscles as he leaned against the doorframe, gaze shamelessly roaming over your scarcely dressed appearance before settling on your face. The amusement in his expression was ever-present and ever-growing.

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

He extended his hand, inviting you inside the train and hesitantly, you accepted. Sparks of electricity travelled up your arm, starting from where his and your hand connected. Some things never changed.

Empty silence welcomed your presence as you entered the train car. Patterned silver vases of white roses were placed atop every available surface. Meticulously crafted chandeliers lit up the room with a golden haze. To your left was an arrangement of black leather couches surrounding a small silver table; further down the car was a rectangular mahogany dining table decorated with fruit and unlit candles.

Somehow a single train car was more luxurious than your entire house.

“Is every one asleep?” you asked, running your fingertips along the pure gold that lined the couches.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes following your movements. “Every room on this train is sound-proof, so...”

You nodded, unsure of how else to reply. Conversations usually ran smoothly between you and Finnick. They were effortless. But that was when you were together. Four months must have passed now since you last spoke.

“Are you and what’s-his-name still together?” he asked.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I broke up with him last month.”

“My sincerest condolences.” His sympathetic tone was as transparent as glass. Sarcasm always was his favourite pastime. “Guess he just couldn’t satisfy your needs.”

Turning around to face him, you leaned against the couch’s arm, jaw clenched and eyes glowering with agitation. “Is there any specific reason why you called me here?”

He raised a glass of rich amber liquid to his lips. “Can’t two old friends just reconnect?”

“Old friends,” you scoffed. “That’s what you call it. From what I remember, the last time we saw each other, we were having goodbye sex in your bed. And in the kitchen and the lounge and on the balcony.”

Something sincere overshadowed his teasing nature, revealing itself in the tension in his facial muscles and the glassy haze that clouded his eyes. Reminiscence. “It didn’t have to be goodbye,” he spoke softly whilst holding your gaze.

You blinked. There was a short pause and only the quiet hum of the lights sounded in the room. You were the one to end the relationship, not the other way around much to your friends’ disbelief. Over and over, you had been asked the same question: why on earth would you break up with Finnick Odair?

Well, behind closed doors, he was incredible. He was loving, affectionate, and thoughtful. He would collect seashells for you that he found on the beach whenever he went fishing, leave hand-written poetry and heartfelt love letters whenever he left for the Capitol, and mother of fucking Christ was the sex just downright extraordinary.

But as previously stated, it was all behind closed doors.

Finnick never wanted to be seen together in public and on the off chance you were, he would practically neglect your existence. Only your most trusted friends and Finnick’s family knew about your relationship. No one else. Eventually, the secretiveness created a deep void inside you that not even the sweetest love letters and seashells could fill. You couldn’t remain with someone who seemed ashamed to be with you in public.

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

In fear of becoming too emotional, you disregarded his weighted words and crossed your arms. “So,” you began, “how’s the Tour been so far? You must be pretty ecstatic one of your tributes actually won.”

He bounced back fairly quickly. “I suppose it’s always nice to watch someone you trained live for a change,” he said, placing his drink on a nearby table. “Plus, she’s got a lot of charisma. A natural with the speeches and interviews, so I don’t need to do too much coaching.”

And there it was again—that green-eyed monster. “Charisma, huh?” You just couldn’t help yourself. “Is she pretty too?”

Finnick tilted his head, visibly surprised by your blatant jealousy. “She just turned sixteen,” he stated with a small smirk tugging at his lips. Well, no one told you that bit of information. Awkward. “Careful, Y/N. You sounded a little jealous there.”

You pushed off the chair, heading back toward the door you entered through. Maybe this was a bad idea. “Alright, I’m leaving now.”

Just as you turned the handle, a set of rushed footsteps thudded behind you. The door opened a mere crack, sending in a cold draft that caused your body to shudder.

“Wait, just—” A swift hand came over your shoulder and pushed the door shut, eliciting a startled gasp from your lips. You could feel Finnick towering over you, the warmth of his skin spreading onto your cold back and his breaths fanning down against the bareness of your shoulder. He was so close. “I just needed to see you before I leave tomorrow morning.”

Slowly, you turned around, coming face-to-face with the man you shouldn’t have loved. His burning gaze was a stark contrast to the icy metal door your back was pressed against. Tension pulsated in the small space between you and him. The intense attraction that had first brought you two together came rushing forth; trying to fight such a magnetic force was impossible. You needed connection—touch.

This night would not end with just a simple innocent chat, you knew that now.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “You needed to see me?” you asked. “Finnick, if you want me to stay, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me what you really want.”

Silence. He continued staring at you and you could see a scheme forming behind his mesmerising green eyes. Then the scheme was unfolding. He leaned down to your level, to your lips, his half-lidded eyes never leaving your mouth as he just barely allowed his lips to brush yours. On instinct, you tilted your head upwards.

“I want you,” he whispered.

You didn’t waste a second to respond. “Then take me.”

He was quicker than a bullet train. Finnick’s lips caught your own and were burning with fiery desire, evident in his haste to wrap you up in his arms and practically merge your body with his. Flames licked just beneath your skin, setting your nerves alight with passion and lust. You burned together in an inferno fuelled by each other’s touch.

Logically, this was wrong. Finnick was your ex-boyfriend and for good reason. But as your hands clung to every inch of him that they possibly could, as his tongue and yours danced fluidly with one another, and as your body buzzed with pure adrenaline, you were willing to abandon all your morals in exchange for five more minutes in his embrace.

A moan travelled from your mouth to his own as you felt him bite your lower lip. You could already feel that familiar throbbing sensation between your thighs and the wetness that exposed how much you craved him. You knew he felt the same. His sweatpants left little to the imagination.

Your hand slipped between your connected bodies, travelling down Finnick’s firm stomach, gliding over his small trail of hair and finally into his pants. Your fingers curled around his cock which already leaked with precum. He was just as desperate as you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

You left his lips to press a wet kiss to his neck. “I wonder how many times you pretended your hand was my own,” you purred, leaving another kiss on his clavicle. “How many times you tried to recreate the warmth you only feel when you're inside me.”

His mouth hung open, letting out quiet uneven breaths as you stroked his length, your pace so quick that he already felt an overwhelming urge to release into your soft unrelenting hand. The sound of your voice, so sexy and lustful, combined with your swift pressured movements had his stomach tensing and contracting with a devastating build-up of pleasure.

“Too many times,” he admitted in a strained voice.

You sucked on the warm pulsing skin of his neck, this time receiving a groan that buzzed on your lips. His hands grabbed at your hips for support, roughly kneading the softness and satin in his large palms.

“This dress—fuck!” his voice broke as another hand slipped into his pants, cupping his balls as the other twisted with each stroke of his cock. “Sweetheart,” he chuckled breathlessly. “You look like a fucking siren.”

Your soft lips pecked at his toned chest before pulling away and looking up at him through your lashes. Euphoric delirium was prominent in his eyes. “You should’ve seen everyone staring at my party,” you said. “I wish you saw how badly the men wanted to fuck me right there on the dancefloor; how they undressed me with their eyes. Maybe then you would understand the mistake you made by never showing me off.”

Aggravation blazed in his aroused eyes which only made you so much hornier. Before you could pump another stroke, Finnick had ripped your hands from his pants and spun you around, pinning your body against the wall with his own, his hard cock pushing against the plush of your ass.

“I do understand,” he growled into your ear.

He abruptly started sucking hard kisses onto the side of your neck which had you gasping for air and tilting your head to allow him further access. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging it with rough fingers and pinching your peaked nipples between his fingertips. His other hand travelled around your hip, wandering beneath your revealing dress and slipping into your lace panties.

You cried out when two fingers plunged into your soaking hole without warning.

“Know what I wish?” he asked, fingers curling in and out of you at such a rapid pace that the wet noises could be heard throughout the entire room. Blissful tears threatened to spill down your face. “I wish those guys could see how you looked right now with my fingers fucking you.” The hand on your breast moved to your throat, applying enough pressure on your carotid to make your head pound with dizziness. “I wish they knew you only enjoy being fucked by me.”

Your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him even further inside. Your untouched breasts were squashed against the train door and the fabric of your dress rubbed against your sensitive nipples. Finnick’s cock twitched against you and his hand was constricting the blood flow to your head. Yeah. Nobody else could make you feel better than this.

Finnick plunged his fingers inside again with a hard thrust which forced a broken moan from your lips. “Isn’t that right?”

The heel of his palm dug into your clit and your entire body was overcome with pins and needles; your knees buckled and hit the metal door. That would definitely bruise. You hoped it would—you wanted a reminder of this night.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Finnick, only you. Only you.”

“That’s right.”

Your moans started to rise in pitch, signalling the orgasm which was rapidly closing in. But right before you could come, Finnick’s fingers slipped out of you and out of your now-drenched panties. Your orgasm began to fade due to the lack of friction until it disappeared completely, leaving you feeling frustrated and neglected.

Turning back around with a flushed face, you witnessed Finnick sucking your juices off his fingers with a pop. His grin was conniving, self-satisfied with his actions which proved how desperately you wanted him to fuck you. That smug bastard. You would give anything to wipe the amusement off his beautiful fucking face.

And, well, you did.

“Fuck you!” you exclaimed, shoving him backwards.

“Fuck me?” He raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching at his lips. “I already know you want to.”

With a frustrated cry, you shoved him again, but this time he caught you in his arms and fervidly crushed his lips to yours. You squirmed and writhed and resisted but eventually melted into his embrace when you remembered you wanted this. You wanted this so badly.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as both your bodies continuously curved into one another, neither of you being able to remain still for more than a few seconds. The taste of brandy and you were on Finnick’s tongue as it swirled around your mouth; the flavours, which were polar opposites, sweet and savoury, mixed together to create something utterly carnal.

With the knowledge that this was probably a one-time thing, your kisses became bruising and frantic. Finnick alternated between kissing your lips, your neck, your jaw, and any place he could possibly reach. You hung onto every sound he made, every hot breath he took.

The two of you stumbled around the train car, lips never leaving one another, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh they could reach. You bumped into walls and multiple glass ornaments and laughed together when Finnick just barely caught one before it shattered on the floor.

Eventually, you ended up down the opposite end of the train car. Your back hit something hard and you gasped in surprise. The dining table. Finnick gave a quick glance at the table before pressing another kiss to your lips, this time a little more tenderly.

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

You immediately felt him press himself against your behind. You stared ahead, chest heaving and swollen lips tingling, waiting for any more commands. His hand walked around your thigh, over the mound of your pussy, and then grazed up your stomach. He left a trail of warm tingles between your breasts before continuing upward to move your hair from your shoulder where he placed another warm gentle kiss.

Finally, he splayed his hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushed, bending you over the table until your torso lay flat on the cold wooden surface. Finnick hiked your dress up to your hips and crouched down, caressing your outer thighs before sliding your panties down to your ankles.

The air hit your bare skin and you exhaled a shaky breath as you anticipated his next movements. As he rose to his feet, he trailed kisses up your leg, ending with a soft bite to your ass which earned him a small giggle.

You could hear him tug down his sweatpants which hit the floor with a muffled thud. Your breaths continued to shake with nerves, coming out in soft pants. Finnick held onto your hip with one hand and held himself in the other. No words were spoken. Both of you wanted this—needed this.

Next thing you knew, your panting breaths had stopped altogether. Finnick’s cock had slid between your folds, filling you up in one single movement, and you both released a relieved moan in sync. Your hands pressed against the tabletop as your body began to rock with his thrusts. You weren’t going to make love or whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears. No. This was pure unadulterated fucking.

Finnick started off fast; neither of you had the patience for a slow build-up. You didn’t even bother caring about the fact that he wasn’t wearing a condom. His hand had lowered to your mid back and the other gripped your hip as your warmth swallowed him over and over.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

The sensations that overtook your body were eagerly welcomed. You had tried to replicate the sex Finnick gave with other men after your relationship ended, but none seemed to compare even the slightest. You weren’t sure how a single human being could provide the sensations of nirvana, how one could master the skills of bringing another person to such an incredible high, but Finnick could. He always could.

It was only at this point that you realised how badly your body had been in withdrawal from his touch. The feeling of him inside you was like a drug. Addicting. Definitely not healthy.

You had tried fingering yourself to replicate his cock, but it was a pathetic attempt. Finnick could hit a deep spot inside you that no one else could like it was some secret forbidden location that only he held the key to. He made your body feel full. Stuffed. Complete. In a way that made you feel like you were going to burst into an explosion of white heavenly light.

Your nails scratched at the wood as he continued to pound into you, cock gliding against the ripples of your inner walls. There wasn’t a single inch of space left inside you. He fit like your pussy was where he belonged.

“Always feel so fucking good,” he muttered between thrusts.

His pleasure was always vocal, voiced with heavy breaths, grunts, and groans. Sometimes he even whimpered, especially when you edged him. He didn’t mind you being more dominant at times, but right now was not one of those moments. Being bent over and fucked into a table was not in any way, shape, or form you being dominant. This was Finnick being in control and it felt incredible.

“Finnick,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop!”

In response he grabbed your other hip and pulled you back into him, burying himself even deeper inside you with each thrust which had you crying out his name again. He hunched over your body, hips still pounding behind you, and sucked harsh kisses on your shoulder. He left behind red and deep purple marks on your shoulder, moving to your neck, and then grazed your earlobe with his teeth.

He returned a hand to your throat, forcing the both of you into a standing position. His fingers squeezed, reducing the blood flow into your brain which enhanced the explosion building up inside you.

“Harder!” you cried.

Both his cock and his hand increased their vigour. Stars were sparkling in your vision. You were almost completely sober now, yet you felt entirely drunk. Drunk on Finnick. He reached his free hand between your legs and your body fell back into his, only remaining upright from his support.

His fingers rubbed side-to-side on your clit, so hard and fast that his hand almost blurred in motion. Your moans rose an octave as your stomach began to tighten. A fire burned within your muscles, so pleasurably excruciating that you thought they would liquefy inside you. Your pussy clenched around Finnick’s cock, walls fluttering with each of his pounding thrusts.

“Come, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear. You could hear how much he struggled to contain his moans as he talked. “Come on, I know you're close. I can feel you.”

You nodded mindlessly and curled your arm backwards around his neck, in need of something to cling to. As the feeling inside your stomach intensified, your eyes squeezed shut and your hold around his neck tightened until you were almost choking him. With every ounce of strength that he had inside him, Finnick increased his pace until he fit multiple mind-destroying thrusts into each second that passed.

He was almost animalistic with his pounding and unrestrained groans of pleasure. And you were so close, so, so close to falling over the edge. His hand was constricted around your throat; the other assaulted your clit, and his cock was mercilessly hitting that swollen spot inside you. Any second and—

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

A potent cocktail of pleasure, ecstasy, and release washed through your body, unravelling the tension inside your stomach and exiting through your stuffed hole. Your juices coated Finnick’s cock with warmth as you repeated his name over and over.

You could feel him twitching inside you, spilling himself onto your clenching walls whilst bending you over to senselessly fuck you into the table. His moans were so loud, so fucking attractive, but may God have mercy on both of you if the room wasn’t actually soundproof.

Neither of you could stop. You came an immeasurable number of times; your hands left marks on Finnick’s body as he did on yours, and every surface in the room had been tainted with your sin. You clung onto one another, desperately prolonging your night together that would most likely be the last. Ever.

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

Your fingers stilled as you strapped on your high heels. You glanced up at Finnick—who now had his sweatpants back on—from the gold-lined leather chair you sat in.

“Finnick…” you sighed.

“Please,” he said. Crouching down in front of you, he gently took your hand into his own. His face, which previously reflected nothing but pleasure, now looked at you with pained desperation. “I’ll explain everything to you. Why I was always in the Capitol. Why it was too dangerous for us to be seen together in public. All of it.”

The mention of danger took you aback. You had thought he never wanted to be seen together because he was embarrassed, not because it was… dangerous. Brows furrowed together, your eyes flickered between his, searching for any hint of deception, anything that might reveal malicious intentions. But when had Finnick ever been malicious towards you? Never. All you found in his eyes was sincerity.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, lowering his head.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you realised there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to walk out on him again. Life would mean nothing without Finnick beside you.

Your fingers sat under his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. The two of you exchanged a look of vulnerability, signifying an era of newfound understanding and reconnection.

You whispered in response. “You’ve got me, Finn.”

tags: @tayrae515

#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair smut #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x you #sam claflin #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen

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emmyrosee · 4 months

Text

I found out akaashi calls Kuroo ‘Pain-in-the-ass Kuroo-San’, so here you all go

——-

“No, truly.”

“Like, he’s so cocky, for what?”

“Literally!”

“And don’t even get me started on his hair today; like good lord, did he look in a mirror?”

From around the corner, Kuroo and Bokuto listen intently, one with a small smirk, the other with worry in his eyes. You and Akaashi had been talking in between practices for the past three days, for hours on end, and it was about time the two captains called you out on it.

What they didn’t take into account, was the one and only, calm, collected Akaashi Keiji to be such a gossip.

Even Kuroo’s got to admit, it’s kinda hot to hear his insignificant other and Bokuto’s wrangler talk shit.

“Do you think they’re talking about me?” Bokuto asks, and Kuroo shakes his head in mischief.

“No, they’re talking about me, Bokuto.”

“How can you tell?”

“They’d never talk bad about you- one, they adore you, and two, Akaashi knows better than to risk putting you in a mood-“

Interrupting Kuroo’s countdown, there’s a groan from the other side of the wall, followed by an akaashi chuckle, “hey- he’s your man.”

Kuroo smirks, “number three.”

Bokuto’s worried expression turns to one of amusement, “ohhhh, you have ugly hair!” He cackles, pointing at Kuroo. Behind the corner, the two of you go quiet, and Bokuto covers his mouth. “Well good luck, Kuroo!”

“Thanks, Bokuto,” he chuckles, stretching before making his way around the corner to face you both. “Heyyy,” Kuroo sings as he walks towards you. He lowers his eyes as you shift in shock, and Akaashi merely looks up at him in challenge. “I was wondering where you two disappeared to.”

“Same place we always do,” Akaashi says flatly, taking a sip of his water. “I’m glad you’re able to use your cognitive thinking skills to find us.”

He gives Akaashi a fake, dramatic smile, before letting his body language drop back to casual. He casts you a look, “hey babe.”

“Hey love,” you mewl, resting your head against his thigh cutely, and he knows you know he heard you and Akaashi not thirty seconds ago. He smiles and gently uses a large hand to cup the back of your head, thumb gently stroking your temple.

“Whatcha talking about?” Tetsuro chirps, smiling fakely. “Got all nice and quiet when I came around the corner.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes, “talking about them potentially becoming a manager for your team. Why’re you acting weird?”

Tetsuro lets out a loud “ahh,” in understanding. “Was that before you asked if I looked into a mirror today?”

Akaashi smirks, “before, of course.”

“Right, obviously.”

You blink at him in mercy, “we were just kidding…”

“Oh, I’m sure,” tetsuro says, pinching his brows as he nods in understanding. Then, he hunches over to be closer to you, face to face.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not going to make you pay.”

You scream as he scoops you in his bulky arms and tosses you over his shoulder, ignoring your flailing limbs and laughter. “You, I’ll deal with later,” he says, locking eyes with Akaashi.

Who only gives him a smirk to rile him further, “in your dreams, Kuroo-San.”

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artjiayi · 5 months

Text

Happy (very) belated birthday to my favorite twins 💜

Omg I'm finally done with this piece. Took me a while but I made some breaks in between as it's a bigger illustration to draw.

I know their birthday was 2 months ago but I was pretty busy the last months and I had to deal with personal stuff as well. It was kinda rough but things are slowly getting back together.

Anyway, I thought it’d be fun to do a Disney-verse and make the twins meet Flotsam and Jetsam for real. I’m pretty sure this would 99.99% happen if they met...

Of course Jade would get along with Jetsam. They’d be plotting all the time and fufu about it. Mischievous eels and that damn smile again.

Poor Flotsam getting squeezed by Floyd… there’s no way we can stop this. Who would interfer with Floyd anyway ?! and besides the only person he would listen to is his current mood so… Good luck Flotsam, you seem to amuse him at least…fufu.

Those evil fishes…but that’s why I love them.

Btw, this year I’m confident enough to go to conventions as an artist for the first time and I’m so excited about it. I'll give you more details once it's officially confirmed. This also means I will be selling prints of my illustrations in the near future so stay tuned for more infos soon.

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hyewka · 6 months

Note

soobin + humiliation kink + hes such a perv

priorities, you perv | c.sb ࿐

⭑ synopsis. a blind date? oh thats immediately pushed aside just for the addictive high you get off messing with your roommate, who seems to be more pouty than usual tonight for whatever reason.

⭑ warnings. sub perv soobin, panty sniffing, underwear used as bondage kinda, handjob, fuck buddy roommate au, humiliation kink sortaa, dacryphilia, vibrator, bunny/pup petname, not proofread, use of goddess

Soobin’s been intent on following you around like a puppy this evening, all around the house, but the longer he keeps it up, the less it becomes cute and funny and the more it crosses into the ‘overbearing jealous boyfriend who isn’t actually your boyfriend’ territory. Because really, why the hell has he been acting like a pet with abandonment anxiety the day you have your blind date scheduled?

“You can’t come in my bedroom with me.” you finally say, flashing him a superficial wide smile, behind your door.

He abruptly stops, stumbling back like his mind really was on autopilot following you—then his face falls, brows knitting together. “What, why?”

“Because I don’t want your cooties all over my bed.” He isn’t amused, clearly, with a brow raised. You groan, it could be life or death and your roommate would still not choose to humor you. “I’m going to change idiot.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before?”

You click your tongue at him—he might have an amazing track record with academics, but sometimes it really is rocks for brains in there. “You’re not coming in Soobin, tough luck!”

In lightning speed he sticks his arm between the crack before you shut your door. “Wait, no, I wanna—I wanna help you pick something out!”

Now its your turn to raise a brow. Soobin? Help you get ready? He’d rather die of boredom.

You knew you weren’t crazy.

All day, hes been acting extremely out of character. Throwing you pouts during the one lecture you shared, feeling his eyes bore into you like he’s trying to burn a hole in your face, yet still spending money to buy you your favorite tiramisu even when he’s been sulking like you’ve wronged his entire bloodline.

The craziest thing is that you truly do not know a bigger cheapskate than Soobin. He’d chase a quarter in a crowd of people even if it took him all the way to Japan. So the tiramisu was a mind boggling investment. For you, let alone. It’s like he was bribing you.

He couldn’t have magically fell head over heels, it has to have something to do with the one thing different today. Your blind date.

You reach out to pat his head, mock pouting. He takes the bait anyway, lowering his head a little, looking so cute confused. It’s adorable actually, how quick he is to go with whatever you do.

“Aww Soobie, it’s okay, I promise you’ll always be my number one good boy. You really don’t have to be jealous and act out.” you tease, intentionally using baby talk to agitate him a lot more than it would’ve.

He scoffs loudly snapping his head to the side, bewildered this is the direction you decided to take things. “What? Jealous? Jealous? Jealous of what? I’m not jealous.” You stand there wearing a skeptic look on your face and a cross of your arms over your chest.

He wags his finger at your face like he can’t believe your audacity, dryly laughing (which really just sounds like a bunch of scoffs stringed together). “You’re funny, I—I gotta give it to you Y/N, you should really try your luck with Hueningkai’s comedy group again. Is it a crime to want to support your roommate after being all too aware of her notorious losing streak with the dating world? I don’t think so!”

Ouch, the all too real call out. “Damn, okay asshole you can help.” you faux hurt, not missing the chance to flip him off before walking inside and leaving your bedroom door wide open behind you. Maybe his input will have you get to your date earlier. “By the way, I do not have a losing streak.”

————-

There are outfits you just think you’d never wear to a first date—your black bodycon with cuts at the waist was an absolute no-go, especially with it’s length. Then there was the crimson red shoulder-off that had your tits looking too full—that was a big no. You don’t even know how your blind date looks, you wouldn’t want to have a man you find sexually unappealing to find you sexually appealing. That’s always a cause for a migraine.

But the problem you’re facing right now is far greater than any migraine you’ll experience. Soobin seems to think every outfit you wound up coming out with is, in his own words, “too much”.

This one’s the worst of all. “It’s literally just ripped jeans and a crop top!”

“That’s the problem! It doesn’t even look pretty!” he splutters, eyes wide and a large pout on his lips.

“You want me to wear something pretty?”

He looks to the side, mumbling, “Whatever.”

It’s raining, you hear it pouring and you’re like, fifteen minutes late already. All for Soobin’s useless input. It’s not worth it, and you’re proven even more correct when you come out the bathroom with the outfit you picked out. White, tight, but flowy at the ends of the dress. Girly and especially tight at the chest, just like you know he likes it.

Soobins eyes don’t fail to shamelessly rake over your body, stunned, looking like a deer in headlights. He clears his throat, snapping out of it. “No, absolutely not.”

You feign innocence, tilting your head. “Why not? It’s pretty.” You make it more of a point when you turn around, acting like you’re just checking your outfit through your wall mirror, knowing damn well the horndogs probably salivating at your ass barely being covered.

“It’s too much.” he parrots again lamely, chewing slightly on his lips. “Change, you can’t go out like this.”

Okay, that sort of pisses you off, turning around with your arms crossed again to the boy sitting at the edge of your bed. He doesn’t have the right to order you around. “Yes I can, I very much can.”

Suddenly, there’s a switch—he cowers like a kicked dog. “You can wear whatever you want I didn’t mean to-”

You break into a grin all of a sudden walking towards him, shutting him up.

He gulps, sitting there, avoiding eye contact when you’re close. You prop his chin up, and he just lets you, forcing him to look you in the eye. God, he already looks stupidly entranced. “You’d hate for me to wear this, huh?”

“Yeah..” he admits way too easily, a little whine in his voice, brows knitting up. Cute.

“But you love the dress, don’t you?” you purr, caressing his face with your thumb.

Your phone suddenly rings and you’re pulled out of the moment for a second, glaring at it then back to your roommate who looks like he’s under some love spell. Yeah no, this is much more fun.

You ignore the call, letting it ring as you drag your thumb down his bottom lip and god how obedient he is just sitting there and looking up like you’re his deity.

“What?” you giggle at the way his breath hitches the further you trail your finger down his body. The switch right before your eyes, oh that transformation’s worth more than anything else in the world. Bunny’s horny.

“You’d love to take this off me, right? You’d love me tease you bit by bit, have my tits bouncing in the restrictions of them, just struggling to keep your hands from ripping it apart...” you trail off, finally getting your hand on his half erect clothed dick.

You can see him holding back, holding back from humping your hand, the one you just purposefully let rest on his growing boner. “Your date.” he reminds.

You quirk a brow, taken aback. “Want me to go?”

Suddenly, he vigorously shakes his head, “No, no, don’t. I want you, please.” The strain of his voice when he pleads—god it’s the sexiest, most sinful thing ever.

Shameless. Just the way you like him.

“Hm? You do? Don’t you always?” you tease, walking away to get something out of your drawer.

“What are you looking for?” he mumbles skeptically.

You gleam, pulling out the vibrator and turning it on, showing it to your unsuspecting roommate. “Let’s play with this.”

He frowns. “You know I can make you feel ten times better than that toy, you don’t need it.”

“Who says its for me?”

You enjoy the blush that trickles his cheeks, and how easily the tips of his ear turn red as he blinks rapidly to collect himself. His adam apple bobs up and down again, stumbling over his words. “God, you’re such a himbo.”

“W-wait!” he shrieks, suddenly covering the tent in his pants.

You halt, the vibrator only a few inches from his crotch. “Can—can you…” he sighs frustratedly, looking away from you, the steam coming his red ears has you curious, what’s he so hesitant for? “Can you take off your underwear?” Oh.

Of course.

Your lips form into a smirk, knowing exactly what he wants to do with them. Slowly, with one hand you pull down your panties and let them drop to the floor. His eyes are, despite having a hard time telling you what he wants, eagerly fixed on the black lace, you could see the bead of sweat that breaks from his forehead. Pervert.

You bend down to grab it, purposefully making a show of it and he just huffs. “Get with it already.”

You laugh, “You’re being so bratty today. Think you’re owed a fuck?”

He whimpers dejectedly, shaking his head. Mockingly, you wave your panties in front of his face like an owner wagging a bone in front of their dog. He’s so indecent he has the audacity to take a whiff when the garment is close enough. God, he really is absolutely shameless.

And you really need to relieve yourself. You’re trying to not rub your thighs too much.

You crumble the underwear in your hand, and coo. “Open your mouth wide baby.”

Soobin’s mouth falls open almost immediately, tongue lolling out, looking up at you expectantly so much so it would be endearing if not for the situation you’re currently in. You shove it in his mouth, cringing at the saliva that wets your fingers.

“This is how it started huh?” you near the vibrator on his inner thighs enjoying the way he sighs through his nose, shuddering. “Fooling your roommate into thinking you were a studious, innocent good boy but in reality you just snuck in the laundry room every night to jerk off with her panties. Disgusting.”

He moans wantonly around the fabric, his hair brushing over his eyes as you near the vibrator to where he actually wants it. His dick. Poor him, its probably weeping in his pants.

“Violating me like that without my knowledge— you’ll always be a bad boy.”

Again, he shakes his head hard, to the point your panties fall out of his mouth already. “No, good boy. I’m your good boy.” he pants, face flushed. How’s he so easily worked up?

You giggle, pressing the vibrator against his cock, having Soobin’s jaw fall slack. “Couldn’t even keep the underwear in your mouth for more than two seconds. You’d make a really good camboy, always wanting people to hear you moan and whine like a slut.”

“No, no, just want you. Just want you to hear me.”

That affects you more than you’d like, and you try to fight the blush that warms your cheeks. God damn Soobin.

But he isn’t even aware, if his babbles were any indication. He dips his head back, big hands digging onto your sheets as you run the vibrator up and down. “Fuck.” he groans, still keeping his eyes open to watch your chest. You know he’s trying hard to keep up the good boy act for you, so you throw him a bone.

He gasps when your hand goes down his pants to wrap around his cock, and it’s the cutest thing ever how he immediately melts. You’re sitting next to him, twisting and jerking off his dick with his head leaning on your shoulder when you’re supposed to be under an umbrella with a future dating prospect instead.

Who cares, that man you’re sure wouldn’t give you what he’s giving you.

“Don’t wanna cum yet, wanna fuck you f-first.” he breathes into your neck. “Please goddess, please. Want your pussy.” he begs dumbly, starting to lay wet kisses to your neck— hes just not leaving room for you to really hold back.

“Holy shit, you’re good.” you realize in awe, probably wetting your bed with how aroused you are right now.

“Then take me baby, take me how you want. You’ve been good, so good.” you slur, and he practically jumps onto you like an oversized bunny, having your back on the mattress and him hovering, pulling you into an open mouth kiss almost immedietely.

“You’re so hot, fuck, you drive me crazy.” he says rushed, kissing you again, melting his mewls and pants into it.

You feel the roughness of his hands playing with your tits already, kneading so desperately you think he must’ve been itching to do just that this entire time. You like it with him, how it’s so dirty and quick, but still passionate enough to keep you wanting more.

“Fuck, wanna see them, please, please.” he whines as he salivates even more, playing with your nipples through the fabric, cheeks red and flushed, pathetically humping your cunt with his boner. “No, be a good bunny and fuck me good.”

He’s sniffling and tears stain his lashes, yet he still nods obediently, humping your cunt like he’s just restless enough to not pull out his dick and put it in—it’s the hottest thing ever.

But eventually the fabric feels rough against your skin, and you hiss, taking it upon yourself to pull out his cock from his pants.

God, his tip is red, leaky— it’s gross, a testament to how he gets with you and you love it. “Come on baby—bunny, fuck me.” you look up at him with wide, doe eyes and it immediately has him nodding frantically, missing your entrance once before he completely bottoms out, suffocatingly filling you up in one push—you’ll just never get used to his size.

“Always so mean, you’re always so mean to me.” he dumbly babbles, tongue out as he fucks into you maniacally, getting lost in your pussy.

“But you’re in my cunt right now aren’t you?” you mock, knowing that’s always his end goal with you, his end prize.

You’re breathless, curling your toes the harder he snaps his hips. You’re used to how it is with Soobin, he’s always animalistic and unrhythmic, rubbing your clit like he has no idea what he’s doing. But that’s the fun in it, how inexperienced and pathetic he is.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, are you? Are you?” he’s out of it, kissing your neck, biting, panicky as he nears his orgasm, that before you could respond, you’re already feeling his seed fill your cunt.

He can tell, he can tell when you didn’t get there so he’s already pulling your dress up over your tits, attaching his mouth on one of your nipples, pulling the other through his hands, playing with them till they become puffy and have you withering under him. “Fuck, fuck Soobie…just like that,” you moan, feeling his long fingers squeeze into your pussy, speeding up, trying to rip an orgasm out of you.

The tense of his arms, veins showing, cease once you arch your back and cum at getting a good look of his face— lips raw and red as he bit onto them for majority of the time, eyes wet and big, just silently begging you to cum on his fingers, you let yourself go, the tightening band finally snapping.

—————-

note. lol im not super duper confident but let me know how you guys feel about this one, feedback keeps me going

#txt smut #soobin smut #soobin fanfic #sub!soobin #perv!soobin #sub!idol #sub idol #sub txt #txt hard hours #yeonjun smut

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pandoraslxna · 1 year

Note

Hey, I LIVE for these kinds of fics and I LOVE yours so much. Thank you for making these! I would like to request a fic between aonung x human reader, where the reader teases and flirts with him despite his rude little ass until he has had enough of the teasing and decides to fuck their brains out. Thank you!!

My dearly detested

adult Ao’nung x female human reader

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: explicit smut, minors dni, kinda enemies to lovers, mutual teasing, sexual tension, size difference, choking, hate fuck, orgasm denial, p in v, degradation kink, no foreplay, begging, brat tamer Ao’nung let’s goo

Since your arrival in the metkayina village, Ao‘nung has been teasing you and the other Sully‘s. He was mean and rude. A picture book bully if you’d like. The fact that a demon, a human, was now living on his islands was going against everything he believed and he didn’t shy away to let you know how much he despises you, whenever your two crossed paths. But what was even worse was, that you had a smart mouth. One that matched his energy in ways he didn’t like at all. It confused him, if he was being completely honest with himself.

"… and what’s with that weird stuff you’re wearing? You look like a freak", Ao‘nung scoffed. You were on your way to pick some herbs and berries for Neytiri, to prepare for dinner, when Ao‘nung crossed your way. And of course he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and just let you pass, no, he had to stand in your way and proceed to make fun of you.

"Oh this? That’s a tshirt", you smiled at him, acting all innocent as you were looking down at yourself, "I could take it off if you’d prefer me without it?" You lift the hem of your shirt enough to expose your belly to him, your skin glistening in a thin layer of sweat, thanks to the incredible heat on these islands. To this, Ao‘nungs face lights up bright red. You had this special talent of catching him off guard.

"What’s wrong, fish boy? That thought got you all hot and bothered?", you teased him further. Ao’nung was irritated now, fuming with rage and— something else. Something he was unfamiliar with, until you had stepped foot in his life. He couldn’t pinpoint it, couldn’t describe it, even if he wanted to, but it made him want to use that anger and frustration and let it all out on you.

He blinks a few times, while you were still smiling at him, with your hands on your hips. Oh you felt so confident in yourself, it made him sick. With a long stride he approaches you, until he was close enough that your face was almost pressed against his stomach. Humans surely were tiny, but especially this one, he thought.

"Watch you mouth, human", he all but growls at you through gritted teeth but you only giggle and tilt your head to look up at him.

"Or what?"

And that does it.

Ao’nung had only so much patience left when it came to you and you were really testing your luck today. His hand shoots up to wrap itself around your throat, harshly pulling you even closer to him.

"Or I’ll show you what it’s good for, other than talking back like a little brat", he says lowly.

Now it was your turn to be taken aback, your eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. For once you were left speechless, much to Ao‘nungs amusement. How interesting. Looks like he had finally found the little humans weak spot.

"What’s wrong, hm?", he tilts his head, teasing you by turning your own words against you, "That thought got you all hot and bothered?"

You blink up at him, eyes wide and cheeks turning pink and– fuck. Who would’ve thought that, seeing the woman who robbed him of his last nerves like this, had such an effect on him.

It wasn’t until right in that moment that Ao’nung realized, he wanted nothing more than to see you behave, see you finally shut up that smart mouth of yours and act good for him.

The sight in front of him made him shamefully hard. His dick was so hard, it felt like it was going to split the seam of his loincloth at any second. He’d gladly fuck the brat right out of you, he had come to realize. And that wasn’t just something he thought to himself, it was a decision made.

With his hand still wrapped around your delicate throat he slowly pushes you backwards, makes you walk until your back makes contact with one of the palm trees that were littered along the shore. For once, a surprised gasp escaping your parted lips was the only sound that was coming from you.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Ao’nung’s mouth and he chuckled. "That's really all it takes to shut you up, huh?" He leans in almost imperceptibly and you swallow dryly, "You wanna tell me why you're blushing?"

"I‘m– I‘m not", you mumble a weak protest, once his hand finally leaves your throat, "m'not blushing…" Your gaze swiftly shuns away from his, but Ao’nung is having none of that. With his index finger hooked under your chin he tips your head up so you’re forced to look at him. It was funny, seeing how your attitude had changed so drastically and sudden. It makes him want to be even meaner to you, tease you more, see how much further he could take it.

"Yes you are. Bet you’re all wet already too", he says lowly and with a smug grin plastered on his face. Before you can even proceed the words spoken, his hand moves to cup your sex over the thin bikini panty you were wearing. That skimpy piece of weird human clothing was, in fact, damp already. "I knew it", Ao’nung chuckles as he let his fingers glide over the wet spot, causing a shudder to run through you.

"Just– shut up", you manage to breathe out and Ao’nung clicks his tongue at the tone in your voice.

"Oh there it is again. That annoying attitude of yours", he rolls his eyes, "You just need to get your cute human pussy stuffed, right? Just need some cock and boom– you’re all cute and happy and, most of all, fucking quiet. But don’t worry, sweet little pearl. I’ll do us both a favor and help you out. Keep you from getting on my last nerves anymore."

With one hand still pining you against the trunk of that palm tree and the other slipping past your waistband, he pulls your panties down to your ankles. Ao’nung can’t help the satisfied smile spreading over his features when you don’t resist, letting him manhandle you like you were proving that he was right. He was reading you like a book. All that mutual teasing had finally paid off, had finally bought you both into the position you secretly longed for, since you’d first laid eyes on each other.

You watch him closely, how he pulls his loincloth to the side to let his cock spring free and you audibly gulp. Eywa had truly gifted him with every attribute you daydreamed of as a horny teenager. Tall, muscular and littered in those pretty metkayina tattoos. But no amount of imagination while dry humping your pillow or any 'self care'-action could’ve truly prepared you for the size of his cock. You didn’t know what you were expecting here, truth be told. Obviously he was going to be big, he was around 8 or 9 feet tall, a grown Na‘vi man in all his glory– there was almost no way that he wasn’t going to be packing like that. Still, it was enough to make you drool.

Just the thought of trying to get him to fit inside you makes heat coil in your belly.

Ao’nung barely pays attention to the way your eyes widen as his cock twitches in the air and a droplet of pre-cum rolls down his shaft. He swiftly drapes your leg over his arm and inches closer to stand between your spread legs, lining himself up with your exposed cunt.

Even in this moment, while in the position you were in, Ao’nung teased you. Using his free hand to guide his dick, he rubs himself between your slippery folds, coats himself with your slickness. He grounds his cock against your pussy, letting it snag and catch against your clit to further drive you insane. You whine in exasperation, desperately pushing your hips against him in an attempt to get him inside.

Finally, mercifully taking the hint, Ao’nung slides his cock inside your tight heat in a slow, measured pace until his hips are flush with yours. The length and girth of him seemingly push the very air from your lungs as he buries himself to the hilt with a groan. "So fucking tight, shit. You feel way too good for someone who causes me this much of a headache every single day."

For what feels like an eternity, he stays there. Unmoving. The only sound that was heard, was the one of your own panting and waves crashing in the distance. You weren’t sure if he was just letting you adjust, but you were thankful for this moment. Especially, because of what he did next. You barely started to relax and stopped clenching around him, when he pulls himself all the way out just to rock right back into you in one sharp thrust. You cry out, too loud for your own liking so you quickly bring one of your hands to cover your mouth. But it‘s completely pointless, thanks to the exopack mask covering your face.

“Don’t worry. You can enjoy this to your heart’s content, little pearl", Ao’nung chuckles from above, "No one else is around to hear those cute, pathetic moans. Just me and you.” He adjusted his stance and you seized as he twitched inside you. His pace was hard and rough and he seemingly aimed to fuck every bit of attitude right out of you, with the way his hips snapped against yours.

You could barely hold yourself up like this, with one leg loosely hanging over his muscular arm while the other was already daring to give in, planted weakly on the soft, warm sand below your feet. You quickly adjust your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life while he didn’t seem to care in the slightest. He would keep you standing upright by the sheer force of his thrusts.

Your moans increase in volume with every passing second, his pace never faltering for just a moment. "Ao’nung, s-slow down! Slow down I can’t—"

“Fuck, yes you can”, he snarls, sucking in a breathe through clenched teeth when he feels you squeeze his cock. "Where did all your attitude go, hm? Don’t you want to apologize?”

"M‘not– ah! I‘m apologizing to your rude ass", you tell him between moans.

"That’s fine", Ao’nung chuckles darkly and it’s almost sinister, makes goosebumps appear on your skin, "I will make you apologize."

Pointedly, he begins fucking against your g-spot, making your eyes cross and roll back into your head until your a howling mess. The hand that’s been planted firmly on your hip suddenly shifts, reaches between your legs and expertly finds your clit. As soon as his rough digits made contact with the little bundle of nerves, your voice hit a high you didn’t even know was possible. Keeping a brutal pace, he draws right circles on it while thrusting into you until the edges of your vision begin to black out. Right when you were at your limit, right there at the edge and so painfully close to coming— he draws away.

"W-What the f– ah! Fuck!", you gasp and curse under your rapid breathing, toes curling at the unpleasant feeling of the loss of your orgasm. His thrusts don’t stop entirely, but they become more lazy. Short and deep and slow and it’s just not enough to drive you over the edge. You let your head fall back against the tree trunk with a thud.

At that, Ao’nung lets out a small laugh, relishing in the frustrated whine that leaves your soft looking lips and the desperate arch of your back.

"Go on, little pearl. Apologize and I’ll be nice and let you cum", he tells you with a grin. His thumb gently swipes through your wet folds, purposefully avoiding your clit. Ever so slowly, like he’s trying to torture you, the pace of his hips increases again, giving you a sweet taste of what you were longing for but still not giving it to you fully. Not until you give in and apologize. Beg for it. And begging you did…

"I‘m sorry, 'm sorry— fuck I’m so sorry! Please let me cum, please Ao’nung I need to cum! I promise I’ll be good… I‘m sorry!"

"Oh I bet you are, but you can do better than that."

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jgracie · 2 months

Text

SK8ER BOY

masterlist | rules

❝ Hello can you do a Percy Jackson reader when she try to impress him by skating but monumentally fail because she faceplant in the ground. And softie Percy that kiss your bruise and all (yes I just fell down the stairs and it f*** hurt) please ❞ — @hope92100

in which you try to impress your skater boy (and fail miserably)

pairing percy jackson x fem!reader

warnings reader gets hurt (bruise + bloody nose) but she's fine dw

on the radio sk8er boy (avril lavigne)

an song has nothing to do with the oneshot i just thought of it as soon as i read the request LOL

When your [mortal parent] told you you were moving to New York for their new job, you were elated. Not only do you get a fresh start in a big city, but you also get to be closer to Camp Half-Blood, and closer to him. ‘Him’ being your boyfriend of a couple months, Percy.

The timing couldn’t be more perfect. Before, you used to only see Percy during the summers - which didn’t really count, considering you spent half your time doing quests for the Gods - and occasionally during school holidays, if you were lucky. Now you could see him all the time! As soon as you heard the news, you Iris messaged Percy, planning all the things you’d do together once you got there.

The first thing Percy suggested (or insisted on) was going skating. He didn’t get to do it very often, since when he wasn’t busy being a demigod he was busy catching up on schoolwork, but it’s one of his favourite pastimes and so he had to introduce his favourite person to it! That’s how you ended up at the biggest skating park you’d ever seen, dodging random mortals in beanies and sneakers with Percy’s hand tightly tucked in yours.

“Hey, watch it, man,” Percy said, scowling at some guy who almost bumped into you. You simply smiled at him, really not in the mood to annoy random mortals. Together, you walked to the scariest looking ramp in the whole park. Even a non-skater like yourself knew that a ramp like that needed to be avoided at all costs. While the rest of the park was full of people, the area surrounding this ramp was empty.

Handing you his backpack, Percy did a few warmups, a grin making its way onto his face when he noticed your look of pure awe.

“Percy, have you ever gone on this one? It looks kinda terrifying,” you said, fidgeting with your fingers. You knew your boyfriend enjoyed thrilling experiences, having dragged you to every rollercoaster in sight the one time you decided to go to an amusement park together, but this seemed to be a little much, even for him.

To your surprise, he replied, “nope! But what better time than now? My lucky charm’s with me, after all.”

That was that. You knew you couldn’t convince him not to go on that awful ramp. You whispered a prayer to your Godly parent as Percy made his way over to it, wishing on all the stars in the sky that your first outing in New York wouldn’t end in a hospital visit.

At first, you were scared to watch, sweat beading at your forehead as images of Percy’s limbs pointing in directions they definitely shouldn’t be littered your mind. But then you heard him yell your name and let out a laugh of nothing but pure excitement, and decided maybe this trip wouldn’t end up in broken bones and hearts.

He was beautiful. Percy could’ve passed for a son of Zeus as the wind whipped around him, blowing his hair in the most flattering directions. Apollo seemed to be watching from above too, as the sun hit him in just the right way, highlighting the different shades of green in his eyes and making his skin glow. When he noticed you looking, he waved at you, doing only a few more flips before carefully stopping and running towards you.

“I told you I could do it!” He exclaimed, nearly bursting with excitement, “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you! I failed all those other times but of course I get it perfectly when you’re here. You really are my good luck charm!”

“Percy, you said you never tried skating on this ramp before.”

“Oh… Well maybe I had a bit of practice, just so I could impress you.”

You giggled at his cuteness and suddenly had a surge of confidence. Maybe you should impress him too. Have you ever skated? No, but that didn’t matter, it couldn’t be that hard! You’ve done all sorts of hard things in combat training at camp, this was nothing in comparison.

Taking the skateboard from Percy’s arms, you set it on the ground and stood on it, causing him to frantically grab your hands so you wouldn’t fall, his eyes wide as he double and triple-checked that you were in one piece.

“What are you doing?” He nearly screamed, “you’ve never done this before, you can’t just scare me like that babe!” His fingertips turned white from the amount of pressure he was putting on your hands and he slowly walked you around the park. After you circled the ramp he went on a third time, you decided you had enough of his help, wanting to really impress him.

Tugging your hands from his grip, you smiled and said, “Percy, let go, I’ve got it now.” He was hesitant, but did as he was told, kind of curious as to how this was going to go. It started off good, you did actually get the hang of it. As your confidence continued to skyrocket, you went faster and faster, and Percy’s cheers began to blur in the background.

The issue came when trying to stop. You had gone slightly off course and were now skating in the midst of other people. Wanting to get back to where you and Percy were, you decided to stop and then switch directions, since you didn’t know how to turn around. That was when you realised you didn’t know how to stop, and you were heading right towards a wall.

“Y/N!” Percy yelled, but it was too late. You face-planted right into the wall and then landed on the floor, nose bloody and bruised. You tried smiling at Percy to assure him that everything was alright, but your face must’ve looked pretty bad because he wasn’t having any of it, grabbing you and bringing you back to his house.

Sally’s jaw had dropped when she saw the state of you. Did you seriously look that bad? Setting you on the couch, Percy ran to the kitchen, getting you a bag of frozen peas and a sliver of the ambrosia they kept for emergencies. You ate the ambrosia and put the peas on your nose, breathing a sigh of relief as they soothed the throbbing pain.

Eyebrows furrowed, Percy said, “Are you feeling better? I’m never letting you skate again, y’know.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of the situation you were in. There you were, worried Percy would get hurt on your first day in New York, when it turned out to be you.

“I’m okay, Perce,” you began, smirking as an idea planted itself in your mind, “but I could use one thing from you.”

Immediately, Percy got up, ready to do anything to make you feel better, “what is it? We have more medicine in one of the drawers if that’s what you need, but I don’t think I can give you more ambrosia since I don’t know exactly how much –”

“A kiss,” you interrupted, watching as his face contorted from worry to confusion to a bright smile. You put the peas away and Percy held your face, giving you kiss after kiss after kiss, all over your face. Maybe getting hurt wasn’t all bad.

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #cynwrites #percy jackson drabble

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farfaras · 1 year

Text

Part 1.

Maybe if Steve acts casual Robin won’t even notice. She barely pays attention to him when she’s too busy rambling about her love life. Or lack there of. If Steve’s lucky, today is gonna be one of those days.

But Steve’s good luck probably ended the first time he took a look at a demogorgon.

“What is that?” Robin giggled. If she finds this amusing wait until she hears what actually happened.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb. That only worked when I thought you were an actual idiot.” She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah well, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” Steve put on his family video vest and clocked in.

“What? I notice things!” Robin exclaimed when Steve made his way to the counter.

“Yeah, when you’re not too busy daydreaming about Vickie.”

“You’re changing the subject!”

“Objection!”

“Stop it!”

Steve sighed. How could you explain your friend sucked your neck to make your another friend jealous when you don’t even like said friend? Tricky.

Ugh. Robin was gonna make fun of him.

“You wouldn’t believe me.” Steve tried. It was a last resort to save himself from the embarrassment.

“Yeah, because I’ve never experienced anything out of the ordinary.” She raised an eyebrow. Steve knew she wouldn’t let it go. “When did you even go on a date, dingus? I don’t remember you telling me about it.”

“I didn’t go on a date.”

“Well then who did that?” She narrowed her eyes. “Ew! Are you in a friends with benefits situation?” She look scandalized and curious at the same time. “Because honestly Steve, I don’t think that’s your thing. I mean even if you try, it wouldn’t work out. You’re like an actual romantic. Wanting a serious relationship, yearning connection and all that shit. It would be cute if you weren’t kinda desperate sometimes.” Okay he had to cut her off if he wanted to keep his ego unbruised.

“Jesus! Okay! You don’t have to say it like I’m some loser who can’t get a girlfriend!” If he needed humbling he knew who to call now though.

“But you kind of are.”

“Do you want to know or not?” Even if he was embarrassed about the whole thing, he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t hoping Robin would give him some insight. Once she stopped making fun of him. “It was Eddie.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and… excitement? “Holy shit! It finally happened?” What is she talking about now? “I thought I would actually have to wait another year at least for you guys to figure it out.” There’s nothing that makes Steve feel more inadequate than when he doesn’t get what people are talking about. “I mean anyone who’s got eyes could see how much you two liked each other and it’s cute but I was getting tired of the pining..” she trailed off when she saw how silent Steve was. “Why aren’t you as excited as me?”

Pining? Like each other? Did Robin think..? Did Eddie?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He questioned. His mind was going through every interaction him and Eddie once had. Trying to analyze his own behavior to come up with an explanation as to why someone would think he likes Eddie.

“Oh god. I thought. Did you guys not like… get together?” She was hesitant. It felt like she was trying not to scare a wild animal.

“No.”

“I gotta stop running my mouth like that. I’m sorry.” She looked mortified and it would be funny if this was another situation. “But what? Why would he do that? I’m so lost here, Steve.”

Steve went through backstory first, then he started retelling the events of the other day. Including how he actually enjoyed himself a little. He might as well be a hundred percent transparent, she was his best friend after all.

“Robin, say something.” His best friend being silent was not something he was used to.

“I’m so confused.” She said.

“Me too.” His confusion was starting to fade. The answer right in front of his face.

“So you’re… not together? Even after that?”

“I don’t even like him like that!”

“But you said you liked it!”

“Who wouldn’t!”

“I wouldn’t! Steve, a boy giving me hickeys is one of my worst nightmares.” He knew that. He knew it meant something that he liked it. The question is if he’s ready to face what it means.

“I- I know, okay?”

“Steve, say the word and we’ll stop talking about this.” He loves his best friend. He doesn’t know what he’d do without her.

“No. I think I’m ready.” Steve muttered. Robin smiled gently at him and that was all the encouragement he needed to feel safe enough to say it out loud.

“I like him.”

They hugged.

“It kinda sucks that he doesn’t like me back though.”

Robin thunked her head on the counter.

#kinda rushed #don’t know if this is going anywhere #steddie #steveddie #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things #stranger things 4 #ficlet #mer writes sometimes #platonic stobin #i want what they have #steve and robin #eddie pov next ?? perhaps ?

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freak-accident419 · 5 months

Text

Baby Fever

Mike Schmidt x GN!Reader

Summary: You never liked babies. You always believed they were burdensome and irritating. However, after having a baby lay peacefully in your arms, you made the decision—you wanted to raise one with your husband, Mike.

WC: 2.0k

Content: fluff, gender neutral reader, you two use surrogacy for your baby (hence the possibility of a gender neutral reader :3), you’re married to Mike, takes place at least 3-4 years after the events of FNAF, Abby is a working young adult, slightly ooc Mike(?)

You always hated babies. Always.

You hated how loud and relentless they were. How almost every second they cried and screamed for no reason, as well as the fact that they were gross, somehow always sticky, and messy. While the fact that they were literally infants gave them an excuse for this behavior, you couldn’t help but be absolutely pissed by them.

You were at a small get-together with your old friends. You haven’t seen them in a while, and you were always close with them before, so you all decided to hang out together one day and catch up with each other.

You were at your friend Andrew’s house, along with the rest of your old friends and had your husband Mike attend as well.

The small party went fairly smoothly; you had some drinks, laughed, caught up, just the usual. Everyone there already knew your husband—who was a bit awkward and quiet—so there wasn’t a need for any introductions. You, however, finally met your friend Evelyn’s girlfriend, which was a great encounter.

You sat beside Mike, his arm tenderly wrapped around your shoulder as you continued to speak with your friends.

Until suddenly, Andrew’s wife, Adalyn, came in the room frantically, with her 3-month-old baby cradled in her arms.

Oh, brother, you thought.

“Hey, uh,” she began, looking around the room until her eyes landed on you. “Oh, Y/n! Can you watch him, please? I kinda gotta go to the little girls’ room.”

Your eyes widened as you realized what she was insinuating. “Wh—Wait, why can’t you ask, like, anybody else?”

“C’mon, Y/n, it’s really urgent. It’s a bit loud here, so just, like, take him to the nursery room,” she pleaded, in which you just continued to refuse.

“But—why can’t—C’mon, Adalyn, Andrew knows how much I can’t… really tolerate babies.” You argue, standing up from the couch. “I don’t—I don’t even know how to hold one—”

“Goddammit, Y/n, here, just—” She guided your arms to make you properly hold the baby, which you were slightly unnerved by. It was way too delicate. You were afraid of this responsibility your friend put onto you. And you felt even worse because of how much you hated babies in general. “There. There, you got it. Good. Okay, I—I gotta go,” she stated quickly, kissing her baby on the forehead, then running off to the bathroom.

You rolled your eyes as you uncomfortably held the infant, looking down at Mike, who remained on the couch. There was a small smirk on his lips. He found it amusing that you were in a situation you’d loathe.

“You think this is funny?”

He shrugged with a playful expression on his face.“Comedy gold.”

You scoffed, and then heard a loud laugh come from the kitchen, only to remember how noisy the atmosphere was. And the last thing you wanted was for this damned baby to start crying.

You looked around then sighed. “I’m gonna have to take this little guy to the nursery room upstairs. You gonna be okay down here without me?”

He smiled softly, giving you a nod. “Yeah. No worries.” You leaned down to give him a peck on the lips which he reciprocated. “Good luck with him. Hey, what’d you call babies again that one time? Wasn’t it ‘hellspawn’?”

You groaned, “Just… shut up, Mike,” but you couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle.

You reached the nursery room, shutting the door so that all the voices downstairs were muffled. The baby was fairly heavy, and the staircase was pretty long, so you let out a breath of relief once you finally sat down on a wooden chair beside the baby crib.

You look down at him. Andrew and Adalyn’s baby Thomas. You stared at him with a bit of apathy and indifference, but the infant looked at you with its big, green eyes, almost longingly.

You noticed this, but you didn’t really think too much of it.

“What are you looking at?” You retort quietly.

He met you with silence.

You had him in your arms, cradled, nearly. His eyes continued to stare into yours. He was quiet, too. You couldn’t really tell what it was; curiosity, admiration, inexpressible hatred?—no, it couldn’t be.

It was definitely admiration.

“You think you’re so charming, huh?”

Silence.

“I don’t understand! What’s supposed to be so cute about you? Like, for all I know, you’re just a tiny, undeveloped… thing… person…”

More silence.

“People admire you and all you do is just… burp and cry. I seriously don’t get the appeal.”

However, your arms and your hands began to feel… tingly. You felt warmth radiating from the small baby as it proceeded to lay in your arms. You fixed your position a bit, letting it rest at an angle. Its little body was close to yours, against your chest. And then suddenly, you never felt so… at peace.

“Jesus Christ,” your voice began to become softer and quieter, “What in the damn hell are you doing to me?”

The baby’s green eyes gazed into your eyes, bright and full of adoration. It admired you. You wouldn’t be sure as to why, but it looked at you as if you were beautiful; that even while it barely knew anything at all due to its scarcely developed brain, it was sure of at least just one thing—that you were beautiful.

You felt so strangely warm inside. The orange sunset inhabited the room from the window as you continued to look at the baby in your arms. You felt safe. And you were sure that it felt safe too. And so, all you wanted to do was to keep it that way.

“Your mom shouldn’t be taking this long in the bathroom.” You paused in realization. “They totally set me up, didn’t they?” The infant just blinked at you.

You’ve always hated babies. They’re dumb, loud, and ugly.

But perhaps baby Thomas was an exception.

He was actually pretty cute, if you were going to be honest with yourself…

Babies could be pretty cute…

You never felt so… parental in your life. And for a split second, it didn’t feel like a responsibility, but rather a purpose. You wanted to keep him safe as long as he was under your care. You just wanted to stay like this for a long time. Just having him comfortably in your arms.

And you barely noticed the sound of the door opening and Adalyn and Mike stepping in because you were far too entranced in the domesticity in all of this—you finally understood why some people had baby fever.

“Y/n?” Mike’s presence didn’t even make you flinch. You were far too placid. The state you were in had Mike smitten; he never expected you to be this good, as well as peaceful, with babies.

“Just… Just a little longer with him…” You requested softly, never taking your eyes off of the baby. A love-struck grin appeared on your husband’s face as he watched you like this.

You wanted this.

And most of all, you wanted this with Mike.

***

“What was all that about?” Mike asked as you two sat on the porch outside to get space and air. “I thought you, like, hated babies, and stuff.”

“I don’t… I don’t hate them entirely,” you say under your breath.

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? You complain about them just about once every week,” he chuckles. His lighthearted manner began to fade as he notices your silence, followed by your face of longing and fidgeting fingers. “You okay?” He placed his hand on your thigh.

“Yeah, I just…” You trailed off, not knowing how to place your words. “Remember how… Abby would sometimes talk about how ‘cool’ it’d be for her to… be an auntie?” Mike nodded, listening carefully. “And, well… you know… in the past I was always against having kids… Being afraid of all that responsibility and commitment… Mostly just despising babies.”

You sighed. “Mike, I… I want us to have a baby.”

His lips parted in surprise—only because he never expected you to want this. You were always against this idea, you’ve talked about it several times in the past. If anything, he didn’t know that the ‘exposure therapy’ that Adalyn planned would’ve driven you to want a baby. “Wait. Seriously?”

You grabbed his hand, gently rubbing your thumb over the back of it. “I don’t know, I just… I think we could do it, you know… start our own little family…”

He looked at your eyes deeply, with love and care.

Mike always wanted this with you. He loved you, that was for sure. He wanted to raise a baby of his own with you, to start a family together and take his relationship with you to the next level. To say the least, he was pretty thrilled by this.

His hands immediately cupped your face to kiss you passionately, lips pressed lovingly to yours. “I would love that so much with you.” He smiled softly at you. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mutter before interlocking his fingers with yours and meeting his lips once more.

*** Years Later ***

She had his father’s big, brown eyes.

The process was excruciatingly costly, long, but absolutely worth it. You and Mike decided to get a surrogate so that the baby would at least have some of his DNA—otherwise, the other option was to adopt.

You were in the same position as you were years ago: sitting on a chair serenely with a baby snug in your arms.

And just like those years ago, the baby quietly looked into your eyes, lovingly and admiringly. You smiled softly, letting the state of tranquility take over.

She was your entire world. You would do anything for her.

You loved your little girl.

You press a small kiss on her soft forehead, continuing to warmly hold her to your chest as she laid across your arms, supporting her neck and bottom with your hands. It felt good, to have something so precious and innocent in your care.

Mike finally entered the room minutes after, alluding that he came back from dropping off Abby at her work. He grinned warmly, walking towards you, pressed a long, affectionate kiss on your lips, and then a kiss on his daughter’s forehead.

“Do you… think we’re gonna be good parents?” You ask restfully.

“Wait, you’re asking that now?” He raised his eyebrows.

“No, I meant… C’mon, you know what I mean,” you sigh.

“Okay, then yes. I’m sure of it,” he asserted. “You’re gonna be an amazing parent for her, Y/n. We’re going to be amazing parents for her. I’ll do everything I can for her.”

Mike learned about taking care of babies at a very young age because of Abby. So it wouldn’t be too difficult to do it a second time, especially now that he would have you to help. He wanted to make sure that his new daughter would have a better childhood than he had, and he knew he would be extra cautious to ensure that nothing would ever take her away from him. Ever since Garrett, he promised himself to never let that happen to anyone ever again. And you would always assure him that he could keep it.

You look at your husband—the father of your child—dotingly. “I love you so much, Mike.”

“I love you too, baby,” he says before pressing his lips to yours once more.

Then, a soothing beat.

“She has your eyes,” you murmured softly. It was a well-known fact. You both have known this ever since she was brought into this world—it was actually the first thing you two noticed about her. The rich, brown irises that Mike possessed was passed down to your daughter. And while none of your features could be passed down to her, it didn’t matter at all to you. She was still yours. Yours and Mike’s. And you were going to raise her together.

She had her father’s eyes.

And Mike never got tired of being reminded of it, especially by you.

“Yeah… I know.”

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x gn!reader #Fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf x reader #michael schmidt #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x you #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh futturman #Josh futturman x reader #clapton davis #clapton davis x reader #peeta mellark #peeta mellark x reader

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coldwayhome · 29 days

Note

Could you do jason grace dating a fem!reader who is shy? Maybe like the things the reader does, that jason finds really cute? Im just SO fluff deprived haha

DON’T BE SHY, LOOK ALIVE! ♡

— when you first met jason, you almost peed your pants (metaphorically)

— what do you mean this tall and scary blond guy was going to be your tour guide?!

— he was nice to look at, which honestly made it worse.

— tall, scary, good looking? what’s next, kind? smart? noble? UGH!

— spoiler: he was all of those things.

— walking you through camp with ease and leisure, jason enjoyed your presence.

— he still scared the hell out of you though!

— eventually the tour approached the end, and you scampered off to the hermes cabin to hide and think over what happened.

— he was looking at you a lot.. almost like you amused him 😰

— you decided to talk with your pseudo siblings about jason and his demeanor.

— ahem. so yeah apparently he’s kinda just like that.

— at dinner, you tried to avoid him whenever you could.

— obviously it doesn’t work!

— jason has chosen you (yes, you!) as his target for a new friend.

“hey there!” a voice calls from behind you as you were putting your plate away. when did he get there??

“hi..” you say, eyes on the tree behind him.

“[name], right?” jason continues when he sees your nod. “i was wondering if you wanted to sit by the lake with me? it’s nice weather out now, and the sunset looks cool reflected on the water.”

you glance up and meet his stare. his hand is held out, and he has a smile on his face.

of course you said yes.

— while the two of you sit on the dirt, jason steals a few glances in your direction. (maybe more than a few… what can i say? you’re a cutie pie!) he asks a few questions, tells a few jokes, and slowly breaks your walls down.

— you two have a rock skipping contest (neither of you won. both your rocks sunk immediately..) and you make him a flower crown with the daisies scattered on the hills next to you.

— bad news! jason finds you insanely cute. good luck with that!

ahhh this has been in the inbox forever i am so sorry anon.

#starrie night #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #heroes of olympus x reader #anon #percy jackson x reader #jason grace #jason grace x reader

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pengujoon · 9 months

Text

GUILTY AS CHARGED

cont. gojo x reader, fluff, comedy. reader is very head over heels for satoru + they kiss! established relationship!au, husband!au, intentional lowercase.

a/n. that one satoru removing his blindfold scene in s2 ep8 has me feeling some kinda way and before i knew it this piece came to be

as you watch satoru instruct his students in the courtyard, your heart fluttered, and you turned to shoko with a dreamy expression. you had no lessons, and she had no patients. “shoko, have you ever seen anyone as beautiful and graceful as satoru?"

shoko shook her head, whispering under her breath, “not again…”

"oh my god," you whisper to shoko as you eyed him, your voice filled with awe, hands shaking her shoulders wildly, “look at those muscles. those long legs. that white tuft of hair!! that blindfold. ugh, everything's just perfect."

shoko raises an eyebrow, fully aware of your ongoing infatuation. "well, i do admit that he is good-looking, but you make it sound like he's a work of art."

you nod enthusiastically, not the least bit shy about your feelings. "no, seriously, it's like he moves with this effortless grace. every gesture, every step — it's like poetry in motion. and that blindfold, shoko, it's not just an accessory; it's a statement of his sheer confidence."

shoko chuckles, amused by your vivid analysis. "you're absolutely smitten, aren't you?"

you nodded, a smile playing on your lips. "guilty as charged."

as class ended, satoru caught your eye and winked at you, making your heart skip a beat. even after all these years, your crush on satoru remains as strong as ever.

“hey, mr. handsome,” you said, trying to sound casual the moment he was within earshot, “do you ever wonder how you’re so ridiculously good-looking?”

“well,” satoru paused and smirked, “it’s a natural gift, honey.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “seriously though, it’s unfair. i’ve been dating you since high school, and i still can’t believe my luck.”

he walked over to you, removing his blindfold before taking your face in his hands. “you already have my last name, what’s there to worry about?” he said, leaning in for a kiss that made your heart do somersaults.

"well, it wasn't like i was complaining or anything…" you whispered underneath your breath before he held your face in his hands and pulled you closer to him. the coldness of the golden ring shocked you as he landed pecks and kisses all over your now flushed face before finding your soft lips.

you leaned into his kisses, your fingers gently tracing the outline of his jaw. the warmth of his lips against yours sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a contented sigh.

satoru's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. time seemed to stand still as you melted into each other's embrace, lost in the sensation of his lips on yours.

eventually, he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours. his beautiful blue eyes stared into your very own as you whispered to him, like nothing else in the world mattered at that moment - it was just you and him.

you whispered under your breath, "and i just love you so, so much, dearest husband of mine."

bonus scene:

“did they just casually forget about my existence?” shoko asked, blinking her eyes in feigned shock.

“don’t worry, shoko-sensei. this happens way too often for any of our liking.” as nobara shook her head sadly, itadori and megumi nodded in agreement, all of them looking at the lovey dovey pair of couple before them, this scene all too familiar to their sight.

in my husband!satoru era fr. this is so self indulgent i don’t even know where to begin

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk fics #penguwrites #jjk imagines #established relationship!au #husband!au

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mangoisms · 11 months

Text

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter one: on my way to circle k

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.3k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

The Slurpee machine is broken again.

It isn’t that big of an issue, not particularly world-ending, no, especially since you get regularly held at gunpoint (or knifepoint) and occasionally used as a hostage.

But for you, working the night shift from eleven PM to seven AM, you kind of need the sugar boost. The Slurpees are easier on your stomach than the coffee is. Even if they do stain your mouth.

You sigh, continuing to stare at the machine; it whirs and sputters strangely and you set aside the cup to shut it off. You’ll also need to file the paperwork for it to be fixed. That seriously blows.

You get it unplugged just as the gust of wind hits.

You stumble. Shelves groan in protest. Several rows of granola bars and trail mix are sent flying.

Oh, great, who is it now—

You hear your name in a question, from a very familiar voice.

You spit out a mouthful of your hair. “Flash?”

Sure enough, in the flesh, the Flash grins at you, blue lightning fading from his body. He spreads his arms as he exclaims your name again.

In a blink, he is there, arms wrapping around you, lifting you off the ground as he squeezes the life out of you. Another blink and you’re on the ground, looking at him, his hand on your shoulder.

“Look at you, kid. It’s good to see you. I can’t believe you’re still working here.”

A stupid grin forms on your lips. “It’s not the same here without you eating up our inventory.”

He laughs. “I bet!”

You shake your head, fixing your hair and your shirt. Flash notices the state of the granola bars and trail mix, sends you an apologetic smile, and in the next blink, they are back on the shelves, neatly arranged.

“So, what brings you here? If you can answer that.”

He waves a hand, flitting around, emptying the sausage grill and making himself several hot dogs.

“One of the rogues got a little, shall we say, ambitious and wanted to try his luck here. Just trying to snatch him up before Batman finds out.”

“Let me guess—Trickster?”

He points a hot dog loaded with mustard and ketchup at you. “Bingo.”

“It’s dripping.”

“Aw, shit.” He shoves the rest of the hot dog in his mouth, grabs a napkin, and starts dabbing at the spot of mustard on his suit.

You watch him, amused, but also morbidly fascinated as usual at seeing him eat so much. When he finishes the hot dogs, he goes for the pizza. It makes sense when you think about it, that a guy who can run faster than the speed of light should need to eat so much, but it’s been a while since you’ve had the pleasure of watching him refuel. Six months, actually, since you returned from Keystone City.

You scratch your head. “I’m not sure why Trickster would want to come here. Batman, I think, is a worse punishment than you—”

“Agree, even if that’s also a little insulting to me.”

“Oh, you know what I mean. You’re avoiding him, aren’t you?”

Flash nods. “This is true. Carry on.”

“Well… Gotham already has a joke-themed guy. I don’t think Joker is going to take too kindly to someone encroaching on that. Unless he’s back in Arkham. Though he might’ve escaped again…”

“Y’see, that’s what I thought. It’s gonna sound bad, too, but I’m kinda hoping those two take care of each other, then I can get Trickster back to Iron Heights without any issues. But—”

You crack a smile, guessing his next words immediately. “When is it ever that easy?”

You had once believed the Flash to be just about infallible. After all, he is the Flash. This is the guy who, like you said, can run faster than the speed of light. He can canvas a city in under a minute. That’s how he takes care of Central City and Keystone City. (Well, the addition of the other Flash and Kid Flash probably help, too, but you know.)

But it’s not that easy. It’s why, you think, Metropolis has issues, even when they have Superman.

No rest for the wicked and all.

“Well, it’s still good to see you,” you say, a tad more hesitantly this time. Unsure if you can say that.

Flash looks back at you, sending you a warm smile. “It’s good to see you, too. How’s school?”

“No classes now. Financial aid doesn’t cover the summer, so.”

He frowns. “You’re still on track to graduate next year, though, right?”

You pause, surprised he remembered you saying that. “Yeah, yeah, I am.”

Flash nods, worries assuaged, then his gaze strays to the Slurpee machine, its lights turned off. “Aw, it’s not working?”

“Not today, sorry.”

He purses his lips, head tilting as he looks at the counter where the machine and your abandoned cup are.

“Wait a second,” he says, then the food that was in his hands is on the counter and he’s gone with arcs of blue lightning following him, a tingly feeling spreading through your fingertips and toes, like when you used to be a kid and dragged your hands across those old TV screens, feeling the static.

True to his word, in the next second, he is in front of you, two Slurpees in hand. One blue raspberry and another cherry.

You grin as he proudly presents the blue raspberry Slurpee to you.

“Thanks.”

He winks. “My pleasure.”

He collects his food again then gestures to the front with his head. Sipping at the ice-cold Slurpee, you follow him, sliding behind the counter.

“Time to head off?” you guess, ringing up the food he already ate, then the rest of the stuff.

He slips out a few bills from a hidden pocket at his hip. “Yeah, I need to go before—”

“Flash!” The door opens roughly. You balk as you see who it is. “Seriously? You can’t just run off. You’re just as bad as Impulse sometimes, I swear.”

Red Robin stands there, hands on his hips, scowling, doing a good impression of a teacher scolding a student, which is really weird for you, since you’ve always held a good dose of fear and respect for the Bats and this doesn’t really… go on par with that. And also, you’re pretty sure Flash is older than him.

Flash frowns. “Now that’s seriously uncalled for. I’m much better than he is. We were done talking, weren’t we? You’d call me if you found anything and it’s not like it would take me time to get there, would it?”

Red Robin doesn’t respond to that, mostly because he’s looking at you now. You’ve never seen him up close — any of them up close. Black fair falls sharply over his forehead, a black domino mask hiding his eyes. Not like a normal one; this one allows for more coverage under his eyes, going down to his nose, the end of which curves in a way reminiscent of a bird. But under the bright fluorescents of Circle K, everything else is easy to make out. Pale skin, a sharp jaw, a soft-looking mouth.

Great. He’s hot. And something else… something that niggles at you. Familiar in a way that bothers you because you’ve never seen him in person. Not like this.

You swallow nervously, giving him a half-hearted wave. The action jars him and he looks away from you quickly.

“Hey, don’t be mean to her,” Flash chides. “Seriously. Look at her. You’ve made her nervous.”

“Flash.”

He shoots you a troublesome grin. “Nah, don’t worry about him, kid. He’s harmless.”

“Flash,” Red Robin hisses out, his voice sounding stranger than before, modulated, in a way.

You compose yourself, giving Flash a look. “You know better than that. Perception means everything.”

“That is true,” he says. “But believe me. If fear worked as well as they’d like it to, Gotham would be the safest city in the country.”

A long-suffering sigh. Red Robin is turned away now and by the movement of his arm, pinching the bridge of his nose, exasperated.

“Hey, I’m not wrong,” he says to him, even despite you silently waving for him to drop it. “Look, fear is fine and all. But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with nurturing relationships with the people you protect. That’s what I did with you, isn’t it, kid?”

“Yeah, but I’m also not, you know, from there…”

He collects his change. “Which is why it’s even more embarrassing that these guys make you nervous and I don’t.”

Red Robin huffs.

Flash shrugs, smirking. “Just food for thought. I’ll see you around, yeah, kiddo? Gotta get going before this guy gets annoyed enough to just tell Batman about me and then I’ll really have problems.”

Then he’s gone, blue lightning arcing in his wake. Red Robin sighs again and leaves without a word or backward glance.

You stand there for a minute, unsure if that really happened. But the signature Slurpee cup of blue raspberry, already sweating because the June heat in Gotham is unbearable and the AC is not up to task, assures you very much that that did just happen.

A little unsteady, you take a seat on the stool, shaking your head and dragging the cup to you.

At least you got to see Flash again.

You don’t see him again, which is what you expected.

What you don’t expect is the appearance of Red Robin the next night.

You’ve grown up in Gotham City. Like anyone else, you have a healthy dose of fear and respect for the vigilantes that prowl the shadows. You also, unlike Vicki Vale or any journalist or obsessive conspiracy theorist, have absolutely zero interest in interacting with them.

Usually, interacting with them means you are in grave danger.

(You had to unlearn some of that during your brief tenure in Keystone City; the Flash was a little bit different from them. Maybe more than a little bit…)

So, when Red Robin shows up at Circle K at half past one in the morning, you are… a tad wary.

It doesn’t help that he seems awkwardly frozen, too, as your voice catches in the middle of your perfunctory Hi, welcome in as you realize who it is.

For a minute, it is painfully, painfully quiet.

“Is there something—”

“Do you have any—”

You both stop. You purse your lips. Red Robin is… blushing a little bit? Holy shit.

“Go ahead,” he says, clearing his throat after. His voice still sounds off like yesterday—modulated.

You grimace. “Sorry, I was just asking if there was something going on? Should I lock down the shop or hide or something?”

He looks briefly confused. “No? I mean, no… Everything is fine. I was just wondering if you guys had any, uh—” he seems to falter, scrambling a little bit “—hot… chocolate?”

Hot chocolate in June? What a weirdo.

You keep your face straight, though.

Flash might’ve let you off the hook when it came to formalities but you’d be an idiot to think you could get away with that with these guys.

He exhales the briefest laugh at something, then—you, you realize, your expression, which should be perfectly polite, what the hell. He turns his head away as a smile curls his lips. That niggling feeling—which began as soon as you realized he was here—strengthens. You push it away for a second.

“I know. Late night. Don’t like coffee, so it’s a good alternative.”

How did he—?

Must be the detective thing.

You apologize anyway.

“Sorry. My, uh, friend’s like that, in a way,” you say, your tongue again moving faster than your brain can grapple with. He won’t care about the fact that your friend, Tim, is like that, too. Well, Tim likes the occasional energy drink if he’s staying up late because he doesn’t like coffee. Not this hot chocolate business. But maybe? Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, actually. Probably better than Red Bull, even if he doesn’t drink it often, maybe once or twice a month. And, anyway, it’s not the point. This guy doesn’t care. He probably couldn’t care less. You’re just trying to show him—oh, it doesn’t matter. This entire thing has gone straight to shit. All because he managed to read your judgment.

“Oh?” It’s a question but it’s a bit strangled. See? He doesn’t care. Poor guy. Probably trying to think of a way to get out of this. Well, you’ll do him one better.

“Uh, yeah… he’s—well. Doesn’t matter. Yeah, the machine is working. It’s over there.”

“Thanks.”

You nod and glance away, leaving him to cross to the other side of the store. You can’t help but watch him go, watching the way the heavy black cape swishes with his movements, boots soundless on the shitty tiled floors. He disappears behind the shelf, but his head is visible. A head of dark, dark hair that seems… familiar to you.

Ugh. What is with you?

It’s Red freakin’ Robin. You’ve glimpsed him and the others briefly. Shadows in the night, swinging from buildings, jumping from rooftops. Anybody who lives in Gotham long enough has seen the same. Doesn’t mean you know him enough to be this way, to be so bothered by something that won’t even come to mind.

You shake your head briefly.

You should think more on why he’s even here.

Though, it seems obvious, given what happened yesterday night.

Flash has a way of getting beneath your skin and inciting the most childish tendencies. You imagine his little comment about trust between vigilante and citizen bothered Red Robin.

Well, rest assured, you understand the position they are in. You enjoyed the way Flash visited you but they can’t afford that. Perception is gold. It is true, in some ways, that if it were as effective as they wanted it to be, Gotham would be less crime-ridden than it currently is.

(But that was also a conundrum with the corrupt government. So long as the systems were in place, crime would always happen, and it would take more than the Bats to fix that.)

Either way, they cannot afford for that mask to slip—metaphorically and literally.

There is a level of trust, you think, between the Bats and the people but… it’s not the same kind Flash fosters with his own.

You feel obligated to let Red Robin know that, with that, he has no obligation to do anything out of the ordinary.

So, that’s what you do when he comes back over to the counter, two small cups of hot chocolate in hand.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

He turns forward with a five dollar bill in hand. “I can’t just not pay—”

“I’m not talking about that.”

He is paying. You are moderately appreciative of what they do but not that appreciative.

“So, what else is it that I don’t have to do?”

You gesture between you two. “This. Come here to try and prove the Flash wrong.”

“I’m not—”

You try to level with him.

“It’s cool, man. He can be annoying. Annoying enough that he could make anyone want to prove him wrong. I get it. But he’s also a little bit of a doof when it comes to matters of the public. Though I’m betting he was trying to aggravate you more than anything. Either way, I get it. You have an image to keep up. Do what you have to do.”

“So, you don’t want me to come back?” Not an accusation. A genuine question.

You blink. “That’s not what I said. I don’t mind. I’m just… letting you know.”

“What do you know about it, anyway? Upholding an image? You seem very confident on the do’s and don’ts, despite being a civilian.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You guys actually refer to us non-vigilantes as civilians? Like, unironically?”

He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you with the emotionless white lids of the domino mask, lips pressed in a line.

You smile and roll your eyes, finally taking his five and opening the register. “I’m majoring in communication with a concentration in PR. Did an internship at Quickstart Enterprises last semester working with their PR department. You can say I know a thing or two about it.”

“What year?”

“Just finished my third. Starting my final in the fall. Look, I’m not saying you have to take my advice, I just wanted you to know. That’s all. I’m not holding it against you.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

You slide his change to him. “That’s all I ask.”

He picks up the cups, says, “Keep the change,” and then, he’s gone, dark cape fluttering, his figure swallowed up by the darkness of the night.

The only traces of his presence is the door slowly closing and the change still sitting on the counter.

These hero-types and their dramatic exits. Honestly.

You meet the Flash in your second week of work at Circle K.

The stipend from QE covered your housing and groceries but didn’t allow for much options regarding the latter. At least not the fresh produce kind.

So, you picked up a job at Circle K. Part-time only, which worked well with the schedule you had at QE. You typically worked evenings—not the graveyard shift you do now, which you took only because it paid better during the night—so from seven to eleven.

The Flash was different from the Bats in that regard. While Signal worked during the day, the rest of them worked during the night.

Flash told you he liked sleep, so he would take care of things during a reasonable hour in the evening to accommodate that, which meant you were beheld to his presence.

Frequently.

And the first time…

You have no idea what to make of the superhero currently raiding the sausage grill.

A larger part of you is suspicious, hoping that the Flash isn’t about to come up to you and say something arrogant about not being required to pay. A lot of the cops you get say something to that effect. It takes so much willpower in you to not roll your eyes.

But another part of you right now, the Tim part of your brain, is fascinated. Wants to ask some geeky questions about his power. Presumably, the fact that he is the fastest man alive means he has to eat a lot to sustain it, right?

Well. That one is a bit self-explanatory. At least if the way he’s stuffing his face tells you anything.

Suspicion wins out, though.

Keystone City is a nice enough city. Central City, across the river, is the same. They aren’t Gotham, that’s for sure, and sometimes you don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse.

It’s mostly that Keystone City is situated in Kansas and across the Mississippi, in Mississippi, is Central City. These regions of the country, historically conservative, make you a bit tetchy. Not at all helped by the fact that for a very long time, Keystone City was suspended in the fifties. Or rather, what they thought were the fifties. Time passed normally outside of it until the Flash fixed everything.

It gives Keystone an aesthetic old-timey vibe to it but with all the modern luxuries of the late 2010s, like phones and, you know, civil rights.

But things have been okay, for the most part. The people you encounter here at Circle K are amiable enough. (Well, except for the cops you get. You could go without dealing with those idiots.)

Though, admittedly, between work for QE and here and trying to keep yourself fed and (mostly) rested, you haven’t gotten out much.

The Flash, though… you haven’t directly encountered him. Not in your few weeks here. Sometimes when walking to the subway, you feel the sharp gust of wind, commonly associated with him as he makes his way through the city faster than a speeding bullet, glass windows and cars rattling dangerously in the aftermath of his path. On the news, when he takes down whichever rogue woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and in the newspaper. But nothing beyond that.

People speak fondly of him, for the most part. Rumors are solid sources of information but you just can’t help but be a little bit suspicious. There is such a thing as too good to be true, after all…

You reach for your half-empty cup of blue raspberry Slurpee. Though it’s the beginning of September, summer takes longer to leave the midwest, you’ve learned, and the summers here are loads worse than ones you’ve experienced in Gotham.

Before you can even get your mouth around the red straw, a breeze hits and you blink, finding the Flash in front of you, depositing mostly empty cartons of hot dogs onto the counter, with a few of them still full. On their way to being empty, though, as he crams more into his mouth. A cup of cherry Slurpee finishes it off.

The Flash points a half-eaten hot dog at you. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m sorry?”

“No, no, not like that. You’ve just got this suspicion to you. This… paranoia. A paranoia that can only belong to someone from Gotham,” he says, nodding to himself.

Well, that’s—

Hm.

A bit embarrassed to be caught out like that—because it isn’t the first time—you attempt to make up for it.

“I’m from Metropolis, actually.”

Best to stay on the east coast. Even you couldn’t pass as someone from the west coast, like Star City or Coast City or something.

Flash grins at you. “Liar.”

You aren’t used to this kind of playful banter. Certainly not from a literal superhero, from someone who regularly saves the world with the likes of Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman and more. You don’t think you expected the cold brutality the city gets from the Bats back home but… you didn’t expect this, either.

To get a much-needed sense of normalcy, you scan one of the hot dog cartons, adding them up on the screen.

“Was it that obvious? I wasn’t trying to be… I mean, I was, but, you know, I didn’t, um…”

You stop, cringing. Very eloquent and more than a little annoying, given your career choice. Can’t be like that when you get put on the spot. Even if it’s by a superhero. Especially if it’s by a superhero. Journalists are even worse, anyway…

“Relax, kid,” he laughs. “To tell you the truth, it was hard to miss but I’m sort of geared for that kind of thing, what with my choice in career.”

“Right.” You scan the Slurpee and take a drink of yours while he fiddles with some zipper in his suit. A deep red, with a purple tinge, a silver Flash symbol on his chest, and a cowl, but with the top free, showing off a shock of red hair, and his eyes still exposed. Pretty green.

“But I do have an unfair advantage,” he goes on. “I see a similar look every time I have a League meeting.”

You blink. “The League…?”

“You should know. Your caped crusader, Batman. Of course, that’s also because he doesn’t like me—and the feeling is mutual, trust me—but, you know. Schematics. He sits right across from me and that’s all I get, this classic brand of Gothamite suspicion on top of the usual wordless Batman disapproval.”

“Should you be telling me that?”

He hands you a twenty. You pop open the register to break it. Another breeze hits and the empty cartons of hot dogs are shoved into the trash, with him eating the last one and on his way to finishing the large cup of cherry-flavored Slurpee.

“I mean, what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” you say lightly, calculating his change. “I could go to the press. Breaking News: Strife within the League. Tenuous relations between Batman and the Flash.”

“Oh, really?”

“That’s the press. A common dislike will absolutely turn into that in their headlines. They would take it and run.”

“That is true. You a journalist?”

“Oh, no. Communications, with a concentration in public relations.”

Flash thinks on it for a second, finishing his hot dog, then the Slurpee. You partially expect him to get angry. It would be a justified reaction. He doesn’t know you and you don’t know him. You can admit that some of what you just said is a bit… imperious. Who are you to lecture him, right?

“You aren’t wrong,” he finally says, repeating his earlier words as the last hot dog carton and Slurpee cup disappear from the counter—thrown in the trash.

“But,” he presses, accepting the change from you—a few dollars—then dropping it into your tip jar. “I know you aren’t going to take that to the press.”

“How’s that?”

He points at you. “Because I don’t think you’re the kind of person to do that.”

“You’re appealing to my morals?”

“Yes. Is it working?”

“Not much work to be had,” you admit. “I was never going to. I was just…”

“Being nice and telling me I should watch what I say,” he finishes, grinning. “Which is true. All true. I just couldn’t help myself. What’s your name, kid?”

You tell him. He extends a hand.

“It’s nice to meet you. Welcome to Keystone City. Hope you enjoy your stay.”

A bit bemused, you nod politely and say, “Thanks.”

Before he can say anything else, he visibly tenses, lifting a hand to the Hermes-like wings at his ears, then, in the next blink, he is gone, off to stop someone or something, leaving you with a sharp gust of wind that rattles the windows and knocks the candy from the shelves under the counter onto the ground.

Well, then.

Talk about a first impression.

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patolemus · 3 months

Text

Here’s a little thing that’s been bugging me for a few weeks.

Summary: Stiles is a demon. This is common knowledge. At least, he was under the impression that this is common knowledge. He should have known better than to trust Derek Hale to figure it out.

————————————

Look, in his defense, Stiles was sure they knew. At least, he was sure Derek knew, and if Derek knew, then the rest of the pack knew. That’s just kind of how it works, when they aren’t hiding threats from each other.

(He’s not pointing fingers. It’s just that Stiles sometimes gets fucking tired when the pack does not tell him shit and then he ends up having to figure it all out by himself so they don’t get themselves killed. It wasn’t funny the first time Scott tried it back in sophomore year. It hasn’t gotten any funnier since.)

(Alright, so he is pointing fingers. Sue him.)

Stiles is a demon. And okay, before anyone gets mad and starts saying shit like ‘no he’s not, he’s just a bit chaotic’, he… well, Stiles will admit to being chaotic as a general rule, but that is more of a character choice. He’s being for real when he says he’s a demon.

His parents couldn’t have children. It’s just how it goes sometimes. But Claudia was a very powerful witch, and she knew a thing or two about making pacts with demons. So when the doctors told her she could not carry any children, she figured the next step was obviously to summon a creature from down below and make a deal with it in exchange for a child.

That’s where Stiles comes in.

Claudia probably wasn’t expecting a demon child to come to her when she did her summoning, but personally? Stiles thinks she lucked out. Stiles is a friendly demon, as far as those go, and his policy regarding humans is more ‘see what makes them tick’ rather than ‘make them burst into flames spontaneously’, so all in all, she could have done a lot worse.

So that’s kind of how he ends up as Stiles Stilinski, son of John and Claudia Stilinski. Claudia and John are the only ones that know Stiles’ true name, though only Claudia can say it right. John tries his best, but they all collectively decide that Mischief is a rather good alternative.

In exchange for being the best son anyone could have, Stiles gets to spend an unspecified amount time on the mortal realm. Claudia doesn’t put any restrictions on him, on the understanding that Stiles can’t go and kill people for kicks. Annoying them is fair game, though.

That’s fine. Stiles has never been particularly interested in needless violence. He’d much rather learn everything there is to know about humans. Such interesting creatures. Truly fascinating.

And that’s how he spends the next twelve years of his life. He makes one singular friend - humans tend to get this instinctual need to get away from demons, but Scott doesn’t have any survival instincts at all, so it works out fine - and spends most of his time enjoying the admittedly mundane life of a human child.

Stiles knows there’s a pack of werewolves living in town, but he never runs into them, and then they die in that terribly suspicious fire and the survivors leave. The town quiets down a lot after that, and Stiles tries not to mourn the loss too badly. The energy they gave off was very pleasant.

Then the werewolves come back to town.

Stiles doesn’t intent to get involved. He doesn’t. He’s a demon, he doesn’t care for mortal affairs no matter how amusing they are. So he doesn’t do anything when he feels the presence of an Alpha in Beacon Hills after seven years. A not his circus not his monkeys kinda situation. But then Scott gets turned into a werewolf, and Stiles doesn’t care for mortal affairs but he does care about Scott, so really, it was inevitable.

There’s also Derek Hale. Derek Hale with his lickable abs and his chiseled scowly face and that angryhurtsadmiserable aura of his. Stiles acuses him of murder, Derek shoves him into walls. How is Stiles supposed to not become completely obsessed?

Anyways.

Stiles isn’t sure how he ended up in a pack of werewolves of all things - demons are lonely creatures, they don’t get packs - but he can probably blame Scott for that. It’s pretty alright, even if he gets dragged into every possible supernatural matchup imaginable. At least no one is busting out the holy water. Not that it would work, that’s a myth. Stiles had that phase as a kid where he went to church every Sunday morning and received the sacrament of Eucharist just for kicks. His dad didn’t find it funny, but Stiles still thinks it’s fucking hilarious. Now he uses the name of Jesus Christ every time he can. It’s blasphemous and Stiles thinks it’s hilarious too.

Back to the point, Stiles never bothered to hide he’s a demon. He doesn’t advertise it, of course, but he doesn’t go out of his way to mask his scent or whatever. He’s powerful enough that he can take on mostly anything that comes find him. So he thought Derek knew, and was just being chill about it and not mentioning it.

Apparently not.

The bitten wolves, he could understand. They still mix up deer and rabbit after years of being bitten when they’re running in the preserve. But Derek’s a born wolf. He was trained since he was a kid, and it’s not like demons are hard to sniff out. Hell clings to Stiles like a second skin.

Well, it turns out Derek is the ultimate failwolf, because after four years, he still had no idea. It takes a run in with another demon - this one does like to set humans on fire, unfortunately, so Stiles has to banish it back to Hell - and even then Stiles has to practically spell it out for him. Stiles is only a bit disappointed in him. Mostly, he’s still a bit confused on how Derek even missed it in the first place.

“Dude, can’t you smell it?” he asks, and they’re alone in the loft because everyone else has gone out to buy celebratory donuts while they try to get the scorch marks off Derek’s wall. It’s not going as well as they hoped.

Instead of an answer, or a growl, which is his primary method of communication, Derek does something unexpected and fucking—blushes.

Huh. Okay.

Wait, no. Not okay. What?

“It’s not considered polite to act on the way people smell, Stiles,” and Derek’s voice is strangled, like it hurts him to get the words out. He’s always been bad at talking but Jesus Christ, this is excessive.

(Heh. Jesus Christ. It will never not be funny.)

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve sniffed out other supernatural creatures or people’s intentions. It’s what you do. Other than rip out throats and creep around my window, obviously,” Derek’s scowl makes an appearance - there it is, Stiles was getting worried for a second - looking back at the scorched wall like it’s going to magically clean itself with the power of his rage.

Stiles could probably do something like that. Maybe. His magic is chaotic on a good day, so he can’t really call it reliable. Destructive, definitely. Offensive, if he has to pick between that and defense. Stiles is terrible at that.

He’s really getting off track here.

“That’s different. You’re not a supernatural creature,” Derek says stubbornly and what?

“What?”

“What,” it’s impressive how he always manages to ask questions that don’t sound like questions.

“What do you mean, I’m not a supernatural creature? Are you—“ Stiles looks at his Alpha with narrowed eyes, mouth open mid sentence as it finally downs on him that they’re talking about very different things. “What did you think I meant when I asked you if you smelt it?”

Derek stubbornly refuses to say anything. That’s fine. Stiles is the king of stubborn, he can out-stubborn anyone at any given time.

“Tell me,” he presses. Derek doesn’t say anything. “Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell—“

“Jesus fuck, Stiles, fine!” heh. Stiles knew he’d break. “I was smelling that you’re horny. All the time.”

That— that’s not what Stiles was expecting. Um. Okay. So things got awkward very fucking quickly.

“Oh,” he says, and now he sounds strangled because he thought he’d kept that little tidbit of information hidden quite nicely. It turns out Derek was just being polite about it.

God, does it mean the betas can smell it too? Oh, no, no no no no.

(Heh. God. Stiles is so funny.)

(He really has to stop unfocusing like this.)

Stiles is officially mortified. Turns out even demons get prudish after spending so much time in the mortal realm. Who knew? It’s okay, Stiles will just find the nearest bridge to throw himself off from. If he has any luck he’ll die instantly and won’t get back to Hell so he doesn’t have to live with this knowledge forever.

“It’s okay. I know it’s not personal or anything,” Derek’s still not looking at him. He’s grabbed back his rag and is valiantly rubbing away at the wall. Stiles doesn’t have the heart to tell him that if the mark hasn’t come out already, it probably never will. He’d know, he’s burned plenty of walls before.

By accident, if his dad ever asks.

“That’s fine and all, only it’s very personal,” and Stiles is just making a bigger hole to bury himself in, but his mouth is faster than his brain. It’s an ongoing issue. “You don’t think I’m horny all the fucking time, right? I mean, demons do have that hyper hormonal stage at my age but assuming it’s all the time is a bit excessive. I’m not a succubus. This is completely a you thing.”

Derek’s face does that thing where it pinches in between his eyebrows and his eyes narrow a bit, lips pressed together tightly. It’s his Stiles Just Said Something Deeply Upsetting face. He uses it a lot.

Alright, time to backtrack.

“It’s really okay that you don’t feel the same. Really, I get it. I wouldn’t feel the same about me either. So let’s just ignore I ever said anything, and we can go back to trying to clean this up even if we both know it’s not going to come out,” he offers Derek his most winning smile. Derek’s face just gets even more pinched.

Stiles’ senses are pretty dulled here on the mortal realm, but he doesn’t need them to know his Alpha is probably very pissed. At him, specifically.

So it’s Tuesday, then.

Stiles takes a step back, just as a precaution. He doesn’t think Derek will throw him against a wall - he stopped doing that a couple of years ago. Stiles refuses to acknowledge he kinda misses it - but you can never be too cautious. And Stiles did kind of just confess his undying horniness for him.

Imagine if he’d also told the guy he’s utterly and helplessly in love with him. That would have gone fantastically. Not.

“You’re a demon?” Derek’s voice comes out more high pitch than Stiles has ever heard it. He’s surprised. Why is he surprised? This is what they were talking about, before Stiles stuck a foot in his mouth. “Since when?”

“Since always? Seriously dude, can’t you smell it?”

It’s like they’re back in square one.

So. Turns out Derek truly had no idea Stiles is a demon. No wonder he’d looked like Stiles had grown a second head when he banished that fiend back to Hell.

On the good side, Derek apparently also returns his feelings, after they go in circles a few more times and Stiles gets across that he’s not just horny, he’s in love. A happy ending, in Stiles’ opinion.

(“How did you end up as the son of the Sheriff anyway? Is he a demon, too?”

“Hmn? Oh, no. My mom just did this summoning ritual for a Prince of Hell to get them a child, and I showed up. It was kind of a two for one deal,” he waves his hand dismissively.

“You’re a what?”

Oh, boy. Stiles knew he was forgetting something.)

#patolemus writes #yes this is inspired on the fact that no one can say stiles’ real name and he refuses to tell anyone what it is #emotionally constipated derek is very funny when he’s not obstructing true love #sterek #stiles stilinksi #derek hale #derek x stiles #stiles x derek #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #writing #fanfic #eternal sterek #sterek fanfic

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