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wife-of-all-dilfs · 4 months

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what friends do | f. odair

masterlist

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

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

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

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

word count: 11.7k

Mid-Autumn was closely approaching District Four.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mind if I sit?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

Finnick Odair.

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

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

That was what everyone made him out to be.

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

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

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

"I'm Finnick, by the way."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**********

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

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

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

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

Finnick was very much a gentleman.

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

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

But there was more to it than innocent adoration.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Look at thi—"

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

Damn that stupid seashell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I think..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed.

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

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

"Something on your mind?" Finnick asked suddenly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sounds pretty convenient, came an abrupt thought.

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

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

"Thinking about anyone in particular?"

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

How did he keep doing that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who could've guessed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Better?" he asked.

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

"Anytime."

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

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

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

How could he?

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

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

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

"Stop moving."

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

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

His hold on you became stiff. Completely frozen.

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

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

"Fuck," he breathed out.

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

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

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

"...Oh," you whispered.

"Yeah," Finnick said. "Oh."

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

As per usual, panic wreaked havoc in your mind.

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

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

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

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

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

Finnick was silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A wave of chills ran down your entire body.

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

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

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

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

Finnick murmured your name.

"Yes?" you managed to whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes," you sighed almost immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes,"you practically whined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The moan you let out was positively filthy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded fervently.

"Say please first."

"Finn," you whined in frustration.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is what did it for you.

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

"Taking it so well."

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

"Such a good girl."

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

"You okay?" Finnick asked softly.

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

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

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

You pushed yourself from his lap and pivoted to face him

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

"Hi," you whispered.

He smiled. "Hey, stranger."

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

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

Finnick tilted his head slightly. "Shy thing."

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

"Feeling better?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then came the explosion.

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

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

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

You stayed like this for a few seconds.

"So big," you gasped against his lips.

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

"Never."

This was so not what friends did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come inside you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were gone.

"Oh fuck!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a new moon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"For an entire hour?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you too."

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

...roll credits

3K notes · View notes

eddiesxangel · 2 months

Text

You Look Tense |Masseuse!Eddie x f!reader

Cw: reader uses where/her pronouns, seduction, perv!reader, perv!eddie, dirty talk, fingering, p in v, unprotected, pull out, pet names (sweetheart, good girl) modern!eddie

wc: 2.9k

You were on a fold-out massage table in the middle of your living room. You downloaded the app to have a masseuse come to you on a whim. Your friend swore by it. You were a bit apprehensive about letting some stranger come into your home and rub you down while you were naked, but she said it was legit.

When you heard the knock on your front door, you didn’t think you would open it up to one of the hottest men you had ever seen. Leaving you staring at him with wide eyes and your jaw agape.

“You order a massage?” He smirks.

“Yea, sorry, um, come in.” You observe his dark blue scrubs as they hug his upper body.

You lead him inside to show him where to set up.

“First time?”

“What?”

“Is this your first time using the app?” he smiles. Taking off his coat, you notice his tattoos and muscular forearms.

“Oh, I’m… yeah.” You stammered because you were so distracted.

“I could tell, don’t worry. Things are strictly professional.” He explained.

Professionalism was not what you were worried about at this point. Quite the opposite, really.

After Eddie set up his things, he instructed you to lay face down, and then he left the room so you could strip and get under the white cotton sheet.

You called out that you were ready and heard his light footsteps entering the room.

“Anything specific you want me to focus on?”

“Um, my lower back and shoulders have been really hurting,” you mumble into the head pillow.

“Ok, great, let’s get started.”

His hands were like magic, the way he wasn’t too rough or too light. He worked your soar muscles perfectly.

“What’s got you so tense, sweetheart? Let me help you relax,” He spoke.

Relax?! How could you be relaxed with this extremely attractive man who is rubbing his hands all over your naked body in your own home!

And the voice! Oh god, his voice is so hot, you don’t want him to stop talking. It didn’t help that you were wound up in more ways than one.

“Um, uh…. Work, I guess.” You didn’t need to guess; you were drowning in the stress of your responsibilities.

“Well, don’t worry, I’m here to help with that,” he hummed as you heard the squirt of more oil fall into his large palms.

“Oh, yeah, your shoulders are so tense; that's a big knot.” You felt him shuffle, so he stood at your head. If you lifted your head up any further, you’d be face to face with his crotch.

You were trying too hard not to let out a moan as his strong fingers dug into your aching back.

“You gotta relax for me. Is the pressure too much?”

“No-no, you’re perfect- I mean, it’s perfect…”

Eddie let out a chuckle as he continued.

This was so good, too good, but he was right...You needed to relax. You tried not to focus on who was above you but on the feeling that he was giving you.

A few minutes later, you were successfully relaxing into the table.

“That’s it, very good,” he praised, and you let a moan slip out.

“Sorry,” you squeak.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It happens all the time, and it lets me know I’m doing a good job."

Like Eddie said, he was keeping things strictly professional, but you were making it very hard, especially with that moan you let slip from your pretty lips.

Your skin was unbelievably soft, and you smelled really good. With this particular job, Eddie is used to all kinds of different clientele; he never knew what he was walking into when he got booked. So when you answered the door, he was very pleasantly surprised.

You stew in your own thoughts about how good this man’s hands feel, holding back the noises threatening to break the silence. The only sounds filling the room are Eddie’s feet shuffling, breathing, and wet, slippery skin.

“The best way to help with your shoulders is if I also rub down your neck and head. Are you okay if I get oil in your hair?” he asked again in that sexy, soothing tone.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you sighed. Eddie smirks to himself again, knowing he is doing a good job.

“Great,” he shuffles to position himself to get the best angle. You feel as he sits beside you on the table, drapes your arm over his thigh, and uses his free hand to work at your neck.

His hand slowly works its way up, up, up until his long, thick fingers grip your hair, tugging on your scalp. His fingers dig into the perfect pressure points on your head.

You can’t help but let out another moan of pleasure; it just feels so good. You can’t stop your mind from going to an x-rated place, thinking about how good his hand feels tangled in your hair.

You couldn’t ignore your pussy any longer; there was no denying how wet you had gotten over the last half hour, and he hadn’t even made his way down to your lower back. How are you supposed to survive the rest of the time?

Your pussy was throbbing by the time Eddie made his way down to your lower back. You could feel Eddie move the sheet down lower, exposing more of your skin to him. He lightly draped it over your ass, careful not to expose it too much, trying to tuck the sheets into the band of your underwear, but to Eddie’s surprise, you weren’t wearing any.

You hear him clear his throat as he discovers that you are fully naked underneath.

“What side is, uh, bothering you?”

“Right,” you sigh. And I think I might have pulled the back of my thigh,” you suggest, hoping Eddie reads into it.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” he hums.

Eddie was in serious trouble, and the thin material of his pants did not help his situation.

Eddie had never grown hard with a client; this was not normal. He could not excuse himself until the session was over, so he hoped and prayed that his situation would defuse itself until it was time for him to leave.

It did not, you were torturing him, at this point you had to be doing this on purpose. Your moans were getting more and more sensual.

“Mmmmm, you’re so good at this,” you praise as his hands run along your lower back, creeping closer and closer to your ass muscle.

“So I’ve been told”

“Bet you’re really good with your hands in other places.”

Eddie froze. Did that really come out of your mouth, or did he hear things?

“You uh-" he cleared his throat, “-uh, said your lower back, right?”

“Yeah, but like, really low,” you hummed.

“You comfortable if I move the sheet, uh, lower?”

“Yeah,” you wiggled your hips slightly to encourage him to take things further. You cannot remember the last time you had been so turned on.

You hear Eddie’s breath hitch as you feel the fabric slip off your skin.

“Oops”

“Oh shit-”

“It’s okay; you can leave it off”

“You? Uh? Oh-okay” what was he thinking? This was not professional! It would get him fired if anyone found out… but how could they? He was in your home. You wouldn’t tell anyone? Against his better judgement, he decided to leave you exposed…

With your naked body exposed to Eddie, he continued to work on your lower back. Your oiled skin was glistening under each touch, and Eddie’s cock was growing by the second.

Eddie’s hands worked lower as he hesitantly yet excitedly explored the vast planes of your body. He hadn’t dared make a move, but you could feel his hands move closer to your inner thighs, so you partied your legs so he could have better access.

Eddie watched as your legs moved for him, your legs parted, and he had the perfect view of your glistening pussy lips.

Eddie’s eyes widened as he knew he had not even gotten close to that area of your body with the body oil.

With a deep breath, Eddie grazed his fingers closer to your upper inner thigh, right below your ass; the tops of his fingers lightly traced the outside of your lower lips to test the waters.

The last thing Eddie needed was to read your advances the wrong way and end up in jail.

“Mmmm, that’s good,” you hummed, encouraging Eddie to keep going.

“You need me to work on anything else?” Eddie asked suggestively.

“Now that I think about it, I pulled my groin the other day; I think you could really help me with that; you’re so good with your hands.”

“Sounds good, sweetheart,” Eddie hummed, shifting his weight to get the best angle. You felt him crawl up onto the table with you and straddle his legs around you.

His hands work your ass, massaging the muscles up, pulling your skin taught so he could see your swollen pussy lips.

Sucha pretty pussy

“Mmm thank you”

Shit, did Eddie say that out loud?

You let out a chaste breath as you felt his long thick fingers finally graze your wet slit.

Eddie gently massages circles onto your clit, and your hips roll into his hand.

“Mmmm, that’s it, relax f’me… this is what you needed, hmmm?”

“Uh-huh,” you sigh as your body fully relaxes into Eddie’s soft touch.

Eddie’s hand continues to work your fluttering clit before he decides to let an oiled finger slip into your hole.

“Oh, sweetheart, you are so tight, so tense. You should have told me earlier. I really need to loosen you up” he pumped his finger in and out of your pussy before curling his fingers to massage your inner walls.

“Maybe we could extend the session,” your breath hitches.

“I think that can be arranged,” he slips a second finger effortlessly.

As he continued to work your pussy he added his thumb to your clit. That familiar feeling of lust and need built up in your lower stomach as Eddie sped up his fingers.

“More,” you pleaded. You were at his mercy. You’d do anything to have him make you cum.

“I think I need to get in deeper,” he hummed.

You liked that idea; you popped up to finally see him. You watched as his pants slipped from his hips, and your mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock staring you in the face.

“Like what you see?” He smirks as he watches you checking him out while he checks you out, seeing your naked breasts for the first time.

“Yeah, like what you see?” You ask back.

“Oh yes,” he leaned in to cup your face, bringing your lips together.

Eddie’s mouth took over yours, and he ravaged you. His plush lips were so soft as his lips explored your own. His tongue slipped into your mouth as his soft hands moved up your middle to kneed your breasts.

You shuffle back so Eddie can place himself between your legs.

“Need you now,” you spoke into his mouth between kisses.

“Want you so bad” Eddie replies.

“Please,” you begged for him.

Eddie stripped the rest of his scrubs and exposed the tattoos that dawned his alabaster skin. He was covered head to toe in ink. You wanted to kiss every inch of his body, but the need to have him inside of you was more, so you widened your legs as far as they could go to expose yourself.

“Thought you said you pulled your groin” Eddie smirks

“Guess your magic hands healed me” You sank your hand between your legs so you were touching yourself, teasing Eddie as you worked your fingers in your needy clit.

“Magic hands, huh?” He replaced your hand with his.

“Mmmmhmmm,” you hum as Eddie kisses you and guides you to lie on the fold-out table.

“You think these are magic just wait and see what my cock can do.”

You gasp as Eddie slips the head of his cock across your wet lips, collecting your slick before the tip of his cock breaches your hole.

His cock was thick and long. Slowly, he stretched you out inch by inch. Sinking deeper and deeper until you enveloped him wholly.

Eddie watched as your pussy swallowed him, skin to skin, he didn’t even know you, but it didn’t matter; all that mattered was how you were making him feel and how he was making you feel.

“Oh, Eddie!” You cried as he started building up his speed, pumping into you.

“Mmmmm, I like how you scream my name.” You watch as his body pumps into you, his abs defining themselves with every thrust in. His big hands grip as best they can on your oiled skin and push your legs to your chest, folding you in half as he does.

“S’big,” you try and grab at Eddie, but he’s too far out of reach, so you ball your hands into fists and grit your teeth in frustration. You want to feel him, to touch him, to have all of him.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Wanna kiss you” you whined.

“Shhhh, you’re okay; as long as my dick is inside of you, you’re fine.”

“Oh fuck!” He sunk deep into you, faster and faster, his hips thrust his cock deeper into your needy cunt.

“That’s it, take it like a good girl.”

God, the mouth on this man, you had no idea.

Eddie gave in and leaned over to kiss you before he unexpectedly jumped off the table and flipped you over to your hands and knees.

“The only way I’m going to get as deep as you want, baby,” you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke.

“Just give it to me”

“Oh, asking to be fucked? Wanna be fucked by my cock, huh?”

You nod your head frantically as he aligns your hips to be at the perfect height for him to pound into you.

“Fuck look at that” he massaged your ass, spreading it apart before plunging his hard cock back into your throbbing pussy.

You let out a scream; Eddie was right; this angle was deeper, so deep you swore he was in your stomach at this point.

“That’s it, you can take it.” Eddie watched as your oiled skin bounced off his cock, and he swore he was in heaven.

Your tight pussy clenched down on him even more from the angle. The way your warm wet walls were hugging his cock, how your ass looked bouncing off his body, he could have come by now, but he wanted to hold off, savour this a little while longer.

Eddie reached round your body to massage your clit once more. His fingers were moving so meticulously while his cock was pouncing into you from behind.

“Faster” You grabbed Eddie’s wrist because his fingers were too slow; no way you would cum from them slowly circling your swollen clit.

Eddie listened to your plea and picked up the pace with his hands and his hips. Eddie was pounding into you so hard. If you were an outsider looking in, you would swear the fold-out table would have given out, but you were so cockdrunk you had no other thoughts than how Eddie was making you feel.

“You’re close, baby; I can feel the way you’re squeezing me; you’re going to cum when I say okay.”

“Can’t hold it, wanna cum, wanna cum so bad!” your upper body gives out, only making your ass arch higher for Eddie. He looks down to see the creamy ring form at the base of his cock as your orgasm threatens to take over.

“Hold on, on my count ok.”

“Mmmmmmmm” was all you managed to get out. Eddie s fingers still circling your clit, with his cock hitting your g spot. There was no way you were holding out any longer.

You wanted to cum so bad, but you also wanted to please Eddie, your friend, your hardest.

“Cum for me in…. 3….2….1, cum on my cock” he spoke between each thrust into you.

You listened and came as soon as the words left his mouth. Your body seized, and your mouth opened, but nothing came out as your silent cries were met with a wave of pleasure that washed over your whole being, soaking Eddie’s cock even more.

It could have been minutes or a few just a few thrusts later, you didn't know, but Eddie pulled out and finished, spreading his seed on your ass, which was somehow still perched in the air for him.

“Holy shit,” you hear Eddie whisper. “Definitely never done that before,” he laughed.

“Same,” you sigh, still fucked out.

Eddie picked up the discarded sheet off the floor and wiped off the remanence of his seed off of your ass and back.

“So, uh, that fix your problem?” He smirked.

“Only time will tell.” You sit back up finally with the sheet wrapped around you. “Maybe next time we will have you set up in the bedroom… You know, there is more space up there,” you smile.

“Next time?” Eddie smiles back.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll even cook you something, buy you dinner first.”

“I’d like that.”

Tags: @munson-blurbs @hunter-in-the-upsidedown @joejoequinnquinn @hellfirenacht @cinemabean @voyeurmunson @impmunson @asimpforthe80s @ali-r3n @take-everything-you-can @taintedcigs @trashmouth-richie @strangerstilinski @daisy-munson @bl00dy-hideout @babybimbo777 @lokis-army-77 @jamdoughnutmagician @sadbitchfangirl @mrsjellymunson @xacora @girlwiththerubyslippers @justiceforfoxface @katethetank @frogtape @cool-nick-miller @susie3334 @mrmiyagislittletrees @penguinsandpotterheads @eddies-acousticguitar @elvirasleftnipple @american-idiot-jpg @emo-taurus @ilovetaquitosmmmm @chloemm13 @gri959gri @seatnightsdea @faeriemunson14 @veemoon

#Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson smut #modern!eddie #Eddie Munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #modern!eddie munson x reader #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie munsun x you

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kisses4reid · 2 months

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convenient | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - studying while working at a convenience store is easier that thought when a regular happens to be a genius.

genre - fluff, fem!college!reader x earlyseasons!spencer

warnings - school work, that always scares me. they’re the same age!!! early 20s. mention of condoms.

edit - bc this is getting so much love, i’m opening a taglist for part 2!!! just comment or put in a req to join the ‘convenient’ taglist 🫶

the chime of the door didn’t phase you, the creaks and squeaks of the store slowly becoming one with you. flipping onto the next page of your biology textbook, something that was unnecessarily expensive, you shake your hand to get rid of the cramp you slowly became aware of.

it was only when a wave of man’s cologne and a plastic bag stood in front of you that you ripped your eyes off of your books.

he was tall, skinny, had long(ish) hair and looked amazing. there wasn’t really anything else to say, other than that the thin smile he displayed toward you made you smile back.

“just these for today?” you ask, fixing your posture and pushing some loose strands back to their place behind your ears.

“yes, thank you.” he says, voice as timid as his appearance. it was a bag of apples, a 2 minute bolognese container, and a bag of coffee. you scan them, weigh the apples, and watch him as his long fingers slip through his wallet to find a debit card. “have a good night.”

your eyes return to your textbook as you go to erase an answer you had previous written, obviously wrong.

“the heads of the phospholipid bilayer are hydrophilic, not phobic.” he says. it surprised you, making you return to his gaze slowly before realising you should probably reply instead of staring at the man.

“oh- yeah, thanks. i caught that it’s just, i guess i’ve been staring at the same words for so long i can’t differentiate them.” you give a small fake laugh as he nods, giving you a long look before coughing and leaving promptly. he leaves with his bag, and his hands fiddling with each other.

you can barely focus after that. customers come and go, and although you’ve only been doing the late shift for a week, this encounter with the unknown man couldn’t leave your mind. the way he dressed, his smell, his voice and how he corrected you (which would totally annoy you usually). you hoped he would return.

and he did. three days later, this time even later than the last.

you were stuck in a dark purple sweater, the aircon in the store blasting cold air that you were too lazy to fix. and although the air flipped pages of notes and questions, you were still stuck in a trance.

the blasting aircon blew a wind of mens cologne this time, it smelt like wood. your eyes glanced up from your books and trailed the familiar man, noticing how he was reusing the plastic bag from days before.

he returned to the checkout with apples, a 3 minute cannelloni, and a bag of coffee. he was now the one trailing you, “where did Latrice go?” you look up, chuckling a bit,

“Latrice is getting paid by her daughter-in-law to babysit the twins,” you reply, surprised you were willing to tell him so much information. he could be a stalker for all you know. or just a regular, obviously that’s way more likely. “trust me, i miss her as much as you do. $14.98.”

he nodded with a small smile and sliced his card down the side of the card reader.

you searched for him now, only after two encounters you were already craving some sort of human interaction at work. usually you avoided it since the only other ‘regulars’ were old men and mean teenagers. you had switched to writing a biology report on your computer, the sound of the keyboard almost covering the sound of the door bell.

a bag of apples, a 2 minute lasagne, a bag of coffee, and a banana muffin.

“big night?”

“uh- what?”

“you got a banana muffin. i thought you were starting to become predictable.” you bagged his things as he chuckled, looking over you and your laptop. you noticed only because you were also looking at him, “biology report. wanna read it?” you joked, but he didn’t catch that part.

now he was behind the register, sat on your wheelie stool reading and editing your report while walking you through everything he was changing. you didn’t understand most, but you were just happy to stay around him. you weren’t even scared of Old Alan, the guy who only buys cucumbers and condoms. nobodies ever asked him, don’t think anyone wants to know.

“what’s your word limit?”

“3500.”

“only 3500?” he gave you a raised eyebrow, voice getting slightly higher. he coughed, “sorry, that’s nearly impossible.”

you sigh, “i know… i’m y/n by the way. thought you should know who your helping cheat.”

“i’m not helping you cheat, i’m just… editing,” he hit backspace a few times with a lowered bottom lip, “my names spencer.”

you smiled and crossed your arms as you leaned against the counter. spencer. yeah, that sounded nerdy enough.

pt. 2

#spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x yn #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #cm #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x fem!reader

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bluerosefox · 11 days

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Invites

"OMA, kill meeeee" Ellie, aka Wrath complained as she allowed her head to 'thunk' on the cafeteria table in the Watchtower she phased into in order to sit in next to a boy dressed in red, yellow, and green.

"Aren't you already halfway there?" Came Robin's response as he took a drink of his water, eyeing his teammate with a raised eyebrow, though it was difficult to tell with his mask in place.

"OMA?" Asked Superboy on the other side of the boy.

"Shush you." She said towards Robin before answering Superboy "Oh my Ancients, it's like OMG but like for us ghosties."

"Tt" "Oh!" Came both their responses.

"So..." began Superboy after a few minutes of silence between them as he looked at Ellie like a confused puppy "Why?"

Ellie groaned and just stayed slumped on the table as she said "Da's dumb Observants council is hosting another dumb ball to try to get him or me hitched again, and like always I'm forced to attend because I'm Da's heir. We both hate it with a passion, most are just stuck up, power hungry, social climbers trying to get into our pants for the royal titles... Espcially if they become our Forevermores."

"Tt, why not just get rid of them? Or simply have your Father dismiss the ball." Robin said, his eye twitching in annoyance just at the thought of it. A ball sounded even more annoying than the gala parties he is made to go to.

"Sounds stressful... Also Forevermores?" Superboy asked, he was always curious of Ellie and her ghost culture but never knew what could be asked or not, he had been warned to never ask how a ghost died after all and that question is normally asked in every ghost hunter video on the internet.

"Forevermores is our term for the ONE. The one and only we will ever be with. Till our final end takes us we are always to be with them only. We are core creatures and bonding on that level is like sacred, we don't rush into bonding like that though. But everyone in the Realms hopes to be either become mine or Da's. And the ball is their best chance at meeting us on neutral grounds." Ellie explained as best as she could for Jon, it was hard trying to explain the type of level a Forevermore was "And to answer you Robin, Da can't. The Observants, despite how annoying they can get with their dumb demands, are part of the system council for the Realms, they're sadly needed to keep things in check hence their name. Da and his friends are still trying to find a loophole to get rid of them though. They were only created when they put Tyrant King to sleep and they still sadly have some backings from other powerful ghosts in the Realms, even an Ancient or two and in order to fully dismiss them we need all Ancients on board. And the ball keeps a lot of ghosts, especially the more powerful ones, errr I guess happy? Most just use it to gossip on neutral grounds, others just like to dance, network, or other junk like that. Basically, when it's not about them trying to get mine or Da's hand in ghost marriage, it's fun so Da can't dismiss it, it'll ruffle to many feathers."

"Wow..." "Tt." Were the response from her teammates.

"Yeah. Da really isn't happy because someone suggested inviting powerful people from a few Mortal Realms this time. Somehow it got approved. So... here." She said as she reached into her own chest, phasing her hand in, and pulled out two green envelopes and placed them on the table in front of them. Both boys stared in surprise to see their names written in dark purple ink and the stylized DP on it.

"CW let me invite you guys personally. Everyone else should be getting theirs in about a few minutes complete with a blaze of green fire and spooky vibes." Ellie said with a strained smile, both happy to invite them but also dreading the questions she'll no doubt have to answer once the invites were sent.

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safetypinxtales · 4 months

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Lonely with you | Azriel

summary: it seems like everyone's found their mates, except you. On a sleepless night you turn to your friend, in hopes that being alone, together, will feel slightly less lonely.

words: 1.5k

warnings: fluff, feelings of loneliness, thirsting over our boy az and his thighs, kind of just a drawn out drabble, some angst, generally just softness, Azriel with a book needs a warning in and of itself, very slight jealousy, neutrally described reader/no reader description, no use of y/n, PINING

notes: haven't written in years, and never befor for Azriel, or anyone from acotar, so bare with me. Not sure what I think of this, nor what the future might hold, but I had some time off uni and this idea that I just couldn't seem to get out of my head. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

part 2

You knew what picture was waiting for you in the living room of the House before you even rounded that corner. The distinct sound of pages turning, the hint of whiskey in the air, and him.

That scent that was just so distinctly Azriel it almost made you forget that echoing emptiness in your chest.

The sight that greeted you as you entered the room belonged in a museum, or at the very least at the front of some Day Court scribe’s lecture hall, being studied by the brightest minds in Prythian. You wanted to commission Feyre to paint it from your memories so it could be immortalized, even if just for your eyes. Because by the Gods, it was mesmerizing.

Azriel sat – no, sprawled across one of the couches, those thick, muscled, sweatpant-clad thighs so deliciously, invitingly, teasingly spread apart. The book in his hand was not one you recognized, but then his taste in literature was slightly more… sophisticated than yours. But that just made it all so much more enticing didn’t it? The thought of this gorgeously dark, winged male consuming deep, meaningful art? It would make any sane person fall to their knees.

The hazel of his eyes didn’t show any sign of surprise as his gaze met yours. He knew you were coming, most likely courtesy of the shadows leisurely curling around his shoulders. Cauldron, was he a sight…

… And your friend. Unfortunately.

“Are you just going to stand there all night or will you eventually move?” Right, right. How long had your feet been rooted to the floor? Judging by the humorous tone of his voice and that boyish sparkle in his eyes, probably a tad too long.

Forcing your body to take a step, and another, you tried to think of something – anything to say.

“Sorry, I–... I just didn’t expect you to be here is all,” liar, “I guess you caught me by surprise”. It wasn’t the best excuse in the world, but with the situation at hand it could have been a lot worse. Like, a lot. Besides, it’s not like you could have told him the truth.

Sorry Azriel, it’s just that I have been desperately yearning for you for the last couple of years and seeing you like this, looking all boyfriend-y, has me nearly swallowing my own tongue because of how perfect you look. I am just humiliatingly obsessed with every single little thing you do, as well as horrifyingly lonely to a default. In a non creepy way, of course.

… You would rather free-dive off the dining room balcony before ever admitting that to him.

His brows furrowed as he observed you, like he could see the lie written across your face, before humming lightly, almost as to himself. He reached a hand out to the glass resting on the coffee table and brought it to his lips, taking a sip of the amber liquid inside. Your eyes were trained on his mouth as he lowered the glass. Trained on the candlelight reflected in the alcohol wetting his lips. Those shiny, pouty, full–

His tongue slipped out and delicately swiped across his lower lip, licking off the remnants of the whiskey from the glass in his hand, and it took everything in you to not whimper at the sight.

Cauldron boil you.

Needing something to ground yourself, you made your way over to pour yourself a glass of whatever Azriel was drinking and collapsed beside him on the couch, trying to roll that stubborn stiffness out of your shoulders.

”Can’t sleep either?” He asked you on a slight chuckle.

“No, not with them going at it like bunnies,” you sighed, “how is it even possible for Cassian to… you know? I mean, not only is it day after day, but all night, non-stop? You need– I mean not you specifically, I don’t know anything about your sexual habits, just– just males in general,” oh Gods, “you– you need to rest, at some point – right?”

Azriel took in your flustered state, and pursed his lips as if to keep from laughing. His amusement did not help your case at all, only making the heat crawl further up your neck, your ears positively aflame.

“I guess the mating bond has its perks,” he surmised, and you couldn’t escape the huff that exited your nose.

That damned mating bond. The very one the Mother seemed to be handing out left to right lately, to everyone except you. And Azriel. But unlike you, he was a damn catch and could have anyone he’d like.

“Am I an absolute wench for being jealous of Nesta? And Elain? And Feyre?” You whined as you threw your head back on the couch.

“Not at all,” Azriel’s raspy voice comforted you, easing the tightness in your stomach. You still felt like one though; Nesta was your best friend and you were happy for her, but still–

“It’s just so unfair! They were born like, yesterday! I have been suffering through a mostly miserable existence for over five centuries now and I have never even come close to a connection like they have,” you rolled your neck, “I am over the moon for them, don’t get me wrong, and I hate to make their happiness about me–“

“But being alone around people who… aren’t, can be very lonely,” Azriel finished and your heart clenched as you looked at him. Beautiful, kind, caring Azriel. One of your best friends, and the male you were hopelessly, devastatingly in love with.

Knowing he, too, was hurting was painful in itself, but also slightly comforting. Knowing you weren’t alone in your loneliness.

“You’re in pain,” he mumbled, and you opened your mouth to answer, but you couldn’t. Because it wasn’t really a question was it? “Your shoulders,” he noted, “they’re tense.”

“Oh, it’s fine, really. Nothing to worry about, just a small kink,” you tried to brush it off, but he looked at you with such intensity it made your whole body tingle.

“No it’s not,” it was like he could see right through you, “No, you have been worrying your neck ever since you sat down.” He pondered a moment before he sat up a little straighter beckoning for you to move closer. “Come on, let me help you with that.”

Your mouth fell open.

Was he insinuating he wanted to rub your back? Your half naked, barely-nightgown-clad back. With his hands. Those magical, beautiful hands. Oh Gods.

Your attempt of a protest died in your throat at the slight raise of his eyebrows. He was not to argue with.

He marked the page he was on and placed his book down on the table in front of you, his eyes not straying from you once. Like he was afraid you would bolt if he looked away, even just for a second.

In his defense, you very well might have.

A shaky breath released from your lungs as you put your glass down and readjusted your position on the couch until you were situated between his legs. With your back facing him, you carefully pulled your hair over one shoulder to give him better access, trying to block out the thoughts of how incredibly warm those bite-able thighs of his were.

The warm calluses of his hands on your skin set you ablaze, and as he carefully started to massage out the knots in your upper back you swore you could have melted, then and there.

You couldn’t help leaning in to his skillful touch. You also couldn’t help the breathy groan that escaped you as he started to work on a particularly tense area.

Or how your heart rate picked up as you heard what you swore was Azriel’s breath hitching in response.

You basked in the intimacy of the moment, fully enjoying all of his undivided attention.

The gesture, the moment, it all felt so domestic and comforting that the constant emptiness in your chest started to close over. Even if just for now. Even if it was all borrowed; a lovely, elusive fantasy – you let yourself feel whole.

You barely registered his hands slowing to a stop, or the new found looseness in your shoulders. Barely registered as his hands slid down your arms and slowly tugged you back towards his chest.

Not until you were engulfed in his warmth, his arms wrapped around you did you realize how well you fit together.

Like two pieces of a puzzle.

“Be lonely with me tonight,” his breath tickled your ear, “please.”

You knew it probably wasn’t wise. That tomorrow, when all of this would be gone, the hurt would resurface. The loneliness even heavier than before. But you couldn’t get yourself to care. To tell him no. Tell yourself no.

Instead you burrowed deeper in his embrace, closed your eyes, and even if just for tonight, you let his warmth fill the void in your chest.

Until that void had been replaced by a vibrating, golden, glow.

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #lonely with you

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imfinereallyy · 1 year

Text

hummingbirds

Steve’s crying on the porch of his parents' house, with a duffel bag and baseball bat, when Eddie pulls into the driveway.

“Jesus, Steve, what happened?” Eddie crouches down to get eye level with Steve. Despite being dark out, the sun set long ago, and the outdoor lights weren’t on. Steve turns to look at his parents' car in the driveway and thinks back to when the lock had distinctly turned shut on the front door. They were around to switch the lights on; they just didn’t care anymore to do so.

Steve is grateful for the moonlight, as he can see the pretty lines on Eddie’s face. Even if they currently curve into a frown.

“Hey Eds.” Steve’s voice cracks.

“Stevie…what happened?” Eddie asks again, this time it’s gently. It cradles Steve and holds him softly. He wishes Eddie’s hands would do the same.

“Did you know hummingbirds are the only birds that can fly backward?” Steve sniffles.

Eddie’s face scrunches in confusion, “What? Birds? You lost me.”

Steve pushes past Eddie’s confused face. “They are the only birds to fly backward. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dustin to teach me that out of the munchkins. It was actually El. She’s apparently going through a bird phase. And I don’t think the others are very interested. So I try to pay attention when she talks about it. And she taught me about hummingbirds.”

Eddie settles on his knees, “That’s great, man and those little shits should listen to her more, but I’m not sure what that has to do with what’s wrong. You called me to come pick you up and hung up before I could even answer.”

Steve bites his lip, “Sorry, my dad clicked the phone off.” Eddie’s face shows surprise, but Steve keeps talking before he can interrupt. “And well, I guess hummingbirds have nothing to do with anything. It’s stupid, really.”

“No, no. It’s not stupid. Tell me about the birds, Stevie.” Eddie’s hand finally reaches out to Steve. He brushes the fallen hair out of his face, and something in Steve just sets him off.

“You see, they can fly backward. And well, no, I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, my cousin Tucker is here to visit. And let me tell you, he is the worst. Like Eddie, you would hate him. Conservative, capitalist enthusiast, real bootlicker kind of guy.”

“Sounds like the worst. Especially if he made you use the big words.” Eddie’s hand falls away, and Steve mourns the loss. Normally, when people make jokes about his intelligence, it stings. It makes him feel small. But when Eddie does it, it isn’t mean or a poke at how stupid Steve is. With Eddie, it’s almost like he’s reminding Steve that he is smart. That maybe Steve is the one making himself small.

He is.

“Anyway, he’s visiting, right? So my parents come home. And I haven’t seen them in months, since before spring break. It’s nearly October, and I haven’t seen them, and I can’t tell if I’m excited or dreading their arrival. It’s always a fight when they are around, how I’m not good enough, how I should be more. Their visits always end up being cut short, and me feeling like shit. But this stupid, stupid part of me was hoping it would be different this time. They haven’t seen me since the “earthquakes.” Surely they’ll be happy to see I’m okay, right?”

Eddie stays silent, his face revealing nothing.

“Of course, it’s not. They only came home because my cousin Tucker was in town. All the way from Indy cause it’s so far. And my mom ‘made’ dinner, as in she ordered it and pretended she made it. It wasn’t even that good, but we all pretended it was the best thing ever made. Cause that’s what they do, pretend. And the dinner is fine, boring. Most of it is just me staying silent while my dad and Tucker talk about the business. Tucker runs the Indy office while my dad is in New York. Ya see, Tucker has been gunning to take over for my dad when he retires, which is another word for dies—“ Steve let’s put a bitter laugh; he wonders if his parents are listening. He doubts it.

“—and they are going on for the whole meal, and I’m almost through the home stretch when my dad brings up me, coming to work for him.”

Eddie reacts finally, “You’re going to New York?” His voice is strained, like he is trying very hard not to yell, not at Steve, but at anyone who will listen. Steve is quick to correct.

“No, no, I’m not. This was news to me to Eds. I have no interest in my dad's business, and as far as I was concerned, he didn’t want me a part of it either. Guess that has changed. Has? Had? I don’t know…” Steve trails off.

“Harrington.”

“Don’t call me that. It makes me think you’re mad at me. Besides, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” Steve bites.

“Sorry, Steve. I’m not mad. I promise. Just, what do you mean?” Eddie’s head tilts to the side, his curls cascading down his shoulder. It reminds Steve of a river, dark water rippling in the moonlight.

“I was so shocked, Eds. When he said that. That I was quiet, I should have corrected him, maybe. Maybe I could have fixed it. But Tucker was so quick to act. He was pissed. He knows my working for my dad means me being set up to take over. And Tucker, he’s worked too hard to make sure he does get the business. But instead of yelling, he just gets this concerned look on his face. And he…”

“He what?”

Steve wrenches his eyes shut as he recalls the rest. As he recalls the way Tucker’s face faked worry as he struck. Like he has been waiting for the right moment to ruin Steve. He manages to open his eyes eventually, only to see Eddie’s face once again. The honest look on his face is enough to push Steve on.

“In the summer, Robin was feeling sad. This was before you guys knew about each other, and I was the only one who knew about her. And she was sad cause nothing had happened with Vicky and she felt so alone. And I hated seeing her like that. And so, so I took her to Indy. And, and—“ Steve starts to hyperventilate.

Eddie takes him by the shoulders. “Breathe for me, Steve. Come on, baby, match my breaths. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Steve matches Eddie’s breath. Ignores how the word baby calms him down instantly. “Tucker told my dad that he saw me in Indy. That he saw me come out of a gay club, Eddie. And he went on about how they should focus more on getting me help, than putting me in a power position, again Eds, which I don’t even want! And how I would be a bad look for the company. How would it look if a company whose whole image is family values, only successor, turned out to be gay.”

Eddie flinches a bit, but doesn’t let go of him. Steve feels instant regret. “That isn’t what I meant, Eddie.”

Eddie shushes him, “I know, sweetheart. You’re just upset. I know. Did you tell him that you weren’t there for you? Or maybe that Rick was mistaken; it was a regular club?”

Steve rubs a hand down his face, “And what? Tell him that my two best friends in the entire world are gay? So that I can be shipped off to New York and never see them again? Yeah right. I’d rather face the bats again than be removed from you two. And I’m not going to out you guys like that.”

Something warm crosses Eddie’s face, “So, you lied then?”

“Before I could say anything my dad reacted.”

Eddie freezes, a darkness swims in his eyes. “He put his hands on you?”

“No, no!” Steve panics, and he purposely leaves out the ‘not this time.’ Eddie isn’t necessarily a violent person. But he does have a protective streak. As admirable as it is, Steve doesn’t want him to get hurt.

Eddie relaxes but only slightly.

“He was actually pretty calm, which is even more terrifying. I expected him to yell, throw things. But instead he just turns and says, ‘Is this true, Steven?’. And what gets me is they didn’t even question why my cousin was anywhere near that club in the first place. Why did he see me there? Instead, he just asks me if it’s true. And it’s the first time in a long time, if ever, that my dad asks me this. He always just assumes I’ve fucked up. And this time, he really asked me about the truth. And I couldn’t, I couldn’t lie. I don’t know why, but it felt wrong to. So I didn’t. I just told him, ‘Yes. It’s true.’”

“Stevie…”

Steve throws out a bitter laugh, “And you know what? He still doesn’t freak out. He just tells me I have five minutes to get my shit and get out. That I needed to call a ride because the car was under the name Steve Harrington, and I was no longer a Harrington. And he was so calm. And my mom just sat there, and I just listened. I didn’t fight. I am so tired of fighting.”

“Steve, why not just tell them the truth? Tell them you were there for a friend?” Eddie’s tone isn’t scolding, only curious.

“See, that’s because I started thinking about hummingbirds, Eddie. I started thinking about how they fly forwards and backward and how they are the only ones that can do that. Isn’t that fascinating? These small birds are so strong and interesting, and can do something no one else can do. But no other birds understand; the rest of them just fly forwards Eds. And I—I feel like that sometimes. That I’m not flying in one direction, ya know?”

Steve feels like he isn’t making much sense, but then Eddie nods and looks at Steve. Like really looks at Steve, and sees him. And Steve feels raw, stripped of his skin, exposed, and it should hurt, but it feels so fucking good. And Eddie stares deep into Steve’s eyes and says, “Yea, I know.”

“I didn’t want to lie. Because even though Tucker was wrong, he was also right. I wasn’t there for me, but I think I needed to be there. To get it. And I think that I’m flying backward, Eds. And I’m worried it’s wrong of me, that it shouldn’t be allowed. And that there is no purpose to me flying backward if I can just go forwards. If I can just fly with the rest of them. But I don’t think, I don’t think I’ve ever really taken flight before. Not before I understood I could also go backward.”

It’s in this moment, where Steve is covered in tears and snot that Eddie finally takes his hands and cradles Steve’s face. Steve’s never felt safer.

“Listen to me, sweetheart; there is nothing wrong with you. Okay? Nothing wrong with you. Just because you can fly forwards doesn’t mean you have to, doesn’t mean you should. Sometimes you’re going to have to fly backward; you’re not going to have a choice. It’s just the direction you’re fast, huge, hummingbird heart takes you. And it might take you a bit to learn that. To understand that, but I will make sure that you do. Because you, Steve Harrington, are fucking fearless and fucking beautiful, and I am so goddamn proud of you.”

Steve finally reaches his breaking point and collapses in Eddie’s arms. Full body, ugly sobs wreck Steve. He is sure that he is soaking Eddie’s favorite Black Sabbath t-shirt to the bone, but he can’t find it himself to care. His fingers dig into Eddie’s back as he clutches tighter as his breathing picks up.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. Remember that. I got you. I got you.” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear.

Steve picks his head up when he finally calms down, and looks at Eddie. “You.”

“What’s that?” Eddie says softly, rubbing circles through Steve’s polo.

“I called you. Because, I think—no, I know, that I’ve been flying backward, to you. For a while now. And I knew that, even if you weren’t too, you’d still show up. And I just—just need you to know that. I am so grateful you showed up.”

Steve knows he should feel nervous telling Eddie all this, but he isn’t. He strangely feels like his dad at this moment, calm and unmoving. Steve doesn’t understand many things in this world, but he understands that even if Eddie doesn’t love him like that, Eddie still loves Steve in plenty of other ways.

It’s still nice, though, when Eddie leans forward and kisses Steve’s forehead. Steve closes his eyes and releases a breath.

Eddie slides his head down slightly so their foreheads are pushed together affectionately. “Stevie, I’ll always fly backward to you.”

Although it’s awful how they got here, Steve can’t help but feel happy at this moment. He also can’t help the silly giggle that comes out of him, “I think we have just lost all meaning to this metaphor at this point.”

Eddie snorts, “Oh, have we? And here I thought we were having a nice moment, a poetic one at that, telling each other ‘I love you.’”

Steve blinks at him, “You love me?”

Eddie frown lines finally turn upwards, “Yea baby, I love you.”

“I—“

Eddie cuts Steve off. “Tell me in the morning. When your tears have dried, and I’ve woken up with you in my arms. I want to hear it in the daylight. Okay? Let’s go home.” Eddie stands, offering a hand to Steve.

“Home?”

“Yea home, got to fly back to our nest.”

Steve can’t help the snort he releases, “Dork.”

Eddie just smiles, “Thought I told you to save the ‘I love you’ til the morning.”

Steve smiles back as he takes Eddie’s hand, “I didn’t…”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s fingers, “Yea, ya did.”

****

I’m back, not dead, and in my feelings. Thinking about expanding on this one. I hope you guys like it. 🧡🧡

#steddie #stranger things #Steve eventually gets a hummingbird tattoo #everything I write is soft #they deserve to be soft #bisexual steve harrington #gay eddie munson #cw: implied homophobia #cw: internalized homophobia #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #robin buckley #steve x eddie #soft boys #post s4 #bisexuality awareness

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moonheecore · 5 months

Text

Lover Boy — lhs (m)

Pairing: Boyfriend! Heeseung X Afab! Reader

Genre: Smut🔞 (Minors DNI), college AU, established relationship.

Warnings: Soft Dom! Heeseung, protected sex, consumption of alcohol lots of praising (fem receiving), multiple orgasm, oral (male & female receiving), love making because Heeseung is whipped for you, teasing, cowgirl, dirty talking, Heeseung is both a frat boy and a basketball player which is lethal to the heart, overuse of the word pretty and baby, feat other 01 boy group members, hopefully I didn’t miss out anything else.

Summary: Lee Heeseung, your sweet boyfriend that you have wrapped around your finger. His favoritism towards you didn't escape the notice of his close friends, leading to a well-known moniker they often used when the girlfriend privilege was evident— Lover boy.

Main masterlist

Word count: 5.1k

The atmosphere, combined with the chilly night air, provided a comforting feel. Amid the ongoing frat party, you and a bunch of your circle of friends sought solace on the mansion's back patio, where a warm bonfire painted the scene orange.

You registered the soft sound of your boyfriend’s laughter in the air, watching him and Jeongin joked around with a very drunken Beomgyu across from you. The said male was playing the acoustic guitar carelessly until a visibly annoyed Jaehyuk took the instrument away from the semi-conscious guy.

Lee Heeseung.

The fraternity president, the star and ace player of the school's basketball team, the heartthrob of every girl on campus— and your incredibly attractive boyfriend.

When you said he was effortlessly hot, you meant every word.

He sat there, clad in his usual outfit of a simple black t-shirt and a pair of ripped dark blue jeans, his soft faded purple hair tucked under one of his many collection of beanies. You observed how his dangling earring swayed with each flash of his pearly white teeth, a response to the antics his friends were pulling.

Your eyes trailed to the item hung around his neck, a delicate necklace that he never forgot to pull out of his shirt—your initials carved in silver, proudly displayed for everyone to see.

You felt a bit embarrassed when you gifted him the accessory at first, but you had never seen Heeseung’s doe eyes filled with mellow tenderness as he kept fidgeting the letter with a small smile.

Since then, you’ve never seen him take it off.

A sense of endearment bloomed every time you saw it around his neck. He wore it to his basketball practice, in the shower, to bed— everywhere.

Even in those intimate moments, it dangled above you, the delicate chain brushing against your lips as he thrust into your sopping wet core, fucking you wholeheartedly against the bed sheets; or when you would entangle your fingers between the cold chains, the grip providing the perfect leverage as you ride his cock, the symphony of his encouraging moans blending with the creaking of the bed frame.

You felt almost comical at how shaken you were by a piece of jewelry.

"Hey, are you even listening?" Yunjin's voice cut through your distracted thoughts.

You turned your head to face her, obviously startled. "What?"

Yunjin scoffed, taking a sip from her red cup. "If you don't stop eye-fucking your boyfriend, I might puke on you."

“I was not!”

Yunjin raised an eyebrow at your answer, clearly unimpressed. You closed your mouth in silent embarrassment, hugging Heeseung's jacket around your body tighter. The waft of his cologne gave you a piece of mind.

You sighed in defeat, "—okay, fine, maybe I was, alright. Is that a crime now?” Yunjin's expression softened, and she nudged you playfully, finding your annoyed yet adorable expression to be one that lit amusement.

“Well, I guess you're in some kind of luck, girl. He is looking right back at you."

You blinked, surprised, and turned to see Heeseung gazing back at you with a fond smile across the bonfire. The orange hue from the flame seemed to accentuate the way his eyes lowered down before locking onto yours again, as if he was drinking in the sight of you. He raised his eyebrows enticingly, patting his lap like a signal for you to join him.

A blush crept onto your cheeks.

"You're having too much fun with this," you remarked, getting up from your seat as Yunjin's playful laughter filled the air as you left.

God, you hate it when she has then upper hand. But you hate it even more when you feel like a giddy middle schooler while heading towards your boyfriend.

His gaze stayed fixed on you throughout, leaning back on his seat to create a comfortable space for you to settle on his lap, both legs elegantly positioned on one side. You feel his hands immediately on your body— one securing your back, while the other gently on your bare knee.

Heeseung was so warm that you instantly melt in his embrace, resting the side of your head against his shoulder. You fought against every instinct, refraining from burying your face in his neck. It was as if the lingering scent of his sweet cologne on the jacket he gave you at the party's start wasn't sufficient to satisfy the yearning within you.

"Are you cold?" He asked, already taking a blanket to drape over your exposed legs. You stared at his side profile, letting out a soft hum at his attentiveness. He glanced down at you, only to find you already staring back.

Gosh, you could drown yourself in his eyes.

"Hi," He whispered, as if having you in his arms was the most casual thing.

"Hi," You breathed out shyly, wrapping your arms around his neck to shorten the distance between your faces.

The both of you struggled to contain your laughter at the exchange. The noise of your friends and the crackling bonfire seemed to fade away as you locked eyes with each other.

“You look really cute tonight.” You blurt out, feeling his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your knee under the covers.

He raised his eyebrow in feigned offence. “Cute?”

There was a mischievous glint in his expression, and it was impossible to ignore as he leaned down to boldly fix his gaze on your lips.

"Not hot?" he questioned, your breath hitching as his fingers traced up your legs, ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. It made your heart race, especially considering he was doing it discreetly with people still around.

"Or sexy?”

You bit down on your lower lip, trying to contain the small moan coming out when he cups your clothed cunt. Heeseung observed every scrunch of your face, feeling your fingers tugging at the hairs on his nape and the way you pressed your thighs together, curling inwards towards his body.

Heeseung wished he could tease you even more, relishing in your adorable reactions. However, he could feel himself getting worked up too, forcing him to whisper against your ear.

“Let’s go to my room, yeah?”

You nodded quietly against his shoulder. He shifted to grab the blanket and laid it on the empty chair, prompting you to stand up and fix your skirt, which had ridden up during his little ministration.

"Hey," Heeseung called out to Jeongin, intertwining his big hands with yours. "We're heading inside."

"What! Already?" Beomgyu's slurred words cut through the conversation, loud enough for others to hear. "Come on! The party's just about to get started!"

Heeseung looked visibly annoyed as his friend draped an arm around his shoulder. Clearly under the influence of alcohol, he glanced over Heeseung’s shoulder, catching sight of your connected hands and the noticeable flush on your cheeks.

"Ohhh, I see why you're leaving early," Beomgyu said with a massive grin on his face and wiggling his eyebrows.

"Heeseung, you fucking dog! Lover boy getting his dick nice and wet tonight—“

Before Beomgyu could continue, Jeongin smacked his palm over his mouth from behind to stifle the rest of his sentence, holding him in a headlock. He signaled to Heeseung to go and shot you an apologetic look as well.

But the damage was done, and you shyly lowered your head as Heeseung pulled you away where people were whistling and howling in your direction as you past by.

"God, I was about to sacrifice him in the fire if he didn't stop yapping."

You giggled as he grumbled under his breath, reaching the steps of the patio. He opened the back door, ushering you inside the house where the party showed no signs of slowing down even in the wee hours of the night.

The thumping bass of the music reached your ears as you walked down the hallway, navigating through drunken students flowing between the dancefloor in the living room and the kitchen stocked with an abundance of alcohol.

The tight space between the sweaty figures made you feel claustrophobic, but the reassuring touch of Heeseung's fingers laced with yours and your other hand holding onto the belt loops of his pants kept you from getting lost in the sea of crowds.

Heeseung has always made his strong presence felt by you.

He always ensured you walked on the side away from the road, poured and guarded your red cup when you were away, stayed sober to drive you home, rested his hands at the back pocket of your pants when you walk together or when he would wait for you patiently outside of the restroom when you felt unwell.

His favoritism towards you didn't escape the notice of his close friends, leading to a well-known moniker they often used when the girlfriend privilege was evident—

Lover boy.

Your lover boy, the man who was pinning you against the door of his bedroom, one hand on your waist and the other cupping your jawline, kissing your lips deeply the moment he locked the doors.

You opened your mouth slightly, allowing his hot tongue to explore the cavern of your mouth. The intensity made you tangle your fingers in his soft hair, eliciting light moans and groans from both of you that he gladly swallowed down.

You weren't sure if you were tipsy from the alcohol or his taste because you started to feel fuzzy in the head.

“Is my hair in the way?” He questioned, sounding a little out of breath once he broke the kiss.

He rest his forehead against yours, the bridge of your noses grazing each other at the proximity. You chuckled softly, pushing back the lone strands of his hair that escaped when you pulled his beanie off.

“Yeah, a little bit.”

You licked his bottom lip sensually, mesmerized by the way it glistened with saliva. Heeseung bent down to capture your lips again swiftly, his heart going wild with what you did, circling your waist to pull you flush against his body.

You weren't going to lie; you felt out of breath, getting lost in the rhythm of his mouth moving hungrily. But you didn't want to stop, going insane with the way his hands were slowly smoothing down your body.

"You look beautiful in this skirt," he murmured, pressing a kiss at the corner of your lips before switching to your jawline and down your neck.

“I wore it just for you…” You admitted, sighing softly when he nib and suck at the sensitive spot of your neck, holding his hair tighter when he moved to knead the back of your thighs.

"Is that why it's so short?"

You felt him smirk against your neck, letting out a sudden gasp when his hands moved under your skirt to grope an ample amount of your bare ass.

"Hmm? Planning to seduce me with your slutty ass out for everyone to see.”

Now your cheeks were on fire.

It was rendering you speechless, with only the ability to weakly shake your head. You couldn't bring yourself to make eye contact with Heeseung as he looked back to gauge your reaction. Doing so would likely leave you feeling weak in the knees.

Heeseung could only smile at your cute reaction, especially when you tried your best to hold back your moans but failed.

“Naughty girl, but I guess it work, right?" Heeseung drove his point home when he took one of your hands, gently guiding you to palm his semi-hard cock through his pants.

He let out a shaky sigh when you knead firmly along his thick length. "Feel how hard I am for you, baby. Only you can make me feel like this."

Heeseung let out small whiny moans as his head fell to rest on your shoulder, bucking his hips shamelessly in your hand as his cock grew heavy, a tight dent forming at the front of his pants.

You felt the familiar pooling of wetness gathering, both at the base of your tongue and between your thighs.

“Seungie,” You call out, pulling on the bands of his pants shyly with half lidded eyes and swollen lips courtesy of him. “Can I suck you off, please?”

Holy shit, he could get a cardiac arrest with the way you said it with so much lust.

"I’d love that," he grinned, leading you to his bed as he sat at the edge, pulling his shirt off to exposed his ripped body.

You promptly went on your knees between his legs, causing him to caress his thumb over your cheek as you fiddled with his buttons and zipper before pulling his pants and boxers down, swiftly releasing him from the tight confinement.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his beautiful cock lying hard against his abs, the head already aching and red with pre-cum leaking at the tip. The sight of his tight balls entice you even more, leading you to kiss them first before sucking gently on the flesh.

"So eager, baby." He cooed, using one hand to lean back on the mattress while the other rest on the crown of your head. "Just like that pretty girl, fuck—"

He rasped out a loud moan when you licked a long stripe up along his length before swiftly engulfing his head in your mouth. Heeseung felt absolutely winded at the sight of you stuffing your cheeks full of his cock, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail so it doesn't get in the way of the sight.

You started to bob your head, smoothly pumping his length in and out past your lips. You jerk his remaining length expertly while your other hand fondle with his balls.

"So pretty like this, taking me so well. Bet you've been thinking about fucking your mouth in my big cock the whole night, right, baby?" He smiled down at you.

You were so drunk with his taste that you could only hum in response, swirling your tongue around his tip before dipping it into his slit. Heeseung instinctively tug your hair, pulling your face closer until your nose was touching his pelvis as you tried to accommodate him beyond your usual capacity.

You knew his most sensitive spot— slurping on his bulbous head while you slid your tongue along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock as much as possible.

"Ah god, fuck, baby, that's it." He whines, thrusting into your mouth, pushing his cock until it hits the back of your throat repeatedly. Your jaws were aching, but you fight the urge to gag by hollowing your cheeks, letting him use your mouth free to his will.

You didn't care that drool was spilling at the corner of your mouth or that the corners of your eyes were starting to sting with tears. Heeseung was at the mere edge of his release and your clit was throbbing to even think about him spilling his seed into your mouth.

"Y/N, fuck—“ You could hear the rawness of desperation in his voice, chest heaving. The hand gripping on the back of your head turned rough as he sloppily pistons his hips forward that almost make you choke.

"Gonna cum in your mouth, baby girl. Gonna fill you up nice and good down your throat until all you taste is me."

And you’ll gladly let him, feeling his head twitch a few times against the roof of your mouth before he release the tension in his shoulder, lurching forward and swearing loudly as ropes of his white cum coat your entire oral region.

Despite feeling light-headed, you continue riding him of his orgasm as you swallow down his hot load and lick him clean. In fact, it made Heeseung shudder in pure pleasure, wiping down your smudge eye linear with a gleeful expression.

"Sorry, are you okay? I seriously couldn’t hold back…”

He sheepishly apologized, smoothing down your tousled hair as you rested your head against his thigh.

"...and I came a lot." He mumbled, and you giggled at the way he turned bashful when just a second ago, he was rolling his eyes while shoving his shaft down your throat.

“It’s fine.” You reassured him. Heeseung wanted to plunge himself into your mouth again when your wipe the excess cum at the corner of your lips, licking it without a second thought.

"You taste absolutely delicious."

You began to kiss the dips of his v-line, holding onto his thighs as you move to tongue at his navel. You could feel his stomach tense up as you lick the valley of his abs, trailing up and standing on your feet to reach his neck and jaw before settling on kissing his lips.

You circled your hands around his neck firmly, thumb pressing on the prominent swell of his Adam’s apple.

“Don’t you think a good girl like me deserves to be rewarded?” You look at him with those dreamy eyes he can’t refuse, or maybe that was just the afterglow of sucking his cock that makes you look irresistible under the bedroom lights.

Heeseung's hands slipped under your shirt, gently tracing your waist, sending shivers down your spine.

“Maybe if she strips down for me I’ll consider.” He purred, doe eyes darken with lust. "Get naked for me, baby, and I promise to make you feel incredible."

If the arousal trickling down your thighs wasn't a clear sign of your longing, the fact that you promptly followed his command under his hungry gaze certainly speaks volumes.

"Fucking beautiful," he whispered as you peeled off your bra, licking his bottom lip as he watched your breasts bounce free. Now, you were left in only your skimpy panties.

"The most prettiest girl in the world." He lament, pulling you closer and situating you between his legs, your exposed breasts now right in front of his face. Your tits were hardening as he firmly grasped one of them.

"—and I get to have you all to myself."

You instantly crumbled when he captures a nipple between his pouty lips, suckling on the hard nub until you feel the pressure on your skin. His other hand toyed with the other perky breast, kneading it and ensuring it received the same attention as he pinched it between his fingers.

"Feels so good, seungie..." You moaned out, your fingers found purchase in his hair again as you arch your back when he switch to engulf the other nipple with moist kisses.

"Fuck...love it when you use your tongue on me." You were shaking your head, body trembling when he kept nibbling and lapping at your sensitive nipples, coating them with his thick saliva.

"I know, baby." He gazes up at you with a knowing expression, leaving bite marks on the swell of your breast. "Think you can handle it if I eat your pretty little pussy?"

Fuck, no, you don’t think so.

To many people on the outside, he has the sweetest pair of lips, always complementing and giving you lovey-dovey kisses in public. But behind the scenes, his dirty mouth never stops moving on your body, and you know for a fact that his tongue is the spawn of the devil. It won't end until every drop of your arousal coated his taste buds, and you crying for him to stop.

But you fear you might go insane if the ache between your legs isn't relieved soon, succumbing everything you have to him.

"Yes, please, I need you now." You urged.

Heeseung laugh softly, a big smile plastered on his face.

"C'mere, baby. Get on the bed and lay down for me."

He instructs, standing up and turning you both around so that you're pressed against the bed.

He took a pillow to gently tuck it beneath your head, making sure you were laying down in a comfortable position. You were observing every move he made impatiently, and he took obvious notice of that.

“You look like I’ve already made you cum,” He teased.

Blushing at his words, you watched as he settled to spread your legs open. The sight made his cock twitch, the damp patch of fabric clinging to your folds, outlining the curves of your lips. He could already imagining how swollen and soak you were, and he haven't even properly touch you yet.

"You're so wet, baby," He praised, peeling your panties from your pussy. "Are you sure you haven't cum yet?"

You shake your head, spreading your knees wider for him to tug off your panties from your ankle. "No, I wanted to wait for you."

"Such a good girl."

Heeseung seemed satisfied with your response, especially when he could confirm that you weren't lying. Your pussy was slick with arousal, and your clit looked engorged to the touch. He was sure it was courtesy of you humping the carpet floor when you were on your knees for him.

Heeseung laid on his stomach, hooking his arms behind your thighs. It was like a wet dream, having his head between you legs and feeling the heat radiating from his breath as he drew closer to your bare cunt. You fingers entangled itself in his soft locks when he blew on your sensitive clit.

"Heeseung, please don't tease— ngahhh.”

The words died in your mouth the moment he licked a stripe of your core, as if to test the waters before fully lapping on your wet folds. You lifted your hips, hearing the slurping sounds of his lips smacking around your cunt. His button nose pressed on your clit so deliciously that you hoped the loud noise from the party was drowning the even louder cries of pleasure escaping from your throat.

"yes, yes, fuck, faster." There was the familiar knot blooming in your stomach, the one that was growing the more Heeseung prob the tip of his tongue in and out of your lose slit.

A soft groan emits from him, driven by the way you would roughly scrape your nails on his scalp as you start grinding on his face feverishly. His chin is dripping with drool and your arousal, your sweet scent and taste overwhelming his mind, causing him to quicken his pace and latch his lips onto your clit.

He flattened his tongue on the pearl, flicking it back and forth, face pressed deeply between your thighs until you were a convulsing mess on his bed.

Your abdomen was pulsing erratically, your walls clenching over nothing as you released the torment you had kept. An orgasm washed over you like cold icy water, throwing your head back as Heeseung's tongue continued to coax every bit of your climax until he was satisfied. He was going down on you, making sure to clean every crevice that he might have missed, even when you were weakly whining that it was too much.

He was fucking pussy drunk. There was no other explanation for him literally drinking you up right now.

"You're such a cute mess.” He was peppering your inner thighs with kisses, watching you squirm from the sensitivity every touch on your skin brings. "Always so ready for me to taste."

His sun-kissed skin glowed with sweat, his hair attractively disheveled, while his lips were swollen with a sweet pink hue. He gingerly moved and leaned down to kiss you square on the lips. It was light-hearted, simmering down the intensity of everything that happened before.

He was gentle, holding your jaw tenderly as you both basked in the warmth of your proximity.

"You did so well for me, baby." He bumps his nose against yours. "Think you can keep going?"

It was sweet of him to take note on the exhaustion reigning on your features, but you honestly don’t think the night could be completely over until he fucks your pussy with his cock.

"God, yes,” You nodded, gnawing on your lower lip. "Lemme ride you.”

He wasted no time in positioning himself to sit up, leaning his back on the headboard. You took this as an invitation to sit on his lap as he rummage on his side drawer for a condom.

“Wild berry or bubblegum, what do you think?”

“Heeseung, please just hurry up.”

You snapped, snatching one of the wrappers from his hand.

Heeseung's boyish laughter filled the air, his beautiful smile and his eyes turning a beautiful crescent shape. His silly jokes could never be separated, to the point where you swore he was secretly a masochist for finding joy in seeing you suffer in the most unconventional moments.

You rip the package open with your teeth before rolling it onto his already hard cock that twitches with every friction from your contact. Now, you thought you were the one being needy when he was literally manhandling you to hover over him.

You rest your hand on his broad shoulders. With one hand on your waist and the other wrapped around the base of his cock, he guides the tip to your entrance as you slowly sink down simultaneously.

He rasped out words to encourage you to lower your hips, the loud sounds of both of you moaning in rapture together when he fully bottoms out filled the room.

"Holy shit." Heeseung's head fell to knock on the headboard, his chest going up and down erratically. "You're so fucking tight."

Heeseung's large cock was throbbing inside of you, filling you completely as if he was made for you. The initial discomfort of the stretch slowly fizzled out, and pleasure took over as you craved more of him. You guide his hand to wrap around your waist, moving your hips up and down on his length.

You were absolutely enamored, lifting yourself before sinking back down with a heavy weight, feeling his mushroom tip pressing on the deepest part of your cervix. Your inside were spasming insanely at the hot contact, leaving you to spill a mantras of moans.

You lean back to rest your palms on his thighs, grinding and rolling your hips, hearing the soft creak of the bed as you begin to bounce on his cock sloppily. Heeseung's moaning and panting under his breath, pulling your waist impossibly close when he feels you clench around his girth deliciously.

"You look so hot. What the fuck." Heeseung gasped out, watching your through half lidded eyes.

His view of you was just amazing— your perfect tits bouncing when you slam your hips down at an angle, your wet pussy squeezing him tightly that he could see a white ring of precum collecting at the base of his shaft. Pieces of your hair were stuck to your forehead, your face so fucked out that he could easily cum from this image of you.

"Fuck, Heeseung, touch me."

You alluring voice was like a spell, coaxing him to fondle your breast while his thumb played with your puffy nipples. You continue to overwhelmed him as you move faster, both of his hands slowly glide down to grab your ass cheeks, aiding you to move back and forth on his cock sensually when he notice you slowing down.

"Keep going baby, I love it when you spread your pussy and ride my cock."

You shake your head in desperation, your thighs trembling in exhaustion. "Can't— I can't go on anymore."

You didn't need to say twice, and he was already pulling you to rest on his chest.

"It's okay, baby, I got you." Heeseung holds you by your love handles before he started thrusting up roughly.

It became apparent that both of you were on edge, becoming overly sensitive to each other. Every drag of his cock against your walls throwing both of you into overdrive. While you were holding onto your dear life to stay afloat, Heeseung was becoming addicted to the pleasure, pounding into you until the loud sound of clapping filled the room.

You're not sure anymore whether it was the sound of his thighs or his balls slapping against your ass.

You couldn't focus anymore, not when you were struggling to stay upright as he was balls deep into you. He was so big, so hard that he was practically throbbing against your walls. Not even a second did he slip out, despite the brute speed and strength he was using to rail you repeatedly at your sweet spot.

The burning knot in your stomach was coming back, getting tighter and tighter as he makes a mess in your insides.

"Heeseung." You're voice crack at the end, nails digging at his back. "I— I'm about to fucking cum."

Your mouth opens in a silent scream as you hide your face in his neck, the feeling of his fingers rubbing and pinching on your clit made you clamp harder around him. You chanting his name over and over again only deepen his desire to absolutely ruined you in the best way possible.

"That's it, baby, cum for me." Heeseung nibbled the lobe of your ear, the movement of his hips faltering gradually as he was near his high as well. "I want to see you cum all over my cock like a good girl."

There was a second of pin-drop silence before you slump on his chest, crying and moaning as you feel your second orgasm shaking your body and soul. Heeseung was not far behind you, stuffing your sore slit with one last crash before you could feel his chest vibrate with loud groans, releasing strings of hot semen into the rubber.

The knot in your stomach was untied, losing its overwhelming pressure, and it mixed wonderfully when Heeseung's face morphed into a satisfying glint, his head falling to rest on the headboard.

It feels like a symphony of wonders, the heat of everything blending in from the heavy breathing and the slick dripping down your thighs as Heeseung pull out of you to tie the soiled condom. You close your eyes, ears pressed against his chest as you follow the lullaby of his heartbeat to calm your mind down.

Your hands mindlessly twirl the chains of his necklace, and Heeseung embraces you tighter in his arms. He leans down to place a sweet kiss on your cheeks, pushing back some stray hairs behind your ears. He let out a tender sigh when you snuggle closer, prompting him to trace your back gently with his fingers.

Your legs was sore but you regained your bearings to kiss him, gently humming when you feel him smiling against your lips.

"I love you, Heeseung." You said softly.

He peered down at you, his eyes saying everything without a word as he gave that lovesick expression, admitting that he will forever be—

"I love you too. Always."

—Your lover boy.

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celestialwhoree · 3 months

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John Price's secretary 💌

John was adamant that he was fine working alone - desperate to convince Laswell that he didn't need help with the mounting paperwork and mission reports piling up on his desk. The last thing he needed was some airhead flitting around base and getting in everyone's way with the sole purpose of lessening his workload. He was a captain, should've been able to file his own paperwork just like the rest of his men.

That's why on your first day, he was no less than brusque with you. You who strode into his office with a polite smile and a practised firm handshake, introducing yourself to him with the obvious statement of your name and position. He couldn't help but immediately think to himself how lovely you were, how out of place the radiance of your smile was in such a dark place as this. His introduction was as gruff as yours was gentle, listing off your duties to you like you didn't already know what they were, a tablet already in hand as you took note of any extra information provided to you with a stiff reluctance, nails tapping away at the screen before you, his calendar already jotted meticulously down to the hour.

"Anything you want me to prioritise?" You chirped warmly, ignoring the way his eyes had already returned somewhat dismissively back to the screen of his desktop. In a way, though, you were almost relieved he wasn't looking at your expression, wasn't looking to see the way your eyes went wide when he pointed at the box of unfilled paperwork stored messily in manila files, dumped on the floor beside his desk, piled so high they leaned. You were sure that even one more piece of A4 thrown on the pile would have the whole thing come tumbling down like depressing corporate Jenga.

The paperwork had you drowning until lunch, heel tapping rhythmically against the linoleum as you stamped off and filed, stamped off and filed, hours crawling by at a snails pace whilst your desk became increasingly cramped for space. The paper overrunning your desk also occupied your mind so much that you didn't notice the tall shadow of John Price looming over you until he cleared his throat, making you jump with a squeaked out "Oh!" and a hand clutching at your chest in surprise.

"Didn't mean to startle you." He rumbled lowly, his warm, apologetic tone making you blush, unintentionally fluttering your eyelashes up at him, an action which causes him to inadvertently ball his fist, trying to hide the appreciative glaze settling over his baby blues. "You haven't eaten." His voice came out softer, trying not to startle you again.

"No. I guess not." You muttered softly in response, torn halfway between staring back up at him and shying away from the intensity of his gaze. "S'pose I got too caught up in all of this." A hand indicating to the paperwork drowning your desk made him chuff out something which sounded pleasantly like a laugh.

"Would you like some lunch?" Had you nodding emphatically in response, not even realising how hungry you'd become in your intense focus.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

The next few months were much the same, paperwork lumped on your desk, working until John came and offered you to join him for lunch. With every meal shared you learned more about him, and with every guiding hand he placed on the small of your back when he walked you to the mess hall, you grew more - appreciative? Your guilty little work crush grew harder to suppress.

It was hard not to be into John Price, with his gruff demeanour and contradictorily soft eyes and gentle hands, you couldn't help it. He was a good, kind man, so different from the others who haunted your past - a fact which you struggled to forget when he'd walk you to your car after working late, occasionally even bringing you coffees on early mornings.

".. You with me?" His voice snaps you from your reverie, his fingers drumming on the wood of your desk, one eyebrow raised in intrigue.

"Sorry?" You murmur in confusion.

"Said I've got a work dinner tonight with some important people. Need you to come along, take some notes for me."

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #tf 141 #John price #captain John price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x y/n #john price x reader #john price x y/n #price x reader #price x y/n #john price cod #call of duty

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rafesfavgirl · 9 days

Text

boy, you got her — r. cameron

part 1. part 2. part 3. here's part 4 (or whatever part this is to you, depending on how much you've read). i just couldn't help myself :)

❝ it's true, swear, scouts honor you knew what you wanted and, boy, you got her ❞

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

context: after a fallout at the boneyard with jj and kie, you agree to a date with rafe.

words: 1.9k+

warnings: jealous!jj, mean!jj (kind of), so so SO fluffy.

"look, i know it's kinda sudden, a'ight?" rafe glances over at you, one hand on the steering wheel. "and you don't have to answer right now. just think about it."

when you and jj broke up, the last thing you would've guessed to happen next was getting into a friends-with-benefits situation with rafe cameron. now, you were sitting in the passenger seat of his truck after he just defended you to your ex-boyfriend and asked you out on a date.

was it too soon? probably. could you really see it working? maybe. did you want to go? yes—as crazy as that sounded.

you turn your head towards him and shake your head. "i don't have to think about it."

a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips, but he fights it, just in case you said no. "you don't?"

"let's do it."

"yeah?" a chuckle falls from his lips, his smile widening.

"yeah," you nod, as he pulls the car to a stop in front of your family's house on the cut. you lean in to place a kiss on his cheek, making them turn the lightest shade of crimson, before opening your door to hop out. "come pick me up at noon tomorrow."

—

"fuck, fuck, fuckkkkk!" you slam your closet door close, just as your older brother peeks in to see where all the commotion was coming from.

"the hell's the matter with you?" he eyes you carefully, leaning against the doorway, sipping on a can of soda.

you ignore him and begin pacing around the room, tossing clothes from your dresser onto the bed. "what the fuck am i suppose to wear?" you lay out one casual outfit—a crochet top and dark-washed shorts—and one fancier outfit—a short, white floral sundress with pink flowers.

"since when do you care what you wear?" your brother walks into your room and looks at the clothes laid out on your bed.

"since i'm going on a date," you say, nibbling on your thumb, as your eyes shifted back and forth between the two outfits.

"jj's taking you out?" he asks, looking at you, clearly caught by surprise.

jj was never really the "date" type—not that you minded. while the two of you would spend time together all the time, you'd mostly do it with the rest of the pogues. either that, or you'd hang out in your room or the chateau.

"no," you shake your head. "we broke up."

"so who you goin' out with then?"

you pick up the dress from the bed, and hold it out in front of you, while turning to look into your full-length mirror. "...rafe cameron."

your brother almost chokes on his soda as he snaps his head towards you. "rafe cameron? you're goin' out with a kook?"

"is it really that much of a surprise?" you raise a brow and look at him through the mirror.

"nah," he shakes his head and shrugs. "just didn't think kook was your style."

"well i appreciate your insight, y/b/n, but it's time to go," you turn to shoo him out of the room and push him out your door.

"hey, could you—" before he could even finish his sentence, you slam the door in his face and return to getting dressed.

while you didn't clear up with rafe exactly what this date would entail, you figured it’d be better to play it safe than be sorry—he was a kook, after all—so you took off your robe and slipped into your mini sundress, before sitting at your desk to crimp your hair and scatter little braids around your head and do your makeup.

after doing so, your phone dings with a text from him, as you slip on some flat sandals.

rafe: downstairs, your brother let me in.

giving yourself one more glance at the mirror to fix your necklaces, you run your hands through your hair and spray on some perfume, before scurrying out your bedroom door and down the hall to greet rafe sitting in the living room with your brother sitting across from him.

"so what are you intentions with my little sister?" your brother asks, just in time for you to intervene.

"oh my god, y/b/n," you say, as rafe stands to greet you. "hey."

you walk over to him and he squeezes you to his side. "hey, doll."

"where we headed?" you asked, noticing him in a salmon colored polo shirt—which somewhat matched the color of the flowers on your dress—and light grey shorts.

"a little change of plans, actually," he tells you. "i gotta go to this brunch at the club cause my dad's getting some award. you don't mind, do you?"

"we can totally leave any time you want," he adds, when a look of apprehension crosses your face.

you slowly nod, your eyes meeting his. "okay."

"yeah?" a small smile forms on his lips when you agree.

"yeah, let's go," you nod again, before turning to pull him towards the door.

"don't bring her back too late!" your brother jokingly calls after the two of you, as you walk out the front door.

"you're not dad!" you yell back, closing the door behind you.

—

the minute you enter a banquet hall at the country club, decked out with several round tables and decorations, full of kooks dressed in designer sundresses and polos, it dawns on you just how different your worlds are.

rafe was the kook king. these fancy brunches were a part of his weekly routine, while the fanciest place you'd ever been was the diner your parents took you to on your trip to new york a month ago.

"you ok?" rafe's hand snakes around the small of your back and he leans into you when he notices you glancing around, your fingers fiddling with each other. "hey," his finger comes under your chin to make you face him. "don't fret, a'ight? they'll love you."

they? who the fuck is they?

"top, kelce," rafe calls out to two of his friends, both of whom are dressed just like him, as he leads you to their table, which also sat two other girls—who you recognized to be rafe's sisters. "this is y/n."

"topper," the blond one holds out a hand to you, and the dark skinned one does too. "kelce."

"y/n," you shake both their hands, as rafe pulls out a chair for you to sit down. "it's nice to meet y'all."

"oh my god," the young girl seated next to sarah widens her eyes at you from across the table. "you're that girl rafe's been sneaking in and out of the house at night!"

"wheeze," sarah throws her a look, before smiling at you. "sorry about her, she has no filter. i'm sarah."

"yeah, i know," you nod at her. "kiara's talked about you."

"oh," the smile on her face drops a little. "you're friends with kie?"

"not anymore," you shake your head, and sarah's smile returns. "we were, but… she's showed her true colors." you reach for the glass of water in front of you and take a sip.

"tell me about it," sarah scoffs. "i had to learn that the hard way."

you continue making small talk with sarah, realizing she wasn't half the bitch kiara made her out to be, while rafe's hand rested on your thigh, as he talked to kelce and topper.

"drinks?" you hear a familiar drawl behind you, and find jj standing over you with a platter of mimosas, dressed like a waiter. "y/n?"

a smirk comes across rafe's lips as he turns his head, eyes shifting between the two of you. "hey, man. just one for my girl."

jj's clicks his tongue, as rafe smiles at you and gives your thigh a squeeze, but does his job, and leans down to hold the platter out to you.

"thanks," you avoid eye contact with him as you grab a drink from the platter, and are thankful when sarah calls on him from across the table.

"i'll take one too," she says and jj rounds the table to allow her to grab a drink, his disappointed eyes meeting yours.

a part of you felt bad—it had only been about a month—but then again, he moved on while you two were still together. so was there really a reason for you to feel guilty? you were just doing what he did—but better. at least you waited until the relationship ended.

"i'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick," you whisper to rafe, who gave you a small nod.

"why?" he asked, concern falling over his features. "you okay?"

"yeah," you assure him. "i just gotta pee. i'll be back."

—

by the time you got back from the bathroom, applause was erupting around the room, as rafe, sarah, and wheezie joined their dad on stage with their stepmom.

a smile came across your face as his eyes met yours from across the room and you leaned an elbow on the counter of the bar beside you.

"can't believe you stooped this low," jj comes up beside you, placing the platter down on the bar and downing one of the drinks himself.

"no," you turn your head to look at him and shake your head when rafe becomes occupied taking pictures with his family. "we're not doing this here."

you head out of the room, and he follows. "why? scared your new kook friends are gonna realize you're not one of them? i mean, seriously, y/n— how far are you willing to take this? just to-"

you snap your head towards him. "just to what, jj?"

"to spite me," he says. "i mean, have you looked in the mirror lately?" he motions a hand at your dress. "you're dressed like them, you're eating brunch with them, you're with him—this isn't you!"

"no," you hold a finger up to him. "i am exactly who i've always been. you just don't know how i look when i'm not in love with you."

a scoff leaves his mouth. "so our relationship really meant that little to you, huh?"

was he for real?

you narrow your eyes and shook your head. "no. you don't get to use that against me. you meant the world to me, jj. you were the one who screwed shit up the second you decided to sleep with kie. you are not turning this on me."

"oh my god, would you get over it?" he asked, clearly frustrated. "you slept with rafe cameron, y/n! we're even."

"even?" you spat. "after you betrayed me? broke my trust? my heart? oh, you have no idea just how even it's about to be."

"the hell's going on out here?" rafe joins you and jj outside the banquet hall, immediately coming to your side, a hand on your lower back. "is he bothering you?"

"no," you shake your head. "jj's shift just ended. he was about to go."

rafe shifts his eyes between the two of you, you and jj's eyes focused on each other.

your ex-boyfriend scoffs and shakes his head, but walks away, taking rafe by surprise.

"you wanna tell me what that was all about?" he looks at you, after watching jj leave.

"nothing to tell," you shrug with a smile, tilting your head up at him. "you wanna head back inside?"

"you wanna stay?"

"yeah," you nod, snaking your arm around his back. "i do."

part 5.

i love soft rafe almost as much as i love canon rafe tbh.

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

click here to be added to my tag list!!

tags: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @immyowndefender @chiaraanatra @ijustwanttoreadlols @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesgiirl @solanathascientst @10ava01 @werewhatkilledthedinosaurs @void21 @groovycass @azrielsgirll @rroslitas @callsignwidow @zyafics

#rafe cameron #rafe #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe fic #cute rafe #soft rafe #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #obx #outer banks

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cameronspecial · 3 months

Text

Let Me Fix Your Problems, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.1K

Summary: Y/N needs to vent, but Rafe needs to solve her issues.

Masterlist

Girls know that when another girl comes to them with a problem, it is just to vent about the issue that they have. Boys. Well, boys like to go to each other for solutions and Rafe isn’t innocent of that mentality. Before Y/N, Rafe hadn’t been in a relationship, so he didn’t have a chance to learn that women just need an outlet to voice their frustration. And he is about to be taught that lesson. He waits for her at the coffee shop with a mug of coffee in his hand and a hot chocolate across from him for her. His fingers tap along the ceramic mug. He looks out the window to see if he can spot her arrival. This is the first time that they are going to be seeing each other in person after returning to campus from the holiday break and he anticipates seeing her again. He wants to see all the gifts she got this Christmas and she is excited to show him. He spots the pompom of her pastel green hat that he sent over to her for Christmas. A massive grin grows on his face and he knows the bell sounding announces her entrance. As she slides into the booth across from him, she leans over the table to kiss him on the lips. “Hey, Rafe. How are you?” she greets.

He can see something is wrong. There is a slight furrow of her brow and a slight dip of her lip that she is trying to hide. He plays along with her pleasantries for now, “I’m good now that I get to see you, Angel. How was your Christmas?” “It was good. I got to spend time with my family. I was also pleasantly surprised with how many gifts I woke up to on Christmas morning. Some handsome fella even gave me this pretty bracelet with his initials on it. I think I might keep it and him around,” she recounts, holding out her wrist for him to see. He takes her arm into his hand, “Wow. That handsome fella must really be special if you are wearing this even though you have only been dating him for around four months.” “Yeah, I guess you can say that I love him,” she teases and kisses him. “Thank you for the gifts, Rafe. I just wish you told me we were also sending each other stuff because I hate the thought of you not getting anything from me on Christmas.”

His warm hand cups her cheek and his thumb brushes reassuringly against her skin. “Don’t worry about it, Angel. You gave me my gift before we left for break. Plus, getting that FaceTime call from you on Christmas day was my gift,” he promises. She kisses his wrist and this thumb goes to trace the slope of her lips. He can’t be in the dark about her sadness anymore. “What’s wrong, my angel? Why do you seem so sad?” he questions. She shrugs, “Nothing, I’m fine.” “Please, don’t lie to me. I can see something is wrong,” he pleads to her. She sighs, “It’s stupid, but Stacey is having a back-to-school get-together this weekend and she didn’t invite me. I guess I feel a little left out.” “That’s not very nice of her. Have you tried telling her how you feel?” he suggests. She shakes her head, “No. Do you know how embarrassing it would be to run to her like a little schoolgirl and tell her she hurt my feelings?” Rafe understands what she is saying and slides in on her side of the booth. He rests her head on his chest, vowing to help her with her problem.

———

Rafe knocks on Stacey’s door and puts his hands behind his back. She opens the door with a slight frown at who is waiting for her. “Uh, Rafe. What are you doing here? Is everything okay with Y/N?” she worries, knowing that Rafe only cares about one person. Rafe’s head moves from side to side, “Actually, she isn’t okay. You didn’t invite her to your get-together this weekend.” Stacey nods and cracks her knuckles nervously. “I did not. Because, you see, Y/N and I aren’t really that close of friends and this party is for girls that I am really close to,” Stacey tries to explain. Her mouth shuts when she sees that is not the answer Rafe is looking for. He chuckles, “Obviously, she feels close enough to you that she feels left out by what you did.” He pauses to see if Stacey has anything to add to her defence. She doesn’t. “You know what I want you to do, correct?” Her head hinges up and down, “Yes, I understand. I’m sorry that I hurt Y/N’s feelings.” “Good, I’m glad we can come to a conclusion. I’ll see you later,” he grins and heads back home.

———

Y/N doesn’t bother to knock. She uses his passcode to storm into his room and finds him on his bed. He sits up right at the sight of her. “Is everything okay, Angel? You didn’t tell me you were coming over,” he frets, rushing to her side. Her arms cross over each other, “You forced Stacey to invite me to her party.” “I did. You said you felt left out that you weren’t invited,” he states. He places his hands above her elbows. She lets out a low laugh, “Why would you do that?”

“Because you had a problem and you needed help fixing it.”

“Rafe, most of the time, when I come to you with my problems, I don’t want you to fix them. I just want you to listen and agree that I am in the right.”

“Why can’t I fix your problems if I have the solution? Come on, let me fix your problems, Angel.”

“Sometimes girls just want someone to vent to. Plus, I don’t even like Stacey so the last thing I want to do is go to her party, but now, I have to go because you made a point of getting her to invite me,” she complains. He chuckles and pulls her into a hug, “Okay, I’ll take that venting thing into account for next time. Angel, if you didn’t want to go to the party, then why did it bother you so much?” “Because I wanted to be able to turn her down,” she mumbles, burying her face into his neck. He lets out an amused breath, “I see. Well, I’m sorry that I ruined your ability to reject her. If you want, I can call you with an emergency half an hour into the party so you can leave early.” Y/N pulls back to look him in the eyes. “That is the least you can do. You are getting me sushi too,” she orders. “Sounds fair. I’ll do whatever you want, Angel.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife

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Text

Void - Part 9 - Tuesday (M)

title banner by @rude–jude♡

Genre: Sci-fi with a little angst and a LOT of smut

Pairing: BTS x Reader (yup - all seven)

Summary: You are the only female crew member on a 12 year space mission with seven handsome men. The sexual tension is real, y’all.

Word Count: 5.7k

Part 9 / ?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Warnings: explicit sexual content, entirely too much discussion about semen, some jealousy, possessiveness and slut-shaming, semi-accidental voyeurism

__________

A rush of cold air against your sweaty skin makes you shiver. It’s much cooler out here in the hallway than in the steamy sleep pod behind you. You leave Jungkook behind in the sleep pod, still getting his clothes back on, but your lingering arousal stays with you.

You’ve barely made it two steps into the hallway when the door across from you opens. Jimin leans against the door frame. Damn, he looks good. He has the sleeves of his dark blue jumpsuit tied around his waist, leaving him in just a loose white t-shirt that rides up his arms as he crosses them.

“Well, good morning to you,” he says. “And what have you been up to this morning?” The smirk on his face makes it clear he knows damn well what you’ve been up to this morning.

“Umm…” You wiggle your hips in discomfort, the remnants of Jungkook sliding between your thighs.

Mercifully, Jimin doesn’t actually make you tell him what you’ve been up to. “Do you have a minute to talk?” he asks, beckoning you to join him in his pod.

Lord, you really don’t want to have an awkward relationship conversation with Jimin with Jungkook’s semen still inside you. You try to brush him off. “I have a lot of work to do this morning, Jimin.”

He snorts. “Seems like you’ve already gotten a lot done.” He lets the statement hang there as he smirks at you again. It’s very annoying how hot he is right now.

The click of the door latch behind you startles you into action. The last thing you want is to be trapped in this narrow hallway with both Jimin and Jungkook. “Yeah, okay,” you say, diving into Jimin’s pod before Jungkook sees you.

“So should I plan on waking up to the sound of you fucking other men every morning or only on Tuesdays?” Jimin asks as he closes the door.

“Well, not on Thursdays.” You are trying to flirtatiously deflect, but irritation flashes across Jimin’s face.

“Yes, well,” he mutters. “I guess I’ll just wait my turn.”

“Hey, you suggested sharing first,” you reply defensively.

“With one man, not six.”

“Why does the number matter?” You’re already carving yourself into pieces to make them all happy, why did it matter how many? “You’ll still get your turn.”

“Bah!”Jimin stomps his foot in frustration. “I’m not some toddler who is bad at sharing a toy! I don’t want to have you just because it’s my turn.” He almost reaches for you again, but drops his hands in defeat. “I want you to want me.”

You sigh. “I do want you, Jimin.” Even first thing in the morning, with his dark hair falling loosely over his forehead, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. How can you explain that you are genuinely and specifically attracted to all of your crew members without sounding like a floozy? “I’ve wanted you ever since I watched that damn video of yours. And long before that too.”

“Really?” He bites his plush lower lip. “How long?”

You fold your arms and lean back against the other side of the pod. Memories come back to you of your space walk training at the bottom of the ICSE pool. Jimin always hated the overly warm training suits and would strip out of them long before reaching the men’s locker room. His sweaty t-shirts would stick to his skin, slightly translucent. It was impossible to keep your eyes off him as he’d laugh with the other guys and brush his hair back off his forehead, indifferent to your presence. “Longer than you’ve wanted me,” you finally answer.

His eyes widen in surprise. “On Earth?” he asks.

You nod. You chastise your past self for ever thinking that your insatiable thirsting for your crew wouldn’t become a problem eventually.

“Shit.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I had no idea.” He steps closer to you. “You were always so closed off.”

“Well, I’m not supposed to want you. Wanting you is highly inconvenient.”

He smiles as he leans in. “But you just can’t help yourself?” He glances down to your lips.

“Oh, don’t look so smug.” You push against his chest as his hands find their way around your waist.

“I’m allowed to be smug.” He rests his forehead against yours. “The hottest woman in the universe wants me.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m the only woman in your—“

But his lips are on yours before you can finish your sentence, one hand gripping your waist as the other finds its way to the nape of your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

All your arousal that had been simmering just below the surface comes rushing back as his fingers caress your neck and along your jaw. His lips are just the right balance of soft and firm. You moan as he breaks away from your lips to begin kissing down the side of your neck.

“But then how can you only want me on Thursdays?” he asks between kisses. “I want you every day. Mondays. Tuesdays. Wednesdays. All the time. God, I haven’t even bothered to remember what day of the week it is for the last two years and now it’s all I can think about.”

“I obviously don’t only want you on Thursdays.” You gasp as his hand finds your breast over your jumpsuit, closer to the surface then it would normally be since you abandoned your shirt with Jungkook. “I’m just trying to be fair.”

“Fairness is overrated.” He sucks on the junction of your neck and collarbone as you tilt your head back to give him more access. “Shit, are you not wearing a shirt?”

His hand is on your zipper before you can answer, tugging it down to discover the answer for himself. “Good lord,” he mutters, hands caressing your bare sides and breasts. “Where is your shirt?”

“I’m having a bit of a laundry problem.” You run your fingers through his hair, holding tight as he peels down your bra and runs his tongue across your nipple. “Somehow all my clothes are covered in cum.”

He groans out loud at that, sinking to his knees as he kisses down your belly, following the opening in your jumpsuit. “Shit, really? Jungkook?” And then he pauses and looks up at you. “What did he do?”

“You really want to know?” You ask and Jimin nods. You laugh. “It’s more what I did to him.”

“Tell me,” he urges. “And take this off.” He tugs at the bottom of your zipper.

“Made him beg.” You shrug out of the jumpsuit, in your bra and panties once again. Your panties stick to you where Jungkook’s remnants have merged with your own arousal. Jimin’s eyes are glued to them. “Rode him until he came inside me.”

Jimin licks his lips and looks up at you. “Can I see?”

You tilt your head curiously. “That doesn’t bother you?”

He laughs a little, shaking his head. “Maybe it will later, but right now, it’s just super hot.”

A whole new rush of heat runs through you as you slide your panties down. This is the dirtiest thing you’ve ever done. One man kneeling rapturously in front of you to see you covered in the release of someone else. It’s debauched and it’s glorious. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if you should stop this and wait for Jimin’s assigned day, but your logical brain vacated its post the moment Jimin knelt in front of you.

“You do like being messy, don’t you?” He runs a careful finger along your labia and your legs tremble. “Doesn’t matter whose cum it is, does it?”

“Fuck, Jimin, please.” You tug on his hair, needing him to do something, anything.

He gathers a glob on his finger before flicking it to the floor. He stands up and kisses you again, the hand sticky with cum now caressing your cheek. It’s both tender and filthy. And then he’s turning you around to face the wall of the pod. “Bend over.”

Your legs are trembling so hard you have to cling to the wall, but you allow him to guide you down so you’re bent at ninety degrees, hands on the wall, ass out. You hear him strip out of his clothes and then a finger slips inside you.

“God, you’re so wet.” His hands grip your hips as he replaces his finger with his cock. “How many times did he get you off?”

Jimin eases his way into you and the tenderness makes you groan. “He didn’t,” you pant.

“Amateur,’ Jimin scoffs. He reaches around to your front and finds your sensitive clit. The trembling in your legs gets stronger as he begins rolling his hips.

“He wanted to,” you gasp. “Didn’t let him.”

“Don’t even care about your own pleasure, huh? Just want to take all the cock you can?” He pairs the teasing with a firm pressure from both inside and out and you’re shattering around him, unable to deny how much it turns you on to be used by them all.

You hear the smile in Jimin’s voice, how proud he is of himself, as he tightens his grip on your hips and speeds up his pace.

“You’re mine now though. You were mine first and you’ll always be mine. Whenever any of them fuck you, I’ll fuck them out of you. Replace them with me. The only cum you’ll be carrying around inside you is mine.”

He stills, leans over to kiss your back and neck as he fills you up. You can feel his self-satisfied grin against the skin of your back.

He slides out of you, patting your ass as he goes. Your whole body flushes as yet more cum leaks from you. God, you’re a mess. He kneels down behind you and picks up your panties, sliding them back up your legs.

“That’s better,” he says as he slides them up and over your ass, trapping his cum against you.

“Uh, thanks,” you reply, completely at a loss for what to say as a weird cold feeling begins churning in your stomach. You have the sudden worry that Jimin is going to expect every day to go like this, even those that aren’t his. “Gonna go clean up now.”

Jimin grins and kisses your cheek. “See you soon,” he whispers.

______________

And so you find yourself once again attempting to de-sperm yourself in the space toilets. Another tinge of doubt washes over you as you stare at the flimsy compostable toilet paper and contemplate trying to do this every day for the next 12 years. Is that what you’ve committed yourself to? Multiple times a day? Multiple men per day? Surely they will grow bored of you eventually, right? This falls way outside your mission parameters. Maybe you should call this whole thing off.

Despite your best efforts with the toilet paper, you’re still gross and sticky. Your jumpsuit and underwear are gross and sticky too. There’s nothing for it. You need a shower and some clean clothes.

Showers weren’t an everyday luxury on the Minos. You could only manage once or twice a week without outpacing the water reclamation system. Technically you weren’t due for another day or two, but you couldn’t wait any longer.

The showers and the laundry machines sit in the same section of the ship near the water tanks. Before heading there, you jog back to your sleep pod to gather up the rest of your dirty laundry. Jungkook is long gone. Your shirt/make-shift blindfold lies thrown in a corner. As you gather up your scattered clothes, the stink of your laundry makes another way of regret wash over you. You were only one and half days into your new plan and all your clothes are covered in bodily fluids. This is exhausting.

The laundry machines and showers also happen to sit right next to Yoongi’s workshop and you can’t help wondering about him as you walk in that direction. You haven’t seen him since your striptease in the kitchen.

“Okay, I’m in,” he had sent you. It betrayed so very little of what he’s thinking. And the question of what exactly he wants from you is still unanswered. But at least he has admitted to wanting you. Your stride slows as you pass his workshop, scanning with your peripheral vision while trying to look like you aren’t checking to see if he’s in there.

But the workshop is dark and empty. Whatever his feelings for you, they will remain a mystery for now.

God, what is the matter with you? You’ve already fucked two men this morning and here you are pining for a third. That can’t be normal, can it? The ICSE really fucked up when they decided to send the world’s horniest woman on this mission.

You continue to chastise yourself as you load your laundry into the machines. The laundry machines sit in a vestibule just outside the showers with a door to the hallway that locks, so you are able to strip off the clothes you are wearing now as well and run them through the laundry while you shower. Removing your wet underwear makes you cringe. How have you managed to go from “first woman to pass the orbit of Mars” to “woman with two different men’s semen in her underwear”?

You’re so preoccupied with your self-slut-shaming that you don’t hear the water running behind the shower door. The door was unlocked and there weren’t any clothes in the machines, so you just assumed the shower was empty. But you are wrong.

Flight Engineer Min Yoongi is standing in the shower completely naked and dripping wet. His back is to you as he washes his face. His long dark hair runs down over his shoulders. When did his hair get so long?

He doesn’t see you, face still covered in soap, but turns his head as the door clicks open. “Hey! Occupied!” he calls out.

“Oh shit!” you curse, backing up. Shit. You’re naked too. Shit. All your clothes are in the washing machine and must be soaking wet by now. You attempt to cover yourself with your hands as you debate how to get out of here.

“Oh, is that you, Officer?” he chuckles, wiping the soap and water from his eyes before turning to greet you, smirk on his face. “I thought I wouldn’t be seeing you until Friday. Come to get a sneak peek?”

Your face is on fire, you are so embarrassed. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

He looks totally calm, running his gaze up and down you luxuriously. “No worries. We are in a ‘consensual sexual relationship’ now, aren’t we? Or should I be hiding my dick from you Saturday to Thursday?”

His demeanor is infuriating and you feel so foolish. “Why didn’t you lock the door?”

He shrugs. “Tuesdays are my shower day. No one is ever here but me.” He looks you up and down again and there is really no hiding anything from him. “The real question is what are you doing here?”

Shit. How do you get out of this conversation? “I, umm, needed a shower.”

He laughs, turns off the water and shakes his head, long hair sending drops of water flying around the sealed room. “You know this plan of yours is gonna fuck with our whole shower schedule, right?”

It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying as he wraps his hand around his hair and pulls it up into a bun behind his head.

“When did your hair get so long?” Your voice is higher pitched than normal and you grimace.

“Oh yeah…” He tucks one of the shorter loose strands behind his ear. “It’s been getting in my way. I was going to ask if you might have time to cut it on Friday.” He pulls a towel from the wall behind him and wraps it around his waist.

“Oh, no, no, no…” you rush out, heart skipping a beat at the allusion to your day with him.

“Oh.” He frowns. “Okay. That’s fine.”

“No, I just mean, don’t cut it.” You giggle nervously. “I just mean, uh, it looks good. As is.”

“Aha.” He grins and you watch a water drop glide from his jaw down his throat. “Well, in that case, I imagine there are more enjoyable things we could be doing…” He walks closer, and reaches toward you as your heart races. You close your eyes and give up trying to cover yourself as his warm wet body comes right into your personal space. “On Friday,” he finishes, reaching the door handle behind you and popping it open.

God, you hate him. “Um, yeah, sounds good,” you mutter as you dive out of his way.

“Looking forward to it,” he replies, eyes dark with intention, before heading out the door. “Enjoy your shower, Officer.”

______________

A shower has you feeling much more like yourself again. But when you get to the kitchen for breakfast, you nearly walk right back out when you see who’s gathered around the table.

Jin, Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung are all sitting at the table, munching on their breakfasts. The prospect of sitting next to three different men you’ve watched orgasm in the last 24 hours makes the idea of eating feel entirely impossible. Not to mention the very hot man you are just pretending to sleep with. How has your life gotten this messy?

You are about to flee down the hallway when Jin looks up and makes direct eye contact with you.

“Good morning!” Jin greets you and suddenly all four men’s eyes are on you. “Come sit with us!” He pats the chair next to him. “Taehyung made scorched rice.”

Your brain helpfully chooses this moment to remind you that the last time you saw Jin, you came on his face.

Taehyung nods enthusiastically and mumbles through a mouthful of rice. “There’s plenty left.” He swallows and gestures to the pot on the cooktop.

Jungkook springs up from his seat. “I’ll get you some!” He pulls out the chair between him and Jimin, not the one Jin was suggesting. “Have a seat.”

“Oh, uh, thanks, but I need some coffee too.”

“I’ll get it!” Jimin pops up too. “You rest.” He also clearly gestures at the seat that would put you next to him and Jungkook. Jin frowns slightly, while Taehyung bites back a laugh.

“Oh, okay…” You run out of objections and sit down at the table while Jungkook and Jimin run to bring you breakfast. “This really isn’t necessary,” you mumble, but they’re not listening.

Jungkook returns first with a bowl of stew and a plate of scorched rice for you and then sits down next to you. The memory of him on his knees begging to touch you flashes across your mind.

You take a bite of your food as the other men at the table resume eating. Jimin returns a minute later with your coffee. You take a sip and grimace at the too sweet concoction. Jimin still doesn't know how you take your coffee.

“Something wrong?” Jimin asks.

You swallow it down. “No, it’s fine. Thank you.”

There’s a few moments of silence while everyone eats, before Jin nudges Jungkook with his elbow. “Seems like someone got a pretty early start this morning, huh?” he says teasingly.

“Jin!” you gasp as Jungkook chokes on his food. “You can’t just say things like that!” You pat Jungkook on the back to make sure he doesn’t die.

“What?” Jin shrugs. “Isn’t everything supposed to be out in the open now?”

“Mmm,” Taehyung nods, hiding his mouth behind his hand as he laughs. “Like the bonobos.”

“Fucking bonobos.” Jimin groans.

“It seems more awkward not to talk about it.” Jin continues. “We all heard him in there. Why pretend otherwise?”

Jungkook finally manages to swallow. “You heard us?”

“The walls aren’t thick,” Jin laughs. “Impressive that you can go two rounds that early in the morning. Ah, to be young.”

“Two rounds?” Jungkook frowns in confusion. Your entire face feels like it will melt off. Jimin says nothing, but his hand finds your knee under the table next to him and squeezes it.

“Speaking of,” Taehyung interrupts. “Can I take you on a date tomorrow night?”

“We can take you on dates?” Jungkook asks.

“Um yeah, sure.” You answer both questions at once. “Though it’s not like there’s really anywhere to go.”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan,” Taehyung nods smugly.

“Can I take you on a date today?” Jungkook interjects. “Or do you only get one shot per day?”

“Uh… I don’t know. I didn’t really make rules that specific.”

Jimin’s thumb traces small circles around your knee and it’s a reminder that you’re not really sticking to even the limited rules you set out in the first place. Seven men is entirely too many men.

The conversation is mercifully interrupted by a shipwide message on your tablets. It’s from the commander.

“A reminder to all crew members that any activities of an intimate nature are to be conducted in the privacy of the sleep pods. They are not appropriate for the public areas of the ship, which are monitored and recorded.”

The choice to put this in a written communication rather than an in-person conversation is surprisingly passive aggressive for Namjoon.

Taehyung looks at you. “What did you do?”

“She took all her clothes off in the kitchen!” Jin laughs.

“Excuse you! I covered the camera! You’re the one who ran me ass-first into our commanding officer!”

Jin sighs in delight. “Man, you should have seen his face.”

Jimin’s hand slides further up your leg and you’ve had enough. “Thank you all so much for breakfast, but Hoseok must need me in the lab by now.” You gather the remainder of your breakfast into your arms and back out of the kitchen. “I’ll see you later.” You’re not even sure which man you’re talking to. All of them really. There’s no escape. You will see all of them later.

____________

For all your attraction to Hoseok and disappointment that he hasn’t signed your form yet, at the moment, you are a bit relieved. Hoseok puts on another science podcast and the two of you settle into your work for the day, safe in the knowledge that no one will come to proposition you.

Or so you think until the end of the day, when Jungkook shows up at the lab door with a large plastic storage bin under one arm. Hoseok spots him first.

“Hey, JK, what’s up?” he asks. “Do you have more samples for us?” He gestures to the box under Jungkook’s arm.

“Oh, no.” Jungkook swallows, glancing down at the box. “It’s actually food.”

“Food?” Hoseok asks.

Jungkook steps farther into the lab. “I was hoping to treat our biologist to a dinner date.”

“Oh!” You and Hoseok are surprised in unison.

“So you two are dating now?” Hoseok asks, looking back and forth between the two of you with raised eyebrows. “I thought this whole thing was just...”

He trails off without saying the rest of the thought out loud and a frown line appears between his eyebrows.

“I’m not really clear on myself.” Jungkook takes this as an invitation to put the bin down on the lab counter and turn to you. “What are the rules exactly? Are we dating? Are we dating all the time or only on Tuesdays? Is it time-bound and when does it end? Does it end at midnight or can we fall asleep together? Can I hold your hand? Can I kiss you? Can I only kiss you on Tuesdays?”

Hoseok’s frown deepens and you rush to cut off Jungkook’s torrent of questions. “It’s not dating,” you try to explain. “We’re not…It’s not a relationship. I’m just trying to help people fill the void of what they’re missing from Earth. Like if they miss dates, we can have dates.”

“But it doesn’t mean anything?” Hoseok asks and you are totally stumped for what he wants the answer to that question to be. “You’re just pretending to be together one day a week?”

“It’s not personal…” you reply, glancing back and forth between the two men, unsure which one you should be reassuring right now.

But how could it be personal when you’re the only option? Like obviously they wouldn’t be choosing to date you on Earth. None of them chose you at all. They just miss sex and relationships and you can help them with that. But you can’t let yourself pretend it’s real. Or that it’s about you.

“Nevermind.” Hoseok begins packing up his stuff. “It’s none of my business. I’ll leave you to your date.” The word “date” has a sarcastic bite to it that is unusual to hear in Hoseok’s voice. The temperature of the room seems to drop as he slings his supply bag over his shoulder and leaves.

Jungkook turns away from you and busies himself unpacking food from his box onto the counter. His shoulders are a bit slumped and you really wish you could have talked to him alone. “It’s nothing fancy,” he mutters. “Just some sandwiches and drinks.”

You walk over and rest your hand on his shoulder. “That’s really thoughtful, Jungkook, thank you.” He freezes for a moment when you rest your hand on his back, then sighs and leans into your touch.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur as you rub his back. He tilts his neck back and forth and groans in a pleased way. “We can hold hands. If you want. And you can kiss me.”

That’s all the greenlight Jungkook needs as he spins around and pulls you into his arms, He gives you a hungry kiss, then pulls back. “God, I would love you seven days a week if you’d let me.”

“I know, Jungkook.” A real tinge of sadness creeps into the edges of your mind. You can imagine a world in which it’s just you and Jungkook, passing the time to Europa in an endless string of orgasms and increasingly athletic sexual positions on every surface of the ship as he finds new ways to get you off. You hear Yoongi’s voice chastising you again. Nobody actually gets what they want.

But your regrets quickly melt away the more you kiss him. His kisses are full of fire and desperation. If anything, he seems even more eager than he was this morning. The memory of him kneeling before you, begging to be inside you, is intoxicating.

“I owe you an orgasm,” he murmurs between kisses.

You can get on board with that plan. “Maybe we skip dinner,” you say as you start steering him toward the door.

He finds your zipper. “Aww, but I worked so hard. I can get you off and we can still have time for dinner.”

Your hand stops his from pulling down the zipper any further. “Jungkook, this is the lab.”

“So?” Jungkook is too focused on running his hands up and down your hips and ass over your clothes.

“So…” you grab his hands to get his focus back on your face. “Namjoon said sleep pods only.”

There is more to it than that. Something about the lab feels particularly like a betrayal. But it’s hard to put into words.

“Oh come on, he just doesn’t want us on the cameras.” He starts guiding you by your hips toward the lab bench in the corner next to the door. “But I know where all the camera blindspots are.”

“I don’t know…”

“Just let me show you.” Continuing to kiss you, he slowly backs you up into the wall just to the right of the door. He leans his forearms on the wall above you, caging you against the wall in between the door and the lab counter. “Pull out your tablet,” he commands.

The camera feed of the lab visible on your tablet appears to show an empty room. “See,” he says, kissing your neck. “No one here. Nothing to see.”

He picks you up and sets your ass on the edge of the lab bench. You like being manhandled by him more than you care to admit. He wiggles his eyebrows mischievously. “And this gets you to just the right height…” And then he’s dropping to his knees again.

“I don’t know…” Your position up on the counter allows you to see out the window in the center of the lab door and out into the hallway. “What if someone sees us?” You want to sound concerned, but honestly the idea has you squeezing your legs together enthusiastically at the risk.

“They can’t see us from the main hall. They’d have to be coming into the lab.” Jungkook’s hand cups your jaw and turns your face back down to him. “Watch me.”

God, he’s so hot. Muscular hands and large eyes fixed entirely on you.

“Okay, okay, but be quick about it.” You shuck your jumpsuit and underwear down your legs.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He starts tracing little circles with his fingers up one thigh and trailing soft kisses up the other. “You remember when you were cutting my hair?”

“Yes….” you groan as his fingers reach the very top of your thigh, just short of where you really want them.

“And you were pulling my hair and using it to get my head in just the right position?”

You nod, ability to speak temporarily suspended as his mouth reaches the tender skin where your thigh meets your hip.

“Well this is all I’ve been dreaming about since then. So feel free to hold on.” He scoots even closer on his knees, resting your legs on his shoulders and guiding your hands to his hair.

You weave your hands through his soft dark hair and he groans. Arousal floods through you at the sound, your body responding in kind to how turned on he is. And then he dives in.

He starts slow, but firm, no hesitation. Long slow strokes of his tongue around your clit, holding a steady rhythm.

“Fuck,” you gasp. “How are you perfect at this too?”

He chuckles, so self-satisfied. “I’m a fast learner. Now will you relax and stop thinking?”

And you give yourself permission to let your guard down. To close your eyes. To relax into the sensations, the pleasure, the slow steady build. You’re so wet and open you barely notice when he slides a finger inside you, but you do jolt forward when he matches that steady pressure on your clit with internal pressure from his finger. It’s so good, you moan out loud and grip his head tighter.

Your eyes remain tightly shut, but you can hear his grin as he groans. “I’m going to make you come so hard.” The pride in his voice, the pleasure, it’s irresistible.

And the pleasure builds and builds until it is overwhelming, almost beyond what you can tolerate, hands clenched in his hair for dear life, unsure if you’re trying to pull him off or press him in further. But the stubborn man holds his position, even as your hips buck against his face. “Fuck, Jungkook, fuck…”

And you’re breaking, shattering into pieces under his tongue and clenching hard around his fingers.

“Ugh…” you groan, leaning your head back on the lab cabinet behind you. Your breathing slows as you calm down, fingers still tangled in Jungkook’s hair as you open your eyes.

There’s a face in front of yours when you open your eyes. His eyes are so dark that it takes you longer than it should to realize that they're not Jungkook’s eyes. Jungkook is still down on his knees as you process that the other man is standing in the hallway, watching you through the window.

“Shit,” you gasp, yanking Jungkook away from you. “Hoseok…”

How long has he been there? How much did he see? Was he watching you? His gaze flicks up from where he’s been staring at the connection between you and Jungkook and meets your eyes. The intensity there is so overwhelming that it’s hard for you to make sense of it. Is it anger? Lust? Disgust? Then his eyes go wide as he realizes you see him and he disappears from view.

“Not exactly the name I was hoping you’d yell when you climaxed on my face…” Jungkook grumbles as he stands up and wipes his face on the sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“Shit, sorry,” You reply as you frantically fight to get your clothes back on. “He was here, he saw us. I have to go.”

“But…” Jungkook gestures across the lab. “I brought dinner.”

“Sorry,” is all you can manage before you race out into the hallway.

“Hoseok!” you yell as you run down the corridor. “Hoseok, come back!”

He’s not in the kitchen. He’s not on the bridge. “Officer Jung, report your location,” you try on your radio, but receive only silence.

You are panting by the time you reach the sleep pods. The door to his is closed. “Hoseok!” you shout as you bang on the door. “Hoseok!”

You hear shuffling around inside the sleep pod and know he’s in there. “Hoseok!” you yell, almost on the verge of tears. “Hoseok, please talk to me.”

The door opens just a crack, not enough to see him. “Please, Hoseok, I need to talk to you,” you plead.

“I… I… can’t.” he stammers. “I can’t right now. Please. Just… just go away.”

Your stomach is full of lead as you shuffle into your own sleep pod next door and rest your head and arms against the wall, desperately trying to catch your breath.

He hates you. You disgust him. You’ve betrayed everything you stand for. You’ll never be able to work in the lab again.

A small knock on the door interrupts your thought spiral.

“Hoseok?” you ask optimistically, scrambling to get up.

“No, Jungkook again.” The hot ball of shame in your guts glows even brighter.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook, I can’t right now…” If you see anyone else, you’re going to cry.

“I have dinner for you.”

“I’m sorry.” The idea of eating anything right now feels entirely impossible. “I’m not… I’m not hungry.”

A long exhale comes from the other side of the door. “Okay, goodnight.”

You collapse to the floor of your sleep pod as the weight of all your shame and guilt and irresponsible choices crashes down upon you.

_____

Part 10 coming soon! Apologies for leaving it there, but I promise the next update will be done much faster than this one. Thank you very much to anyone and everyone still interested in this fic.

#jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #ot7 x reader #void #btssavedmylifeblr

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