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wife-of-all-dilfs · 3 months

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love(rs) and war | f. odair

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summary: request here — when you signed up to become a solider in the rebellion, you never expected to be plagued with dirty thoughts of your boyfriend, finnick. who would have thought someone could make tactical gear look so good? you aren’t too sure your self-control is strong enough to make it through the night, but things take a turn when you take a shift on watch.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, smut, thigh riding, manhandling, possessiveness, jealousy, unprotected p in v, risk of being caught, dirty thoughts/talk, mentions of war, angst, singular use of y/n please forgive me, gale, slow-burn-ish, emotional sex, teasing, fluff

notes: everyone say happy birthday to @odairsaurora

word count: 12.8k dear god

Becoming a soldier in the rebellion against the Capitol came with a lot of certitude and not exactly the good kind. The likelihood of encountering death was extreme. Making it out alive was possible; making it out unscathed wasn’t. Even if you survived, you would be left with a life-long mental scar as a reminder of everything you have endured.

You knew all this when you signed up.

Even with all that knowledge, there were still countless uncertainties. Like not knowing where you would be laying your head to rest at night. Not knowing if you would even survive to be given the chance to rest at night. Being in a constant state of fight or flight. Always looking over your shoulder to make sure a squad member hadn’t been lost to a Peacekeeper or a pod or a mutt. Making sure you hadn’t lost the love of your life. Finnick.

But those uncertainties were predictable in combat—an oxymoron you had managed to wrap your war-torn mind around.

Something you never could have predicted was the lust. The overwhelming, all-consuming desire for Finnick that had engulfed you like a tonne of bricks the moment the first explosive pod went off and your sense of safety plummeted six feet below the ground.

Fire erupted in the air between the two buildings Katniss had shot her arrow through. Everyone was crouched together, watching in awe as they witnessed the sadistic lengths Snow was willing to go in an attempt to keep the rebels from reaching him. Your heart was beating so fast and every loud boom caused by the destruction had you recoiling in on yourself.

Finnick too was watching beside you, wearing a boyish grin as his shoulders shook lightly with suppressed laughter. He always was more favourable to dark humour, finding hilarity in situations others would find disturbing. You found it strangely attractive.

As you stared at him, the initial shock of the explosion started to wear off until it was no longer registering in your mind. All you could focus on was the dangerous curve of his lips, wishing they were somewhere on your body. Anywhere.

When he realised you were staring at him, his smile dropped and was replaced with a look of concern. He leaned towards you, voice a whisper though loud enough to be heard over the blaze in the distance, “You okay?”

You weren’t sure how to tell him your body was pulsating with fear, adrenaline, and desire all at once, so you nodded and hummed a pitchy, “Mhm.”

You suspected it had something to do with the dangerous situation you were in. The possibility that any moment with him could be your last. With this information, your body seemed to switch into survival mode, only ‘survival mode’ seemed to mean it yearned to spend every possible second you had left with him. Which, yes, included wanting him to fuck your brains out every time he merely looked in your direction.

And the uniform, Jesus Christ, the uniform... Whoever designed it was a miracle worker. Quite literally.

In your eyes, nothing could have made Finnick look more attractive than he already was. That man radiated unparalleled beauty even on his worst days. But the second you saw him dressed head-to-toe in black tactical gear you knew you were sorely mistaken. He looked so commanding. So gorgeous.

So dominant.

Never, absolutely never had you been more attracted to anyone than you were to Finnick right at the moment. You felt like you had reverted to a younger version of yourself, the one before you were in a relationship—shy, flustered, and stuck in a state of constant lewd daydreams.

He was adorned in straps and pockets for weapons and equipment, chest protected by sleek black armour. The only skin he had uncovered was from his neck up and his hands, making that tiny sliver of exposure so much more alluring than it should have been. His right thigh was strapped with a gun holster that cinched around his muscular thighs. You couldn’t pinpoint why this made you so desperate to sit in his lap or straddle his thigh and just—

“It’ll be getting dark soon,” said Lieutenant Jackson, pulling you from your thoughts. “We need to find somewhere to settle in ‘til the morning. Streets’ll be even more dangerous at night.”

Nods of agreement echoed around the group. Messalla, you believed his name was, had mentioned there being a place nearby that could be used to camp out for the night. From avoiding hidden pods and scaling over rubble, it was clear what should have been a fifteen-minute journey would turn into an hour-long expedition.

Not that you were complaining.

Sure, that sounded selfish, but nobody was perfect, right? You were certain anyone else would feel the same if they got to spend an entire hour admiring their partner—who just happened to be Finnick Odair—looking incredible whilst doing something as ordinary as walking. His black cargo pants kept tightening around his thighs with each smooth step he took. He kept alternating between holding his trident beside him and over his shoulder, muscles flexing through the thick material of his jacket each time he switched positions.

Sometimes you accidentally found yourself falling behind in pace, a subconscious desire to just watch him walk. It would take him a few seconds before he realised you weren’t beside him anymore and then he would look back to find you staring in a flustered daze.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just regaining my energy,” you had replied.

He must’ve known it was a lie. He had to. Though if he did, he didn’t say anything about it, just simply raised an eyebrow and held out his hand for you to take, which you did.

His fingers interlaced with yours. “I can carry you if you want?”

“Thanks, but I think I might die of mortification.”

He laughed something deep and beautiful in response, voice vibrant as he spoke, “At least it’d be in my arms.”

It was such a disconcerting sentence, but the sound of his voice was so alluring that you were conflicted between feeling distressed and turned on.

Eventually, you ended up finding the location Messalla was talking about, discovering that it was a ransacked cocktail bar nearing the outskirts of the city. Everyone was quiet as they settled in, the atmosphere heavy with both purpose and apprehension. Not Finnick though. He was his usual lively self, managing to pull a few responses from various squad members with his charming banter, even gaining a few small smiles here and there.

It took everything in you not to jump into his arms and crush your lips against his whenever he wrapped a large hand around your waist as he stood beside you during briefings about strategy and navigating the city. He kept asking if something was wrong, kept giving you these funny looks in response to your strange behaviour, but you refused to tell him. It was wrong. Positively immoral.

You eventually sat together on a long leather stool, shoulders pressed up against one another, his hand wrapped innocently around your thigh in a need for constant connection. He kept trying to make conversation with you, but you could barely muster up a single sentence in response. Not with his hand touching you so. Not with him looking like that.

His hair was dishevelled in the most perfect way that not even a prep team could attempt to reconstruct it. In any other circumstance, your hands would have already found their way into his golden locks, tugging and scratching lightly to coax a pleasured sigh from his lips. In any other circumstance, your lips would have already attached themselves to the exposed skin of his neck, tracing the length of his artery with your tongue so he would be tilting his head to the side in a silent plea for more.

In any other circumstance, you would be sitting in his lap, hearing the rough material of his attire rustle against yours as you felt him thrust in and out of you.

You crossed your legs.

“What’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours?”

You blinked back into existence. Finnick was staring at you, his hand now interlocked with your own and stroking the side of your palm with his thumb. A ray of golden setting sunlight painted a strip of light across the lower half of his face, across his mouth. Your gaze flickered between his eyes and lips, lingering longer and longer on the latter. They stretched into a sweet, reassuring smile. He must have thought you were anxious.

“It’s okay to be scared, you know,” he continued. “Everyone here is scared. I’m scared. I know it may not look like it because I’m just so effortlessly calm and collected—” His expression morphed into faux-arrogance for a moment, lips smirking and eyes sparkling with smugness, and your stomach did a somersault “—but I am. So it’s okay to admit that you are too. I just need you to talk to me.”

You felt so guilty like you had just committed the worst crime in the world. He was on an entirely different wavelength to you, all concerned about your wellbeing meanwhile your thoughts were running rampant with lust. It bordered on nymphomania. You felt like the worst person alive. Why were you thinking about sex in a time like this? Why did Finnick have to be wearing tactical gear? Why, why, why, why, why?

The sudden need to confess was overwhelming and the way he was looking at you so intently wasn’t helping. Then his hand was back on your thigh and kneading it gently in encouragement.

Your thighs squeezed together. God help you if he felt it.

The confession was threatening to burst from the tip of your tongue: You just look so fucking sexy right now and I’m afraid that if I don’t feel you inside me soon I might actually die but I’m also terrified to tell you because I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way when we are literally in the middle of a war and the fact that you are so oblivious is turning me on so much more so please take me into a supply closet and fuck some sense into me before I lose my fucking mind—

Woah.

Could it be the effects of a pod? Did the Gamemakers release some sort of invisible gas that acted as an aphrodisiac which was lethal without relief? If that were true, wouldn’t everyone else be in the same boat as you were? Wouldn’t everyone else look as flustered and rigid as you did right now? Wouldn’t Finnick?

No. It was just you. Somehow that made it even worse.

Finnick’s brows arched inwards as he awaited your response. Your mind flashed back to another time when his brows were arching and lips were spilling filthy obscenities due to your own manipulation. Jesus fucking Christ, your stomach felt so tight it ached. You were throbbing at the thought of it.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

The words were rising into your throat no matter how hard you tried to swallow them. Your mouth opened to speak, disregarding all the consequences that came with admitting such a thing in such an inappropriate situation. And then the sound of an engine in the distance suddenly cut you off.

Everyone moved onto their feet, on alert due to the incoming vehicle.

“Stand down everyone. It’s friendly,” said Jackson.

You weren’t too sure ‘friendly’ had been the right term as you watched Peeta step out of the rover Coin had sent him in.

His arrival brought with him a heightened sense of tension. There was no telling what state of mind he was in or when he was going to snap and become the violent hijacked version of himself. Finnick had decided to take on the responsibility of assigning himself Peeta’s guard to make sure he didn’t cause harm to anyone in the squad or himself. Also because that’s just who Finnick was. Selfless and kind.

And where Finnick went, so did you, meaning his already highly protective nature over you increased monumentally. He never let you out of his sight, always kept you within arms-length, and always kept a hand somewhere on your body. You really, really did try to contain yourself. You tried to suppress the heat flushing your entire body. Tried not to sigh every time his fingers pressed into your waist the slightest bit or whenever he curled his hand around your inner thigh and gave it a territorial squeeze as you sat beside each other on the leather couch. But it was so hard when he was acting so dominating over you.

Even Peeta who was aloof and struggling with his sanity half the time seemed to notice Finnick’s sudden possessiveness.

“Afraid I’m gonna try and take her off you, Finnick?” Peeta had said.

It was meant to be a joke, but the tone of his voice was so flat and devoid of life, it made you feel a little uneasy.

Finnick’s hold on you tightened ever-so-slightly and his jaw clenched. It must have been so strange for him. You hadn’t known Peeta before moving to District Thirteen, but Finnick did. You had heard stories of the boy who enjoyed baking and painting, who was known for his love for Katniss and his kindness that never wavered even when thrown into an arena and forced to murder other tributes.

That was the boy Finnick knew; the person in front of him now was a stranger.

Peeta must have sensed the tension he had caused as he averted his gaze. “Kidding.” And then a few seconds later, he murmured, “Sorry.”

You felt terrible watching as the little life he had in his eyes seemed to deflate even more than they had as he internally berated himself. How awful it must be to not have control over yourself, to be a broken shell of the person you once were. You couldn’t imagine the same happening to Finnick—the light he exuded dimming to a cold, dark, pale glow. The mere thought of it had your heart threatening to break in two.

Finnick’s grip on you relaxed and his eyes grew softer. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, empathy pervading his voice. He was quiet for a short moment before he started smiling softly to himself. “But Peeta—” Peeta’s attention was back on him “—just for future reference: sharing is caring is not a concept I apply to Y/N.”

For the first time since his rescue, you saw Peeta smile back at him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

**********

Darkness had finally veiled the city, drenching the bar in ominous shadows and beams of silver moonlight. Silence filled the room apart from the occasional startled gasp or yelp as multiple squad members awoke from horrific nightmares. The very back of the bar was scattered with various sleeping figures, most lying on the floor in an attempt to remain unseen from any potential passers-by outside.

It was your shift on watch, hours twenty-two hundred to zero-one hundred. You were sitting on the same leather stool as earlier but now it was positioned so that you had a clear view of the streets outside.

Finnick had tried to convince Boggs to let him take your shift for you, being his usual chivalrous self and all. But much to his dismay, not even his charm and million-dollar smile could persuade that man. Then he offered to join you, but you refused. Spending time alonewith him atnight would have been disastrous; even during the day, you had a hard time keeping your feelings under wraps.

The final stretch was coming up with twenty minutes to go. The boredom was a killer, leaving you to alternate between scanning the streets and glancing over to where Finnick slept. Well, knowing him, he was probably wide awake worrying about you being left alone for three hours, picturing different anxiety-inducing scenarios behind his closed eyes.

One of his legs was arched whilst the other was extended flat on the floor. He had an arm behind his head acting as a pillow and his other hand was lying on his stomach, fingers subtly tapping in a wave-like pattern.

Definitely awake.

That little detail certainly fuelled your imagination, knowing he was right there lying awake with you on his mind whilst everyone else was probably asleep. What really had your mind buzzing was the fact that the hem of his jacket had ridden up, just barely exposing the tanned skin of his torso and the contour of his v-line which led down to his—wait, was he smiling?

Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but you swore his lips were curving into a small smirk. But that would mean he knew you were staring at him…

You turned back around to the streets, blushing deeply.

“No,” you murmured to yourself. “You’re just tired.”

Maybe you were, maybe you weren’t. But as you stared out into the night air, the only image that plagued your mind was one of Finnick fucking Odair smirking.

Goosebumps washed over your body, sensitive against the rough material of your attire. First, he was smirking, then he was taking you into his arms, then he was kissing you, caressing you, sliding a hand beneath your shirt, into your pants. You almost reached the part you enjoyed the most, but a troubling noise pulled you from your thoughts. A pair of footsteps.

Heavy and purposeful, they came from behind you.

Oh god, you thought, feeling the anticipation build exponentially inside you. He saw me looking. He knows. He knows what I’ve been thinking all day. He knows. What am I going to do? What am I going to say? What—

“Hey,” a deep voice said quietly.

You looked up to find Katniss’s blue-eyed counterpart standing beside the couch.

“Gale?”

Oh, thank god.

“Yeah.” He sat down beside you with a soft grunt. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Even he knew you were expecting Finnick. You shook your head at him as if the idea was absurd, but in reality, you were a little disappointed. Although your shoulders were only just now dropping back into a relaxed state, you found a deep part of yourself actually wanting Finnick to come and find you out. The anticipation, harrowing as it was, was also exhilarating.

All you could think about was him interrogating you, pulling answers from your lips with just a stern look. Towering over you in his black tactical gear, muscular arms crossed and shoulders broad. Teasing you in an unforgiving tone for thinking such dirty things about him even though you knew he was having the exact same thoughts.

Gale shifted beside you and you suddenly realised you had spoken in well over a minute.

You cleared your throat. “Can’t sleep?”

He stared straight ahead, breathing out a half-hearted chuckle as though your question was a fleeting amusement. “Course not.”

Gale was alright. He was a little too headstrong and insensitive at times, but he wasn’t terrible. Pretty much anyone who wasn’t Snow or stood with Capitol was alright in your books. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, didn’t like him one bit.

“You know if Finnick sees you, you’re in for it, right?” you warned, giving him a short glance.

“He doesn’t like me very much, does he?”

Your eyebrows raised, inhaling a deep breath as you recalled their brief history. The first time they met, Gale had believed Finnick was in love with Katniss—something the two of you found humour in almost religiously—and therefore, spent most his days shooting glares and making snide comments towards him.

It came as quite a shock to Gale when he discovered it wasn’t Katniss who Finnick was in love with, but you. How he hadn’t realised sooner was beyond the both of you as you and Finnick were pretty much attached to the hip. He got there in the end, at least.

First impressions were everything though. After that, Finnick never really grew to enjoy Gale’s presence too much. During field training for the rebellion, Fate decided to spur on their little feud even further by having you be paired up with Gale for training exercises. Neither of you was very happy about it in the beginning, wanting to be with each other’s loved ones instead. Shockingly, your shared time together sparked up a small friendship.

Finnick wasn’t the most approving.

“He thinks you like me,” you said.

He looked at you, brows furrowed. “I do like you.”

See? Even Gale couldn’t comprehend what you really meant because of how ridiculous it was. You shot him a knowing look.

His expression morphed into one of understanding. “Oh, as in like you like you. Really? Does he not know that I li—”

“Like Katniss? Yes, I’ve told him many times.”

“Well, I guess some people just won’t be told.”

You scoffed, recalling how he had the same way of thinking not too long ago. Oh, how the tables have turned. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Gale laughed quietly, nodding as his gaze moved back to the darkness. “Yeah, guess you’re right.”

“Am I interrupting something?”

Your head whirled to the side, heart jolting in your chest.

There Finnick was, standing beside the stool as he smiled politely at you and Gale, his eyes burning with anything but civility. Your heart dropped at the sight of him. Down into your stomach and then even further below in between your thighs.

His lips twitched as he looked between the two of you. His piercing eyes settled on yours for a moment; the way you gulped was almost comical.

“No,” Gale said cautiously. “Just passing time.”

Finnick nodded indifferently and averted his gaze as though he hadn’t a worry in the world. You knew better though. You knew there was a fire scorching just below his skin, boiling in his bloodstream—the common symptoms of jealousy. They were symptoms you knew all too well. People often had trouble keeping their eyes off him back in Thirteen. Sometimes their hands too. That’s when your jealousy turned to loathing. A feeling you and Finnick both shared whenever it happened.

“Then you won’t mind if I join you?” he asked, although it came out more like a command.

Was it wrong to find Finnick being jealous so attractive?

“Actually, I, uh,” Gale stammered, pushing himself up onto his feet, “I should probably be getting some sleep.”

You couldn’t blame his slight panic. Finnick could be incredibly intimidating when he wanted to be.

Gale shot you a tight parting smile and you mouthed an apology in return.

“Wise choice,” Finnick said as Gale walked past him and began making his way to the back of the bar. You were surprised neither of them knocked shoulders as he did. Though Finnick did add a sarcastic “Sweet dreams!” as you both watched Gale disappear into the shadows.

You turned back to Finnick to see him already looking at you, pride gleaming in his eyes. What a man.

“You’re such an ass.”

He smiled at you humorously. “Only to him.”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t even—”

“Like you? Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said, and a flash of a smile graced your lips at the way he cut you off the same way you did Gale. Always so in tune with each other. Honestly, it was a wonder you ever managed to have a conversation with one another. He sat down beside you, his legs brushing against yours. “Call me possessive. Maybe a little obsessed too.”

“A little?”

“Okay, very.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, smiling openly now, “the feeling’s mutual.”

He returned your smile with one of his own and for a second, for a tiny splinter of a second, you had a flicker of hope that you might be able to handle being alone with him after all.

“Well, I’d certainly hope so,” he murmured warmly.

Then his hand was sliding onto your thigh, fingers curling and kneading innocently.

It was like a fiery aura suddenly reignited around him, both magnetising and disastrously alluring. Your eyes widened slightly from his touch. That overwhelming attraction from before returned with a tenfold increase in intensity. It was so powerful that you had to look away.

A deafening silence settled between you. Despite this, your thoughts were thunderous; so loud that it was impossible to tune them out. He had to know what he was doing to you, how he was making you feel—it was practically scrawled in bold red writing across your forehead.

Your arms were folded over your lap, afraid that if you moved them you would lose control. You glanced at Finnick to see him staring out at the shadowed buildings with a thoughtful gaze. His jaw was set in place, angled perfectly like it had been chiselled with a file. That spot where his jawline and neck connected was just begging for the touch of your lips. Or was it the other way around?

Your eyes fell further to see his other hand resting on his own thigh, clad in now-tightly-fitted black cargo pants.

Big, veiny hands. Big, muscular thighs. Big, throbbing…

Oh, no, this was all too much. You were supposed to be fighting a war, not your own damn carnal urges.

“You’ve barely spoken to me today,” Finnick suddenly spoke in a gentle tone. The guilt increased. “If you’re feeling like this is too much to handle then there’s no shame in going back home.” Shame. Guilt. Too much. “We can return to base and get a hovercraft back to Thirteen. Both of us. I’ll be right by your side. Always.”

God, you loved him so much.

“I love you so much,” you accidentally exhaled.

His expression morphed into one of puzzlement, reflecting what you felt on the inside when the words slipped past your lips. “I love you too?” he chuckled.

You quickly tried to recompose yourself. “But—uh, it’s—it’s not that.”

“No?” He tilted his head. “What is it then?”

On the outside you were composed, disregarding the hot pink flooding your cheeks, although it was probably too dark to be seen. But on the inside, panicked mantras ricocheted from every corner of your mind over and over. A war between two sides, two voices that said, “Tell him” and “Don’t tell him” was raging. You were starting to grow tired of the constant indecision, the ever-present need to confess, and the unrelenting tightness in your stomach you felt whenever you so much as thought about him.

So finally, you decided to create a side of your own. You were going to show him.

Your eyes dropped to the hand curled around your thigh and you inhaled a silent deep breath. Tentatively, you unfolded your arms and moved to rest your hand on top of Finnick’s. He remained still, only watching your movements with curiosity. Your gaze trailed up his arm, over his broad shoulders, the tempting length of his neck, the sharpness of his jaw, and then finally landed on his hypnotically green eyes.

He was looking at you and you were looking at him. There was no point in trying to conceal the fervent darkness manifesting in your gaze nor how it kept dropping to his soft pink lips. He noticed. You knew he did because he too was starting to succumb to the darkness and, fuck, did it look incredible on him.

You hadn’t meant to do it—squeezing your thighs around his hand. It was just, the ache was growing too much for you to handle without relief, and he looked so damn good.

Finnick’s eyes squinted ever-so-slightly at your revealing gesture and they seemed to impossibly grow a shade darker.

“What have you been thinking about?” he asked slowly.

And it was at this point you were certain that he was finally coming to some understanding. It was easy to tell from his twisted smile and scrunched brows, the way he spoke as though he was baiting you into giving an answer he already knew.

Your lips parted as you stared up at him, finding your breaths to become shaky and slightly heavier as the tension thickened. Finnick’s fingertips pressed firmly into your inner thighs and you let out a quiet gasp.

He knows, he knows, he knows.

“Hm?” he pressed further.

Somehow the space between you and Finnick had closed drastically without you even noticing. His face was five or so inches away from yours, peering down at you with a smirk he was trying to repress. He smelled of sea salt and smoky debris though still had a hint of that one rich scent of cologne you always found so intoxicating.

“I’ve been…”

He was closer now. You could feel his breath fanning across your skin.

“You’ve been…?” he enticed, knowing he was making it so much harder for you to conjure the words.

Your hand was clutching his because if he so much as shifted a millimetre, you would lose it. You couldn’t move. Your eyes were on Finnick’s lips, watching as they grew closer and closer. How could he expect you to tell him anything when you were immobilised from his touch? How could he tease you so when you were very obviously having a hard time keeping yourself composed?

Instinctively, your head was beginning to tilt forward to give him easier access, even though you knew he wouldn’t give you anything unless you gave him an answer first. But you couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t. The words were there on the tip of your tongue, but they wouldn’t leave your mouth. And you were absolutely certain of this when the warm touch of his soft lips grazed your own.

It was too much. Too much and too wrong.

“I’m thinking…” you began with a whisper, feeling your lips ghost over his, “it’s your turn to keep watch, Solider.”

His eyes snapped up to yours as you pulled away.

Without a word, you rose to your feet, feeling Finnick’s hand slide off your thigh; for a split second, you regretted your decision. You turned away, inhaling shaky breaths as you attempted to round the corner of the leather stool. Anxiety buzzed through your entire body and rightfully so, because just as you made it around the bend, you heard a pair of rushed footsteps trailing after you.

Suddenly, an arm was wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you backwards.

A startled gasp made it halfway past your lips before a large hand was clamped over your mouth. The other, which had forced you backwards, was splayed across your lower abdomen—very much lower, mind you—and had your back trapped against the firm torso of your capture.

Your heart was already thrumming like a hummingbird inside your chest, but it just about gave out when you felt the hard length pressed against your backside.

Finnick’s words were hot in your ear. “That’s not fair, sweetheart,” he spoke, his tone disapproving and full of false offence. “You’ve been giving me the eyes all day, yet you can’t even admit it when I ask nicely?”

Horror ran cold through your blood and your eyes widened.

He must have sensed the rigidness in your body as the next sound that came from his mouth was a low chuckle. “What, you thought I hadn’t noticed?”

You were in shock. Borderline catatonic in his arms. Every time you crossed your legs whenever the pressure between them became too much. Every time you fell behind the group to watch him walk. Every time you stared at him imagining that he was pounding into you or had his mouth between your thighs. He knew. The whole fucking time, he knew.

The hand covering your mouth lowered to your neck and held it gently, thumb stroking a delicate trail over your skin as Finnick awaited your response. You were hastily scanning the room in front of you, praying that all its occupants were either dead asleep or blinded by the darkness.

“I didn’t mean to,” you squeaked out. “I tried to—to control it.”

Your head was turned abruptly and suddenly shadowed green eyes were peering down into your own.

“You didn’t mean to,” he mocked. “That’s what you tell yourself, sweetheart, but every time you looked in my direction, you were dragging me towards you.”

His hand, which was on your stomach, lowered a quarter inch and your own hand went flying to prevent it. Not because you didn’t want him to go any further, but because you were scared of having an… audible reaction that might reveal both you and Finnick to the group.

“And deep down that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” he continued.

Your lips were parted though not a single word could pass them. Your inner brows were cinched upwards, the speechlessness evident in your expression. Finnick quickly realised this was the case and his eyes twinkled with mischief under the moonlight.

He lowered his head into the space between your jaw and shoulders, pressing an agonisingly slow kiss to your neck. Your head automatically tilted to the side, a soft sigh escaping your mouth as your eyes closed.

He then returned to hover beside your ear. “Wasn’t it?” he asked again, the sound smooth like warm honey.

And you couldn’t help but submit to his trickery. “Yes,” you whispered, leaning into his chest as a silent plea for more.

“Tell me.”

Your eyes fluttered open. “What?”

His hand dipped much further below your lower abdomen and landed on the place which would surely have you both sent back to Thirteen if caught, but only for a fleeting moment. Before you had a chance to react, he had spun you around to face him.

From the way he was looking down upon you—so penetrative and depraved—you knew exactly how the night would end. For better or for worse. He was holding you tightly against his body, the only parts of yourself not touching him were your lips, although that would undoubtedly soon change.

“Tell me,” he said, lowering himself until his lips found your jaw, “what you’ve been thinking about—” Then he placed another kiss on the side of your neck “—all day.” And then he pressed another to your collarbone.

Your fingers had found themselves delving into his hair as he continued leaving hot kisses across your skin. The struggle to keep a whine or soft moan from slipping past your parted lips was excruciating. Finnick could definitely feel your struggle from the way you were lightly tugging at his hair.

“Tell me,” he repeated against your skin and you accidentally let a heavy, pleasured breath escape.

There was no point in denying him now.

“You just look so good, Finn,” you confessed.

You were certain you could feel him smiling into each kiss he placed. He only hummed to encourage you further, so you did.

“I’ve—I’ve never seen you in all black before or in tactical gear. And the way you’ve been acting towards me, so serious and protective and…” The word dominant was on your tongue, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to speak it aloud. “Seeing you like that really…” He finally lifted his head from your neck, lips now a deep peachy shade, gaze awaiting your words. You lowered your eyes bashfully for a moment before returning them to his. “…turned me on.”

He was grinning now. His head had tilted an inch to the side as though he hadn’t quite expected you to actually admit your thoughts. Where the sudden surge of confidence came from was unknown, but you welcomed it nonetheless. Finnick’s mouth opened to speak but it was then in that very moment that you decided why the hell not just get it all out at once?

So, you stood on your toes, placed a hand on the back of his neck, and brought him down to your lips to cut him off. You kissed him deeply, sensually, in a way that would muddle his thoughts and give you time to continue your confession. When you were done and saw that slightly dazed look in his eyes, you knew it had worked.

“I’m not finished,” you whispered.

All he could do was scoff quietly in disbelief. Hell, even you were in disbelief of yourself.

“At first, I thought somehow you had done it on purpose. You do love to tease me, don’t you?” you asked, although it was rhetorical. “But then I realised it wasn’t your doing. It was the designers back in Thirteen who I had to thank for putting you in something like this.” You slid a hand up his torso, over his chest, and then down the length of his bicep, and he watched you every step of the way.

“Maybe I should thank them myself if this is the effect it has,” Finnick said.

You kissed him again and he seemed to understand the meaning behind it: shut up. He nodded, smirking humorously, and you continued. “Do you know how hard it was for me to sit beside you and do absolutely nothing?” you asked, but he knew better than to answer. You pressed a hand to his chest and slowly began walking him backwards. “You did, didn’t you?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed back his words. He always liked being in control. But it was your turn now. He stared down at you, thoughts of sin visible in his eyes as you spoke.

“You knew the whole time,” you said. “But, you know, the idea I had of you being so clueless turned me on even more.” You continued walking him backwards until his legs hit the edge of the leather stool and he was forced to sit down and have you look down upon him. He looked good like that, you thought. “Especially whenever you put your hand on my thigh.”

With that being said, you lowered yourself onto Finnick’s thigh, straddling him with one leg on either side. Your hands were holding onto his broad, broad shouldersandhis arms automatically wound around your waist. He had this strange look on his face as he gazed up at you, a mix of admiration and love and… submission? Yes, submission.

You pushed his hair back from his forehead, fingers affectionately combing through the soft bronze strands. He only watched you in silence. Finnick Odair had never been rendered speechless in his life. Having it be first done so by you only made him love you so much more. He would daresay he was proud.

“Every time you put your hand on me, I imagined this,” you said, putting more of your weight on his thigh until you could feel the blissful pressure between your own. A hot shaky sigh left your mouth. “I… I imagined you holding me like this, looking at me the way you are right now.” A little smile stretched across his lips. “I didn’t think it would actually happen. Not like this. This is wrong.”

Finnick dragged your body closer to him and you suppressed the urge to moan. His brows were furrowed together with a look of firmness. “There’s nothing wrong with you loving me,” he finally spoke. “Nothing wrong with me loving you, either.”

“But in a time like this? A place like this?”

He didn’t miss a beat as he smirked and shrugged. “We just have to be quiet about it.”

You stared at him for a moment. He made it sound so simple, like doing something like this could be done with ease. There was a large group of people—soldiers, no less—thirty feet away from you. Yes, they were sleeping and, yes, the darkness was too blinding in the back of the bar to see a foot ahead of you, but still, if anyone somehow saw, that would be the end of your dignity.

Finnick seemed to notice the distant look in your eye. His hands moved down to your hips and he tensed the thigh you were straddling, holding you down on his leg as he bounced it once. The sound that came out of your mouth, a noise of shock and pleasure, almost made him laugh. What it did do was make him even harder than he already was.

“You’ve tortured me all day, Finnick,” you whined, pressing your forehead to his.

He brought a hand to your cheek, stroking the line of your cheekbone with tenderness. “And what is it that you think you have done to me every single day since we first met, sweetheart? I just had to make sure there wasn’t a power imbalance in this relationship, that’s all.”

“You’re cruel.”

“So cruel,” he agreed with the slightest teasing pout. “I’m just horrible, aren’t I?”

To emphasise his point, he brought both his hands back to your hips, held you down, and slowly began rocking you back and forth over his thigh. Your stomach dropped and pulsed and, christ, you wouldn’t have been surprised if it had turned inside out altogether. A moan, too loud for your comfort, left your mouth. You couldn’t help it. This was exactly what you had been daydreaming about all day.

“You are,” you whispered with a shaky breath. “Horrible, cruel, and—and incredibly frustrating…”

He tsked his tongue. “I know,” he cooed, continuing to force your hips to grind on his thigh. “Should I make it up to you?”

“I might go crazy if you don’t.”

He wore a lopsided grin. “Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

And as suddenly and beautifully as stars could collide, your lips were on his. It was like a bout of adrenaline had surged through your body. Your hands were in Finnick’s hair, desperately pulling him closer all while tugging at the strands so he would leave those deep, pleasured sounds on your lips.

His hands were everywhere. They had left your hips because it was clear that you were now doing to work of getting yourself off for him and now he was grasping at any place on your body he could reach. He had encircled your waist and pulled you tightly against him. He had held you by the back of the neck, by the jaw, by the neck. He had managed to undo your ponytail, letting your hair fall around your face like a barrier from the outside world.

He had slid his hands under your jacket and left a trail of warmth up your spine, fingers pressing into the ridges of your shoulder blades as his tongue factored in to deepen the kiss. You would never get used to it—how he managed to make every kiss and act of devotion feel like the first. You would never get used to Finnick’s love.

You held onto his shoulders, grinding yourself down over and over, feeling the firmness of his thigh and the roughness of your pants rub against your clit. Your lips parted from his for a mere second as you moaned. It felt so good yet still, you knew it could be even better. It was all too much—the sensations, the risk, the way Finnick looked—and still not enough. You wanted to be closer to him.

Your leg which was in between his was rubbing against his cock each time you moved. Even through all those layers of clothing you could feel it, hard and aching. All those sounds you knew he was keeping locked up inside, the deep guttural groans, the shaky moans, you wanted to hear them. Fuck, you so desperately wanted to hear them.

“Finn…” you sighed contently as you broke away from his lips.

Hips still grinding, you peered at him through your lashes. His eyes were closed, eyebrows scrunched together as though he were suppressing the pleasure he was feeling. Anywhere but here, you thought, why couldn’t we be anywhere but here?

“Finnick…” you whispered again.

He slowly opened his eyes, and you leaned your forehead against his. A heavy exhale left his body, one he must have been holding in. “God, you’re perfect,” he sighed and reached a hand up to cup your jaw. “I love you so much. Do you know how much I love you?”

Bombs were going off in your chest, each one exploding with every thump of your heart. It was fitting considering your circumstances. Finnick was so beautiful. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, and you loved him with every inch of your entire being and you wanted to say the words because this very well could be your last night alive together, but you weren’t too sure if you could speak without making any other type of noise.

So, you brought your lips back to his once more, kissing him oh so deeply and reverently. I love you, I love you, I love you. And then his touch was gone entirely.

You had slid off his thigh, now on your feet as you looked down at him. He looked almost pained to have you out of his arms and you were certain you looked the same, though it wouldn’t be for long. After a quick scan of the dark surroundings, you deduced that there was no way anyone could see you from the back of the bar. You returned your gaze back to Finnick.

Eyes unrelenting from his, you began slowly dragging down the zipper on your jacket. As it fell to the floor, you moved on to pulling your undershirt over your head. Finnick’s attention never wavered. He followed each and every movement you made, his chest inflating more heavily with each deep breath he took.

After unbuttoning your pants and letting them slide to the floor, you stepped out of the pile of clothing, completely bare except for your underwear and bra. It wasn’t exactly warm nor cold but being so exposed in the dead of night in a place you were supposed to be keeping watch while under the watchful wandering gaze of your love was bound to shroud your body in chills.

You hugged your arms around yourself.

Finnick simply looked at you as though you were the most, if not, the only beautiful thing that had ever graced the earth.

“Come here,” he said softly, holding out his hand.

The confidence you had previously felt simmered down into meek submission the second you had stripped bare in front of him. So, as you walked towards him, you couldn’t help but feel the timidness reveal itself in each of your steps. Your hand glided into his and he gently pulled you forward, guiding you to straddle his entire lap instead of just his thigh.

You could feel him pressing into you, his cock separated by mere millimetres of fabric from where you needed him most. It felt even more intimate to have his clothing against your exposed skin; you could feel the warmth of his body trapped within the threads of his pants and jacket and it seemed to ease your nerves.

He reached between your bodies and started to unzip his own jacket, but wasn’t the main reason you were in this position because of his clothing? Why would you want him to take them off?

Before he could unzip, you placed your hand over his. “No,” you said. “Leave it on.”

His eyes flickered silently between yours. “No one’s ever told me to keep my clothes on before,” he said, and you could tell by his confused smile that he was unsure whether to feel amused by the irony of your actions or saddened by his past with the Capitol.

It was easy for you to decipher your own feelings—your heart ached for him.

You leaned forward and took his face into your hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then both his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and finally to his lips. All you could do was hope he felt the immeasurable love you placed into each one.

“You are just as attractive with your clothes on as you are when they’re not,” you whispered.

And it was true. If he at any point decided he no longer wanted you to see him naked, you would respect it, you would understand it, and honestly, it just wouldn’t phase you. Because you knew that he would react the same if the roles were reversed. Because your love for each other surpassed the bounds of your physical bodies and you were certain at the dawn of time, he and you were two atoms revolving around one another with the same amount of gravity and reverence you shared now.

Finnick’s hands were now gliding up and down your back; it was like he was setting a fire beneath your skin. His eyes were staring into yours, so full of emotion that you weren’t sure whether or not you should continue.

“Tell me you don’t want this, Finn,” you said, “and we’ll stop.”

He shook his head and offered you a small smile. “I want this,” he said, earnestly. “I want you, sweetheart. Right here. Right now.” And then he was holding your face in his hands as well, bringing you closer. “Always.”

Just before his lips found yours, you whispered in response, in agreement, “Always.”

He was kissing you again, smothering you with love. You had never thought suffocation could feel so heavenly. Over and over, his lips captured yours, each movement deepening the kiss, making it grow in power until you were both gasping for air each time you had a brief respite.

You had only realised you were rolling your hips again when both you and Finnick were moaning into each other’s mouths and your clit started to grow sensitive from the friction of his bulged pants. It really didn’t take long at all for your stomach to begin tightening with pleasure.

You held onto his shoulders, using them to grind yourself faster on his lap as your need for release grew wilder by the second. But no matter how hard or fast you moved, it still wasn’t enough.

“I can’t wait anymore,” you murmured against his lips.

Your hands dropped down to the lower half of his body, pulling up the bottom of his jacket to reveal his belt. You fumbled with the clasp, hastily trying to unbuckle it. Finnick noticed your struggle and lifted his hips into your pelvis—dear fucking god—making it easier for you to tug the belt from the loops of his pants.

“Eager, huh?” he said with a smirk.

“You say that—” The belt hit the ground with a clink, and you winced “—as if you aren’t as well.”

“But I’m not the one with my hand down your pants, am I?”

You wanted to respond with some witty remark about not even wearing any pants, but you had already unzipped his flier and had your fingers curled around his cock. He cursed under his breath.

A winning smile stretched across your lips. “You were saying?”

You watched as his cock sprung past his flier, the length riddled with veins coming from the base and lining up to his warm pink tip which was already coated in a light shine. You would’ve made some teasing comment but given the soaked patch you had left over his groin, you decided otherwise.

As you stroked him up and down, Finnick wiped his hand over his mouth, muffling a groan into his palm. God, he was even worse than you. You loved it.

There was something so alluring about him being covered head-to-toe in black while having the most intimate part of himself exposed. Even more so when you were nearly naked in comparison. The scarce uncovered parts of his body had you feeling compelled to reach out and touch him. Your hand twisted around his cock with each pump and as it did, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to the hot skin of his neck.

“Fuck,” he breathed out.

You sucked, he sighed and tilted his head to the side, and then you sucked again. The knowledge that the next day what you two had done would be obvious from the colours of red and purple hadn’t occurred to you yet. You just wanted to taste him. Taste the salt and sweetness of his skin, the unique flavour that made Finnick Finnick. And you wanted to feel him. Badly.

Leaning back, you found that his eyes were already on yours. It was clear at that moment you shared the same thoughts—and they were both dark and lustful. The emotional atmosphere from before had long since disappeared.

“I need you, Finnick,” you said.

He said nothing. He did nothing, all except for wearing the faintest expression of amusement as he stared at you. Why must he always make things so difficult for you? And why did he always look so good doing it? You increased your grip around him, giving his length another pump in the hopes he would react. All he did was swallow some noise of gratification.

Your stomach was pulsing with a burning desire, leading all the way down to your cunt which contracted around nothing.

“Please,” you begged, your other hand gripping onto his jacket. “It hurts.”

His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he slowly scanned your body. If he continued looking at you that way, you thought you might actually ruin his pants with how wet you were. You were worried if he did nothing, if he simply stared at you like he was, you would come just from the heat of his gaze. And you didn’t want that. You wanted to come with him inside you.

He inhaled deeply and looked away as if your plea was something he genuinely had to ponder. The nerve he had. Then he looked back at you with the sexiest—or so you deemed at the moment—smile you had ever witnessed.

“Well…” he began, “you know how much I hate seeing you in pain.” Relief flooded through your entire body. He nodded his head as a gesture for you to sit up. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Without a second thought, you rose to your knees with the help of Finnick’s hands which were beneath your thighs. You were desperately fiddling with your underwear, unsure of how to go about taking it off. You tried to push it to the side, but the material wouldn’t stay; getting off of Finnick’s lap to take them off seemed unthinkable now, so having felt hopeless, you whimpered.

“Here,” Finnick said, and then he effortlessly ripped the fabric apart and pulled it from your body, exposing your heat to the tepid night air.

Shock came and left within milliseconds, your mind being too preoccupied with other matters to contemplate his sudden actions. Besides, going commando for the next few days didn’t seem too bad a price to pay for what was about to happen.

You guided his cock to your entrance, feeling the tip just barely push through your slick folds. The both of you watched as you sunk down on him, engulfing his entire length inside you and just as such, you both let your heads fall back and let out a quiet synchronised moan in response.

“Every time,” Finnick whispered ambiguously.

Though he didn’t need to elaborate for you to understand what he meant. Every time somehow managed to feel even better than the last. Every time you would forget how much you actually needed each other. Every time he was inside you, it felt like you were home.

“I know,” you breathed in response.

His hands were on your hips, acting as a guide as you rose, feeling his cock glide through your tight walls before you swallowed him whole once again. Your arms were wrapped loosely around his neck, chest brushing over his with each movement you made. It then came to your attention that the only piece of clothing you had left on was your bra.

The small amount of fabric hardly served you any purpose any more, considering the rest of your body was already on show for the whole world to see. Finnick seemed to have the same idea; he reached one hand up your back and used it to skilfully unhook your bra and slide it off your shoulders. Was it already mentioned that he did all of this one-handed?

Reality quickly set in when your bra fell to the ground—you were riding Finnick, completely naked, in the middle of a rebellion, while at heavy risk of being caught. Anyone else might have thought those string of words to be shameful, disturbing even, but for some odd reason, you no longer seemed to care. About any of it. All that mattered was that Finnick was inside you and he loved you as much as you loved him. Nothing else bore any significance.

You leaned back, so overwhelmed with pleasure that you had to close your eyes, hands still digging into his shoulders as your hips rolled and rose and sank, over and over. Finnick took this as an opportunity to bury his face between your breasts, leaving harsh kisses and moans that vibrated into your skin and hardened the peaks of your nipples.

Your fingers had tangled within the waves of his hair, unconsciously pushing him further into you because the things he could do with his mouth, things as simple as kissing, felt breathtaking. Literally. At this point, you were practically gulping air into your lungs because it felt like he was stealing your breath with each touch his lips made to your chest.

“Oh, god,” you whined, looking up to the sky above as if the heavens could somehow replenish you. Although, you weren’t sure they would be holding you in the highest regard in a moment like this.

Finnick was buried deep inside you as you stayed seated on his cock, unable to find the strength to push yourself upwards anymore. Now you were just rocking yourself indulgently back and forth on his lap, feeling his tip curve repeatedly into your walls and his pants rub harshly against your ass. The muscles in your stomach began tensing and you knew what was soon coming.

Your moans had started out breathless and soft, but as your movements continued, they began rising in pitch, in interval, and in volume. Finnick had no choice but to—heartbreakingly—leave your breasts and return to your mouth to stop the sounds from slipping out, however much they made his aching cock throb.

When it seemed like you had gotten yourself under control, he broke away from your lips to say, “Gotta stay quiet, baby, or else we’ll—” And then he quickly kissed you again to dampen another moan that he noticed was about to escape “—get caught.”

You gave him a sheepish look, biting your bottom lip to keep quiet. “I know, I’m sorry,” you rushed out in a single breath. “I can’t help it. Y’just so deep inside me. Feels so—”

He jerked his hips up, cock thrusting harshly and purposely up into you. Of course, you gasped loudly. That son of a bitch.

“Yeah?” he said, tilting his head to the side.

You sighed, shaking your head at him. “Asshole.”

He laughed and you could feel it rumbling in your own chest. His eyes were both sea-green and pitch black with darkness as he stared at you through the messy strands of hair strewn across his forehead. Believing he had no idea what he was doing to you all day was idiotic. Of course, he had known. Everything he ever did was in an attempt to rile you up and it always worked.

He knew he was attractive. He knew you found him painfully attractive. Fuck, why was he just so goddamn attractive?

“Hang on,” he said, tearing you from your thoughts.

“What?”

Your stomach lurched and suddenly your body was in the air. Technically, Finnick was still holding you in his arms, but still, you were in the air. Both his hands were curled beneath your thighs as he had stood up from the leather seat, hoisting you over six feet off the ground.

“Finnick!” you exclaimed with a half-whisper.

You were clinging onto his neck in fear of plummeting to the concrete ground. But, come on, this was Finnick. In what universe would he ever cause you any harm?

“Well, I’m not going to let you do all the work,” he said before kissing you sweetly, causing both your grasp on him to loosen and your body to practically melt into his. He pulled away once more, grinning like the devil he was. “If that’s alright with you?”

Your body bounced in his arms as he secured his hold on you and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“More than alright,” you said.

He pressed a light kiss to your nose and whispered, “Good,” and suddenly your back was up against something hard and cold and the brief light-hearted atmosphere had vanished.

Finnick’s body was pressed against yours, trapping you between himself and the concrete pillar which was behind you. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hardplace. His much wider and taller frame made you feel incredibly small in comparison, almost vulnerable in his strong arms, and you loved it. He had you completely concealed from anyone’s view, should they have regrettably walked by, which meant you would at least have a moment’s notice before your virtue was shredded to bits.

Now, back to being stuck between hard places. You hadn’t even noticed he had slipped out of you until he was holding himself in his hand, keeping you propped up against the wall with nothing but his other arm and his body strength, and was thrusting back inside you.

Blood was nearly being drawn from how hard you were biting your bottom lip because Finnick didn’t give you a chance to prepare yourself. His hands were digging into your ass and he was suddenly fucking you so hard, you were worried the concrete behind you would crumble under pressure. You were worried your willpower wasn’t strong enough to hold back the filthy moans threatening to tumble out.

How could you be quiet when all you wanted to do was show him how euphoric he was making you feel?

“How’s that, huh?” he asked roughly. “You like that, sweetheart?”

He was hitting just the right spot inside of you, angled perfectly and thrusting deeply. The skin of your back was scratching against the rough concrete surface with each of his thrusts and maybe it made you a little fucked up to admit it, but the pain of your skin being rubbed red raw while being fucked senseless was exhilarating.

Your head fell back against the wall, so hard the world was suddenly spinning on an axis. It was perfect. Finnick was perfect. Everything was perfect. Your eyes fluttered shut and everything of any other significance disappeared.

That is the only reason you allowed yourself to moan as loud as you did.

“Fuck!”

A large hand had been slapped over the entire lower half of your face and your own also jerked up to cover it in instant regret. Your eyes snapped wide open to see Finnick staring at you with the same visible alarm. You looked over his shoulder to scan for any sign of disturbance but after a few seconds, it became clear no one had heard you.

You looked back to Finnick, who, mind you, was still thrusting in and out of you though with a little less vigour. He was very clearly trying not to laugh. “I guess I’ll take that as a yes.”

You smiled against his hand which he took as a sign to lower it back to beneath your ass. First, you were grinning, then you were trying not to laugh and obviously failed, and then you were both trying to stifle your laughs together as if he wasn’t quite literally fucking you against a wall. The only thing that could break your spell of laughter was the need to bite down on your bottom lip to suppress another unwarranted moan.

Finnick pressed his body further against you, smiling wickedly as his cock pushed deeper inside you. You whimpered, fingernails creating red crescent moons on the back of his neck. He didn’t mind.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured.

You leaned forward to press a trembling kiss to his lips. “Love you too, Finn.”

“Mm,” he hummed, gratified.

Your legs, which were curled around his hips, tightened around him. If there was any way to bring him closer, you would have done it. If there was any way a person could crawl under someone else’s skin and live in their body, you would have been the first to do it. You would have been one with Finnick, wholly and devotedly. That was how much you needed him, how much you cherished him.

Whenever he was inside you, you truly were home.

You were clinging onto him in every way possible. His soft lips were back on yours, gluttonous with love and ardent lust. Your frantic hands were sliding over every part of his body they could reach. Your walls were contracting around his cock; even then, you were pulling him in further. It was all very messy, but it all felt very right.

The protective armour over his chest was rubbing against your bare breasts as your body bounced in his arms. The added stimulation was rendering you restless. That tight, blissful burn was starting to work its way up from your cunt and into your lower stomach, and you couldn’t stop moving. Your legs tightened and loosened around Finnick’s hips. Your chest expanded and inflated shallowly. Your fingers were practically clawing at Finnick’s clothes.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said breathlessly, and then your eyes were staring into his. A strand of hair fell across your face and he brought up a hand to tuck it back behind your ear. “It’s okay,” he repeated. “You can let go.”

Your knuckles were turning white from how hard they were grasping onto his clothed biceps. Like a beating heart, your lower body started pulsating—your stomach, between your legs, your thighs, all the way down to your toes. You were so close to spilling over the edge that everything suddenly became too overwhelming.

Tears sprung into your eyes, both of pleasure and sadness. Pleasure for the way he was making you feel as he thrust into you. Pleasure for the certainty that he loved you as you did him. But sadness for the uncertainty that this could be the last time you expressed your love for each other so intensely. Only the uncertainty wasn’t actually uncertainty.

Somewhere deep, deep inside you, there was a nagging feeling that this really was your last night together. Of course, you couldn’t rely on a nagging feeling as a tell for the future, but it was so strong. It felt so real.

You pulled him forward and crushed your lips to his, immediately falling into a smooth syrup-like rhythm with one another. It tasted sweet for a moment, a dessert consisting of whines from you and restrained groans from Finnick. But then a tear slipped from your eye and the sweetness turned salty.

Finnick pulled back to see the light shine coating your cheek.

He understood. He felt the same way.

“I love you so much,” he said, tenderly wiping away the tears on your skin.

Then he was kissing your shoulder, kissing across your collarbone, kissing up the fragile skin of your neck, the bone of your jaw, and finally back to your lips. Every kiss ravaged your entire being. His cock was curving right up into that sensitive cushiony spot inside you, sliding in and out of you and bringing a heightened sense of bliss each time. You could barely breathe.

It was too much. He was close too, you knew it. Beads of sweat were starting to collect in the strands of hair that had fallen across his forehead; his body leaned further into you, gradually losing strength as his own pleasure grew. He was staring at you the way he always did when he was inside you. Sinfully. Lovingly. And, God, he was breathing so heavily, his grunts and suppressed moans kept slipping through. It was heaven.

Another tear slipped from your eye; from which emotion, you weren’t sure. It didn’t matter because you felt incredible. Your whole body was buzzing, the tears kept slipping out, and your reddened parted lips kept letting shallow breaths and choked gasps escape.

“Fuck, I love you,” Finnick said again in a raw, shaky voice, and you wished you could’ve responded but he had already pressed his lips to your forehead and suddenly you were coming.

Your eyes were screwed shut, mouth agape though releasing no noise. You could feel your walls squeeze around his length, covering his cock entirely in sweet white fluid as he hastily continued slamming up into you. His head had fallen to your shoulder, mouth connected with your neck to muffle the guttural sounds he made into your skin as he too filled you up with his own warmth.

You had gone limp in his arms and somehow, he still managed to keep you upright. Existence sort of vanished for a moment or two. Everything and everyone were gone except for you and Finnick. You were pressed so hard up against one another that you were sure any second you would melt into one being.

Eventually, you started to come back down, and your mind started to fill with thoughts once more. Finnick had stilled inside you, catching his breath as he rested against your shoulder. He was trembling, skin warm and damp with sweat against yours. You put your hands on his shoulders, signalling for him to put you down so he could at least regain some amount of strength.

But you hadn’t realised your own problem. As soon as he helped you slip down onto your feet, your weakened legs buckled and gave out beneath you. Before the hard concrete ground could welcome you into its unforgiving arms, Finnick dropped swiftly and caught you in his first. He fell to his knees, cradling your naked form over his lap, arms shaking ever-so-slightly.

A horrible blush overcame you. Your hair was a mess, your face was coated in a light sheen, and you were still naked.

“Sorry,” you whispered, sheepishly.

He shook his head, smiling down at you as though you had nothing to apologise for. His brows did that little scrunch you found so adorable. “You okay?”

You nodded. Had anyone been able to witness the way Finnick Odair looked when he was gazing down at the person he loved, you were certain they would also agree that they were more than just okay. He looked like an angel. It wouldn’t be surprising if a pair of wings suddenly sprung out from his back.

Overcome with love, you reached up to his face, fingers gliding across his jaw. His dimples somehow deepened even more than they already were. You had never seen someone so happy in your life, especially within the confines of a war.

“I wish I could find a more profound way to show my love for you,” you whispered.

His lips twitched and it was as though you could feel his own heart leaping with affection in his chest. His eyes flickered between your own and you knew he was going to say something either witty or something that would have made your knees buckle had they not already done so.

“You don’t need to,” he said. “Your existence is profound enough.”

A few seconds went by before you understood his words—he could feel the immense love you had for him just from your mere existence. You didn’t need to do anything for him to see it, to feel it, or hear it. All you had to do was be by his side, to share the air he breathed. All you had to do was look at him and he could feel the power of it.

You rose into a sitting position, feeling Finnick’s arms curl protectively around your torso. Tears threatened to fill your eyes, but you willed them away. Instead, you planted a gentle kiss on his lips. When you pulled away, a light breeze blew against you, blowing your hair over your shoulders and forcing you to lean further into Finnick’s warm embrace.

“How about we get your clothes back on, hm?” he spoke softly.

You smiled cheekily in response. “I don’t think you’ve ever asked me to put my clothes on before.”

His lips stretched into a lopsided grin, eyes looking down at you with a playful glint as he recalled the very similar conversation you had earlier.

“Well, there’s always a first time for everything, isn’t there?” he teased, fingers lightly tracing the skin of your waist.

Finnick had assisted you with gathering your scattered clothes, even helping you with putting them back on despite your insistence that you were quite capable of doing it yourself. Secretly, you enjoyed it—the silent affection, the lingering touches as he pulled each piece of clothing over your skin. Even doing the simplest things together felt incredibly intimate.

As your arms slipped through your jacket sleeves, Finnick moved in front of you, zipping it up the front and moving on to clipping the overlay buttons. He had this look of pure concentration; anyone would think he was solving the world's hardest puzzle, not buttoning up a jacket. It was adorable.

“Finnick?”

His concentration didn’t waver. “Mm?”

There was a knot growing in your stomach, and it wasn’t the pleasant kind. You had felt it moments before when you were still up against the pillar, and as time ticked away and a new day was closely approaching, it only grew more potent. Every time you looked into Finnick’s eyes, it felt more imminent. Like an impending doom.

The only plausible explanation behind the feeling was one you couldn’t speak aloud. You couldn’t even ponder it for a second, fearing the weight of it would crush the fragile makings of your heart and soul.

You scanned his face, taking in every single feature you had grown to worship. “If I go back home at dawn—” Now his attention had flickered to you “—will you come with me?”

His hands stilled, momentarily confused by your words. This mission was his chance to finally gain back some sense of power that had been taken from him by Snow. Within the next few days, he would be watching Katniss shoot an arrow through the president’s heart and see the life leave his eyes. A few days prior, that would have been more important than anything.

But as he looked into your eyes and saw the life twinkle in the gloss of your irises, the love they held, the future they revealed—a future with you and him together—he quickly realised nothing was more important. And the intense pleading your gaze revealed absolutely shattered him. Nothing could ever be more important than you.

Finnick tenderly cupped your face in his hands. “I’ll follow you anywhere, sweetheart. You know that.”

And it was like a massive weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Like a dark ominous cloud looming overhead had finally dissipated and left you with an immeasurable amount of relief. You didn’t know what had caused the feeling or why it had been strong in Finnick’s presence, only that it felt right to be going home and have him come with you.

He leaned forward and kissed you gently, adoringly, and it took everything in you not to melt into his embrace. Your hands held onto his wrists, feeling his pulse thump with life beneath your fingertips. You loved him. You loved him so much that ‘love’ wasn’t even the right word for it anymore.

What he had said earlier came to mind—how your existence was enough proof of your love for him. That seemed right.

“I exist for you, Finn,” you whispered.

The stars above were twinkling in his sea-green eyes, almost like little specs of bioluminescent plankton. You would happily drown in them if it were possible.

Finnick pressed his forehead against yours, arms snaking around your torso to hold you tightly against him. “I exist for you, too.”

The two of you returned home the next morning. And as the years went by, you continued to exist for one another back in District Four, free from judgement, from tyranny, from the Games.

You simply revelled in existence.

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hannieehaee · 10 days

Note

Imagine workaholic gf!reader of equally workaholic bf!woozi where they both take a few days leave to enjoy each other and book a luxurious honeymoon suite hotel room thinking they will have a lot of sex with their days off but instead end up with cuddling and lazy make out sessions because their exhaustion just swooshes over them owo

18+ / mdi

content: workaholic!woozi x workaholic!reader, afab reader, heavy mentions of smut, making out, very suggestive, etc.

wc: 1262

a/n: i can really picture jihoon dating a fellow workaholic lol anyways thank u for requesting<3

masterlist

"fuck, finally," you sighed in relief, letting yourself fall backwards onto the cool bed in the luxury hotel room jihoon had reserved.

after endless weeks of equally endless work, you finally had a week off, which jihoon had strategically coordinated with his own time off.

the two of you were extremely hard workers – to a fault. when jihoon bad first met you, he worried that maybe his addiction to constant work would eventually drive you away, yet somehow it had continued to keep you right by his side. you preferred that he was a workaholic, you had once told him. there had apparently been a few prior relationships in which your heavy workload had led to irreparable issues. jihoon being equally as busy as you allowed you to work without feeling guilt of leaving your partner behind – jihoon felt the exact same way.

despite the unspoken agreement the two of you had in regards to the dynamic of your relationship, it sometimes still got to you when you'd realize how little time you were able to spend with your boyfriend – once more, jihoon felt the exact same way.

your individual lives were already difficult to navigate, but making time for each other was even more complicated. your exhaustion was a whole different issue. working as much as the two of you did, it was understandable that you'd spend the lulls in your schedule resting as much as you could rather than with each other. it was a sad truth, but still remained a truth.

it wasn't as if you spent no time together, though. you'd always either see each other in the mornings (either through call or in person – depending on whether jihoon was in the country at the time or not) or at night, always making sure to love on one another as a reminder of the thriving affection in your relationship. you'd also dedicate one night per week to have a stay-at-home date night. everything was perfectly tailored to your relationship, and the two of you were more than happy with it.

these past few weeks had been the issue. as jihoon had a comeback and you had an important project at work, it was virtually impossible for you to see each other as of late. it got to you in all the worst ways, making you moody, irritable, tired, and even sexually frustrated. not only were you physically exhausted of the constant work, but you had been deprived of your daily dosage of jihoon. you had not slept together in weeks, nor had you even had a meal with each other. cuddling? completely out of the question with the insanely packed schedule you'd been having.

it all went like this for the both of you for a few weeks, up until everything managed to reach a standstill. you had a few days off, and jihoon had the ability to move some things around to match your time off. without so much as one word from you, jihoon had decided it was the perfect time to whisk you away on a private getaway at some luxury hotel of your choice.

jihoon wasnt really one to go out much, unbeknownst to you, but jihoon had been feeling extremely pent up from the last moment he got to have you all to himself. the short glimpses of you he managed to catch throughout the busy weeks were the only thing that had kept him going. the singular thought of the next time he'd he'd get to have you was the only thing occupying his mind. renting out a room for the week was the most obvious of choices to jihoon. he would finally get to explore the sheets with you.

upon arriving to the hotel, jihoon chuckled at how pleased you seemed with the place, immediately letting yourself loose on the bed and sighing in contentment. putting down the suitcases, jihoon joined you soon after, still fully clothed as he laid next to you, staring up at the ceiling.

"are you as tired as i am?", you asked him.

he hummed in affirmation, "yeah. what do you wanna do first?"

the unspoken agreement to utilize the week on sex had filled up the room before you had even arrived, so it was obvious what he was referring to.

"i'll take a quick bath first, okay, baby?", you said as you began to get up, stretching your muscles in the process.

"sure, baby. i'll head down to the gym for a bit to unwind then. i'll see you in about an hour, then?"

with a sweet peck, you bid your boyfriend goodbye, giddy to get yourself relaxed and perfumed so your boyfriend could help you destress under the sheets.

the bath had been a huge success in terms of getting you relaxed. after an hour lying in the warmest, bubbliest, comfiest water imaginable to man, you felt like a brand new person. accompanied by a lavender-scented bath bomb, a glass of wine and your favorite netflix show playing in the background, you got out of that bath in the best mood you'd been in in weeks.

the one downside was how incredibly relaxed the bath had gotten you. you were so relaxed, you could've fallen victim to endless slumber in that bathtub. as much as you needed jihoon to fuck you to sleep, you weren't sure how well you'd be able to perform if you tried to return the favor.

luckily for you, that would not be an issue.

upon walking back into the room, now donning some comfortable pajamas, you were met with the sight of a fully-asleep jihoon, cocooned between the sheets as he snored softly. the sight had you swooning with affection for the boy. he was the softest, most relaxing thing you had ever seen.

you couldn't help yourself in making your way to him, somehow maneuvering yourself into his arms and under the sheets, feeling more relaxed than ever.

before you could even close your eyes, the boy shuffled behind you, mumbling against your ear as he cuddled further into you.

"baby?", he mumbled.

"sorry, baby. did i wake you?"

"hmm, no you're fine. i meant to stay awake for you, but the bed's just so damn comfy," he chuckled breathily, "i took a quick shower downstairs to prepare for, you know, but fuck, i'm just so tired," he whined.

you turned around in his arms, facing him, breaths almost intertwined due to the proximity.

"that's okay, hoonie. 'm so sleepy. maybe ... we could leave it for tomorrow? just sleep in and then we can have some fun tomorrow?" you suggested, pressing a soft peck to his lips.

his arms tightened around your waist, not allowing you to pull back all the way, "only if you kiss me some more," he murmured, eyes stuck to your lips.

"i can agree to that," you giggled, pressing a languid kiss to his lips as he stuck his tongue in your mouth, softly intertwining with your own in a wet kiss.

the rest of the evening was spent softly making out under the warm sheets, legs tangled up together and fully relaxed in each other's arms. sex was the last thing on your mind as you kissed each other every so often, mostly focused on holding onto one another and finding your slumber together. however, this exhaustion did not stop you from waking up the following day, claiming your highs from one another time after time throughout the day, ready to recharge at night and continue the pattern day after day.

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scaredpigeons · 2 years

Text

An unexpected softness.

yuuji itadori x fem!reader, sukuna ryomen x fem!reader.

WARNING: NSFW 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

CW: female bodied reader, female pronouns used, mild gore (bones breaking, bruises, curse ‘blood’, etc), degradation, sukuna is a warning, sex, oral sex (fem rec.) sukuna is nasty, vaginal penetration, overstimulation, begging, dirty talk

Being in a relationship with Yuuji Itadori meant a lot of things.

It meant that your time together was forever ticking. The threat of being exorcised looming over his head, the constant missions with dangerous curses growing more dangerous by the minute, and hell—even fellow students had tried to kill him. It meant rushed touches and fumbling hands and sorry’s and quiet giggles when things slip up and don’t go exactly as planned.

It meant feeling loved. Yuuji loved hard and with all of his soul, he loved bigger and brighter than anyone you’d ever met. He made you feel important, and he made you feel safe.

Being with Yuuji meant something else too. It meant that while you got to enjoy your loving, caring boyfriend, you also were under the constant reminder that he shared his body with the King of Curses, Sukuna Ryomen himself.

Sukuna could be miserable. He could be disgusting and rude, maniacal and destructive. Over time, however, he and Yuuji seemed to form some strange sort of… bond. You supposed that sharing a body and mind left little room for coexistence without connection.

Disgusting comments and violent threats turned to childish mocking and teasing. The curse would interrupt in the worst possible moments, in fact; the night of your first time with Yuuji came to a screeching halt when Sukuna creeped an eye and mouth on Yuuji’s cheek, bitching about how slow Yuuji was going, and some boorish comment about your boyfriend not knowing how to pleasure a woman.

You’d smacked the little smirk right off his cheek-mouth. (Which, of course only resulted in Sukuna quickly disappearing, a quick “ouch!” From Yuuji followed by your endless apologies.)

However, it was only after a particularity rough mission that you noticed the change.

The higher-ups are always sending Yuuji off on dangerous missions with little-to-no information on what exactly he’s supposed to deal with. Against Gojo’s wishes, he’d left. Your snow-haired teacher blinked after him, tipping his outdated sunglasses low on the bridge of his nose.

“Go with him, please.” He said, voice a little more stern than normal. So you did.

Gojo was right as usual, but he’d have to wait for his ego boost until you made it back alive. Which hadn’t looked very promising at that moment.

Yuuji skidded to the ground, his back slamming against a pile of broken concrete. This warehouse was massive, and filled with much more dangerous stuff that could have killed him had he landed there, for the first time in your life you were grateful for concrete.

Yuuji groaned, coughing up some blood all over his uniform. You looked from him to the curse and back to him before readying a solid fighting stance.

“Ryomen Sukuna!” You yelled in Yuuji’s direction. “If you let my man die I swear to the gods I will find a way in there and kill you myself!”

The curse that had thrown Yuuji was taunting you, playing with the both of you, which was no surprise. Curses that had obtained a finger always cackled and fooled around, in that twisted, sick, Sukuna sort of way.

You’d got a few kicks in, barely doing any damage even with your cursed energy flowing into each kick. You knew you weren’t as strong as Yuuji, or Nobara, or Megumi, but you thought maybe you’d be able to defend Yuuji while he recuperated.

As the curse wrapped you in its grip, you found yourself wondering why Gojo asked you to go with him. You want to laugh at the obscenity of it all, but instead you just scream.

You hear more than feel your bones snapping, your entire torso going numb from shock. Black spots cloud your vision, and you screech again.

Black spots are then replaced by purple as the curse releases a startled gargling noise— through the sludge of its blood you see it clutching its throat with its free hand, blood still slipping through and covering you. The curses grip goes lax as the wound grows deeper and deeper, and then it drops you directly into Yuuji’s arms.

You look at him in a haze, seeing warm red swirling where honeyed brown should be. Tattoos laid across his strong features, his extra set of eyes half lidded and relaxed. His lips looked the same though, his pretty nose and cupid’s bow, and when you raised your hand to brush your fingertip across it and his upper lip, he smirked at you, canines sharper than before.

He feels bigger than Yuuji somehow, warmer too. His grin is relaxed like his second eyes, only his main pair are laced with something small and nearly unnoticeable— something that looks awfully like concern. The curse is still sputtering and spurting behind you, and in your daze you wonder why he’s holding you so gently, why he’s holding you at all when one of his fingers— the link to his power is laying there practically waiting for him.

“Suku..na,” you gasp. “The… finger?”

His eyes soften ever so slightly, but in a millisecond he’s back to grinning at you, his deep and gravelly voice so different from Yuuji’s, so strange coming from his lips— and not just a new mouth forming wherever convenient.

“Yeah? What about it?”

He healed you that day, before willingly handing the body back to your surprised (yet grateful) partner. It was the first time he’d ever restored anyone other than Yuuji.

You were both so sore and tired from the mission, the moment you arrived back in the dorms, you both shuffled to his room and collapsed on his bed.

Even healed, your body was spent, muscles aching and bruises blossoming. You breathed in the scent of Yuuji’s blankets, but scrunched your nose at the dried curse sludge and blood on your skin and clothes.

“Uughhhh.” You groaned. “Yuuji… I smell like a dumpster fire in a landfill on an island of shit.”

“Haha.” Yuuji laughed weakly. “You do.”

“Hey!” You threw your nearly limp arm at him, wacking his shoulder. “Just for that, you get to carry me to the bath.”

He laughs until he groans again, stilling for a moment before he pushes himself up and carries you to his bathroom.

You’re so sleepy, barely keeping your eyes open as he pulls your clothes from your body, grabs fresh towels and a multitude of bath oils and soaps that Nobara had bought for you, and runs the bath.

Steam fills the room as he pours in your favorite oil and bubbles, before taking your arm and guiding you into the tub to sit down. Your eyes are really shut now, and you hum contently as your partner scrubs the mission off your skin, lathers your hair with expensive shampoo, scrubbing your scalp and making you groan. He rinses your hair with fresh water before letting you soak for a bit, and when he’s sure you’ve pruned long enough, he pulls the drain, letting the water empty the tub.

You’re still not entirely conscious as he towel dries you down slipping a pair of clean boxers and one of his baggy t-shirts onto your clean skin. When your head pops through the shirt, you smile sleepily and press your lips out for a kiss. He hesitates, but gives a soft peck, lingering for longer than usual—but you were too exhausted to notice.

He picked you up again, sliding into the bed while still holding you.

Now, if you had been any more lucid, you would have noticed that as soon as Yuuji pushed himself off the bed to take you to the bath, he was too quiet. If you had opened your eyes, you would have seen rough tattooed arms reaching for your favourite oil, if you had been any less exhausted you would have realized that the sharp, black nails scrubbing lightly on your scalp had not been Yuuji’s at all, but exhaustion overcame you, and you snuggled into your boyfriends too-warm chest, falling into a deep sleep.

Ryomen Sukuna, the king of curses, evil incarnate, was soft on you.

A couple weeks passed since he’d saved you, on purpose, and anyone who had eyes noticed that Sukuna was acting less… Sukuna-like.

He was still brash and violent of course, still making vague threats and laughing at the misfortune of others, but his crudeness stopped… at you.

Gone were the remarks whenever your kisses to Yuuji’s lips lingered longer than appropriate, gone was the teasing on movie night, when your squirming in Yuuji’s lap caused his hips to shift, rubbing himself against you. He was awfully quiet, but at the same time, more talkative than ever.

“Hey,” Yuuji said, approaching you in your comfy armchair in the common room. “Sukuna wants to know if you’re okay after yesterday.”

He’d said it so casually, it caught you off guard. The latest mission had gone well, (Well. Considering last month you’d nearly died.) but you’d been tossed around quite a bit, enough to make anyone concerned, but Sukuna? The confusion must’ve been too clear on your face, because Yuuji nearly jumped in his spot.

“Oh!” He startled, waving his hands around. “Me too obviously! You went to visit Kugisaki last night so I never got to really check up on you.”

Your face felt strangely warm, almost as warm as Yuuji’s face looked.

“I went to see Shoko too, she said I’ll be fine,” you lifted your flowing summer skirt to show Yuuji your cut up knee, which had required a couple stitches. “This one stings a bit, but I’m on house arrest until…” you lift up your shirt, exposing your right side, which was black and blue from underarm to hip. “…This bad guy heals up!”

“Holy shit, baby why didn’t you tell me?” He floundered. You lowered your shirt and laughed a bit until it hurt to much.

“I’m fine, I’ll be down for like a week, two tops. Just until I can breathe right again.”

“That’s really not okay!” Yuuji was nearly yelling now, the worry in his tone making your eyebrows crease. “You should’ve said something, I could’ve, we could’ve—“

“Nuh uh, nope.” You cut him off. “I already owe a life debt to Mr. dark and dammed up there,” you gestured to his head, “I’m not looking to rack up any more points in need of repaying.”

“I-“ Yuuji cut himself off this time, the silence of the room was almost annoying as you watched his face turn red. It rushed to his ears, and started pooling on his neck and chest, peeking at you through his t-shirt collar. You’d never seen him blush so hard, and when he smacked his hands over his mouth, you reached out to him in concern.

“Yuuji?”

“Oh god Sukuna you’re fucking horrible-“

A tiny mouth opened on his cheek, a deep chuckle ringing through the air. “But you’re not saying nooo~”

Yuuji smacked himself this time, muttering apologies as he stormed away.

Your theory that the curse was soft on you was just that, a theory. For the next two weeks, you stayed on campus. Texting Yuuji when he was gone, teasing him here and there about how lonely you were without him. Near the end of the second week, he was to be gone for four days, and on the third evening you called him.

“What do you wanna do to celebrate when you come home?”

“Celebrate?” Yuuji chuckled. “What are we celebrating?”

“My boys coming home to me, safe and sound.” You said, smirking to the dark of your room.

A choked noise could be heard on the other end of the call, some hushed muttering and a quick “shut the fuck up” from Yuuji before he brought the phone to his face again.

“Y-your boys?” He stuttered.

You giggled. “Yeah, sometimes I forget you’re not just you. I think I may be the first girl in the world to have a boyfriend with a whole other being in his head.”

“Yeah, you probably are.” Yuuji sighed a bit, chuckling. “So we’re your boys now?”

You smiled, and he could most definitely hear it in your voice. “Well I love you, that means loving every part of you? Right?”

“You…” the phone fell silent, very silent this time. You let them have their little moment, and after a few seconds he spoke again.

“I’m so lucky to have you, you know that right?” Yuuji whispered.

“Yeah,” you giggled. “I am pretty great aren’t I?”

“I love you.” He said sweetly.

Your heart bloomed. “I love you too.”

“I need to sleep now, I cant wait to get home to you.”

“I’ll be waiting patiently.”

“Goodnight, sunshine.”

“Goodnight Yuuji,” and just before you hung up, you drawled a teasing “goodnight Sukuna.”

You remember bits of your dream, not a fluid timeline, just waves pooling here and there throughout the day to torment you. During breakfast you sit in silence, listening to Nobara gossip about the latest celebrity drama. An itch distracts you, and you scratch your arm thoughtlessly until a blur of your nails gliding along the hard muscle of a strong tattooed back invades your mind. You nearly drop your utensils, smiling and brushing your friend off when she asked if you were alright.

Shoko had permitted you do participate in some light solo physical activity, so after breakfast you changed into some comfortable gear and went out to the training yard. A nice flat spot on a walkway stone just north of the field was where you laid your mat, kicking off your sneakers to do some stretches. After gingerly loosening up your upper body, you sat and began your legs. Keeping your left leg bent, foot flat against your inner right thigh, you reached out for your right foot, bending and stretching underused muscles.

The burn of it felt good after being stagnant for so long, and you hummed at the feeling. You were suddenly assaulted with the image of a large hand, long black nails pressing into the flesh of your thigh, pushing it back and back until your knees were nearly beside your head, until that familiar burn of stretching muscles rang through you.

You shook your head out, trying to get these plaguing images of your dream to loosen from your skull.

“What the fuck is wrong with me.” You mumbled.

That night you’d left dinner early under the guise of not feeling well.

“Alright,” Nobara said. “I’ll send Yuuji your way when he and Megumi get back.”

The boys and Gojo were supposed to return sometime after 7pm, and the clock read 5:45pm.

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

You rushed to your dorm, throwing yourself into bed and clutching a pillow tightly.

Just breathe, just breathe. Relax, you’ll be fine.

You tried so hard you relax, to fall asleep, to forget the bits of that stupid dream that had been surfacing all day, but it was useless. The heat between your legs was pulsing, aching with a ridiculous pressure that left your head spinning.

No, you thought. I am not going to sit here and get off to the thought of… of Sukuna.

You knew what you had said, that you loved all of Yuuji, and that meant the inclusion of the King of Curses, and you knew you’d been teasing them both about Sukuna’s newfound softness towards you, but it still felt so wrong… so dirty to even flirt with the idea of being intimate with him.

The dream shuddered through you again. No, that wasn’t intimacy. Having sex with Yuuji was intimate, the dream of Sukuna was something else entirely.

You knew you weren’t opposed to a little roughness, Yuuji didn’t know his own strength sometimes, you loved when he manhandled you around and lost himself in his pleasure. But Sukuna… even your subconscious knew the curse wouldn’t play nice.

He would bite and nip, squeeze and smack, his mouth was already filthy, you could only imagine the things he might say while… while…

“Sunshine?”

You hadn’t heard your door open, hadn’t heard Yuuji come in and shut it behind him.

You were breathless, face flushed and still clutching a pillow.

“Yuuji! I-”

“Getting a head start without me? No fair!” He laughed and threw himself on the bed, tackling you and pinning you beneath him on the bed.

He pelted your face with kisses before his lips finally met yours, and you melted into him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Yuuji’s face was hotter than usual, kissing you with more ferveur and passion, and as he rolled his hips into yours, you could feel the erection straining under his uniform. “Oh, fuck. I missed you.”

He groaned into your mouth, “what were you thinking about baby? Thinking ‘bout me?”

“Aah!” You yelped when he nibbled your jaw, moving down to suckle on your neck. “Maybe…”

His face was burning up, blush so intense and eyes wild, you wanted to chalk it up to finally being together again, but you’d been apart for longer before.

“Yuuji?” You questioned him, pushing his shoulder a bit so he would look at you.

“Fuck, I’m… he’s—“ he pinched his eyes closed tightly and took three massive breaths. “Can we try something?”

You nodded, not quite registering that ‘we’ wasn’t solely referring to just you and he. Yuuji jumped quickly, pulling your pants and underwear down in one go, tossing them over his shoulder before leaning over to kiss you once more. His fingers danced across your bare hipbones, his right hand travelling down to your core, palming you gently.

“fuck,” he moaned at how wet you already were, and you weren’t that shocked. The adrenaline rush from him catching you in an almost compromising position, along with that ridiculous dream haunting you all day, and the shame of it all… you were craving something heavy and new, and you wanted Yuuji to satisfy that craving, learn it and leave you full.

“I don’t wanna stop kissing you—“ he breathed into your mouth as his index and middle fingers teased your entrance. “Just… don’t freak out, okay?”

Yuuji’s lips consumed yours once more before your noise of confusion could flutter past your lips, and he swallowed it greedily as he pushed two thick fingers into you, his calloused palm bumping your clit with each shallow thrust.

Your eyes flew open when his palm turned wet and soft, flicking over your nub with precision. You squealed when a pair of lips latched around it, suckling and nibbling gently with sharp teeth as Yuuji continued his assault on your g-spot with his thick fingers.

“Su—suk-Aah!” You jolted as the curse nibbled on your clit harder, your hips jutting off the bed.

“He’s been, oh god he’s been whispering about all the filthy fucking things he want’s to do to you, sunshine.”

You keened at that, the reality of the situation slamming into you like a train. Sukuna had thought about this too, about you— and even better; Yuuji wasn’t mortified by it.

“Oh fuck, oh gods, fuck.” You squealed, the curses tongue swirling around your clit and dipping down to your entrance, to where Yuuji’s fingers were, teasing you there with him.

“Yeah? You like it sunshine?” Yuuji breathed into your mouth. “you want us to take care of you?”

You nodded your head vigorously, squeezing your lips tight to prevent the depraved noises bubbling in your throat from spilling out.

“C’mon, don’t be shy,” Yuuji pulled his fingers from your core, dragging along your body, lifting your shirt as he went. Once your chest was exposed, he dragged the sopping digits up your throat and dipping them into your open mouth, groaning as your tongue swirled around them.

“Tell us what you want baby.”

You gasped as he pulled his fingers from your mouth. His eyes were so full of trust, of lust, of need.

“Yuuji. I want you to fuck me,” You breathed, and his lips twitched slightly.

“I’m gonna-”

“—But.” You cut him off. “I want…” you breathed deeply, steadying your nerves. “I want Sukuna to fuck me first.”

His eyes were wide, expression unreadable until he blushed even further, the corners of his mouth twitched up into a grin, and he licked his lips.

“You really..?” He mumbled before meeting your eyes again. “You want that?”

You giggled, only imagining the riot Sukuna must be throwing in their shared mindspace. “If he can promise to keep damage to a minimal…” you shivered a bit, “yeah, I’ve actually thought about it on more than one occasion.” You said sheepishly.

“Oh, fuck.” Yuuji’s hips stuttered in place as his eyes rolled back into his head. When they opened, the solid black of Sukuna’s ink had already appeared on his skin, the red of his iris nearly bore into your soul.

“I knew it.” He nearly growled. He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head in the lush mountain of pillows just behind you. You yelped a bit at the motion but it quickly dissolved into a low moan as the King of Curses ran his ridiculously long tongue up your throat, slow and flat, as if savouring the taste of your sweat and skin.

“I knew the moment I showed you one little sliver of mercy you’d be begging for my cock like a little whore.” He licked your bottom lip, suckling it into his mouth to nibble on, his sharp teeth sending jolts of pain through your body. You bucked your hips up into his, the extreme temperature difference between the two was astounding.

Yuuji ran hot, he was the perfect cuddle partner for cool winter nights. But Sukuna was nearly boiling, you could feel the heat radiating off him in waves.

“Su—ku….” You were breathless, bucking your hips again for any sort of friction, but he teased you, pulling his body back just far enough that you couldn’t reach. “-kuna… please.”

“Mmm…” the pleased sound rumbled low in his chest. “I like when you beg. It’s real pretty… do it again.” His eyes were wicked, and it only worsened the slick smearing all over your inner thighs, the ache deep in your tummy.

“Please,” you whined, “please Sukuna.”

He grinned, flashing his canines again, before he leaned in close to taunt you. “Please, what? What do you want, little girl?”

You don’t know why, but a foreign pressure formed behind your eyes, and the shame of what you wanted pushed the tears out onto your cheeks, hot and heavy.

“I want…” you nearly hiccuped, swallowing the lump in your throat. He seemed pleased by the tears, his red eyes raking down your cheeks, following their path. “I want your cock, please. I want you to be rough with me, I want you to make me cum harder than Yuuji makes me, and then I… wan-want you to…” you swallowed as your eyes found his mouth, found his tongue wetting his plush lips as his gaze raked over your body in waves. You were feeding his desires and his ego in droves, and you weren’t even sure if it was purposeful or just mad lust spilling from your throat.

“Yes, greedy girl?” He leaned to the side and ran his tongue along your cheek, catching up the tears and drinking them down as if they were liquor. “What do you want me to do after that?”

You gathered your nerves, staring him dead in the eye. “I want you to fuck me as long and as hard as you can, and not to stop until you cum. Even if I scream, if I beg, if I say I can’t take it. Don’t stop until you cum, and then stuff me full of it.”

His eyes widened a bit in surprise. You hadn’t even let Yuuji cum inside you yet, the birth control you were on was good, but you always opted to let him cum elsewhere, your mouth, on your ass, anywhere else.

“You filthy little thing…” Sukuna released your wrists to slide down the bed, throwing your legs over his shoulders. His chuckled sent hot breath fanning across your core, and you keened.

“I’ve wanted to show up the little brat for so fucking long now,” he nipped on the soft skin of your inner thigh, sucking and leaving red marks in his wake. “You deserve so much pleasure it makes you scream.”

You watched his eyes from between your legs, watched how they never left yours, how they held your gaze even when you wanted to look away— you couldn’t look away.

His tongue delved between your folds, sloppily running up your slit and flicking along your clit. He teased his way to your entrance before pressing his tongue inside, and with a gasp you felt it move, you felt it… was it expanding?

“Ah!” You whined. “I-“ you cut yourself off with a sharp inhale through your teeth as Sukuna’s nose brushed along your clit.

“What’s wrong little puppy?” He asked in mock concern laced with a condescending smirk— “I have to make sure I don’t damage the goods, right?” —Said smirk just so happened to be dripping in your arousal, so the way he talked down to you only served to make you shiver.

He pressed his tongue back inside you, moving it in ways that shouldn’t be possible. His hand at your hip moved to brush his thumb on your clit, rolling in gentle circles meant to tease more than to get you to where you needed to be.

“Please!” You squealed, bucking your hips into his mouth. A rough chuckle vibrated through your core, sending more hot tears of shame streaming down your cheeks.

“Please just let me Cu-u-um,” you nearly sobbed, the tongue inside you and the thumb on your clit was sending you spiralling into madness, the pressure so hot inside you it felt as if it were burning your insides.

Sukuna lifted his mouth from your core. “Oh? You want to cum?” He pressed his thumb harder onto your clit, making you squeak. “Why didn’t you just say so? Cum then.”

It came unexpectedly, as soon as his tongue re-entered your aching cunt, the cord inside you snapped, and you screamed into the still air of your room. The Curse worked you through it, holding you down and chuckling darkly at the way your body jolted and squirmed as if you couldn’t contain what was rolling through you.

As soon as the pleasure had run its course, the sound of cloth ripping pulled your gaze to Sukuna, who had quite literally torn Yuuji’s clothes off his body.

“You sure you want this, little puppy?” He asked, grinning down at you as he stroked himself. The tattoos that covered his skin stretched and move with each pull of thick muscle, and you nearly drooled at the sight of his hand pumping slowly at his —Yuuji’s— cock.

The ache in you returned tenfold.

“Please.”

His eyes darkened, and his words came out in a filthy sort of tease. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you~”

You were pulled down the bed, and he wrapped his massive hands around your thighs, pushing them up and up until your knees were nearly beside your head.

He tapped the fat head of his cock against your clit twice, before letting it touch your entrance. You breathed deep, waiting for him to tease you more, to make you beg for it.

All the air was ripped from your lungs as he pushed it all inside you in one stroke, starting a relentless pace as soon as his hips met the flesh of your ass. You screamed partly in shock, but mostly for the way it made your cunt spasm around him, the shock of an internal orgasm ripping through you—and so soon after you’d cum for prep.

“Ha!” Sukuna laughed, nails digging into your thighs. “Filthy slut. You can’t even make it a minute before you cum all over my cock.”

The pressure of your orgasm kept rolling through, and he showed no signs of letting up. The King of curses fucked into your sweet spot over and over— sending even more tears streaming down your cheeks at the mind numbing pleasure of it all.

His pace was brutal, never giving you a moment to recuperate. Your mind felt as if it was in the clouds, eyes rolling back into your head as you squealed for him, drooling all over yourself.

“Mmm..” Sukuna moaned over the sound of his skin slapping against your own. “So fuckin’ messy.” He leaned forward to lick the drool off your chin, his tongue snaking its way into your mouth before it collided with your own, pulling it into his mouth as he suckled on it, lewd and hard.

You could feel yourself clench around him at the obscenity of the action, at the way his tongue would circle your own before he’d pull it back into his mouth and suck so hard it sent little shockwaves of pain through you, only to be lulled away by gentle flicks along the length of the muscle. It was filthy, and only served to remind you of when you…

He was following the same motions you used when you sucked Yuuji’s cock.

You keened into his mouth, thrashing underneath him a bit with this realization, and with the embarrassment of it all.

He released his grip on your tongue, slowing his pace to smooth, firm thrusts that sent sparks up your spine. “What’s wrong?” He grinned, lips coated in your shared saliva. “Y’can dish it out, but you can’t take it, puppy?”

He laughed at your tears, at your reddened cheeks and the way your eyebrows curved into an expression so pained he might’ve been concerned if not for your obscene noises of pleasure and the clenching of your walls around his cock.

“You know I’m always there…” his hips sped up, and your insides twisted with pleasure. “Always watching you two, fucking like little bunnies.”

You keened and closed your eyes, tossing your head back and forth as if to deny it, but you knew it was true.

“Haha… yeah, a little bunny.” Sukuna said, hands sliding towards your throat. “That’s all you are, isn’t it?”

His thick fingers wrapped themselves around your throat so perfectly, squeezing the sides and pressing ever so gently inwards, restricting the blood flow.

“You’re just a little animal. A bitch begging to be fucked, right?” Your head began to feel so deliciously light, and each shuddering breath was accompanied by a low moan as his hips slammed into you, and your feet dangled uselessly from his shoulders where your calves rested.

“Just a little whore begging to be bred.” He growled low in your ear, causing you to gasp as even you could feel the way your walls contracted around him, an orgasm low in your belly ready to burst through you.

“Ah? That’s it, eh?” He grinned, releasing your throat and grabbing your hips. “The little puppy wants to be bred?” His tone was so condescending yet it was laced with a brutal kind of lust.

He slipped his cock from you and flipped you over, pulling you to your knees to grab your throat again. His other hand slipped over your torso, pinching and groping wherever he pleased. It slid down between your legs, and he groaned as he toyed with your puffy clit, soaked from your arousal that continued to drip from your core.

“I watched you all these years. How you bat your pretty lashes at him to get what you want, how you tease him with your tongue,” he spread your lips with his fingers, thrusting his cock into your sloppy folds, the head barely catching your entrance. “How you do your best to take him all the way down your throat. I see the way he fucks you, I’ve watched you cum more times than I can count.”

He hisses as his thrusts manage to push into your hole, the intrusion causing you to flutter around him. “So why do you look so much more pathetic now? Huh?”

You cried out as he released your throat and grabbed a fistful of your hair, shoving your face into the mattress and arching your back so perfectly for him. The tears flowed freely again, the shame burning through your skin.

“Hmm? Who made these tears? Who is making you cum so hard you see stars?” His hips collided with your ass in quick succession, causing you to scream into the puddle of drool forming on the sheets below you. “Who is it that you want to ruin your tight little pussy? Who do you want to pump you full of cum, little girl? Fucking say it.”

The orgasm that had been teetering over the edge slammed full force into you, and your nails nearly tore through the sheets as you screamed and convulsed under him.

“YOU!” You chanted, pulse after pulse of your orgasm milking his cock with enough pressure that he threw his head back, cursing into the hot air of the room.

“Fuck. That’s right, say my fucking name.” His endurance made your eyes blow wide as he kept the pace, your orgasm burning as he refused to stop. “Tell the little brat who’s fucking you. I want the image of you screaming my name burned into his memory forever.”

The pressure inside you increased, and a foreign feeling pulsed through you. “Sukuna! I-“ you stuttered, turning your head to glance back at him. “Somethings— ah! I can’t take it!”

“You will,” he growled, tightening his grip on your hair and hip. “Say my fucking name again, slut.”

“Sukuna,” you cried, doing what he asked to appease him, but really because you couldn’t think enough to say anything else.

“Sukuna! Suku-!” Suddenly the pressure broke, and you wailed as your hot arousal sprayed all over his balls and legs, dripping down onto the crumpled sheets.

“Fuck yes, that’s it puppy.” He slowed, but only for a second, and the overstimulation had you babbling nonsense as tears poured.

“Wait— suk—It’s— I’m— oh, fffff-uck.” Your entire body went limp as another spray of arousal gushed from you, your face twisted in a soundless scream. He held your hips up, continuing to fuck you through it, and distantly you could hear his moans, could feel the stutter of his hips.

“Here it comes, baby. Take it, take it all.” His voice was low and strained, and you could feel the jumping of his cock inside you as he pumped you full. It was hot— hotter than anything you’d felt before, and it filled you so much you could feel it. He kept his hips pressed firmly into you as he stroked his fingers through your hair.

“You alive in there?” He chuckled.

“Mmn,” you groaned.

“I’ll make it up to you, but if I don’t let the kid back soon, he might combust.”

“Mmnn.” You weakly waved your hand back and forth, as if to say whatever, I’m a little pre-occupied at the moment.

As soon as your hand fell back down, a long, low groan reverberated behind you as his still-hard cock slowly eased out of your heat.

“Oh, fuck.” Yuuji’s voice was strained, and you felt his warm hands spread your ass, thumbs pulling your lips apart to watch the cum slide from your hole. “That’s so not fucking fair.”

“…yuu…” you whimpered.

“It’s alright baby, I’ll make it better.” He pulled your weight to the side, laying you gently on your back as he laid between your thighs. Your vision was still a bit blurry, but you gazed down at him through heavy lids as he gingerly ran his tongue along your folds, making you moan and shiver. It wasnt enough to hurt, but it was enough to make your stomach twist in pleasure.

“He knows how badly-“ he licked some cum that had dripped down back to your entrance, stuffing it back neatly with his tongue. “-I’ve wanted to cum inside you for so long now sunshine.”

You whimpered as he toyed with your folds, watching the cum drip out as you clenched, only for him to push it back inside.

“God you’re perfect,” he kissed your clit gently, and made his way up to your face, smiling warmly before kissing you. It was deep and sensual, and you could taste the mixture of your arousals on his tongue.

“Yuuji…” you whined. “Wan’ you now.”

“You sure baby?” He glanced down at your swollen folds, red and glistening.

“-Want you… please.”

“Okay, sunshine.” He kissed you gently, before lining himself up with your entrance. He pushed through, finding no resistance with the amount of cum that was both in and outside of you, and started a slow but steady pace.

“Ohh, oh fuck.” Yuuji groaned, lowering himself onto his forearms so he could press his forehead to yours. “I’m not gonna last long baby, I’m so sorry.”

“No no,” you shook your head, slurring your words and running your fingers through his hair. “I jus’want you t’cum too.”

His eyes lit up then, “c-can I? In-inside?”

You giggled, your senses finally returning as the quick bucking of Yuuji’s hips made your legs tingle. “Of course Yuuji,” you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I wanna be so full of your cum that it leaks outta me for days.”

“Oh fuck.” Yuuji’s hips stuttered, and again, you could feel the jumping of his cock inside you as he painted your walls milky white. It wasn’t nearly as much as Sukuna’s but considering it was from the same body, you weren’t expecting as much a second time. Regardless, you still felt so full.

Yuuji pulled out, watching as some of his cum dribbled out and nearly ran down your ass, but scooped it up with a finger and hesitantly brought it to your lips. You smiled and gleefully took it into your mouth, licking the white from him with lewd swirls of your tongue.

He blushed, but pulled his finger from your mouth in favour of laying you down, wrapping himself around you and holding you securely in his arms.

“Can we… can we talk about everything tomorrow?” Yuuji yawned. “I was exhausted before I came in here. Now my legs are numb.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his where they held you. “Yeah, I don’t mind. I need sleep too.”

“I love you, sunshine.” He whispered into your hair.

“I love you more, Yuuji.”

He smirked. “Impossible.”

“If you two don’t go to sleep now I’m going another round whether you like it or not.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at the mouth formed on Yuuji’s hand. “Shut the fuck up Sukuna, go to sleep.”

“How dare you—“ you cut him off by pulling Yuuji’s hand to your lips, pressing you a kiss to the corner of Sukuna’s mouth.

“Goodnight, grouchy pants.” Yuuji laughed at the taunt, but surprisingly Sukuna retreated. You snuggled into your partner, knowing that you awaited one hell of a conversation in the morning.

For now though, you allowed yourself to drift into a deep, content sleep.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #itadori x reader #yuuji itadori smut #itadori yuuji smut #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #tw: violence #tw: degradation #yuuji x reader x sukuna

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comradekatara · 2 months

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Ok we should talk more about sokka and aang because these two dumbasses are adorable together! Underrated relationship

The gag with Katara and blind Toph in season 3 is still the funniest scene in the series lol

yeah their friendship very cute. i like how when they're left to their own devices their respective adhd tendencies combine, that feels very true to my relationships with my friends who also have adhd lol. it's also just really adorable how through aang's sheer lovability, sokka learns to loosen up a little and appreciate life (somewhat, sometimes) in a more relaxed, content way. aang is a really good and highly valuable influence on everyone around him, especially as he counteracts the logic of war and its necessity for violence, which is an ideology sokka not only heavily subscribes to, but to which he attaches his very personhood. aang reminds sokka that he is still a child (he reminds katara of this too, but it happens in the literal pilot, whereas sokka's journey to literally enjoying himself ever is far more gradual and grueling). aang reminds sokka that he is human.

that said, i do think that people tend to be reductive when talking about the value of their relationship. not to single you out specifically, but i do kind of take umbrage with the notion (perhaps unintentional) that all their dynamic is good for is being adorable and funny. calling them "dumbasses" because they can be silly and goofy sometimes, or scatterbrained and absent-minded. i genuinely think that aang and sokka constitute one of the most interesting foils in the entire show. normally when we talk about character foils, we talk about characters who are positioned in opposition to each other, but aang and sokka are fascinating because they're allies (and friends) who nonetheless approach the same problem with the same intentions and the same goals but from completely different angles.

in many ways, sokka is aang's most distinct opposite. but first, to address their similarities: they're both victims of a genocidal imperialist project that has burdened them with a responsibility to their people that they are too young and barely equipped to handle; they are both expected to shoulder this burden easily by those around them due to their nature as "gifted" child prodigies with distinctly unique skillset and an unprecedented ability to absorb and apply new information that they learn at a genuinely abnormal rate (remember that aang is not just the avatar, but an incredibly prodigious avatar at that; he mastered all four elements within less than a year by the age of twelve, whereas most avatars take at least another four years to master their elements); they are both the "leaders" of their small guerrilla militia of child soldiers, and they take turns giving each other guidance and trusting and following the other's lead; they both consider katara the central figure in their lives and love her with an almost obsessive devotion; they both repress their grief and other unpalatable emotions through humor and constant distraction, and sometimes even depersonalize entirely when they feel that their goal is more important than retaining their humanity (sokka does this more frequently, but when aang does it, it's more blatant); and of course, they both harbor massive guilt complexes for the devastating tragedies (largely beyond their control) that have shaped their lives, and are constantly replaying those moments of "failure" as that of acute shame to motivate themselves as they strive to rectify and "atone" for their past errors.

so, as you can see, reducing their friendship to "adorable dumbasses" is already not very interesting. to me, the best aang and sokka scenes aren't the ones wherein they are playing and goofing around together. those scenes are sweet and charming, of course, but the best aang and sokka scenes are the ones wherein sokka is positioned as the logical consequence of aang's grief. wherein present-day sokka becomes the worst case scenario for a hypothetical future aang. in many ways, their friendship is incredibly bittersweet, because it is also punctuated by moments wherein sokka threatens aang's entire value system and quote-unquote "innocence" through attempting to mold him into a Man Of War the way he does those hapless toddlers in his village. for all that sokka is remarkably open-minded and receptive to new ideas, he cannot see past the limits of the world he was born into and the mechanisms and assumptions of violence he was forced to internalize and embody. aang is, of course, totally unique in his ability to not only envision a world beyond the war (i would argue that katara has the ability to do this as well), but also to have actually experienced it. and so it is truly a testament to aang's resilience that he is almost entirely impervious to sokka's ruthless, militaristic logic, even as sokka constantly attempts to enforce it.

i have a much longer post in my drafts about how aang and sokka are positioned in "the serpent's pass" (one of their best episodes in terms of their dynamic, also just a highly underrated episode in general), so i'm not gonna get too much into it here, but katara's relationship to aang as paralleled with suki's relationship to sokka is really fascinating in this episode for the ways in which it also positions katara's grief over witnessing aang's attempt to detach himself from his grief to focus on his goals and aang slipping into "sokkahood," and the absolutely devastating implications of what that must mean for katara. i think there's a strong case, in general, for the reading of katara attempting to replace her lost childhood (with sokka) through aang as he represents a vehicle for her overly idealized nostalgia (much like how zuko projects onto aang and views him as a vehicle to return to that site of his overly idealized childhood), and thus, quite literally, replacing sokka with aang. to katara, aang possesses what sokka has since lost, or perhaps something he never got the chance to have in the first place. and that isn't to say that katara views aang as a brother, but rather that katara longs for companionship in any form, and what is aang if not the ideal companion? so aang's grief and rage scares her not only because it pains her to see someone she loves so deeply in so much pain, but also because it reflects her own pain back at her, as someone who has lost so much, including family members (also including kanna and hakoda) who are, ostensibly (at least physically), still alive.

one of the most fascinating scenes between sokka and aang in the entire show is when sokka straight up attacks aang for burning katara in "the deserter." katara is very clearly affected by this beyond simply the physical pain; being burned by the weapon that killed her mother is explicitly triggering for her, and she retreats into herself and sobs like a child (she is a child, but you know what i mean. an even younger child). and sokka in turn is triggered by katara being triggered, because his entire existence revolves around his oath to protect her, and she was just hurt by the one person to whom she stakes all her hope and pride and joy and affection above all. aang obviously understands the gravity of this accident immediately; it of course wasn't intentional, but he nonetheless takes full accountability and apologizes sincerely. but sokka only calms down somewhat once he knows for certain that katara is okay. and instead of going to find katara as she sobs, he spends all his focus on yelling at aang, throwing him to the ground, more furious than we have ever seen him. and in a way, it's clear that he's also furious at himself, for having let his guard down around and trusted aang, and for his failure to perform his primary duty, protecting his sister. the fulcrum of aang and sokka's relationship is, necessarily, katara. she is the force that brings them together, and the person who is most important to either of them, but she also person who connects them in her mind, and so our perceptions of them as the audience are primarily informed by her perception of them as the narrator.

moreover, sokka's advocacy for killing zuko (in "the siege of the north") and ozai (in "sozin's comet") constitute two more fascinating scenes with aang, for the way in which sokka does not even find the act of killing something to flinch at, let alone an absolute betrayal of core principles and values the way aang does. killing is simply not something sokka feels guilty about, despite the fact that he seems to carry guilt over simply existing a lot of the time. and that juxtaposition, between aang and sokka playing together, of sokka learning how to have fun and entertain his little friend, versus sokka chastising aang for refusing to commit murder, is what makes their relationship so compelling. when people reduce their dynamic to its most comedic and innocent mode, they are reducing their roles as they embody two opposing relationships to violence, and how that reflects their ideological positions as someone who has subscribed to imperialist logic insofar as his values have been shaped by war, as opposed to someone who knows through his own experiences to refute that logic by any means necessary. when we talk about aang helping sokka to regain his humanity, it is crucial to understand specifically how sokka lost his humanity in the first place, but also why aang specifically is so crucial in counterbalancing his logic in a way no one else alive actually can.

ultimately, if sokka represents the voluntary auto-dehumanization of the colonized subject, then aang represents the potential of preservation and even reclamation of humanity and the imaginative potential of a world[view] beyond those colonial limits. their ideological conflict is not simply one of what it means to be human within a colonized paradigm, but what it means to exist at all.

#lilith-91 #asks #aang&sokka #analysis #aang #sokka #katara #under a readmore again bc i ended up writing a bajillion paragraphs (again)#also sorry for getting kind of existential with it #again obligatory disclaimer that i recognize that this is a nickelodeon y-7 cartoon #that said. i do think aang and sokka are really deep characters. like truly #and i want to honor that properly #(when i finish that serpents pass essay its over for u hoes...)#anyway. i love them so much. they are so much more than adorable dumbasses.#although yeah they are that too

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voidandabyssal · 8 days

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How would nightmare react to someone that helped him at his lowest

The s/o in question is as old as him maybe even older. The s/o met him when he was a child and sulking near the tree of emotions because everybody kept on hating him for being the protecter of negativity

The s/o took pity in him and decided to become his friend.

But even if nightmare now had a friend, he succumbed to negativity and ate the apple

The s/o at the time of corruption was going to hang out with him but instead saw him murder people mercilessly so they got scared and ran away.

And after hundreds of years of nightmare looking for the s/o throughout the multiverse, he met them helping dream instead of him.

I would like to know what Nightmare would do in that happens because my thoughts just left me at that

Nightmare:

The moment he takes a bite out of that apple is simultaneously the best and worst decision he had ever made. The feeling, the power, the justified revenge he got at the hands of the village was worth it

Even when his body tore apart at the seams and black goo burst from his cavitys. Tentacles bursting from his back. His teeth twisting and sharpening into painful reminders of his decision.

Until he saw you. You’re face twisted in horror, fear

He hated you. From that very second, overcome with negativity, he swore he wouldn’t forget your face. The emotions he pulled from you only strengthened him. Further empowering his shattered and remaking body.

You were supposed to be his friend! Someone who cared for him, who stuck by his side through even the worst of times.

you were exactly like the rest of the village.

You were using him! you only befriended him because of his status!

He’s so consumed with everything that you just manage to slip away from him. You just barely manage to escape, his sharp tentacles slicing your cheek open leaving a thin trail of blood behind.

When Nightmare snaps out of his rage. After the village had been destroyed, though he still feels the ache of that perceived betrayal he still wants you around.

Dream is gone, turned to a statue, and you are the only thing he has left.

He searches, and searches, and soon rips the village and surrounding lands apart as he looks for you.

He assumes you’re dead. Killed by him. He lets the negativity consume him once again. Forcing himself to relive the memories of your time together.

Hundreds of years pass, and Nightmare has mostly pushed you from his mind. Occasionally going on a rabid hunt throughout the multiverse in search of you. The desperate part of him, the part of him that could still be considered Passive, still believes you to be alive

He hates himself for that day, he wishes he had grabbed you, held you tight in his arms and stopped you from disappearing.

Constant battles between him and his brother and that newfangled ‘star sanses’ keep him from finding you. Constantly bothered by Dreams desperate pleas to be able to find you.

He holds nothing back, lashing out with every ounce of aggression.

Then he finally sees you. Older, more mature. Still as beautiful as he last saw you.

You were wrapping the wounds of one of Nightmares victims. Regret poured out from you as you remembered the last time you saw him.

Before you can dwell on past regrets, Nightmare sneaks in. Watching on in jealousy as you care for the injured.

You leave the injureds home, when you feel Nightmares tentacles wrap around you and tug you towards him.

The grip is tight, almost painfully so. Every time you struggle he holds you tighter, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug

“You’re here… you’re really here” he mutters, tucking your hair behind your ear.

He fixates on the scar on your cheek, a reminder of Nightmares attack.

He presses a kiss, one as gentle as he can manage. On top of it.

A silent ask for forgiveness.

You can struggle as much as you want, but Nightmare will never let you go.

The two of you disappear into the void. Nightmare taking you to his home.

You are kept careful hidden away. Like a precious gem in a dragons hoard.

He will tend to your every need, keep you safe and locked away from any would be meddlers.

He won’t let you out of his sight until Nightmare is sure you won’t leave. Even then, he keeps a carful eye on the people around you.

You’ll come to love the new him eventually. You don’t have a choice

#i was inspired as soon as i saw this #nightmare sans x reader #nightmare x reader #dreamtale #undertale #undertale au #sans x reader #undertale headcanons #voidimagines

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simplyholl · 9 months

Text

Out of My System Pt 6

Summary: Loki doesn't understand Thor's attraction to Midgardians. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Avenger Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI.

W/C: 915

Out of My System Masterlist

The hot days of summer turned into the cool nights of autumn. Your hookup with Loki was on constant replay in your mind. Even though months had passed, you would never get over it. You’ll never forget how it felt to be tangled in the sheets with him. Bodies entwined like an intricate puzzle. How his fingers grasped you like he never wanted to let you go. How he called your name in those moments of ecstasy.

It was silly, but you felt special because you were the first and only Midgardian he slept with. He was actually brilliant to not sleep around. Loki slung dick like it was his job, and rent was due. You had no doubt that the people of Earth would lose their minds trying to bed him, if they ever learned of his talents. His fans were wild without that knowledge. You had seen the comments on his posts.

Things weren’t awkward between you, and for that you were thankful. It was almost like it never happened. If you hadn’t memorized every mark he left on your body, you would think it was all an erotic dream your horny mind conjured.

Tonight is Tony and Pepper’s wedding. You, Wanda, and Natasha are bridesmaids. You shimmy into the dress, beyond grateful that Pepper chose an elegant, sleek style over the one her mother favored. You were looking forward to the reception. It was going to be the party of the year. You text Rhodey to remind him he needed to make sure Tony didn’t bring an Iron Man suit with him.

The reception started off with a bang, literally. Fireworks lit up the night sky, loud music boomed through the speakers. Ben asked you to dance when the next slow song came on. You let him lead you to the dance floor. You had been seeing him casually, and he was more than happy to be your booty call.

He was a great guy, you just wished you liked him more. You often wondered if something was wrong with you because you didn’t. You couldn’t help that the only man you would ever have feelings for, would never return them. You didn’t mean to, but you found yourself comparing Ben to Loki.

How he spoke, the way he dressed, how it felt when he kissed you. The worst was while you were hooking up. Your mind always went to how it felt when you were with Loki. It was like you were made to fit together. It didn’t feel like that with Ben.

He holds you closer as the song’s chorus echoes over the crowd. You’re startled when you hear Loki’s voice. “May I cut in?” He asks Ben. His large hand rests on Ben’s shoulder. He looks up at the god who hovers over him. He immediately releases you, letting Loki take his place.

Loki tugs you toward him. “You look beautiful tonight.” he tells you, guiding you through the dance. You glide around the dance floor enjoying being this close to him again. You look at his mouth, thinking of how his lips were now intimately familiar with your body.

You lift your eyes, noticing that he’s doing the same. “I shouldn’t be thinking of you as often as I do.” he confesses. You sigh, “Loki, you can’t say that to me. It was a one time thing, remember?” Loki curses himself for not giving into you sooner.

He doesn’t believe in love. But he’s terrified of falling for you. His heart almost stops beating at the realization that he already had. You consumed his every thought. It was more than just desire. He craved your company. He needed to be around you.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I should have known it would be more with you.” You listen intently, letting his confession sink in. “I’m in love with you. I think I always have been.” You press your lips to his excitedly. “I’m so in love with you Loki.” You tell him in between kisses. You hear a throat clear, realizing the music had faded out, and the intro to the next song was really quiet.

You glance around, and all eyes are on you. “Let’s go!” You take his hand, leading him to the bathroom. You can’t keep your hands off each other. He pins you to the wall with his body. “Do you know how out of control you make me feel?” he pants in your ear.

You throw your arms around his neck, holding on as his fingers dip into your panties. He runs his finger through your folds, feeling how turned on you are already. “All this for me?” He smirks, lifting his finger to his lips. “Only for you.” You confirm.

He unbuttons his pants, hard cock jutting out. You help him by lifting your dress up your thighs. He slides your panties to the side. You gasp when he enters you, stretching you deliciously. His tongue starts at your collarbone, licking a trail to your jaw. “I’ve missed being inside of you.”

~The next week~

Loki and Thor were being sent away on a mission. They would be gone for a few weeks. Your heart ached. You just got him, and now he would be off fighting without you. You’re sitting on Loki’s kitchen counter with him standing between your legs. You pull him to you, placing kisses all over his face.

Thor barges in, telling Loki it’s time to go. You wish you had five more minutes with your new boyfriend. Loki kisses you goodbye, rubbing his nose against yours. “I don’t want to leave you.” he whispers. You know Thor heard him when he smiles knowingly, looking between the two of you.

Part Seven

Tags (cont. in comments)

@fictive-sl0th @lokisgoodgirl @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @potter-puff007 @cakesandtom @eleniblue @muddyorbsblr @marygoddessofmischief @coldnique @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @lokisninerealms @wheredafandomat @peaches1958 @freegardenbanananeck @chantsdemarins @lokidokieokie @anukulee @sheris532 @lokixryss @multifandom-worlds @javagirl328 @assemblingavenger @lilibet261 @lemonadygirl @joyofbebbanburg @bellajg21 @ladymischief11 @kats72 @evelyn-rathmore @innebulae @alexakeyloveloki @princess-ofthe-pages @xorpsbane @itssomeonereading @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @navs-bhat @fire-in-her-veinz @crimson25 @darkserenity24 @mischief2sarawr @nikkig496-blog @buttercupcookies-blog

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki smut #loki #loki x yn #loki x reader smut #loki x yn smut #loki fanfic #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki marvel #loki tom hiddleston #out of my system

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svn-bangtan · 11 months

Text

Soulmates

»pairing: Yoongi x reader

»genre: BTS | 13+ | Fluff

»wc/date: 4.5k | June 2023

» warnings: Just some fluff

»Summary: Everyone had a soulmate and many find theirs much faster than others. Throughout her years being alive, Y/n is slowly beginning to lose hope in finding her soulmate. After becoming a successful artist and meeting a new client and a stranger at a cafe, things change very quickly.

» notes: THIS ONE-SHOT WAS ORIGINALLY POSTED ON MY OLD ACCOUNT @loomdiamonds

» m.list | Taglist | Thoughts? Comments? Concerns

Soulmates. The notion of being destined to be with someone, a connection meant to last a lifetime. It's a captivating concept that defies comprehension.

In this extraordinary world, every person bears a unique tattoo on their wrist. It consists of their soulmate's first and middle initials, followed by their last name. For instance, if Y/n's soulmate's name is Tong Sochun, her tattoo would read Tong S.

Discovering one's true soulmate occurs through physical contact, such as a high five. When this happens, the wrist tattoo vanishes, replaced by a new one encircling the ring finger, bearing the partner's full name. From that moment forward, they both embark on a blissful journey together.

Simple, right? Well, not quite.

Y/n's tattoo reads Min Y., a constant reminder since her earliest memories of yearning to meet him or her. However, as the years pass, hope gradually slips away.

Recently, she relocated to Seoul, seeking better prospects in this vibrant metropolis. Unfortunately, after spending considerable time here, it feels like an exercise in futility.

Today, she finds solace in a cozy cafe, engrossed in a new book, relishing her well-deserved day off. These are the moments she eagerly anticipates—a chance to escape reality, stepping out of her apartment and immersing herself in simple pleasures that help momentarily forget about soulmates and the complexities of daily life.

A deep sigh escapes Y/n as she briefly diverts her attention from the book, gazing outside at the enchanting view of Seoul. She offers a faint smile, hugging her coffee mug a little closer. For an instant, she glances down at her wrist, tracing the delicate script that has adorned it since infancy.

Despite her waning hope of finding her soulmate, Y/n yearns to experience the same happiness her parents share—a love so profound, nurtured from childhood, and fortified by a single hug in first grade.

It's every girl's dream—to witness her mom and dad, who never had to embark on wild adventures to find their destined partner.

Setting her cup down, Y/n sweeps her hair away from her face, observing as the first snowflakes begin their gentle descent from the sky. Her gaze drifts downward, lost in contemplation.

Out there, somewhere, Y/n's soulmate patiently awaits. Perhaps they ponder the same questions that haunt her. Uncertainty and countless inquiries swirl within them, chief among them being the fear of rejection.

Rejection is a cruel blow, one that cuts deeply. It ranks among the worst acts one can inflict on another, second only to criminal behavior. When you experience outright rejection, your tattoos vanish, and you become destined to never find love again. Even if you were to try, happiness would forever elude you. It's challenging to articulate fully but rest assured, it's a devastating fate to endure.

What if Y/n's soulmate has passed away, unbeknownst to her? The same fate awaits.

Love becomes an elusive concept, eternal happiness forever out of reach. If she never gets the chance to be with her soulmate, life becomes an unrelenting misery. It's an unfortunate reality, one that plagues the minds of all who ponder the enigma of soulmates.

This notion has even crossed Y/n's mind. At twenty-eight, while all her friends have found their soulmates, she has begun to wonder if her day will ever come. Perhaps her destined partner is no longer among the living. Yet, her wrist bears the undeniable mark—a reminder that they still exist, waiting to be discovered.

"What is a lovely lady like yourself doing all alone up here?" a male voice suddenly interrupts, causing Y/n to jump slightly.

She turns her head and finds a tall man with shaggy brown hair, his warm smile directed at her. Returning the smile, she shrugs her shoulders and raises her book. "Just reading, cherishing the simple things."

Nodding, he gestures toward the empty seat in front of her, silently seeking permission to join her. Y/n agrees, and as he settles across from her, her eyes are drawn to his hand. She notices a name etched around his ring finger, and a quiet sigh escapes her. 'Of course, someone as good-looking as him has already found his soulmate,' she muses inwardly.

"You'll find them one day," he remarks suddenly, causing Y/n's eyes to widen in surprise. 'Did I say it out loud?'

Chuckling, he holds up his hand, his gaze fixed on her bewildered expression. "You were staring, so I assumed you were questioning yourself." Y/n offers a faint smile as she turns her gaze back to the window, where the falling snow gradually blankets the ground.

"It's astonishing to think that somewhere out there, my soulmate awaits me," she muses, looking down at her tattoo with a tender smile. "I admit, meeting them is a truly magical experience." She takes a deep breath and glances at the man, finding him already gazing at her with a smile.

"Hopefully, that day comes soon," she confesses, her fingers gently tracing the tattoo. "This waiting game has become unbearable."

The man chuckles in response to her words, understanding etched on his face as he takes a sip of his coffee. Once again, they sit in silence, finding comfort in each other's presence until Y/n breaks the quietude.

"I apologize for my rudeness. I'm Chun Y/n," she introduces herself.

"Chun?" he says, his expression a mix of confusion and surprise. Y/n nods, offering a sweet smile. "Yes, I'm not originally from Seoul. I moved here from Namyang-dong."

He nods, his grin widening. "Well, my name is Hoseok, and I might just know your soulmate," he declares, standing up and leaving Y/n perplexed.

"Wait, what?"

"Chun is a rare last name, right? I don't think I've ever come across anyone with that surname," he explains, prompting Y/n to slowly nod. "Yes, it's more common in Japan, if I'm not mistaken."

Gently taking hold of her hand, Hoseok gazes down at her tattoo, humming in contemplation. "Well, a good friend of mine, who recently returned to back to Seoul, bears your last name and initial on his wrist. He hasn't met his soulmate yet. It's possible that the two of you are destined for each other."

"But I'm confused," Y/n interjects, withdrawing her hand. "Is that why you approached me? Do you do this with many women?"

Hoseok bursts into hearty laughter, a sound that oddly resembles a windshield wiper, shaking his head. "No, I mistook you for my fiancée by accident. You two have a striking resemblance, and when I noticed your mark, I thought I'd explore the possibility."

"Oh, I see..." Y/n says, leaning back in her seat. "So, what now? If I choose to entertain this possibility, how will I meet your friend?"

Hoseok smirks, reclining in his chair and taking another sip of his coffee. "Leave that to me Chun Y/n."

Sometimes, Y/n finds herself plagued by a persistent thought that whispers she may never cross paths with her soulmate. It's as if the universe has singled her out, marking her as one of the unlucky ones destined to live without that profound connection. This notion lingers, casting a shadow of doubt and loneliness over her heart.

Yet, despite occasional glimmers of hope ignited by her encounter at the café, Y/n has learned to temper her expectations. She has grown accustomed to guarding her heart, shielding herself from the potential pain of disappointment.

In this particular moment, Y/n is immersed in her art studio at work, fully absorbed in a new piece taking shape on her canvas.

Suddenly, a gentle knock at the door interrupts her concentration, drawing her attention towards the entrance. Her face lights up with a smile as she sees her boss, Kim Namjoon, stepping into the room, accompanied by an incredibly striking man.

Rising gracefully from her seat, Y/n warmly greets them both, and Namjoon turns towards his companion, ready to make the introductions.

"Y/n, this is Yoongi, my best friend and a producer," Namjoon announces, his voice tinged with pride. "Yoongi, meet Y/n, one of my incredibly talented artists. She's the one who painted that remarkable piece you showed interest in a few months ago."

A delicate blush colors Y/n's cheeks as she gazes at the man introduced as Yoongi. His presence commands attention, and the timbre of his deep voice momentarily catches her off guard. "Thank you," she responds graciously, her voice gentle and composed. "I truly appreciate your kind words, sir."

Yoongi, his eyes seemingly locked on Y/n, offers her a warm smile. "Please, call me Yoongi. I'm intrigued by the story behind that captivating painting," he says, his curiosity evident as he takes a leisurely stroll around her studio, Namjoon following closely behind. Together, they admire the artwork adorning the walls, until their attention is drawn to a copy of the painting that had caught their eye.

With a steadying breath, Y/n prepares to share the tale behind her creation. As she points to the two figures portrayed in the painting, she feels Yoongi's unwavering gaze upon her. She strives to maintain her professional composure, even as her heart flutters with anticipation. Her words flow with passion and depth, painting a vivid picture with her storytelling.

"Beautiful," Yoongi remarks, causing Y/n to momentarily lose herself in his gaze. A deeper shade of pink graces her cheeks, and Namjoon interjects, unwittingly shattering the enchantment.

"Speaking of soulmates, Yoongi here wanted to commission a piece for his own," Namjoon shares, unknowingly pricking at Y/n's delicate hopes. Swiftly, she masks any trace of disappointment and offers a genuine smile. "It would be my pleasure to create a piece for you, Yoongi."

"Hey, Y/n," Namjoon says with a warm smile. "I need to take a quick call. I'll be right back." Without waiting for a response, he exits the room, leaving Y/n alone in the studio.

Just as their connection seems to deepen, a stack of papers held precariously in Yoongi's hands begins to waver, threatening to tumble to the floor. In an instant, a gust of wind rushes through the studio from Namjoon leaving briefly, scattering the papers in all directions.

Reacting with swift reflexes, both Y/n and Yoongi instinctively reach out to catch the fleeing sheets, their hand's mere inches away from touching. Their eyes meet briefly, a fleeting spark of electric anticipation passing between them, hinting at the profound connection that almost transpired.

Yet, their near-touch is abruptly interrupted as Namjoon bursts into the studio, his voice filled with urgency. "Yoongi, we have to go. It's already 3, and we'll be late for our meeting with Jin." Namjoon swiftly exits the studio, with Yoongi following in his wake. However, before he leaves, Yoongi turns back to offer Y/n one final smile. "I look forward to working with you, Y/n."

Returning the smile, Y/n bows respectfully. "Likewise," she replies softly as Yoongi walks away, leaving her once again in the solitude of her studio. A sigh escapes her lips as she settles back into her seat, her gaze fixed upon the canvas before her. "Every time, Y/n," she whispers to herself, a tinge of frustration evident in her voice.

Shaking off her thoughts, Y/n firmly grasps her paintbrush, determined to pour her emotions onto the canvas once more. Stroke by stroke, she channels her hopes and dreams, infusing her art with passion, knowing that one day, amidst the uncertainty that lingers, her soulmate might just find her.

"I'm curious, what prompted your call today?" Y/n asked, taking a sip of her coffee. She heard Hoseok chuckle on the other end of the line as she finished tidying up her workstation and made her way toward the bedroom in her studio.

"Your soulmate, of course," Hoseok replied, causing Y/n to roll her eyes. It had been about three days since they had met at the café, and ever since, Hoseok had been eager to introduce his friend to Y/n to determine if they were potential soulmates.

Unfortunately, due to their busy schedules and Y/n's dedication to her artwork, they hadn't been able to meet yet. Despite Hoseok having a soulmate, Y/n couldn't shake Mr. Yoongi from her thoughts. She knew it was wrong since they could never be together, but she couldn't help but think about him.

"I don't know, Hoseok," Y/n said as she sat on the bed in the bedroom. Mr. Kim, the building owner, had kindly agreed to remodel her studio into an apartment-like space, complete with a sleeping area. Y/n was grateful for this arrangement since she practically lived in her studio more than her actual home.

"Why not, Y/n? He's available tonight, and so are you. It's perfect," Hoseok persisted, causing Y/n to roll her eyes and glance out the window at the weather. "I'm still at work, and even if I go, I probably won't have time to go home and freshen up. Besides, have you seen the weather outside?"

"You're impossible, Chun Y/n, you know that?" Hoseok teased, eliciting a laugh from Y/n. After some time on the phone and a bit of convincing, she eventually agreed to finally meet Hoseok's friend that night. Once she hung up, she lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, contemplating the upcoming meeting.

'Try not to get your hopes up, Y/n. There's a strong possibility it's just a coincidence,' she thought to herself. As she lay there, a knock on her studio door interrupted her thoughts. She got up and opened the door, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the man in front of her.

"Mr. Yoongi?"

"Hello, I just came to talk to you briefly about the painting. May I come in?" he asked politely. Y/n nodded, opening the door wider for him to enter. She took note of his well-fitted suit and noticed that his hair was now styled in waves instead of being pushed back.

Closing the door behind him, Mr. Yoongi stood in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets. "So, have you thought of any ideas for your painting for them?"

He paused for a moment, turning to look at Y/n. "Well, I'd love to hear your ideas. I've made a list of possibilities, but I'm not entirely sure."

"I'd love to help you in any way I can. Let's start by discussing how you would describe your soulmate," Y/n said, walking over to her desk to grab her notepad. She heard him sigh as he took a seat on a random chair, capturing Y/n's attention.

"I haven't met them just yet," he said quietly, his words drawing Y/n's full attention. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that."

"It's alright, really," Mr. Yoongi replied, looking up at Y/n with a slight smile before leaning back in the chair. "After I saw your artwork—forgive me if this sounds creepy—but I couldn't help but look more and more at all of your pieces. Since starting my career as a producer, I feel like I've lost touch with people, and I stopped actively searching."

Y/n nodded, immediately understanding his sentiment as it resonated with her own feelings. As much as she wanted to meet her soulmate, with each passing day, her hope dwindled, fearing that perhaps they didn't want to be found.

"When I saw your artwork, it instantly made me feel alive again. It made me see the brighter side of things and gave me the courage to give the search another try after all these years," he continued, locking eyes with Y/n.

Unbeknownst to her, her heart began to beat faster. "Thanks to you, I found hope again. With this painting, I want to convey that even during my period of giving up, not a day went by that I didn't think about them. And who better to paint it than the person who restored my hope?"

Y/n smiled warmly, feeling honored by his words. She jotted down some notes in her notebook. "Well, just know that I am truly honored to undertake this for you. Your soulmate is already so fortunate to have you."

They engaged in a conversation, discussing various ideas for the painting until Mr. Yoongi's phone suddenly rang. He apologized and checked the caller ID. "I'm sorry, but I have to meet up with a friend right now."

"That's alright. Let's call it a night," Y/n said, setting her notebook aside as they both stood up. She walked him to the door, and as he was about to leave, his eyes caught sight of a flyer hanging nearby. "You're having a showcase?"

"Yes, it's the day after tomorrow. You're welcome to come if you'd like," Y/n replied, offering a polite smile. Nodding, Mr. Yoongi returned the smile before opening the door. "I'll definitely stop by. See you later. And thank you again for your assistance."

"Anytime, Mr. Yoongi," Y/n said, bidding him farewell.

"Wow, I had no idea you were such a talented artist!" Hoseok exclaimed, his eyes scanning the art gallery where Y/n's showcase was taking place. Y/n chuckled softly and nodded in response.

"Well, to be fair, we haven't known each other for that long," she replied graciously, expressing her gratitude to the attendees. Hoseok seized the opportunity to inquire about her recent date. Turning towards Y/n, he asked, "So, how did the date go? Are you guys soulmates?"

Y/n let out a deep sigh, shaking her head in disappointment. "They never showed up," she stated, her gaze focused on a piece of artwork in front of them.

Strangely, she wasn't as disheartened as one might expect. In fact, she had almost decided not to attend the date herself after her encounter with Mr. Yoongi. "I should probably strangle him," Hoseok muttered under his breath, expressing his frustration with his unreliable friend.

As Hoseok continued venting about his friend's unreliability, Y/n turned her head to the side and caught sight of someone entering the gallery. A light smile formed on her lips for a brief moment before she quickly shook her head and redirected her attention back to Hoseok.

It's not him, Y/n. Remember, don't get your hopes up. His soulmate is out there, and it's unlikely to be you, she reminded herself silently, glancing down at her wrist.

Although Y/n had met Mr. Yoongi twice, she had never caught a glimpse of his wrist to determine their compatibility. In truth, she preferred not to know. She had been making an effort to stop thinking about him, but for some inexplicable reason, she couldn't shake him from her thoughts.

"He's right there. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind," Hoseok grumbled, his frown directed at someone behind Y/n. Shaking her head at his impulsive behavior, Y/n decided to stroll around her exhibit, relishing in the pride she felt for how far she had come in her career.

Painting had always been her refuge, her way of escaping reality, and each canvas held its own unique journey and story. While she never shared those stories with the public, she delighted in hearing people's theories and interpretations of her artwork.

Lost in her own thoughts, Y/n found herself standing in front of her piece titled "Loveless Love." Several people had gathered around it, captivated by its beauty and engaged in discussions. This sight brought a wider smile to her face.

"It's a truly beautiful piece, as I've told you before," a familiar voice spoke, causing Y/n to jump slightly in surprise. She turned her head and saw Yoongi standing there, his gummy smile radiating warmth. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's alright," Y/n replied, her gaze returning to the painting. She could feel Yoongi's eyes on her, causing a gentle blush to color her cheeks as she focused on the artwork before them. Despite the crowd surrounding them, it felt as though they were the only two people in the room.

"So beautiful," Yoongi whispered, capturing Y/n's attention once again. She met his gaze, and in his eyes, she saw a certain look.

Slowly, he reached up his hand, his fingers tenderly grazing her cheek before delicately tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

Y/n's heart fluttered as she gazed up at Yoongi, the man she had come to love deeply. They sat together under the shade of a grand tree, sharing an intimate picnic. Her eyes met his, captivated by the gentle glimmer in his deep brown orbs, and a radiant smile graced her lips.

"Yoongi," she said, her voice filled with affection. "I can't help but wonder... how much do you love me?" As she spoke, Y/n noticed the beautiful ring adorning her left ring finger, engraved with Yoongi's full name.

Yoongi's eyes locked onto hers, and he tenderly clasped her hands. "Trying to extract my wedding vows, huh?" he playfully remarked. "Well, I'm afraid that's top-secret information. But I can promise you, my love for you is immeasurable." His words were accompanied by a light chuckle as he lightly tapped her shoulder.

Unable to contain her joy, Y/n giggled and lightly tapped his good shoulder in return. Leaning down, Yoongi planted a soft kiss on her head, his gaze never leaving her eyes. "Seriously, I want to know," Y/n insisted, a glimmer of curiosity shining in her gaze.

Her expression turned tender as she spoke, her voice filled with heartfelt sincerity. "My love for you knows no bounds. It will endure through rain and sunshine, treating you like a precious diamond and never letting you wander far from my side. Even when distance separates us, you'll always remain in my heart, every second of every day. My love for you will bloom until my very last breath, for with you, I have found purpose and a love I want to show you." Y/n's eyes sparkled as she held Yoongi's gaze, her love pouring forth.

Yoongi's gaze softened, brimming with warmth and adoration. "I remember the first time I saw you," he reminisced.

"From that moment, I knew you were my soulmate. Your presence in your studio captured my attention completely. Your eyes, your smile... they stole my heart the instant you spoke. I never believed in love at first sight until I met you. And to this day, I can't believe how perfectly we were meant to be. You are everything I've ever dreamed of in a soulmate, and now, you are mine. Please never doubt how much I appreciate everything you do for us. You mean the world to me, and I love you with all my heart."

Y/n's cheeks flushed with warmth and delight. "Stop," she exclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of affection and amusement. "That was so cute, it might make me start crying." She covered her face with her hands, feeling overwhelmed by the depth of Yoongi's love.

Yoongi chuckled softly and gently removed her hands, his lips pressing against the back of them. "And if you do cry," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness, "I'll always be here to wipe away your tears."

Feeling her heart swell with love, Y/n sat up fully, being careful not to bump her head on a tree branch. Their eyes met once again, and the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their own little universe.

"I can't wait to marry you," Yoongi confessed, his hand tenderly caressing Y/n's cheek. Her smile grew wider, and she felt an overwhelming sense of joy and anticipation.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Y/n leaned forward and kissed Yoongi with all the passion and love she held within her. The kiss started softly but soon deepened, as every inch of their bodies and souls melted into one another. Yoongi's hands cradled Y/n's face, ensuring the perfect connection, while she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

Finally, they pulled apart, their lips still tingling, but their smiles radiant and content. Y/n rested her head on Yoongi's chest, listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat.

Time seemed to stand still as Y/n gasped, returning to reality. Her eyes widened, and she looked up at Yoongi, astonishment etched on both their faces. Slowly, a slight pain emanated from her wrist and left ring finger, drawing their attention downward.

Unbeknownst to them, the entire room had turned their gaze towards the couple, their curiosity piqued. Y/n's wrist tattoo faded away, replaced by a name on her ring finger—Min Yoongi.

"Oh my god," Y/n whispered in awe, her eyes flickering up to meet Yoongi's matching expression.

He is my soulmate. He's who I've been waiting for, she thought, her heart overflowing with joy.

Countless questions swirled in her mind, but before she could voice them, Yoongi took action. In a moment of pure instinct, he pressed his lips against hers, leaving Y/n breathless and captivated once again. She gasped in surprise but quickly melted into the kiss, their connection growing stronger with every passing second.

The room erupted into applause and cheers, but Y/n blushed profusely, hiding her face in Yoongi's chest. His laughter reverberated through his chest as he relished in her adorable reaction. "See, Y/n? I told you I knew your soulmate," Hoseok declared triumphantly, catching the attention of both Y/n and Yoongi.

"He's the one I was supposed to meet?" Y/n asked, her voice filled with astonishment. Hoseok nodded, and Y/n turned to Yoongi, finding the same disbelief mirrored in his eyes.

"Yes, Yoongi, she's the one you stood up last night," Hoseok explained, prompting Y/n to laugh wholeheartedly.

"In my defense, I didn't go because I got caught up in work after visiting you," Yoongi confessed, causing Y/n to smile and playfully shake her head. "It's alright. At least now we know who this painting is for."

Yoongi's eyes softened as he whispered, "Yes, my beautiful soulmate, Chun Y/n." Y/n's heart raced, and her smile widened further. Embracing the moment, Yoongi leaned in for a quick peck on her lips. "Guys, please get a room," Hoseok groaned, earning giggles from everyone witnessing the affectionate exchange.

"Can't I cherish my beautiful soulmate?" Yoongi playfully retorted, his eyes shining with adoration.

"Stop it," Y/n protested, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue. She looked down shyly, only to be gently guided by Yoongi to meet his gaze once more. "Don't be shy now, Y/n. This is how it will be forever. I promise you," he declared, his voice brimming with sincerity.

"Forever," Y/n whispered, her eyes sparkling with love and excitement. "I absolutely love the sound of that." Their love had found its place, and from that moment on, they embarked on an enchanting journey, hand in hand, destined for a future filled with eternal love and happiness.

#min yoongi #Suga #Yoongi #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi oneshot #Suga oneshot #bts fanfic #bts fic #suga fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bangtan sonyeondan #bts x reader #bts #bts yoongi #BTS suga

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siempre-bucky · 2 years

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Vexation

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hangman vexed you. He was always there with a snide comment over comms, teasing you during training sessions and being the most annoying, egotistical man you'd ever met. The worst part? No matter how much he annoyed you, you never could manage to fall out of love with him.

wc: 3.5k

a/n: I had a really nice anon a while back say my jake and reader fic reminded them of Kate and Anthony from Bridgerton, so here we are because I couldn't get that dynamic out of my head. and am I about to see this movie for a fourth time...yea. enjoy!

Sometimes it was a pain to be the best and to be paired with the best. Jake Seresin never wasted a moment to tell you how amazing he was. You once made the comment that if he was trying to convince himself that he was good enough. His teasing increased tenfold; little comments turned to quick jabs and death-blowing taunts from the both of you.

You and Jake both had thick skin for one another. The swords of your words never cut flesh, yet you always prided yourself on the rare occasion you managed to bruise his sparking ego.

It almost didn't shock you to see Jake Seresin at the Hard Deck that night. In a sea of khaki and green flight suits, you always managed to pick him out. Because Jake Seresin and his ego were the annoying constants in your life. His green eyes felt familiar with every deployment, squadron change, and detachment but then so did his nails on the chalkboard voice and ego the size of his home state of Texas. You killed every thought that he felt like home while at sea.

Who were you to think that the man who vexed you the most wouldn't be on this mission? You fought the familiar urge to roll your eyes as he talked. Your old banter started the moment you sat at the table across from him the morning of the briefing.

"You know all about those low hard decks don't you, Widow?" He winked, recalling an incident only the two of you knew about back from flight school. You looked directly at Maverick, trying to hide the flustered expression on your face.

"You'd know that black widows stay close to their terrain, but it seems you still have your head up your ass, Lieutenant."

Your schoolhouse taunts only got worse as the first week of training progressed. The few months you had away from Hangman made you forget the annoyance he made you feel. The blood boiling sensation within your veins made you want to stab him in the throat if he opened his pretty lips just one more time. You clenched your hands around the controls of your plane so tightly that your knuckles became bloodless. He was such a jackass. He was always right there, in your comms and even blowing up your phone with stupid, witty remarks late at night when training was over.

It was worse this time with the way how irritated he made you. His sword poked at your impenetrable confidence during training. You found yourself constantly getting mad at him, bitterly calling him out during training and storming off whenever he walked in the room. The bitter 'I hate you' comments fell off your tongue more than normal and his cocky smile never faded a bit. Jake and this mission were getting to you.

“147…down,” Hondo called out as he folded his arms, sunglasses covered eyes looking down at your group on the tarmac.

Week two was starting off with a bang, your team, or lack thereof wasn’t coming together like Captain Mitchell and the Admirals had hoped. You were doing the best you could, but your focus was being invaded by the blond Texan. More than it should—more than you wanted.

Right now, it was the soft grunts that escaped his throat as he came back up, toned arms glimmering in the sun. You tried to ignore the chain of his dog tags peeking from his shirt.

“Will you shut up?” you whispered angrily as you lowered yourself, fighting back an audible wince. Jake laughed from the side of you, your eyes flickering up to Hondo as he passed by with his arms casually folded across his chest.

“You like when I make these noises, don’t lie,” he whispered in return. You two looked at one another; a signature smirk adorned his sweaty face while your scowl was scary enough to have any other man run for the hills.

“I’d rather shove a sock in your mouth.”

Jake let out a hearty laugh, his head hung backward. "Don't be that way, princess." He looked over at you and his smirk grew at the way your short nails dug into the ground. He liked this game, it was one of his favorites.

A man in a khaki suit approached Hondo, shoes clicking on the pavement. The sound stopped when he started murmuring something in his ear. The man swallowed, turning his gaze to the pilots on the ground. "Finish on your own," he ordered quickly before following the man in the uniform.

Jake found this to be a prime opportunity to get under your skin. Not like that was hard these days. He remained in a push-up position, walking on his hands and feet until he was across from you. "What the hell are you doing?" You grunt, your arms ready to give out.

The wind did you a small favor and blew the stray hairs out of your face. He looked at you then down at the ground, "You look like you're slackin' there, Widow," he taunted, his tone teasing yet strained.

"I can go as low as you, Bagman," you spat. Bob and Phoenix beside you rolled their eyes as they did their pushups. Not wanting to interfere with the my horse is bigger than your horse competition you found yourself in.

You matched him in every motion, even holding at the bottom just to get a rise out of the blond aviator. As you neared the end they got sloppy, which Jake ate up in an instant. "Come on, Widow. Make those push-ups nice and pretty for me," he chuckled as he looked at you with dark eyes.

"Fuck you," you strained. 199.

The both of you went down, locked in a bitter staring contest. Your arms were shaking, your abs were on fire. Your head was pounding yet you still managed to feel lightheaded. One more, just one more then you could rub it in his stupid face. Your eyebrows furrowed and another pained grunt passed your lips but he looked so unphased. “You can go up whenever you want,” he said. Your law clenched so tightly you thought your teeth would break. “Going on that mission with limp arms sounds like a fun challenge.”

The mission. Your eyes flew up to him, you were tired of this fucking mission because what if this would be the last time you and Jake fought tooth and nail. The last time he’d taunt you relentlessly, the last time he’d enter your space. “Get fucked,” you panted as you stood up abruptly, wiping your forehead with your arm.

You started to walk away, tightening the sleeves of your flight suit around your waist before running your head over your head. “Widow!” Jake called to you as he caught his breath, standing up and putting his hands on his hip, his weight shifted to one side. “It was just a friendly competition.”

“Friendly?” You shouted, turning around quickly, “Ha!” you feigned laughter.

Jake raised his arms as a silent ‘what the hell?’ and shook his head. “Why are you getting so mad at me? We do this shit all the time. I thought they were going to kill us back in Virginia.” You remembered when your squadron was stationed in Virginia, you and Jake were hauled off to an Admirals office like school children. Reprimanded and minorly threatened by a man double your age with a receding hairline that Jake joked about later.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at his comments, “Just stop talking, Seresin,” you snapped.

“What’s your problem with me, Y/L/N? Never bothered you before.” It didn’t bother you because you two were the best…an almost guarantee to trick fate and see each other once more. You did have a problem with Jake Seresin, he was annoying and cocky and always fucking there.

“You really wanna know my problem with you, Jake?” you questioned as you marched towards him, your fists clenched tightly at your side. Your breaths were shallow with anger as you stood the distance of the fighter jet's wings away. You could see his narrowed eyes and thin lips pressed together tightly.

“Enlighten me,” he huffed out, folding his arms over his chest.

Your chest puffed out, the gears whirling in your mind to come up with the right words to describe how you felt. “You—” you began through gritted teeth, flexing your hand and bringing them up waist level, angrily curling your fingers. “—you vex me!”

He stood there a moment, watching your stiff frame, the golden light of the lowering sun creating a perfect glow on your figure, blocking out shapes on your suit. He wanted to breathe it in and commit it to memory but the words that fell from your lips stunned him. His eyebrows raised and his eyes widened in shock. “I vex you? What is this, the 1800s?” He laughed mockingly.

You stormed closer and prodded the skull on his patch with your pointer finger. “You annoy me, you frustrate me! You and your cocky attitude that you have set as your default tone of goddamn voice,” you stated bitterly. He just took it, letting you push him back as you stabbed his chest. His green eyes looked down at you with what appeared to be concern masked by his own irritation. Sure, you’ve called him out before, but it was never like this. You never carried this much rage for him. You jabbed him once more as you turned around before he could see your lip quiver.

He was about to speak but you beat him to it. “You want to know the worst part?” you managed, your head turning to the side, your eyes looking to the ground.

“I’m dying to know,” he intoned, his face filled with irritation.

You turned again to look at him. “You’re always there Jake.”

“That makes me feel a lot better,” he scoffed with a long roll of his eyes.

“Your comments and your jabs, your taunts—but you were the only one who showed up when my plane went down in Iraq.” Hangman’s face fell, a sharp jolt going through him. “And when that relative died, you sent my mom flowers. Flowers, Jake for a woman I mentioned once. You-you’re always there, Jake.”

He remembered that day. The sun was hot and you were only supposed to be air cover, the enemy fighter stayed on your tail. He blew up your engine, sending you down in a fiery heap of scrap out in the terrain for days before they found you. Jake had never been more scared for a person, he screamed at personnel for the information; pulling rank and doing whatever it took to see you.

“Y/N,” your name expelled from his lips as a whisper. He saw you weep at funerals and after your plane crashed when he saw you crying alone in your hospital bed. He never saw you cry because of him, he never wanted to make you cry.

“But no matter how often you piss me off or vex me with your presence or your attitude—it won’t make me stop loving you.”

His ears began to ring. It was like hearing the jets without ear protection: shocking, deafening. It took the blond a moment to regain his composed demeanor. Jake took a step forward, the plane blocking the sunlight so he could see you better. “Y/N,” he said softly.

“No,” you tell him, shaking your head, “No.” You weakly held up your hand, tired of fighting, tired from the push-ups. “Just leave me alone.” I can’t bear your ridicule.

Jake watched you walk away, eyes trained on your back. His heart was thundering and his mind was running a mile a minute. He desperately wanted to chase after you, push you up against the wall, and give you a piece of his mind, but he didn’t. He obeyed your wishes.

He left you alone the remainder of the week, only speaking to you in the jets through the comms, and shifted his jabs to Rooster and some of the other guys. Coyote was the first to notice, sitting behind the two of you and how you avoided each other like the plague. It was the odd privilege he had as best friend, he got to see every side of Jake.

Javy found his friend, spread out on his bed, and tossing an old weathered baseball his dad gave him. “You wanna tell me what’s up with you and Widow?” he asked bluntly, taking a seat on the chair near his desk. The blond didn’t look at him, but he knew Javy’s brown eyes were intensely staring holes into his skull.

“Told me to leave her alone, I am,” he responded dryly, simply.

Javy rolled his eyes, letting out tufts of air. “When have you ever left her alone? You call her the bane of your existence, yet you don’t leave her alone.” He smirked knowingly, he knew all about this little game the two of you had and the emotions that hid underneath the shroud.

You were the bane of his existence, you put him in a constant state of irritation. You were the only one who could make his blood run ice cold and could warm him all at once. Every thought he had was a copy of the words you told him days ago. You were always there, matching his quips and firing back deadlier remarks. There when he needed to be consoled after his kill, there when his mom was in the hospital for a routine surgery that went awry.

His face softened suddenly, the ball landing on the dark blue bedding at his side. “She told me she loved me, then asked me to leave her alone.”

Javy sighed deeply and leaned back, his lips pressed together tightly before he managed to speak again. He knew it was coming, it was only a matter of time before one of you cracked. “I don’t want to be grim here, man, but we’re shipping out in the morning and we might not come back. She deserves to know what you think of her."

"Yeah," he rumbled before becoming tight-lipped. Coyote shook his head in defeat, he slapped his knees and stood up, leaving his best friend with his thoughts.

—

The sea calmed him, the steel of the ship soothing him to a peaceful slumber. He was ready to become Maverick's right hand, flying off into the sunset with more honors and coming back with thunderous applause as he descended his plane. He thought he put you behind him, focusing on the mission at hand. He didn't look at you once when you boarded the carrier. His heart stung but it was worth it. Jake's green eyes fluttered closed that night, knowing he'd be waking up one step closer to being selected.

"Dagger 2 is down! I repeat, dagger 2 is down. I'm sorry Hangman."

"Widow's gone, man."

Jake woke up with a jolt, instantly shedding his blanket and shivering as the cold air blew on his sweat ridden bare torso. He shook his head, placing his palms over his ears. There were voices, so many voices. They were screaming at him, taunting him.

"I love you." He heard amongst them, echoey like it was from a ghost. He didn't sleep easy that night, his nerve hanging by a single line of web.

The salt air made you feel at home, you walked into the carrier with a small content smile the morning of the mission. Your fingertips glided along the metal of the jets as you walked past them. A satisfied hum coming from your throat as you read your name on the side.

You kept walking, taking in the sights and the sounds of your life at sea. You passed a few more planes, a shadowy figure stood by the railing. You knew that tall stiff frame anywhere. Taking in a deep breath of confidence, you walked over.

"Jake," you called.

The man visibly stiffened. If he acted like that just from you saying his name, you must've ruined whatever you two had. His back was turned to you, arms folded over his chest and he looked out at the water. You stepped forward again, his woodsy cologne mixing in with the smell of the ocean.

"You wanna know what I think of you?" He prompted suddenly, his low tone of voice and thick accent making you jump. Your heart sunk to your stomach. You deserved that, you know you did.

You stood beside him but he didn't look down, his green eyes fixated on the horizon in front of you. "What?" Your voice wavered like a scared child. Tell me you hate me, make this easier on my heart, you thought as you studied his jawline.

“You’re the bane of my existence, Y/N.”

Your lips were set in a deep frown; you deserved that too, he was certainly getting his fill from taking a few days off. “Don’t be mean to me,” you scoffed before you shook your head, biting down on your lower lip, exhaling deeply from your nose. “You wanna get a real knife and stab me? Be a lot more painless,” you told him sternly before you started walking away. Jake caught your arm, stopping you in your tracks. You finally caught a look at the aviator: the dark rings around his beautiful eyes were more prominent, his hair tousled from the wind and his pillow. His grip was gentle, you could slip out of it at any moment, but you didn’t want to. You missed him.

“I’m trying, Widow,” he sighed, his head lowering.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“You annoy the fuck out of me. You kick me in the balls every time I tease you, your comebacks just as strong as mine. You’re the only one that can put up with my shit in the air.” Your body softened as he spoke, turning towards him, you kept looking into his eyes. You didn’t have the heart to look away. “You’ve been a pain in my ass since the moment I met you, but I can’t imagine my life without you in it,” he spoke with fervor, a pink blush rising to his face.

“Jake?” It was your turn to be breathless, words caught in your throat other than his name. Your lip started to quiver and your eyebrows knitted together. “What does that mean, Jake?” His hand traveled up your arms, pulling you closer to him, he licked his lower lip out of habit and his eyes shyly darted from your gaze.

“I’m trying to tell you that I lo-”

“Lieutenant Seresin, Lieutenant Y/L/N… it’s time,” Warlock called, his deep voice sending you apart. He looked at you once more, you saw the fear lurking in his eyes and he saw the same fear in yours. Heat rising to your faces as you nodded, following behind him from a good distance.

“I don’t want them to pick you,” Jake whispered.

“Good to have you back, Bagman,” you giggled.

Jake huffed and looked at you, “Not because you’re a bad pilot. Jesus. Because I can’t lose you, Y/N… not now.”

You stopped in front of the door and placed your hand on his bicep, soft and delicately your fingers wrapped around him, your thumb swiping his badge. “I can’t lose you either, but you’re the best there is.” Your words stopped there, resisting the temptation to tell you loved him again, the words you swore he was going to tell you up there by the railing.

The room was quiet, eerily quiet as you stood in formation. You could feel the fear and anticipation coming from your fellow aviators as they stood at attention. The risk was something each of you knew well, but there was only one other person in that room that felt the exact same weight of the world. The heat of the room made your breaths shortened, your eyes fixed on the back of Hangman’s head. It took everything he had not to look back at you.

Names were called and the relief set in, you looked to your friends after you were dismissed. Phoenix pulled you into a tight hug, offering small sympathies. You shouldn’t have been this relieved, you knew this mission if successful would come with a promotion and another metal perhaps. Fate stepped in once again, you got another chance with Jake.

You found him, his face laced with disappointment as he brushed past you. Catching the sleeve of his flight suit, he turned around and looked down at you. “Hangman,” you start, your head motioning towards the door.

He hummed in reply as you walked side by side.

“What were you going to tell me before the briefing?”

The smell of jet fuel and other chemicals were washed away by the smell of the ocean and exhaust as you stood by his jet. He took his fingers and swiped away a stay hair, letting it rejoin the others behind your ear. “I want to tell you after it’s over, can you actually wait that long or?” he teased, the smile you missed so much returning to his features.

You giggled and nodded, slinking away from the plane. You watched as he put on his helmet and climbed up the ladder. “Jake!” you called from below.

He looked down, “What now? You know, those days of silence really helped my ears,” he joked, winking at you.

“If we do this,” you wagged your finger between the two of you, “there won’t be a day where you don’t vex me”

Jake laughed and sat in the cockpit, “I’m counting on it, sweetheart,” he told you before the canopy lowered. You flipped him off and held on to your helmet tightly before making your way to your plane, a smirk on your face.

After it was all said and done, you stood in the back and the team rejoiced with Maverick and Rooster. Leaning on the side of the plane, your arms were crossed just waiting for him to look back and find you but you let him have his moment. He loved this, but you could only imagine what the praise was going to do to his ego.

Jake shook one last hand before turning around to see you. He rushed over and took you in his arms, his hands gripping the fabric of your flight suit as if it would keep him tethered to the ground. You buried your face into his chest and let out a small sigh of relief. He held you for what felt like hours, even though it was only a few seconds. He just didn’t want to let go now that he had you, but he finally managed to pull away to cup your face. “I love you,” he said confidently, his thumbs swiping your cheek and getting rid of the shed tears “I’ve always loved you.”

“I love you too,” you grinned.

He laughed and bent down, his lips ghosting over yours, “We shouldn't be fraternizing,” he hummed with a playful look on his face.

You punched his arm before throwing your arms around his neck to pull him closer, his lips finally crashing into yours. He was safe, you were safe, holding each other close while your lips glided together. “Shut up, Bagman,” you whispered playfully as you pulled away.

“Nah, you’re stuck with me now, baby. I get to vex you all day long,” he said, his Texas accent thick as he spoke.

You rolled your eyes, “Keep kissing me,” you ordered with a loving smile.

Jake’s hands fell to your hips, bringing you in close, “Yes, ma’am.”

---

tagging my beloved @mothdruid ily

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x fem!reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin oneshot #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #hangman fanfic #top gun #top gun maverick

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