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meow-town · 2 years

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Jealous! Dee x Reader Oneshot 「Seeing Green」

Summary : Dee arrives at a party hoping to find his crush, but envy makes an entrance and makes him reveal secrets within his heart.

Requested by @chanel-lovegood !! Thank you so much! Things have really been piling on lately, so sorry if I take a while to finish requests!

Also, I’m literALLY SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TUMBLR DELETED MY ENTIRE DRAFT FOR SOME REASON AND I HAD TO START OVER

Why was he here? Dee Shvagenbagen, antisocial know-it-all, someone who absolutely despised parties and big social gatherings. He thought they were foolish, he had better things to do. He could be reading, he could be going over school notes, he could be doing anything other than being stuffed in some suburban house with horny sixteen year olds awkwardly swaying to shitty house music. Yet here he was, grabbing onto a clear plastic cup full with water and blowing off everyone who came up to him expecting to get his number.

“Not interested.”

“But I literally just-”

“I’m not interested.”

The brunette sighed, turning on her heel and sulking away to the furthest corner. He sighed and went back on his search, scouting out for the light in this dark realm of absurdity. Turning corners, climbing up stairs to a whole other side of the party, stepping out into the front yard, and continuing to push away people who didn’t know about the concept of personal space. He continued to look for them, the only thing worth being here for.

(f/n) (l/n).

A diamond in the rough. He didn’t expect them to be at party. From what he had gathered, they would much rather be at home than doing anything like this. He had seen social media posts of them reading or drawing or just staying in in general. Dee remembered how he had come to arrive at this party. Kids were bombarding the class group chat with messages about it, obviously, Dee couldn’t be less interested until he overheard someone speak at school. That’s what Dee did. He subconsciously eavesdropped, constantly.

“Yeah, I’ve invited (f/n) to the party. She said she’d go if I did.”

A slight twinge of hurt pecked at his chest, someone had probably spiked the water or whatever.

His mind scattered back, scratching into the deepest corners of his brain to think of more places they could be.

‘Upstairs? No, there’s people making out up there, they wouldn’t be comfortable. Maybe they’re in the bathroom, hiding? That sounds like something they would do.’

His breath hitched in his throat once he realized. Squeezing in between people, leaving behind a trail of ‘excuse me’s and ‘coming through’s. He made his way back out through the kitchen door, leaving to the backyard. And once he slid the door closed, he saw.

There they were. Sitting atop the grass with an anxious dog on their lap.

“Sh, sh. It’s okay! They’re just loud noises, nothing’s gonna hurt you!” The terrier whimpered in response, backing up further into them.

He sighed into his lips, parting his sight. A rosy tint crept onto his cheeks, just by looking at them. (F/n), sweetest soul he’d ever met. And now was a perfect example. The sight of them holding the little creature close to their chest, stroking its fur gradually while whispering sweet words of reassurance - even while fully knowing the dog wouldn’t understand, it was adorable.

A distant song made its way to his ears.

You see me in hindsight, tangled up with you all night.

Burning, it, down.

“Dee?”

“Y-yeah? Sorry, I just zoned out.”

He mentally striked himself across the face, scowling visibly while they smiled at him. “What are you doing here? I thought you hated these types of things.”

“I do, but I wanted to see someone here.” ‘You. It’s you who I wanted to see.’ “What about you?”

“A friend dragged me here along with him.”

A comforting silence took over them both. Silences were just different with (f/n), Dee thought. They silently gestured for him to sit next to them, patting the grass with one hand. With still no words spoken, he sat and shuffled closer to (f/n), cheeks still pinkish in color. He reached for the dog to scratch behind its ears and retracted his arms to prop himself up once more. Some stars were visible, but with all of the light coming from inside and the lamppost, they could only point some out.

The terrier suddenly jumped out of (f/n)’s arms to switch over to Dee. Hopping off, it strided to his side and jumped onto his lap. (F/n) looked over at him, giving him a closed-eye smile. He felt his heart flutter in his chest. Wrapping an arm languidly around the pup, his gaze returned to the skies. How long had it been? Bit less than a year now. Around 10 months since (f/n) transferred to his school, and 8 months since he developed a crush on them. It really only got worse from there. It was a silly little crush, at first. Evolved into him thinking about them before he went to sleep, cradling his pillow. Then he began to ask around for their socials, places they would be during the weekend. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here with them right now.

He exhaled deeply, cherishing this moment.

The scent of their hair, their usual coffee order, their playlist, their favorite flower - which they had only briefly mentioned in a school trip once. He remembered every small detail he could recollect, small and unimportant as it may seem. “Who’d you say you came here with?” He blurted out, desperate to get some form of conversation going.

“Oh, just Vitya. He’s in the school band, you’ve probably heard of him.”

His brow unconscious furrowed. Vitya. Sure, he’d heard of Vitya. Bassist and lead vocalist of the school band, as well as second hand man to Ches. He’d visited Ches’s shop every now and then only to see Vitya greet him each time. Vitya, with his ruffled brown hair and his dimples and his incredible skills in music. Who had more talent in his left pinkie finger than Dee could ever have in his entire body.

He chose to let it go, to just enjoy the time he had with (f/n) for as long as he could. Vitya could cloud his thoughts any day, but moments like these came once in a lifetime. “Why don’t you join the band? Haywire has been looking for a new member, and you seem to like the kind of music they produce.”

“Just, uh, not really interested.” Lies. Dee couldn’t play a note if his life depended on it. He tended to rush into things, to impulsively decide to learn something new and get frustrated as all hell when he wasn’t amazing at it within the first five minutes. Being intellectually gifted does that to a person. You grow up all of your life being naturally amazing at everything without having to lift a finger, and once you have to put in effort, you give up.

They sat in lively conversation for about another ten minutes, until the music re-emerged from its muffled state, as a voice shouted over it.

“(F/N)! GET OVER HERE! SOMEONE’S DEDICATING A SONG TO YOU!” (F/n)’s head darted over immediately.

“Oh shit! Really?” The dog jumped up at the sight of their agitated state. “I’m coming! Coming!” While they scrambled to their feet, Dee swiftly pulled the critter off of him.

“I’ll come with.” He grumbled, pulling his jacket back into place. (F/n) nodded and grasped his forearm to drag him inside. They shut the door behind them, placing their plastic cup onto the kitchen counter. An electric guitar being tuned, drum kits being assembled, keyboard being tried out and a bass guitar being plugged in, much to Dee’s dismay. It wouldn’t take a genius to find out who dedicated a song to (f/n). Dee felt bad for the other members of Haywire, being dragged into an entire performance because their leader was head over heels for someone he couldn’t have.

He couldn’t have them, Dee repeated the phrase in his mind, almost to convince himself. (F/n) was destined to end up with him. It was only fair. “This song goes out to someone who’s real special to me.” Dee blocked out the voice to the best of his abilities. He could just imagine the way Vitya looked at (f/n) when he said that. “You’re always by my side, (f/n). And I think this is a good way to show you how much I appreciate everything you do for me.”

‘No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. This is not a confession.’ Dee thought, looking back at them. The starter riff begun and Dee internally facepalmed at the sound of it.

‘Wonderwall. Of all the songs you could dedicate to someone, Wonderwall. How basic and boring.’

Even with how distressed he was, the blonde always managed to critique something. His gaze flew from one person to another. The crowd staring at them like a pair of animals at the zoo, and the brunette’s sight caught directly onto (f/n).

He carried on through the entire song, adjusting his gaze every once in a while to be able to look at the fretboard. People were recording, as if this were a romantic comedy in which the guy on stage would drop on his knees to receive a kiss from the love interest.

But it didn’t seem to far from that. And it scared Dee.

Vitya staring deeply into (f/n)’s eyes, and them shyly reciprocating with a twinkle.

This wasn’t happening. The absolute hysteria building up in his body was too much to bear. It couldn’t end here. Dee needed to have his chance. He need to tell them how they felt. The tension is his neck was alarmingly visible, and he had to do something.

Vitya leaning further from the stage, beginning to sit on his knees to face the crowd better. Sitting on his knees to face (f/n) better. To have his face closer to theirs. To make their move. To take them away from him. To ruin him.

“Dee?!”

Before he knew what he was doing, he latched onto their frame, swooping them out of the scene.

“What the fuck, man?!” Dee didn’t say anything back, as much as he wanted to. As much as he wanted to swipe the lovesick look clean off of the bassist’s face with a guitar. Dee ignored all complaints and demands to be put down and took them into a closet, locking the door behind them. He took a breather, body pressed firmly against the door, as if someone was to barge in at any second. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Shut up.”

“I- excuse me?!”

“Shut up.”

He doesn’t know why. It seemed right in the heat of the moment and he pulled her away. And now they were both inside a pitch dark closet, sharing a small space that could barely fit the both of them. His breathing calmed down, and his head thudded on the wall behind him once he threw it back. No one had seen them go in here. He made sure. “Dee…” He couldn’t see anything, just black. Pure black. “Why did you pull me in here?” His cool demeanor shattered into small little bits, as he stumbled over words and syllables.

“I-I just… Uhm. I don’t…” He was cut off by a sigh and he shut up this time.

Dark as all hell, with no ability to see anything. He felt two hands press down on his shoulders. “Oh, there you are.” He stifled a gasp when he felt their hands on him, cheeks burning hotter with each second that passed. “These are your shoulders, right?”

“Yeah.. yeah, that’s it.” He replied, voice shaky as he tensed up even more. The tips of his ear were turning pink, and for once he was glad it was dark in the room. He couldn’t imagine having to explain to (f/n) why he was sweating, face looking like a fire truck. They patted along his shoulders, gripping onto his arms and finding their way all over him. Cupping his cheeks, they tugged and pinched slightly.

“Im guessing this is your face..?”

“It is.”

They chuckled and moved to remove their hands. But his ones piled over theirs to maintain them where they were. “N-no.” He whispered. “Keep them here.” (F/n) hummed and did as he said, taking a step forward. He nuzzled further into their palm, exhaling deeply. They were now so close to each other, Dee could feel the body heat radiating off of (f/n). Although there was no light, they could feel his gaze like a touch. They pulled away.

“We should get out of here, Vitya’s looking for me. I don’t wanna make him worry.”

“Stop talking about Vitya. Vitya isn’t here. I’m here.” He husked, now managing to see (f/n) more clearly in the dark. The (hair-colored) beauty relaxed, eyes half lidded. “It’s just Vitya with you, isn’t it?” The question took both of them by surprise. (F/n) didn’t know how to respond, and Dee couldn’t imagine what he had just said. That was risky. Too risky. He could have apologized and let it go, but at this point he might as well pull through with it. “Vitya dedicating a song to you, Vitya inviting you to a party, Vitya and his bass skills, Vitya, Vitya, Vitya.”

He continued to confront them. “What about me? Why can’t you gush over me? I’ve been trying my absolute hardest for you to notice my approaches and nothing. How am I supposed to feel knowing that my best wasn’t good enough, and that some rando can win you over by doing his bare minimum? Huh?”

(F/n) blinked at the blonde’s outburst, mind clouded with so many thoughts at once they couldn’t focus on a single one. They listened to him ramble on, except their brain wasn’t absorbing any of the info he spat at them. Dee Shvagenbagen, antisocial know-it-all, and the most attractive person they’d ever met. Their body drove closer to him, itching to get closer. They’d been keeping their distance for him to not notice them falling for him. After all, he wasn’t interested in people like that. Or at least, people excluding (f/n). Maybe 8 months since she grew apart. And it was harder each day. Harder to not confess the way they felt.

Another step. And another.

And another.

They cupped his chin, pupils dilated completely. Whether it was from the lack of light, or from how close they were to him, they didn’t know. Possibly both. Dee’s rant came halting to an end, as (f/n) closed the space between them.

As they felt fireworks go off in their stomach, as they felt all nerves dissipate from their body, as they silently thanked a greater good for this opportunity.

As they pressed their lips onto his, pressing a stray hand flat on his chest. He felt them run their fingers around his hair, pulling of the hair tie to run their fingers through it. Pausing in between for breaths each time, Dee smashed his lips onto theirs, losing all control he might’ve previously had. He pulled away fro a brief second, enticing them with the promise of more. Only for him to push them back in a mere second, pushing the back of their head into the kiss. Long breaths, roaming hands and deep kisses. “I’ve liked you… Hah, for the longest time. Dee.”

“Me too…”

They clawed at his back when he forced entrance into their mouth, claiming every spot as his. Needless to say, Dee knew his feelings were reciprocated.

#metal Family #metalfamily #metalfamilyxreader #metal family x reader #dee x reader #dee metal family #metal family dee #dee metal family x reader #metal family dee x reader #dee shvagenbagen #dee Shvagenbagen x reader #dee #this took forever I’m so sorry #also kinda rushed because I didn’t wanna make you wait any longer

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booksanxietyandsports · 2 months

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Stephan Leyhe/Andreas Wellinger - "Quiet of the night." (fic)

well well well. what do we have here.

right after welle won the first four hills comp in oberstdorf this season i wrote like a thousand words, then completely forgot about it. i just discovered it again and in a lovely case of hyperfixation wrote the rest of it in about an hour, so do with that what you will. better late than never, right?

so as for the timeline, this takes place after andi won the first comp of the 23/24 four hills tournament. for the sake of plot they’re not roommates in this (although we all know they always share, but let’s just pretend they all got single rooms for the tour). even though it’s a rather quick and short one at 2.2k, i hope you guys enjoy it. as always, i’d love to know what you think and appreciate any kind of feedback <3

Knock Knock.

Stephan turns over in his bed towards the door, sheets tangling with his legs. The room is pitch black when he blinks sleepily, eyes protesting the unscheduled awakening. There’s someone knocking at his door, which isn’t an uncommon occurrence in the team hotel during the tour because someone always wants something, except it’s two at night and they only went to bed like two and a half hours ago. Stephan‘s brain is still muddled with sleep after the adrenaline crash that inevitably always follows a competition, especially one as electrifying as yesterday‘s. So, what on earth-

There‘s a third knock and Stephan squints at the door as someone gently pushes it open, causing a sliver of light from the hallway to spill into the darkness of his room. He can barely make out a silhouette when there‘s a whisper- “Stephan? Are you awake?”

Andreas.

Stephan sits up abruptly, every last trace of sleep gone. “Yeah,” he whispers back, which isn’t true at all given that Andi quite literally just woke him up but he’d rather fling himself off a hill than tell the younger that. It’s not like he minds, anyway, he’s got an open ear for all of his teammates, although maybe it’s a bit different where Andi is concerned. Stephan tries not to think about it.

Andi tiptoes into the room and closes the door behind him. Darkness falls back around them and for a long moment neither of them moves. Stephan looks in Andi’s general direction and waits for him to offer some kind of explanation, to start talking the way he always does without paying any mind to time, company or circumstances. After a full minute goes by without a sound Stephan starts to grow increasingly concerned. “Andi?,” he prompts gently, eyes searching the darkness for any kind of movement.

“Yeah, uh, sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up, it’s late, we’ve got training today and it’s stupid anyways, I’ll just-“

“Don’t you dare open that door, Andreas. It’s the middle of the night, what’s wrong?” Stephan hears Andi shift on his feet followed by the faint click of the door handle being released. The silence returns as the questions hangs between them, unanswered. Despite the odd situation, Stephan smiles quietly to himself.

“Stop biting your lip, Andi. It’s gonna be all raw and red on camera tomorrow.”

He hears Andi sputter over where he’s still standing by the goddamn door. “I’m not! It’s pitch-black in here, Stephan, you can’t even see me! How would you know that?”

Because I spend most of my time watching you. Because I could paint your face in a thousand different ways if I had just an ounce of talent.

“Because you always bite your lips bloody when something’s bothering you. Now come on over here and tell me what’s wrong, please.” Stephan sits up straighter as he hears Andi shuffle through the room, leaning against the headboard. The mattress dips beneath him as Andi sits down on the edge of the bed next to his stretched-out legs, which isn’t as close as Stephan would like him, but it’s better than the other side of the room.

He figures this is the moment they should turn on the lamp on his bedside table since they still can’t fucking see, but something about Andi’s behaviour stops him. This isn’t like the younger at all; to be so caught up in his thoughts and feelings that it drives him out of bed in the middle of the night. Maybe it’s got something to do with how young Andi was when he started into the whole world cup circus, but Stephan has always admired how good his teammate seemed to be at compartmentalizing. One problem after the other, brain turned off periodically to rest, then switched back on to work out the issues at maximum capacity and all of that with endless optimism and a quick smile.

So yeah, the more Stephan thinks about it, the more alarming he finds this entire situation. The least he can do is offer Andi the courtesy of keeping the lights off.

Not that it helps much. He can feel the tension in Andi’s body, every muscle coiled as if he’s preparing to make another jump from the hill. Stephan bends his knees a little, tucking them closer to his body in a silent offer for Andi to lean against them. He takes a deep breath and tries to prompt the younger into talking with an easy question.

“Did you sleep at all?”

Andi sighs. “Uh, not really. I think. Kinda been dozing on and off since we all went to bed but…time hasn’t really felt real tonight anyways. That’s so weird don’t you think?”

“What is?” Stephan’s eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to make out Andi’s face turned in his direction to look at him, eyes way too wide and awake for this time of night.

“This! Me waking you up at this godawful hour just because, what? I won a competition? Been there done that, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. And yet here I am and my body just doesn’t- it doesn’t-“

Andi cuts himself off with a frustrated sound, dropping his head into his hands and pulling at his hair. “My brain’s not shutting up, Stephan. It wasn’t like that after Lake Placid last season, right? What’s different now?” He’s desperate for an answer, voice breaking on the last word.

Stephan’s heart breaks a little, too, because Andi sounds tired. Utterly tired; the kind of exhaustion that creeps up on you after an entire evening of adrenaline and endorphins and riding the high of a victory. He puts a hand on Andi’s shoulder and just leaves it there, applying a bit of pressure to let the younger know he’s here. His heart breaks a bit more when Andi leans into the touch, instinctively chasing the comfort. “What’s different, Stephan?” Andi repeats quietly. “This wasn’t my first win since- since everything, and it’s not like it came out of nowhere. It’s been building up for a while, right? I’ve been doing great so far, I feel good, I-“ He stops for a second before dropping his gaze to the ground. “I think I’m scared.”

There it is. Stephan has started to rub soothing circles into Andi’s shoulder and back while the younger was clearly working something out. If there’s one thing Stephan’s learned in all the years he’s spent with Andi, then it’s that sometimes he just needed to rant. They’re different that way, Stephan supposes. Whereas he himself tends to work things out in the relative peace of his mind, Andi needs to voice his concerns. Contact, feedback, the weight of spoken words in a space to be able to see clearly. And if he needs to do that at two in the morning, then so God help him Stephan will be the one that listens.

“What are you scared of, love?” Stephan asks softly. Andi scoffs.

“I don’t know. Messing up? Disappointing everyone? It’s like…it’s like this victory comes with a price tag, you know? With conditions. The last few years nobody expected anything. I was the Olympic champion with the tragic injury, so getting back on track was the only task I had and nobody cared when I messed up. Every good jump was a bonus. But now people keep saying I’m back and then I went ahead and won the first comp of the tournament and now-“

“-now everyone expects you to win the rest as well.”

Andi deflates the second Stephan speaks the words out loud. His head drops forward, messy hair tickling Stephan’s arm. The older carefully moves his hand from Andi’s shoulder to his scalp, gently carding his fingers through the unruly strands. “I don’t know if I can do it,” Andi whispers after a few seconds of silence and lifts his head to look right at Stephan, eyes desperately searching for answers. Stephan holds his gaze.

“Listen, Andi. You don’t owe anyone anything – not the fans, not our coaches, not us. The only thing you owe yourself is to enjoy competitions like yesterday’s since you went so long without them despite always trying your fucking best. What you do is enough, Andreas. Every jump you pour your heart and soul into is enough, no matter where you rank in the end. This victory isn’t worth more than the one in Lake Placid just because it’s got Four Hills written all over it, alright? You could’ve given up long before you ever reached where you’re at today, but you never did. That alone matters more than whatever happens in the next few days. Because I know for a fact that you will fight for every point and if that’s not enough, then that’s not on you. I believe in you and so do the team and the fans and whoever measures your talent and worth by whether you win this damn tournament or not can go fuck right off.”

He inhales sharply after his monologue, which was admittedly longer than he’d planned. Andi stares at him, eyes wide and mouth open.

“Uh, so” Stephan finishes eloquently. “You know. Don’t worry too much.” He shuts his eyes briefly, cringing at himself internally. Way to ruin this, Stephan. You’re doing fantastic.

He looks back up when Andi snorts and dissolves into quiet laughter. He can feel a smile fighting its way onto his own lips because honestly, no one is immune to the sound of Andi Wellinger’s joy. It’s even sweeter when Stephan’s the reason for it.

Andi’s voice is breathless when he teases Stephan. “You say all that and end it with ‘don’t worry too much’? Really?”

“Well excuse me,” Stephan retorts, untangling his hand from Andi’s hair to put it on his own chest in mock offense. “I apologise for running out of sensible things to say in the middle of the night. If you’d like to register a complaint, I’m gonna have to ask you to do it at a reasonable hour.”

Andi giggles again, wiping his eyes with his hands. He looks back at Stephan then, tilting his head in such an adorable way that Stephan’s heart skips a beat or three. The silence stretches on for a while, the mood turning serious once more as Stephan practically sees Andi going over his words in his head.

One of us is gonna have to say something because if it gets any quieter, he’ll hear how loud my heart is beating.

Yet Stephan doesn’t break the fragile silence. Andi doesn’t, either. Instead, the younger shifts, turning to face Stephan properly with one leg folded under him while the other hangs off the bed, and pulls the older forward into a hug.

Oh.

Stephan wraps his arms around Andi’s waist instinctively because that’s just what his body is wired to do at this point. They’re usually in an outrun when this happens, but right now, as Andi is tightening his arms around Stephan’s shoulders and hiding his face in the older’s neck, Stephan would gladly never see an outrun again if it meant he could stay right here for the rest of his life.

They hug in a way that’s only really acceptable in the tranquility of the night, when the sole witness is the moon and the darkness swallows the thoughts of any consequences a touch like this might have. Time passes and while Stephan doesn’t know if it’s seconds or minutes or hours, he never eases the pressure around Andi’s slim waist. He’s unconsciously started to rub circles into the dip of it with his thumb and he doesn’t stop when he notices. Andi’s breathing is quiet and steady against the side of his neck. Stephan can’t help but smile when the tension finally bleeds out of the younger’s body.

“Did you mean it?” Andi asks after a while, voice little more than a whisper. “What exactly?” Stephan whispers back just as softly, tucking the other impossibly closer. Andi makes the transition with ease, laying almost entirely on top of Stephan, face still hidden against his shoulder. “Everything. That I owe my victories to no one but myself. That you-,” he clears his throat, a bit awkwardly. “That you believe in me?”

It comes out like a question and something in Stephan’s chest cracks a little when he hears it. Impulsively, he turns his head to press a soft kiss into Andi’s hair. “Of course I do, love. Never stopped. And I always will, no matter how the tour ends.”

Andi exhales then, a bit shakily but Stephan can feel him settle. He removes one arm from around Stephan to search for Stephan’s hand in the dark and holds on tight when he finds it. Stephan squeezes back, interlacing their fingers. Through it he takes everything Andi gives him; all the doubts and thoughts and uncertainty that overwhelm Andi’s infinite optimism only in the shadows of the night. Stephan knows that when the sun rises in a few hours, it’ll be like the clouds in Andi’s head never existed at all, because that’s just how he works. Stephan wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

Until that happens, he holds on tight to the boy in his arms.

Andi doesn’t go back to his own room that night.

#ski jumping #i’m actually scared #this was kinda rushed bc hyperfixation is a bitch i’m so sorry #i do really like parts of it tho so i hope you do too #no trigger warnings really??#maybe very mild ones like overthinking and pessimistic thoughts #but other than that it’s really hurt/comfort #heavy on the comfort #that’s so unlike me idk what i was on #sj fics #sj fanfics #ski jumping fanfic #fanfiction #ski jumping fanfiction #andreas wellinger #stephan leyhe #lellinger #lellinger fanfic

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leclerced · 4 months

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max is my ride or die i got into f1 a carlos girlie but i’m a max girlie for now and forever. he’s just so!!! i saw a picture of him out in public a couple weeks ago (never in my life have i seen an advertisement for f1 or like, brand sponsorships with drivers in my country) and i giggled so much i had to be dragged away im so unnormal about him (kinda weird now that i think about it but oh well im just a girl).

you know how there’s the whole scenarios of “fucking the english out of someone”. that but max fucking the dutch into his girl where he’ll only let her come if she’s spoken to him in dutch yeah i need him so bad

- 🌙

no its ok i buy redbull bc of him so i can get the cans w him on it 🤭 im only a girl. its good for the economy.

crying that’s a max thing to do and he would tauntingly say whatever he wanted her to repeat back to him until she did, every time she begs, he repeats the same dutch phrase back to her or says he can’t understand her until she finally says it and she can’t stop saying it

#ask #🌙 anon #i need max more than anything #i was going to bed thinking about max and peach and how i wanna write their storyline as kinda enemies to lovers #not really shes in love w him but he thinks shes his rivals annoying sister who happens to be super cute #and i thought of A Line or maybe The Line idk i was rushing to grab my phone to put it in my notes app #someone talk to me about max and peach #does anyone even read my tags #i just brainrot in them #thats what tumblr tags are for thats why they go on foreeeeeveerrrrr #sorry im tired i wont even remember this in the morning thats why i rushed for my notes app #so glad i checked tumblr too bc this ask is delicious and i’m going to write it into max and peach’s story for sureee

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makotoismyson · 1 year

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ayo why SPECTRA Chai kinda…😳

#hi fi rush #chai #hi fi rush chai #you’re all probably waiting for the /j…it’s not coming #whoo boy I’m gonna get blasted for this one arent I /hj #I’m SORRY but I’m also not #this moment was so short but there’s a goldmine of potential here #especially with the secret ending and how SPECTRA can come back #kinda wish there was a boss battle between SPECTRA Chai and the others but eh #Kale fr was like ah yes a new pawn he’ll be better than the last one #and then yeets him away like he’s completely useless #like sir do you or do you not want to have him serve you

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acesammy · 7 months

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Idk I’m just thinking about how chuck started as a stand-in for kripke, and de facto the writers on whole. Meaning that every plot contrivance from the writers really was an act of god in the canon of the show itself..

as much as I really don’t feel that strongly on the finale one way or the other, they reaaally should’ve ended the show with 15x19 because if chuck is no longer writing their story for his own amusement we as an audience should also not have access to the story for ours. Like they should’ve been able to completely break free of the narrative both in and out of canon. I think that’d’ve been cool

#Idk the whole chuck as the writer this is a reaaally cool concept that is very hard to pull off #and they fumble the bag on it LONG before the finale #but I think on a meta level ending the show the second chuck no longer has any say… that’s cool #but honestly I don’t hate the finale #deans death scene is so fucking Good that I can forgive the shoddy effects and rushed writing and old man Sam etc #This is probably incomprehensible I’m sorry #I’m dogshit at putting thoughts into words #but ALSO thinking about plot contrivances as acts of god:#sams heaven literally WAS manipulated for maximum hurt #I’m sure this has been written about time and time again as well I was just ruminating on it last night #and to be Frank; I actually kinda hate even entertaining the last 10 seasons as canon #mentally those are literally just fanfiction and I enjoy it! But it doesn’t matter to the /real/ story #djdjdjdj #Spn

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godheadjones · 11 months

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fic of Jughead and Tabitha where Tabitha maybe burns her hand on a hot stove or other kitchen item and Jughead heals her up

“Ouch!”

Jughead snaps his attention to his girlfriend, who’s clutching her hand and wincing in pain. He hurries toward her, grabbing her shoulder and gently turning her to face him. “Tabitha, are you okay?”

She nods, but he grabs her hand nonetheless, gingerly holding onto her. “Just a burn. I deal with them all the time at Pop’s. It’s no big deal.”

“I can clearly tell that you need help,” Jughead states, tracing the area around the burn with his thumb carefully. “I’ll get the bandages.”

He releases his grip after moving her to the dining table and placing her hand on the surface top. He quickly steps back into the kitchen to turn off the stove, waving his hand over the stovetop to make sure that it is in fact off.

Once the stove is off, Jughead walks over to the bathroom, opening the mirror and reaching for the first aid kit.

He hates to see Tabitha in any pain. She didn’t get hurt too much but sometimes, on rare occasions like this one, she would. She doesn’t talk about it when she is hurt, and Jughead usually has to pry it out of her, but she talks in the end, and he’s always there to support her.

Once he’s retrieved the first aid kit, he makes his way back to her and opens the kit. “This might sting a little,” he warns, although he’s sure she already knows.

With a wet cloth, Jughead dabs at the red mark on her hand. Tabitha releases a sharp breath. “Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe,” he comforts, moving extra carefully now.

She nods, still exhaling a few painful breaths but she calms herself.

“How’d you burn yourself anyway? You’re always so careful,” he asks, finishing up with the first step and pulling out bandages from the first aid kit.

Tabitha keeps her hand out and lifts it up so he can wrap it. “My hand slipped while I was wiping the stove down.”

Jughead smiles. “When did you get so clumsy?” he teases, the burn now fully covered.

“Shut up, Jones.”

He looks up to see her smiling, and he can tell that her mood has somewhat lightened up. “Okay. You’re all good now.”

Tabitha moves her hand towards herself and covers the bandage with her free hand. “Thank you, Jughead,” she says softly.

He leans forward to cup her face. "Of course, Tabs." It's all he can do to show his support now, let her know that he'll always have her back when she needs it, from the simplest things to the complicated ones. He just wants to be there for her, to hold her when she was hurting, comfort her as much as he can.

Jughead pulls her in for a quick kiss, which she returns softly. When they pull apart, Tabitha picks up her lips into a smile. “I’m guessing I’m off kitchen duty until this heals?”

#anon asks layla answers #layla writes #jabitha #jughead jones #tabitha tate #working on stuff i’ve wanted to for a while but haven’t had inspo for but now do #a little present time-line jabitha for you anon i’m so sorry it’s late i went on too many trips #finished this while doing boring stuff for work so end is kinda rushed so sorry #jabitha come home to me need to write about my beloved nerds in love more

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deus-ex-mona · 1 year

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g o o d n i g h t .

#very incoherent rant about my week in the tags; sorry for incoherence i hit my head earlier so b s #im just. so d o n e with this week. 100000% done i say.#on monday i was late to work by 20 minutes and had to stay behind for half an hour to make up for it bc the app we use to clock in suuuucks #and i also found out that i lost $40 of my salary bc of said clocking in app which. suuuuuuuuuuucks #though. this week had a weirdly low number of samples. which was. kinda nice ig since i managed to finish all my work before 7pm… but still.#like we managed to finish our stuff so quickly that we managed to watch bee movie together on tuesday………#mmmmmm i don’t remember much about what happened on wednesday though…..#but yesterday. oh g o d . yesterday. thursday. whateverday. g o d.#so the software to operate one of the [lab equipment] machines kept crashing everytime we tried to print results #regardless of whether there were any samples being tested with said machine at the moment. which. y’know #sucks on its own. but it also means that the tested sample had to be reweighed and every sample that came after it had to be reentered again #which was a m a j o r pain in the behind.#so like. after i reran the sample post-first software crash… the boss’s favourite employee freakin’ remote-accessed the computer and #he did the results thing. and crashed the software. while a sample was being analysed. and the entire monitor!!! went!!!! dark!!!! when he!!#so. i ‘calmly’ and ‘rationally’ rushed out to the office area to give him a piece of my mind.#which. may or may not have involved screaming at him and slapping him. it’s too bad that i slapped him so loudly that our boss heard/saw it…#but. um. she didn’t call me out to screech at me in return. she sent him into the lab area to settle his thing himself in fact. so. hm.#i guess i’m able to keep my job for another week. maybe.#it didn’t stop my coworkers from making fun of me for slapping the guy though so b s #anyways ig i got my just desserts today bc i walked straight into the side of the door of an in-workplace bathroom stall at full force #and i think i bruised the side of my head… what goes around comes around ig……#idek what i’m even typing anymore i blame my head hurty for this #inedible blubbering

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pigley4 · 2 years

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so i forgot to mention, i’ve arrived in sweden and there is wi-fi but i lost my apple pencil in the airport so i’m kinda screwed

#i’m so pissed off at myself #i was in such a rush to make the flight for no reason that i was careless and lost it #like i remember it coming off my ipad #and thinking #oh well it’s probably just in my backpack it’ll be fine #but it wasn’t #and when i arrived i checked how much apple pencils cost #bc it was a present from my grandma so i didn’t know #bruv they’re like over £100 #?!!?!#i mean i guess i shouldn’t be surprised #cuz it’s apple #but dawg i can’t afford that rn!#hopefully my parents will feel sorry for me and buy me a new one #since i kinda need it for school #but idk #i mean that’s like a major birthday present type of money #sure my grandma can afford it #cuz she’s properly middle class and lives alone #but my parents? idk man #anyways i’m pretty mad rn lmao #just gotta laugh through the pain #the point is i wont really be able to do any digital art for at least a month #and if i do it’s gonna look even worse than usual cuz i’ll be using my fingers #so yeah #i’ll probably keep posting just not art yk #and that’s like #my main thing #so i wont be posting nearly as much #but i’ll still be posting

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froggirltongue · 6 months

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For somebody who’s really fuckin into girls, I sure have fallen for somebody whos uh. not that.

#the toad goes croak #like up until i met them i was SO confident that i only liked girls this way #maybe its cause I haven’t met somebody as cool and genuine as them before #but gotDAMN am i down bad. i feel like i’m spiralling and i’m just gonna get more and more annoying so I’m gonna try and. not do that #just try and focus on being a good friend forst and foremost and try and ease up real hard on the flirty jokes #i’m either being very bold or very stupid by vagueblogging abt them here when i know they follow me #if you’re reading these tags hey how ya doin? sorry if I’ve been kinda a lot lately I’m doing my best to not be weird abt these feelings #i’m sure you have plenty of other people in your life who deserve your attention more than me so I don’t wanna ask for more of it #plus its only been like a month we’ve known each other I don’t wanna rush anything

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fushic0re · 5 months

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𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐓?

𝗗𝗔𝗗!𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 𝘅 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟖 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─ in which you and satoru finally have some alone time…except baby gojo is vigilantly watching for santa’s arrival.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ─ 18+ ONLY; MINORS DNI. SMUT; penetrative sex, trying to keep it quiet, getting caught. baby gojo being an especially cute cockblock.

꒰ ͜͡➸ 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆! 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒❜ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 & 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑! ♡

“TORU–” YOU PANT AGAINST YOUR HUSBAND’S EAR.

Satoru grunts in response. His large hands tighten around the meat of your thighs, his fingers leaving an indentation against your skin from his grip. His hips move with more vigor, pounding into you wildly as he loses every piece of himself to pull of your velvety walls. Each thrust draws him deeper and deeper into your heat, a feeling he missed oh so much. While fatherhood was the biggest calling of his life and his proudest accomplishment, he definitely missed the spontaneous aspect of his relationship with you–quickies in places you most definitely should not be having sex in, watching you cook and deciding then and there to bend you over the kitchen counter to have his way with you, being late to commitments because he decided to spend an extra hour or two in bed with you, the whole nine yards.

You were everything–a mother, the woman who birthed the first Gojo heir in years, an amazing sorcerer. But you were his girl before everything else. And now that your son was asleep after the sugar crash he had from too many cookies at the Christmas Eve party, it was prime time for him to remind you of just how much he loved you.

“Hah…shit–”

“Mama? Dada?”

Time freezes for a moment as do you and Satoru, staring at each other as your bodies stiffen as if remaining oh so still will make your son unsee the sight before his innocent eyes. You quickly snap out of it, yanking the throw blanket hanging from the back of the couch and wrapping it around you both. To the innocent eye, it looks as if you and your husband were just having a cuddle. Satoru follows suit, lifting his blindfold off to stare at his son lovingly.

“What’s up, little man? You should be sleeping that sugar rush off.” He chuckles, completely unphased by the fact that your son had just walked in on the both of you.

The Gojo heir rubs his sleepy eyes with his small fists.

“Is Santa here yet? Y-Yuuji said he would be here soon…” He mumbles, his little voice raspy.

You look at Satoru with wide eyes for a moment before nervously laughing as you pull the blanket tighter around your bare forms.

“No, baby. Santa doesn’t come until very, very late when all you babies are fast asleep. Go back to sleep, you have nothing to worry about.” You assure.

Your son is just about to walk off when his eyes fully register what is in front of him. Under the impression that you have been fully caught, you slap your husband’s chest.

“Do something.” You hiss.

“I don’t know, babe, this is kinda funny–”

“I told you too much sugar would mess with his sleep schedule! I told you!”

“Okay, but how was I supposed to know Yuuji was going to get him all Santa-crazed–”

“Because you are his dad! Dads know these things!”

“...You sayin’ I’m a DILF?”

“A..Are you guys c-cuddling without m-me?”

You and Satoru’s incessant bickering comes to a halt. Both of your hearts break at the sight of those big blue eyes welling up with tears, that pouty bottom lip trembling as he clutches his blanket for comfort. Just like that, your shared kryptonite had rendered you both fightless. When your son cried, angels cried for him. Satoru springs into action, pulling on his boxers and scooping your son up into his arms. You try your best to, but the ache and empty feeling in between your legs cannot be ignored.

“I’m sorry, buddy. Your momma wanted daddy all for herself because she gets jealous.” Satoru dramatically wails, hugging your baby and rocking him in his arms.

You gasp as you stare at him incredulously. Was he seriously throwing you under the bus? Turning you against your own son?

“Excuse me?!”

“Come on, let daddy take you to bed for some snuggles aaaaaalll by yourself!” He cries out once more.

With that, Satoru easily diverted the situation. He grins at you as he carries your baby boy back to bed, the latter falling asleep in the comfort of his arms as he does so.

“Bad mommy.” Your little one murmurs as his father descends down the hallway, leaving you floored.

Satoru Gojo would receive one, and only one, gift that year….blue balls. And not in the form of ornaments.

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #dad!satoru gojo x reader #dad!gojo #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fluff

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sttoru · 3 months

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.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. pussy slapping hcs w the jjk men (gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna) + small drabbles attached.

⋆ tags. dom!character x female reader (separate). smut. pwp. pussy slapping. dirty talk. further warnings before each small drabble. based on an anon request; sorry, tumblr fucked up ⋆ wc. 1.1k total

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

likes to see the facial expressions you make, so he always has you on your back when he does it.

is always teasingly slow. never rushes the process—even if you beg him to satisfy you properly.

the wet sounds your sopping cunt makes, is what he does it for. the view is something he finds rather endearing as well.

tags. mocking. edging. nicknames used; ‘sweetheart,’

“mph! ‘toru, please. . .” your legs shake with each slap to your cunt. satoru’s grinning from ear to ear, enjoying every little noise you make as his palm pats your pussy lightly. he’s going so slow—trying to get on your nerves by not allowing you to cum just yet.

“‘toru, please’,” satoru repeats your words in a high-pitched tone. he giggles at his own tease before planting a sweet kiss on the side of your chest, glazed over eyes still looking down at your cunt. your juices are coating his slender fingers and it takes every ounce of his strength to not lick them off. to taste the sweetness.

the slow slaps and the time interval between them drove you to insanity. the pleasure comes and goes—it’s torturous. satoru pouts as you pout, mirroring your actions with a shit-eating grin, “patience, sweetheart. just a few more, i promise. i’ll fuck you reaaal good afterwards.”

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

does it when you least expect it, because that man loves to catch you off guard.

he can be gentle or rough about it—depends on his mood. if he’s in a good mood, the little slaps are meant to stimulate your clit for your own satisfaction. if he’s in a shit mood, the firm slaps are meant as punishment.

tags. p in v. doggy style. condescending tones. nicknames used ‘princess’.

“what now, princess?” suguru murmurs right into your ear. his chest is pressed against your back, one hand slithering down your waist to your hip and between your legs. you’re whining, unlike before, when you had the audacity to hold back your moans and act like you didn’t like what he was doing.

“where’d that attitude go, hm?” suguru grunts, clicking his tongue. you’re bratty today, but he has the solution to fix that. he pulls his hard cock out of your pulsating cunt and leaves you empty. the tips of his fingers glide over your labia instead. you try to grind back against his digits, though was met by a harsh slap instead.

your body jolts at the unexpected slap. not a moment goes by and a second one hits your pussy lips firmly. your moans are muffled by the pillow you’re biting into.

suguru sees you struggle to keep your moans to yourself and chuckles deeply. his jaw clenches and his hand lands harshly on your puffy cunt once more, “keep that attitude up and i’m not stopping until you’re screaming for mercy.”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

does it gently, but is so so nasty about it. wouldn’t be surprised if you came just from him slapping your cunt a couple times.

loves to do it when you have your panties still on. that way he can see your wetness through the fabric.

tags. praise. semi-public/exhibitionism kinda. reader wears skirt. nicknames used ‘love, angel’.

“now now, love,” kento kisses the side of your neck gently, urging you to stay still. your back is against his chest and your legs are spread with your skirt flipped up. it’s an embarrassing situation—especially because you’re in his office with your lace panties on display.

the wet spot on the fabric only grows bigger and bigger with each gentle tap of your lover’s palm. kento’s slaps are painfully soft. he knows that it’s agonising for you, but it’s a complete turn-on for him, “you’re doing so well. getting so wet and ready for my cock, mm?”

your eyes roll back from the combination of dirty talk and praise. kento chuckles, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. his fingers come in contact with your clothed clit and it makes you squirm. each little slap made you needier. the sorcerer drags his fingers up and down your pussy before slapping it again through your panties;

“if you stay still for me, i promise i’ll give you what you want, okay, angel? for me?”

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

is pretty harsh when doing it. might use his cock to do so too sometimes.

loves to do it when he’s eating you out—gives a couple slaps in between, here and there. right on your clit too.

tags. cunnilingus. degradation. reader gets called ‘little girl’.

“nasty fuckin’ pussy. look at her,” toji scoffs once he pulls his mouth away from your messy cunt. he’s been lapping up your juices for a couple minutes now, the clear fluid smeared all around his lips.

the tip of his tongue drags up and down your slit—tracing circles around your clit. your hands grab onto toji’s black hair, gaining a deep grunt from him. he lifts his hand and slaps your pussy in response, “hands to yrself, little girl.”

you want to comply, but the extra stimulation your body got from that slap only urges you to grip his hair tighter. toji curses under his breath, removes his head from between your thighs and makes it seem like he’s finally going to fuck you—his leaking tip suddenly placed right at your entrance.

well, you guessed wrong. toji’s veiny hand wraps around the base of his cock, only to slap it down on your sensitive clit. you moan at the contact and he answers by doing it again, “hah. thought i was gonna fuck you? nah, ‘m not doing any of that until ya know y’r place.”

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

makes it nasty by spitting on your cunt before slapping it. loves to see the mess the fluids form on your pussy lips.

has you counting the slaps probably too. if you lose count or get it wrong, he’s starting over.

does it again and again until you’re in absolute tears.

tags. true form!sukuna. over-protectiveness. mention of murder. dacryphilia. spit. reader gets called ‘brat’

“what’d i tell you about hanging around with that lowlife?” sukuna grumbles, clearly pissed off. he spits on your cunt that laid open before him. he’d ordered you to wait for him on his bed with your legs spread while he took care of some ‘business’. which was killing that man who dared to speak with you.

“fuckin’ brat. you never listen,” sukuna continues. two of his hands hold your thighs in place, another one rubs his spit all over your aching pussy. he delivers a firm slap to your cunt once it’s coated in his saliva. you whine and whimper, but the king of curses could not care less.

you know what you should do; accept and count the amount of slaps. you do exactly that, though the harsh slaps are too overstimulating for your poor pussy, causing you to sob. sukuna’s eyes have a dangerous and sadistic look in them—clearly enjoying your tears and suffering.

the sounds of your wet flesh getting slapped repeatedly echoes throughout the room. your tears, whines and bodily reactions drive sukuna absolutely insane. he breathes heavily and stops the slaps, “on all fours. now. i’m not repeating myself.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #geto smut #nanami smut #toji smut #gojo x reader #geto x reader #sukuna smut #nanami x reader #toji x reader #gojo satoru smut #toji fushiguro smut #geto suguru smut #jjk x you

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lovebugism · 6 months

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ok reader x eddie having a casual conversation about sex, talking about what they're both into, leading to some smut??? just hearing what eddie's into sounds so hottttt (i imagine its filthy,, sorry)

ty for requesting! hope you like it!! — a failed date with eddie leads to a night in and several confessions (established relationship, mostly fluff, talks of sex but no actual smut 18+, 1.6k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson is a hopeless romantic.

Not because he loves like it’s breathing (though some would argue otherwise), but because his attempts to be affectionate with you are complete and utter failures.

He had a whole romantic day planned. A late lunch, a quick walk, and then sunset at the park. Honestly, it probably would’ve been a pretty metal date if it was any day other than this one — the biggest flood of the whole goddamn year.

You got to the diner just fine but had to rush back to the trailer in the rain since he didn’t have his van. Thankfully, it waited to outright pour until he got you home. Now, his leather jacket — which you’d used as a makeshift umbrella — hangs beside the opened window to dry.

The orange autumn breeze rolls over your bare bodies like silk (because, of course, an innocent shower after getting drenched in the rain couldn’t not end in getting dirty again).

“Was all this just a ploy to get me into bed?” you tease, tracing the freckles on his back with the tip of your finger. “’Cause you coulda just asked, you know? I would’ve said yes.”

Lying flat on his stomach, Eddie laughs into his folded-up arms. His deep brown hair brushes his pale shoulders when he turns to look at you. His smile is swollen and rosy and crooked.

“You got me, princess. Making my girlfriend walk in disgusting weather was all a part of my evil plan.”

“I wouldn’t say it was evil.”

“No?”

“Sinful, maybe. Sexy, even,” you joke with a lopsided grin. “But no, not evil.”

“Is that so?” he lilts as he rises on his elbow to prop his cheek on his fist.

You shake your head and roll onto your back. Your eyes flit to the spotted ceiling. A smirk blossoms on your lips. “I feel like evil would imply that it was hurtful in some way. And that thing you did in the shower felt way too good to be evil.”

“What thing?” the boy wonders with pinched-together brows.

You shoot him a look. “You know…” you hum vaguely, expectantly.

“No. I don’t, actually,” Eddie laughs, mostly at himself. “I’m kinda dumb, in case you forgot.”

“You’re not dumb, Eds.”

“Stop being sweet. You’re deflecting.”

You concede with a small huff. “That… That thing. With your mouth. When you pressed me against the wall and— please, don’t make me describe it, Eddie,” you ramble, then cut yourself off to whine.

He meets your grimace with a boyish grin. “I don’t know. I kinda like hearing you talk about it.”

“I’ll die,” you deadpan.

“You’re so dramatic.”

His words are harsh, but his pink smile is kind. He kisses you with it after — a smacking peck to the corner of your mouth that migrates rather quickly. He sprinkles his lips along your jaw and chin and neck.

That’s where he lingers.

Eddie finds your pulse point and goes a half-inch higher, just like he did while he was fucking you against the shower wall. You nearly came the first time he kissed you there.

He sucks at the delicate skin until he leaves another faint mark. The feeling of his tongue and teeth on your newfound sweet spot makes your toes curl. It has you moaning out loud before you mean to.

His lips audibly smack when he pulls away.

“That thing?” he wonders, smiling down at you like he already knows the answer.

Your thighs clench together. Your bones are made of mush. “That thing,” you repeat in the affirmative.

“Well, if we’re sharing secrets…” Eddie singsongs, then leans in all close like he’s about to spill the latest gossip. His fingers spread out along your bare waist, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I really liked it when you got all mean.”

You hadn’t thought much of it, then — when Eddie edged you on the counter with his fingers and laughed when you writhed.

You didn’t even let him make it up to you after, just sucked him off and told him he wasn’t allowed to touch you. “Don’t cum ’til I tell you to, understand?” you’d said. “Or I’m gonna get myself off, and you’re gonna watch.”

He was a good boy for you, though, and you let him fuck you in the shower.

Your nose scrunches in muted embarrassment. “I wasn’t being that mean, was I?”

“No. I mean, you could certainly get meaner…” Eddie assures with a shake of his head, then grins as his fingers crawl up your ribcage. You fight back a shiver. “Which I think could be preferable from time to time.”

“So, you want me to be more… dominant?”

He shrugs a pale, freckled shoulder. “Yeah. Sometimes. I like watching you get all dumb for me, don’t get me wrong, but every time you get a little mean, I almost cum in my pants.”

The blatant confession makes you go slightly stupid. You just nod at him, lazy and unblinking. “Yeah. I can do that. You know, if that’s what you want.”

“I do want,” Eddie hums, matching your sloppy head shake. His nicotine-coated breath fans across your cheek. “Very, very much.”

“But not all the time, though, right?”

“No. Not all the time. Just… sometimes— when the moment’s right or whatever.”

“Sure…”

Eddie’s grin broadens when you trail off. A faraway look glazes over your eye. His brows raise expectantly. “What’s that look for?”

You blink rapidly as you descend from the clouds. Shaking your head, you dismiss him. “Nothing. Nothing— I just… I did kinda like not letting you come right away.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Eddie concurs, suddenly breathless.

Your gaze flits to his, mousy and twinkling. Your hands fidget above the covers. “And I kinda wanna try letting you cum and maybe… not stopping…”

Eddie’s eyes go wide. His mouth opens to respond, but he forgets how to speak. He barely remembers to breathe.

“Is that… Is that weird?” you ask, forcing a laugh at his unusual silence.

“No!” he blurts, sounding much louder in the honeyed quiet of his bedroom. “No, that’s… That’s really hot, actually. Like, really hot.”

He zones out just like you had. The imagery of it all makes his stomach whirl. He’s done it to you a number of times — brought you to the edge and kept on pushing you over until you pushed him away. But he’d never thought about ever doing it to himself till now.

Actually, there’s quite a lot of things he’s done to you that he might enjoy himself if he thinks about it.

The thought alone opens a world of possibility in his wild, wild head.

“Can I tell you about something I was thinking about the other day?” he wonders suddenly.

Though slightly startled by the blurted question, you nod. “Of course.”

His gaze flits away from yours. His hand fidgets at your waist, fingers softly scratching at your burning skin. “You know my handcuffs? The ones I clip on my jeans sometimes?”

Again, you nod.

“Well, I— I have the keys, you know? So it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if we— you know— if we used them…”

“On me?” you press, brows pinched in distant concern.

Eddie shakes his head immediately. “No. I know you don’t like that.”

“So… on you?”

“Yeah. Maybe. If you want,” the boy mumbles, suddenly shy in a way you’ve only seen a handful of times — including earlier, when he was begging to cum in your mouth. “I just think it could be cool, you know? Like, you could tie me up and just… use me. If you want,” he repeats.

“Use you?” you repeat with a soft laugh.

He shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t— I don’t really care about getting off as much as I care about you getting off, you know? I just… wanna take care of you. Want you to take what you want.”

You open your mouth to respond only to find that all words have lost meaning. Your brain is a jumbled mess of alphabet soup. So you just nod, dumb at the very thought.

Eddie’s hand rises from the covers. His palm settles warm at your jaw. His fingers smell faintly of sex as his calloused thumb smooths across your chapped lips. “You could, like, rub yourself on my cock. Get yourself off on top of me,” he murmurs lowly to you, a quiet and crooked grin pulling at his mouth. “Wouldn’t that be metal?”

“Yeah…” you answer with a sigh, getting lost in the daydream right along with him. “Wouldn’t put you inside me at first, either. Not until you’re begging for it.”

His smile widens. “Exactly.”

“Then I’ll ride you until you make me cum.”

Eddie nods, egging you on. He tucks his face into your neck, if only to conceal how ardently he’s blushing. He hides his pink cheeks between your jaw and shoulder and kisses you where he knows it’ll drive you crazy.

“Mhmm?” he urges, muffled.

You sigh a faint moan. Your fingers curl in his wild hair. You press your lips to his temple and continue. “And I’ll let you come, too. Eventually… But I won’t stop.”

“Fuck,” he groans into your pulse.

“Not until you’ve filled me up three times—”

“Oh, fuck…”

You tug at his hair with a soft, stern touch you think you could learn to master for him. His lips click faintly when he parts from you. He blinks down at you with glassy chocolate eyes.

“Something like that?” you wonder, feigning innocence with a sweet-sounding lilt.

Eddie nods, sloppy and stupid. He stammers. “Yeah… Yeah. Some—Something like that.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things smut #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 6 months

Text

bad idea, right? | f. odair

masterlist

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

pairing: finnick odair x reader

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

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

word count: 4.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you get a name?!”

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

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

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

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

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

No. It couldn’t be—

“Finnick.”

********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, mum!”

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

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

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

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

Oh, fuck me.

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

“Finnick,” you greeted.

“Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, with a heavy heart, you said goodbye.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want you,” he whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s right.”

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

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

And, well, you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Turn around,” he said, and you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh god,” you gasped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harder!” you cried.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m go—I’m gonna come!”

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

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

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

*********

“Don’t leave again.”

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

“Finnick…” you sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

tags: @tayrae515

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

5K notes · View notes

jwonsite · 6 months

Text

e(nnn)-

(a no nut november series)

what will happen when two boys bet a ps5 if either one of them make it through no nut november?

heejake x fem!reader (y/n is a different y/n for each hee and jake!)

smut!! mdni!! warnings will be posted on individual works

masterlist!

authors note!!! this series will NOT be finished. i’m going to leave the heejake versions up but the other members will not be posted. i’m really sorry to everybody who looked forward to it 😞

prologue

“just sit on my lap, it’ll be fine” - lee heeseung

release date: nov 5th, 2023

synopsis: your video game obsessed boyfriend is determined to win a bet made with his friends for a new gaming console, all while depriving you of sex for an entire month. luckily for you, your boyfriend lacks any amount of self control

warnings: p in v, cockwarming, oral (f receiving), hickeys, grinding, exhibitionism (? the boys hear them over the mic😭), unprotected sex (wrap before u tap!!), lmk if there’s anymore!

“happy birthday, pretty boy” - sim jaeyun

release date: nov 18th, 2023

synopsis: while your boyfriend is trying his hardest to win a bet made by his best friends to not have sex for a month, you couldn’t help but give him a little show on his birthday

warnings: oral (f&m receiving), making out, 69 position, lingerie mentioned, idk what else to put help me

hi guys!! i am so excited for this series since it is my first one!! i hope you all enjoy and i apologize for the shitty titles i kinda rushed to get this out since i planned for it late :((

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caitlinbueckers · 8 days

Text

baby daddy.

paige bueckers x reader

3.2k

like guys . I don’t even know what to say rn . this is PURE fucking filth like yas there is some exposition in the beginning and its dialogue heavy but like ✋✋ just know this is fucking porn . So sorry for anon if this isn’t up to par but the wormz took over my brain and this is all i have to show for it . Love u so much for the idea tho <3

ANYWAYZZZ !!!! you and paige buy a strap. filth ensues.

MAJOR 18+ WARNING!!!!

“babe.”

it’s deadpan, borderline exasperated as you turn your head, meeting a wildly unimpressed expression from paige that makes you snort out loud, hand coming up to cover your mouth.

in your girlfriends hand, dangling from her fingers, is a dildo of some sorts, shaped horrifically in the form of an anatomically incorrect fist, and it’s almost impossible to keep your surprised laughter from bubbling out, taking a step closer with a look of awe.

“dude, you’re kidding,”

“babe, why are we even here? like, deadass i have two hands and ten fingers, this is so extra.”

to be fair, she had a point— those two hands and ten fingers had never done you wrong in the slightest, but this was simply an act of impulse, deciding just that morning after you guys had spent the time with each others hands down each others pants, you’d declared in a sudden rush of post-nut clarity, that you simply had to see paige in a strap.

which, was met with a bit of intrigue and then, obviously, because paige bueckers is competitive in anything she can consider herself good at, couldn’t help but interrogate you in outright disbelief.

‘so, what i’m hearing is that i’m not enough?” it was said in the tone she uses when her sarcasm is over the top, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you, slapping her arm.

‘baby, stop being so dramatic, oh my god.”

you’d kissed her to silence her delusions as to why you’d even brought it up in the first place, before explaining ever so gently that it was never a matter of what paige couldn’t do, and more so about the capabilities of what she could do, and that you promised it would be fun.

truly, she was on board after you’d told her that for some girls it was hard to use, so that, ‘if she couldn’t handle it, she could give up’ — of course paige would never back down from a challenge.

“you do have two hands, and i love them just the same. i just wanna try it, okay? is that okay?” you say it in your quiet, softest voice, and maybe you’re kinda being a brat because you know paige could never say no to you when you talk like that, or when you walk up to her, tracing a thumb against her cheek before pulling her down to peck her nose.

it’s immediate the way she chases your lips, presses a quick one to your mouth before she’s rolling her eyes, “anything for my baby, i guess.” but, she’s smiling, and that feels like more progress than before.

in the end, you guys end up picking something pretty beginner level— it’s only six inches, has a dual ended pleasure vibrator nestled in the crotch for the one wearing it and due to paige’s prompt request, it is in fact purple, which only makes you laugh at the excited shimmy she does as you both walk out, hand in hand, the black privacy sack swinging between her fingers.

“thought you were so against the idea?” you couldn’t help but tease her once you guys are in the car, music already blasting— you know all her music without really knowing it, but it’s definitely something by brent faiyaz.

“yeah,” she shrugs, “until i thought about getting to fuck you with it.” she says coyly, glancing over at you with a raised eyebrow before she’s pulling out of the lot, hand secured on your thigh.

you guys don’t really get to it that night, or the next day— instead settling for the slow, tired morning sex that you guys indulge in before her practice and then after, the languid, loving type of sex you both revel in for the evening when she’s back at the dorms.

no, for some reason, it isn’t until a week or so later that it suddenly comes up— and even then, you weren’t necessarily thinking about it too hard, not until the teams all at dinner. you, paige, KK, and aubrey all sit together, and it’s really in moments like these that you love to actually participate in conversations with the team— KK and aubrey had been one of the first to welcome you in with open arms after you and paige had begun dating, so you really felt most at ease with them, even if they could be complete idiots.

not like paige was any better.

it had started with someone making a tiktok, going around asking who they’d never let their son or daughter date— resoundingly, enough people said paige, which was both parts hilarious for you, and astounding for paige.

“bro! literally i’m like, the best girlfriend, that’s some bull.” she couldn’t help but scoff, even if she’s smiling just a little, “baby, i’m a good girlfriend, right?”

you purposely take a minute to answer, pretending to think about it until she grasps your thigh beneath the table, making you snicker as she squeezes, and suddenly, you know exactly the angle she’s playing.

“girl, i don’t trust you,“ KK snorts, making a face, “you’d probably get my kid pregnant or somethin’, like—“

KK’s words make paige snort, shrugging a bit, “shoot, i mean, no wonder they call me baby daddy.” she sticks her tongue out, entirely too immature for the setting of the restaurant, but it makes you warm all over anyway— you love her, even when she’s being childish, which is pretty much most of the time.

the conversation continues after that, and though you pay attention, laugh when it’s funny and answer when you need to, you can’t quite get that out of your head— baby daddy.

it makes you think.

it’s late by the time you guys get home, and true to paige’s fashion, the door is only shut and locked for a second before she’s behind you, pressing kisses to your neck and sliding hands up your shirt, humming quietly— “i’m a good girlfriend, yeah?”

it’s not often that paige asks for reassurance, mostly because she usually already knows, but it’s why it makes it extra special when she does.

“duh.” you whisper out, tilting your head back to grant her more access while she sneaks a hand into your jeans, forgoing the button entirely. her fingers are prodding against your clit when you let out a soft moan, your fluttering eyes only opening for half a second before they spot the black sack from across the room, your own hand gently grasping her wrist to still its movements.

“baby, why don’t we…?” your tilt your head in the direction, leaning your head sideways to try and capture her reaction.

surprisingly, she looks just as interested.

it’s comes out quietly, pressed to your temple, “get on the bed then.”

you don’t waste much time, stepping out of your jeans and your top until there’s nothing left but the black, simple thong that rests against your hips, crawling back against her purple sheets with an inquisitive look on your face while she pulled the thing from its plastic package.

“remember what you said earlier?” you say offhandedly as you watch paige’s muscles flex and tighten, looping the belt around her before she glances up at you, “which part?”

“baby daddy,” you can’t help but grin, tossing your head back against the bed, “just wanted to see how true that is.”

paige scoffs, and it’s obvious she likes that, plays into it even as she crawls onto the bed, looking down at you with a narrowed glance, “how true what is? that i could get you pregnant?”

it’s almost immediate the way your body flushes at that, the subconscious squeeze of your thighs together as you look up at her through lidded eyes, “mhm. is that bad?”

“i mean,” she’s smirking though, and her hand wraps around the strap on slowly, as if simulating it to be an extension of herself— it’s really fucking hot, “it’s sexy that you even thought about it like that,” she whispers, and you can practically see the confidence rising within her at the prospect, before her eyes flicker up at you. “wanna suck me off, ma?”

it makes something within you go haywire, and your mouth practically fills with saliva as if to prepare for it before you nod slowly, propping yourself up on your elbows before you stick your tongue out, paige’s blue orbs never leaving you for one second, before she’s sighing, hard under her breath, “fuuuck.”

she gets up on her knees, running her hands through your hair to gently guide your mouth down to the tip, her teeth teasing the bottom of her lip as you slowly slid the length into your mouth. it felt foreign, heavy on the tongue, but the texture was so lifelike, it almost felt like it was attached to paige.

“shit, baby,” she sounds out of breath as she thumbs your hair from your eyes, wanting to catch every dirty look you send up to her, mouth full and eyes watering, “god, you’re such… a slut.”

it must’ve been the strap or something, that had the endless string of dirty talk spilling from paige’s mouth, not entirely too uncommon and yet it had shifted the atmosphere completely. it felt lavacious, provocative, tantalizing even.

still, it makes the arousal pool between your legs, making you practically squeeze your thighs together again and again, chasing the feeling of some type of friction as paige pushed her hips up slightly, the tip only then touching the back of your throat and eliciting the first drop of a tear from your eye.

she notices, because she doesn’t miss a thing, and is slow as she pulls it from your mouth, eyes lingering on the string of saliva that connected your bottom lip from the tip of the strap.

she’s breathing heavy, blonde strands falling into her face, loose from the usual braid she kept her front pieces in as she grasps your jaw, “does that hurt?”

it doesn’t, but it makes you smirk that she even asks, shaking your head before you lean back now, head hitting the mattress as you open your thighs, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

“you can make it hurt,” you suggest, and paige lets out a slow exhale, a teasing grin on her smile as she grasps it by the hilt, “you’re driving me fucking crazy, y’know that?” the words are hissed down at you, spoken between her lips, chapped from how hard she’d been breathing as she rubs the tip of the now warmed, messily lubricated length against your cunt, eyes narrowed and focused as she drags it up, then down.

“you’re so wet,” it sighs out of paige as if she doesn’t even realize that she’d said it, a whine puffing past your lips involuntarily, ready to spit some type of urgency towards her, until she pushes in, finally, and you fucking gasp.

it was unlike what you’d really ever felt before— especially having never been with men or experimenting with penetration on this degree. it’s thicker than you expect, thicker than paige’s fingers combined, and your back arches upwards off the bed, right as paige grasps your hip to keep you right in place. “shh, shh— fuck, you’re so good, baby.”

“ohhh- oh fuck, paige—“ the words come out in a mess of noises, as you fling an arm over your face to try and focus on the comforting rub of paige’s thumb, the smell of her cologne, instead of the stretching, hot pressure that’s collected between your legs.

it only takes a couple moments before it doesn’t completely hurt, but the second that it does, you can finally blink your watery eyes open, letting out a soft moan at the furrowed eyebrows on paige’s face, her own lips parted as she carefully gives a shallow thrust into you, the subsequent friction of the dull, now audible buzzing of the vibrator on the other end of the dildo against her clit and it’s obvious.

it’s in the way she grunts, tongue darting out to seek attention to her bottom lip. “s’that feel good?” she’s panting already, and it makes your stomach swirl in arousal, nodding quickly as she gives another slow, but shallow thrust that sends immediate shivers up your spine, a rush of rampant pleasure up your stomach as you let out a groan, “more?”

it doesn’t take long for paige to find a rhythm— surprising considering her dancing abilities— and once she does, you can practically sense the confidence that radiates off of her. it’s in the way she wraps an arm around your thigh to hoist your leg up, higher, higher, until your cunt is on full display, and she’s leaning atop you, pressing wet kisses to your breasts as she drags her hips into you, each push making you both shudder out a moan.

“shit, baby— so fucking— so fucking wet. wan’me to fuck a baby into you, huh?” paige always has a habit of going on these fuck-drunk tangents, ones that usually send you careening over the edge in due time, but this— it makes you mewl into her ear, the thick, heavy weight of the strap punching into you, deeper than you or paige could ever reach, and it makes your hips jerk upwards, wanting more of it, all of it.

for half a second, you hoped, by some weird anatomical technique, she could get you pregnant.

“ohhh— fuck! paige, paige— pleasepleaseplease—“ what you’re begging for, even you can’t decipher, but it’s really just to make sure that she rocks into you like that again.

and she does— again and again, drool collecting in the corner of your mouth from how long your lips have been parted, and paige looks at you, delirious and flushed as she drags her thumb over your mouth, wipes away the spit and reaches between you two.

before you can figure it out, you feel her finger tracing the outside of your stretched cunt, the wetness that’s collected there as she lets out a wanton sigh, something more high pitched than what paige usually grunts out, “stretching you s’good, baby— fucking- take it, jus’ like that— fuck, wanna fuck you stupid, baby.”

it’s almost too much. your head presses hard against the comforter as paige’s hips push flush against your own, the final stab of the length being inside of you makes your head swim, your body acting upon it’s own accord as your thighs, shaking, squeeze around paige’s hips, your stomach flexing and jumping as paige gives up whatever bit of composure or control she has left, before she’s quick to fuck into you without a single strand of resistance.

it’s hot, heady, and the sweat that collects on the surface of your skin is almost like a sense of accomplishment as her face falls into your neck, your thighs pushed impossibly high to give her the best angle, as she ruts into you. the slight curve of the dildo somehow gives a direct angle to your g-spot, and it punches a shout out of you, one that’s followed with a crying whine that even you knew was bound to get you both caught.

“fffuck— shhh- shut the fuck up—“ her mouth is on your neck in an instant, other hand quick to clamp over your mouth, but the friction against paige’s clit has her bottom lip quivering, struggling to close as each of her gravelly, breathy moans launch right into your ear, and it’s clear that she’s being greedy, grinding the strap into your cunt for the effort of chasing her own high, and it’s fucking sexy.

this deep, you can almost feel the fucking vibrator, and it reduces you into nothing— fingers twine into paige’s hair, sweaty and sticky, as she fucks into you with reckless abandon, the bed frame squeaking in protest, your cunt wet enough that you can fucking hear it, can feel it drip onto the bed below, feel it coating the sheets and paige’s thighs and you think she’s about to orgasm with how quick her breath has gotten, how shaky her hips are with each incessant thrust, like an earthquake pulsing through your body and it makes you sob, because it feels so fucking good, and paige is so deep, you can feel her everywhere.

“wanna cum inside of’you— ohmyfuck- please, wanna fuck my babies into you— iloveyou, so, fucking- so fu-ucking sexy, baby, fuck.”

it’s all gibberish really, a promise that makes you turn into a pile of mush, because you can feel your cunt tighten around it— delusionally, you imagine paige can feel it too— because even her declaration of love is enough to send you flying over the edge as your legs tighten around her hips, the vibrator nestled deep against paige’s clit until she’s coming too, and it’s a glorious thing to hear— ripping from her throat in a cacophony of throaty groans and whines that mimic yours, only deeper, grittier.

she thrusts into you, sloppy and out of control until you can feel her release on your cunt, spread against your thighs, the dull vibration now pressing hot and wet against you, so much so that it makes your body flood in aftershock, pleasure wracking through you in earnest as your body twitches and jumps, every embarrassingly high pitched noise ripping from your throat, as paige’s go muddled and unintelligible against your neck.

it’s like a cathartic release of sorts, leaving you feeling boneless and jellied in the wake as you slowly return to your senses, fucked out and exhausted as you try to experimentally move your hips, but the soreness between your legs is almost unfathomable.

“shit—“ you hiss as paige finally lifts her head, her own hand slow to guide the strap from your abused cunt, and it’s clear by, not only the tired, almost loopy smirk on her face, but the redness in her eyes, the wetness coating her lashes, that she’d enjoyed herself as much as you had— and while sex between you had always been mutual, it wasn’t often you got to see her fully release like that.

“was that good, hm? did i do okay?” she’s always quick to look for approval, her hand coming up to brush the tears from your face, to pepper a light array of kisses against your lips, chapped and puffy, as you let out a tired laugh, “fucking duh, that shit was… so hot,” you trace her blonde strands, plastered to her forehead, away from her face, “don’t think i’ve ever heard you sound like that.”

it makes her cheeks red, eyes rolling with a scoff, as she lets out a quiet laugh, already trying to play it off as cocky instead of flushed, “well- yeah, ‘cause, i was watching you take my dick.” you slap her arm weakly with a snort, wincing at her usage of words, “ew, you’re so gross.”

“and you’re so pretty,” she counters, before pressing a quick kiss to your mouth.

you both don’t really try to address the fact that there was probably no way you’d both been quiet enough to not at least alert one of the girls, but you ignore it anyway.

besides, it’s only KK that ends up putting you both in a group message the next morning, sending a string of angry emojis and a text that says, ‘bye. im moving rooms’.

you both laugh, because you know she’s not, and more so, you all three know it wasn’t the first time and definitely not the last.

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #writing asf #paige bueckers #smut #wlw #still feel like i could get even worse

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