#I’m such a slow writer I’m sorry y’all

[keys-hellscape-1020]

You’re a healer, not a fighter. And yet…

Enjoy more stitch y’all sorry it took me so long. Also the title for this is SO bad I’m so sorry.

Platonic!141 x Medic!reader

Tw: Canon typical violence, cursing, gore, blood, Background character death, explosions, grenades, heavy smoke, reader is dissociating, implied that reader is having a panic attack, military inaccuracies, light angst, hurt/comfort.

~

You hate, nay despise, when you get separated during missions. If history holds true, and it always does, it won’t end well.

You are currently stuck in a small room, well stuck is a strong word as you do have 2 possible exits, it’s just that neither is very promising.

The slightly more promising of the two is a small rectangular window on the other side of the room, about 6 feet away. You’re not sure if you could get your torso through, and even if you did, if the 5 story drop didn’t kill you the enemy that was swarming the building certainly would.

The other exit was a hallway, leading back the way you fled from. You were crouched in a corner that bordered the door, gripping your gun tightly. There was no cover in the room, simply beige walls and that dammed window.

Suddenly a loud noise crackled from your comms, causing you to fumble to quickly turn it down a few notches. “Stitch! Stitch are you there? We almost have the case!”

You shuddered in a breath, carefully watching the door as you lifted one hand up to your radio to respond. “Sounds good Soap. I’m currently pinned on the 5th story, no visual on the enemy.”

“Stitch do you have any way to get out of there? We are pushing on 7th story.” That was Price, you could hear the sounds of a firefight in the background.

“I’ll find a way around.”

“Copy that, repo quickly.”

You carefully came out of your corner, crouching near the door you grabbed the doorknob, quickly flinging the door open.

The moment the door opened it was filled with bullets. You ducked behind the wall, grabbed a grenade from your gear pulled the pin and hoped.

When you heard a loud explosion paired with a choir of screams you leapt into the doorway, your gun posed in front of you.

You quickly took care of the few enemies you could see between the smoke and rubble. After a moment of no movement you moved forward to the rubble.

Crouching down you looked at the one solider who was still alive from your assault, half buried under rubble. He was a big fucker.

“Fuck off.” He growled at you as blood ran down his face.

You assessed him with a critical eye. His injuries would prevent him from moving very far. If you moved all weapons away from his reach he wouldn’t be a threat. That is assuming he lives.

You leaned over him to grab his sidearm from its holster on his side. As you leaned over he grabbed your arm with one hand and your shoulder with the other.

In any other circumstances he would’ve been able to break your arm, but he was injured and you were on high alert. You quickly tore his side arm from its holster and drove it into the side of his head, knocking his grip off of you.

Pointing his gun at his forehead you growled, “I am showing you mercy. Do not make me regret it.”

Breaking you out of your focused state was your radio, crackling to life loudly on your chest.

“STITCH! DON’T- THE EMEMY- TRAP”

The enemy used your shock to his advantage, grabbing your elbow and attempting to pry the gun from your grasp. You however were still faster despite your shock. You ram you head into his, causing him to let go of your elbow. You then pull your knife from its sheath and drive it home in the side of his neck.

With his blood staining your hands you turned to respond to your radio, ignoring the enemy’s gurgling in the background.

“What about the enemy? Do you have the case?” You asked, concern growing in your chest.

“STITCH” That at least you could tell was Price.

“Captain? Captain what’s going on?” You asked frantically, you had to fight the urge to run to them. If things were going wrong getting yourself hurt would not help anyone.

Suddenly your radio was full of very loud static. You fiddled with the channel, hoping it was just a technical error, but the longer you tried to get a connection the more you lost hope that it was simply a technical error.

You feel the blood drain from your face as the reality of the situation hit you. Your boys were captured. You quickly switch your mic off. Damnit.

Alright think. Your boys still have to be in the building, there’s no way they got them out already. You know they were heading to the 7th floor. The enemy will most likely be taking them up to the roof to lift them out. You just had to intercept them in time.

That is assuming they’re not dead.

But there is no time to think like that. They can’t be dead. If they’re dead you’re going to drag their sorry asses back to the living world and kill them again.

You quickly look around in the rubble, there has to be something here you can use. The corpse of an enemy solider catches your eye. They’re about the same build as you and while their uniform is splattered in blood it would do the job well enough.

You quickly pull on their jacket and vest along with their helmet. You could only hope that would be enough, you had to move.

————

You found the stairwell on the 5th floor, once you executed your plan you would have to move quickly or face loosing your boys forever.

You quickly started climbing the stories, you keep marching forward undisturbed until you got to the 8th story, when you were met with two guards.

“Who the fuck are you?” One of the guards shouted at you, pointing his gun at your head.

You quickly raised you hands in the air, it was vital they thought you one of them. “We- were attacked. 5th floor. Everyone is dead.” You croaked, forcing tears into your eyes and tightening your throat.

The two guards looked at each other, back at you, then lowered their guns a few inches.

“Where on the 5th floor was this and when?” One guard questioned, narrowing their eyes at you.

Fuck. You thought it was on the western side but you couldn’t be sure. No more that 10 minutes could’ve passed since it happened, but how could you be certain?

You couldn’t be, you just had to take a guess and hope you were right. “Western side.” You shuddered, hoping you weren’t overdoing your acting. “It- it just happened. No more then 10 minutes ago.”

“We just lost contact with a group on the eastern side. You know anything about that?” The guard shot you a suspicious glance. The other one fiddled with their trigger, glaring at you.

Fuck it.

You grabbed the one who was fiddling with their trigger and pulled them in front of you, using them as a human shield against their friend who sprayed a wave of bullets at you on instinct.

You pushed one guard into the other, and while they were reeling from the shock of having their friends mutilated corpse pushed into them you grabbed your knife and rammed it into the side of their head, aiming at the lisp of their helmet and angling upwards. So much for the plan.

There were footsteps coming down the stairwell, you had to act fast. Quickly you stash your knife in its sheath before pulling out your gun and firing it at the entry to the 8th floor, shouting expletives.

A team of 6 rounds the corner on high alert, they’re looking where you’re shooting and not at you, good.

“They went that way!” You shout, gesturing towards the door with a nod of your head.

“Move!” The leader barked, rushing towards the door. You pressed yourself to the wall, watching as they filed into the empty floor.

Once the coast is clear and the last of the enemies are through the door you turn around to creep carefully yet quickly up the rest of the stairs.

You manage to move up the next two flights of stairs without difficulty. You make your way to the floor right below the roof and listen carefully, your ear perched right up against the door.

You are met with the sounds of very angry, very Scottish yelling. You let out a shallow sigh of relief. Just as you suspected your boys are still in the building, now the hard part. Getting them out of it in one piece.

You wait at the door a moment longer listening for any clues, you fail to hear any coming from beyond the door, but you do hear one from above.

Carefully, and ever so slowly, cracking the door to the roof open, you are met with exactly what you expected. A helicopter is slowly descending to the platform on the roof, surrounding said platform is at least 5-8 enemy soldiers.

While not great you can work with these conditions, and that’s what you plan to do.

Not that you have much of a choice.

————

You quickly run to the floor they’re holding your boys and in a moment of fuck-it-I-have-nothing-to-loose (you’re lying to yourself you have everything to loose), you charge in, slamming the door to the wall.

You immediately stand at attention, and direct your eyesight to the man you hope you are correctly assuming is in charge.

When no bullets start firing at you you realize they are waiting for you to speak.

“Sir!” You bark out. “The heli is waiting on the roof sir!”

An old, short man turns to focus his eyes on you. You feel the cold sweat gathering on your neck as he fails to say anything, you swear that in the moment you could feel him cracking open your chest and feasting inside. Discovering all your secrets, uncovering all your sins.

Then he speaks, “bout damn time! Have the rest of your team come down. Escort these damn prisoners the fuck out of here!”

You turn to report to the rest of your fake team when a sense of dread hits you like a cold water ballon.

The messenger they would be sending. To alert the old fucker about the heli landing. That you already told him about.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!!” You hiss out quietly to yourself, two seconds away from stomping your foot and pouting like a child.

Your panic is cut short however when the door to the roof opens. You quickly snap to attention as the solider heads towards you, fixing you with a scalding glare.

“What are you doing?” They question. You feel like they are a priest, pulling all your sins out of you one by one.

“I’ve been assigned to guard here, on account of the enemy solider running amok.” You say stoically, puffing out your chest in a crude imitation of a loyal solider, proud to be guarding their commander.

The other solider briefly stares at you, before gesturing for you to get out of the way. Fuck there’s nothing you can do. Any attempt at taking them out would surly be heard. Fuck it- there’s nothing you can do.

You step aside.

————

It feels like a lifetime as you wait for a sound, a whimper, a pen dropping, an indication of what your next move should be. It feels like a lifetime as suddenly the door you’re standing next to bursts open.

You are guided by instinct as you fire a bullet into the head of the solider who had opened the door. You duck low, pull the pin on a grenade, and throw it into the room.

You are shaken by the proximity of the explosion, and your ears are ringing fiercely. You push forwards anyway, and once you are well hidden by the smoke in the room you duck behind the remains of a pillar. You hear movement and you quickly peek out form behind it, firing wildly. It is only another moment before the smoke begins to clear enough that you can see.

You glance around cautiously, and see that every solider in this room is dead, remarkably there are fewer corpses then you expected. The only option for where your boys could be is behind a door on the other end of the room.

You can hear yelling coming from it.

You can hear footsteps from behind you.

You slam the door behind you shut, amazed it’s still on it’s hinges. You grab a chair and shove it beneath the handle. You hope that buys you enough time to get your boys out because otherwise you’re doomed.

You approach the door, your gun posed in front of you, and kick.

The door holds.

You kick again.

The doorframe splinters under the force with a shrieking groan and the door swings open.

You are met with the man who you had addressed before, holding a pistol to Price’s head. All of your boys are in the room, looking like they had been thrown in haphazardly, their arms tied behind their back and their legs held together by zip-ties.

You creep one foot into the room before the old fucker shouts out, “Stop! One more step and I blow his brains out!” As he speaks he kicks Price, not hard enough to send him to the ground, but he still lets out a small grunt of pain.

“Hands off him ye’ wanker!!” Soap shouts out from one side of the small room. He pulls against his bonds with a groan, but does not accomplish anything.

Suddenly a loud shout and a bang is heard from the farthest door. You are forced to turn around, your gun held high, as you hear the enemy continue to struggle to get in.

“You’ll be dead soon. Surrender and maybe I’ll go easy on-” suddenly his speech dissolves into a blubbering mess of groans and hiccups, all began by the distinct sound of metal sinking into flesh.

You whirl around, panicked, only to see your Captain standing over the fluttering body of the enemy commander, holding a small pocket knife.

He glances at you over his shoulder before speaking, “Hold the door, I’ll get them out.”

You do as he says, moving to crouch behind a pillar, gaze trained on the door.

“Sir,” you call out over your shoulder, “enemy heli on the roof.”

Price makes a noise of acknowledgment and quickly crouches down next to you behind the pillar, an enemy gun in his hands. You barely notice Ghost, Soap, and Gaz moving to shelter on the other side of the room before the door bursts open with a sense of finality.

————

It’s nothing short a blood bath, a mess of bullets and gunpowder framing the centerpiece of organs and body parts. Bone fragments, and limbs, and cries of pain and pleas to merciless gods. It feels like both a century and a moment before soldiers stop flooding into the room.

Price motions for you to move forward, and gestures towards your belt silently. A smoke grenade. You nod in understanding and pose right behind a door, a smoke grenade in your hand. You glance over your shoulder briefly, checking that all your boys are in place.

With a confirmation that they’re ready you pull the pin on the grenade, shut your eyes tightly, and throw it. Once you hear the smoke dispense you desperately push forward.

It feels like a fever dream, moving through smoke and cries of pain. You feel like you’re watching a movie, a compilation of photos as you feel yourself pull the trigger again and again and again. Body responding before you can even think to. You feel every movement so intensely, and yet not at all. Like a puppet you react to your instincts, watching your boy’s backs. Making sure they stay safe. By the time the smoke clears and you’re ready to move to the roof you swear you can feel yourself swimming in blood. You can feel it creeping up your shoes, your shins and your knees, you hips, up and up until it’s entering your throat and your nose- suffocating you- you can’t breathe-

“Stitch?” You’re forced back into your body by a firm hand on your shoulder. Turning your head you see Gaz standing next to you, somehow managing to pull a small, kind smile onto his face. “We’re almost out.” He soothes kindly.

You swallow the blood in your throat before nodding firmly. “Right. We’re almost out.”

————

It was surprisingly easy to take control of the helicopter, but you suppose you should have expected that. Once they’d heard the shooting and explosions beneath their feet they would have almost certainly abandoned their post in favor of helping their allies. It doesn’t truly matter to you though, their lives ended all the same.

After busting through the door, that they hadn’t even bothered to lock in their rush, it was simply a matter of taking out 3 soldiers and the pilot. A laughably easy task considering what you had just accomplished.

You leaned back in your seat on the helicopter heavily, resting your head back against the side of the beast. You feel your weariness in every bone in your body. You don’t think you’ve ever dealt so much death in such a short period of time. While you were no stranger to the feeling of taking a life, you took less than the average solider. You focused on mending, not breaking, whenever possible.

You supposed that today mending life was not in cards as much as tearing it apart. You wonder if you have what it takes to be a solider, if you break at the first sign of difficulty.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by a firm hand on your knee. You open your eyes and sit up to be met with the sight of Soap’s big blue eyes staring at you in concern.

It’s takes you a moment before you notice that he’s handing you something, his field journal. You take it with a confused glance, but he mearly gestures for you to look inside.

You look at the page he was holding open, it contains many small doodles, that despite their small size are still remarkably well done. You see doodles of Ghost and Gaz, who are sitting across from you. He’s sketched how they currently look, Gaz with his head resting on his fist as he stares at the clouds racing by. Ghost as he leans back, his arms and legs crossed.

What really draws your attention though is a question, messily scrawled beneath the doodles. Next to it is a stylized, cartoonish drawing of you, surrounded by several hearts.

The question reads, “You alright hun?”

You look up at Johnny and he blinks at you a few times before suddenly startling, like he had forgotten something, and sheepishly handing you a pencil.

You scrawl down right below Johnny’s handwriting, “I’ll live. You?” You hand his journal back to him, and watch as he scrawls down his response.

“Bit shaken, thought I was done in for a second there. At least until you stepped in <3” Next to the heart he’s drawn a goofy kissy face, equipped with his signature Mohawk and all.

Johnny and your’s silent conversation is cut short by Price shouting over the sound of the heli from up by the cockpit, “We’re landing in 2 minutes!”

“Roger that Cap!” You yell back, handing Johnny his journal back with a ruffle of his Mohawk. He gawks at you in playful insult while you go about making sure you (and your boys) are prepped for landing.

————

Once you’ve got both your feet back inside base exhaustion hits you like a tsunami wave. Now that you’re certain you’re safe the adrenaline is fading like water out of a balloon. Despite the fatigue festering in every part of your person, you’re not in bed. Instead you’re in the armory, cleaning your gear.

You want nothing more than to sleep, but it’s routine for you to make sure all of your duties are accomplished first so you can sleep well. You’re silently taking apart a pistol when you hear footsteps approaching the armory, knocking you out of your thoughts.

It’s only a moment before Price walks through the doors, surprisingly enough he’s not carrying any of his own weapons.

As soon as he sees where you’re sat on one of the benches he B-Lines to you, approaching with a speed and purpose that you’ve only seen him use on missions. The adrenaline from the mission must still be in his system, you muse. He’s been in this industry long enough for it to make sense.

“Go the fuck to sleep sergeant. The actual hell are you still doing awake?” He barks as he approaches you.

“Will soon sir.” You respond nonchalantly. “Just cleaning my gear first.”

He guffaws like it’s the most foolish thing he’s heard all day, (which says a lot considering he has gotten captured today) and gestures for you to scoot over.

You do so, slightly confused by what he intends to do. Once you’ve made room on the bench he sits down next to you and grabs your vest. As he lays it on his lap he goes through the pockets systematically, making sure the vest is perfectly up to code.

As you observe him you’re slightly surprised by his actions, you imagine he must be wanting to go to sleep after the day he’s had.

“You don’t have to help me sir.” You say carefully, tip-toeing around his grumpy outward appearance.

“A good leader always makes sure his soldiers are taken care of before himself. Now finish cleaning that pistol so we can get the fuck to bed.”

————

With Price helping you it didn’t take long for you to finish and finally head to bed. You could feel your feet sticking to the ground with every step, and it took you twice as long as it normally did to walk to your barracks from the armory.

As you approach your door you notice a slumped figure next to it, causing adrenaline from the day to start kicking back up inside you. Feeling your heart start to hammer, yet not having the energy to do anything about it, you continue to approach leisurely.

As you get closer you recognize the balaclava and all black clothing that clings to a large frame. Ghost. When you finally stand next to him you nudge his hip with your foot.

“Come on big guy.”

He blinks up at you wearily, but starts to stand all the same as you unlock your door. You walk in and throw your boots and jacket off as you approach your bed, little care for where they end up.

You flop down on your bed, the scratchy blankets and thin military mattress feeling like paradise after all you’d been through. When you see ghost’s shadow approaching out of the corner of your eye you roll over, facing the wall.

You feel Ghost lie down on your mattress and sling a heavy arm over your waist as you both settle down into a deep sleep.

It had been a hard day, but you would do it all over again for your boys.

[etherealphosphor]

I apologize for such a long delay on my Dottore fics! I’ve been really struggling with school, motivation, and some other stuff too lately.

For anyone who’s waiting on them, I’m so sorry </3

(I’m not on hiatus! Still working, just very.. very slowly!)

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

what friends do | f. odair

masterlist

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

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

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

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

word count: 11.7k

Mid-Autumn was closely approaching District Four.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mind if I sit?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

Finnick Odair.

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

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

That was what everyone made him out to be.

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

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

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

"I'm Finnick, by the way."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**********

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

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

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

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

Finnick was very much a gentleman.

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

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

But there was more to it than innocent adoration.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Look at thi—"

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

Damn that stupid seashell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I think..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed.

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

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

"Something on your mind?" Finnick asked suddenly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sounds pretty convenient, came an abrupt thought.

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

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

"Thinking about anyone in particular?"

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

How did he keep doing that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who could've guessed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Better?" he asked.

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

"Anytime."

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

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

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

How could he?

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

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

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

"Stop moving."

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

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

His hold on you became stiff. Completely frozen.

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

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

"Fuck," he breathed out.

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

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

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

"...Oh," you whispered.

"Yeah," Finnick said. "Oh."

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

As per usual, panic wreaked havoc in your mind.

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

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

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

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

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

Finnick was silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A wave of chills ran down your entire body.

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

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

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

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

Finnick murmured your name.

"Yes?" you managed to whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes," you sighed almost immediately.

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes,"you practically whined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The moan you let out was positively filthy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded fervently.

"Say please first."

"Finn," you whined in frustration.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is what did it for you.

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

"Taking it so well."

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

"Such a good girl."

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

"You okay?" Finnick asked softly.

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

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

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

You pushed yourself from his lap and pivoted to face him

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

"Hi," you whispered.

He smiled. "Hey, stranger."

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

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

Finnick tilted his head slightly. "Shy thing."

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

"Feeling better?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then came the explosion.

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

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

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

You stayed like this for a few seconds.

"So big," you gasped against his lips.

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

"Never."

This was so not what friends did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come inside you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were gone.

"Oh fuck!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a new moon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"For an entire hour?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you too."

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

...roll credits

[blackwidownat2814]

Steal My Thunder (T.Owens)

Pairing: Tyler Owens x female reader, Tyler Owens x shy!reader, Tyler Owens x insecure!reader

Word Count: 462

A/N: Welcome to my first Tyler Owens fic! I was throwing fic ideas around before I even saw the movie. I watched several interviews and other stuff on YouTube and took notes even. Then after seeing it the third time, I started working on this story. I don't anticipate this being a real long story, but I also will be a little slow to update because of work or writer's block or working on a crochet project I really need to finish. What I'm really saying is please be patient with me. Secondly, like in my other works, I'd planned to make this with a plus size!reader in mind, but I decided to go with insecure because I want to try and be a little more inclusive. Also, unless otherwise stated, my readers are always female readers. Lastly, I'm already working on Chapter 1, so keep an eye out for that. However, if you really like this, please let me know and I can tag you in future updates. And as always, I will be crossposting this to AO3. If you see this story anywhere besides AO3 or Tumblr, it's stolen Kthxbye! PS: Thanks to KJ & Jordyn for their help in beta-ing and title/chapter ideas! Love y'all!

Prologue

You were a Lead Meteorologist for the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.  You should not be handling school age tour groups.  You were just about DONE with being treated like a secretary.  The rest of them thought that just because Kate was gone that they could go back to treating you like they did before her.

You were quiet, shy, and someone whose love language was acts of service, so you loved to help people out.  The problem was that your co-workers abused that part of you.  They asked to lead the school groups, bring everyone coffee, put together packets for meetings, etc.  Complete nonsense…and you were done.

It was then, as you mentally typed up your resignation, that you received a serendipitous call from Kate herself.

“I believe the sayin’ is ‘No man left behind’.”

“You’re not an US Army Ranger, B.”

“Yeah, well…”  You trailed off, not wanting to burden your friend with your issues.  Kate always told you that it was okay to talk to her when you needed someone, but you were stubborn.  You were very much of the ‘friends aren’t therapists’ mindset.

“Talk to me B.”

“I’m happy for you, ya know?  You’re back to doing’ something I know you loved.  I can see it in your eyes with each video or stream I watch.”

“Okay, keep your secrets…and thank you.  I am happy.”

“So…what can I do for ya?  Why are you botherin’ me on my lunch hour?”

“Damn!  Sorry about that B.”

“You know I don’t actually care.  Tell me what’s up.”

“I’m callin’ with a job off-”

“I’ll take it.”

“Woah, I haven’t even said what it-”

“I don’t care.  Ever since you left, and because I’m a huge push over, everyone’s been walking all over me.  You know I had to do three tours today?”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“I know Kate.  Just…what’s the job anyway?”  Your friend was silent for a moment, before you heard her exhale.

“It’s storm data analysis really.”

“Elaborate.”

“We’re trying to really get down to the nitty gritty with the data from the EF-5 we got to dissipate last season and see where to improve, how to catalog it in our info database, etc.”

“I’m in”, you said.  “Y’all won’t treat me like some secretary, I’ll be close to home again, and I’ll get to spend all my time with you.”

“We most definitely will not treat you like some secretary.  We’re equal opportunity storm chasers out here.”

You tossed your empty sandwich bag into the trash and pulled up Word to start drafting your resignation letter.

“Say, what are the benefits as a Tornado Wrangler?”  Before Kate could reply, you heard Boonie baby! Woo! in the background.

With that enthusiasm, what could possibly go wrong?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging: @buckysdollforlife @13braincellsonly

[ackerpretty]

Pervert Armin x black reader

MDNI & AGELESS BLOGS

Warnings: uhh EXTREME horniness and no self respect?

A/N: Y’all.. I barley proofread my shit so in sorry if there’s 500 typos and I just came outta writers retirement so I ask that y’all cut me some SLACK😭I’m done yapping now

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Armin knew he was going to be obsessed with you since the day you walked into the classroom. With your pretty brown gloss-covered lips and braids hanging hanging down to your ass. Your vanilla scent made all of the blood rush to his head…and dick. He had to have you all to himself. He wanted to take you back to him dorm and keep you there as his little pet. No one else would be able to see you on your knees like a puppy, tongue hanging out of your mouth and waiting for his next command. Maybe he’d tie you to his bed and stuff his shirt in your mouth so the whole residence hall won’t hear your screams (not that he’d care) . He was interrupted by his pervert thoughts when you approached him. “You Armin? I think were partners” of course y’all were partners. Armin made sure of that by rigging the professor’s spreadsheet. No, he simply refused to work with someone other than his pretty future wife. He talking bout some “Yeah! Let’s work at my dorm” knowing damn well y’all won’t be doing shit. He won’t make his princess do any work, he can bullshit this easy ass project as long as he can buy his face in your pussy for hours.

After 3 project sessions he had you wrapped around his finger….Literally. His two long slender fingers curled up into your pussy and tongue lapping up your brown-pinkish folds simultaneously.“Armin slow down please….I can’t” Amin simply ignored your ass, even flicking his tongue and a faster rate your sucking your clit until it was attached to his mouth. “just need to make you mine….wanna make my girl feel good” Your back arched off the bed as yours thighs shook around Armin’s head. Just when you were sure that you was finna squirt all over his, Armin stopped and flipped you over. “Want you to cum with my dick” This was the main event that Armin had fantasized. He opened up the little draw next to his bed and grabbed a baby blue ribbon to tie your hands behind your back with, and some vanilla coconut oil, your signature scent. That boy could not wait to oil up that ass, all for him. He slowly rubbed his hands all over your smooth brown skin, down to the back of your thighs. Armin squirts some oil of his hand, stroking his already hard dick. Without warning he slides into your pussy, almost nutting immediately after feeling your warmness. The small dorm was filled with sounds of your muffled moans and slapping sounds from Armin’s thighs against yours. “S’ the only dick you’ll ever need” He sneers through his teeth as his pace quickens and his grip on your hips create indents in your skin. Armin watched your arms struggle against the ribbon restraints and he took this opportunity to grab your arms and hold them behind your back while he fucked into your pussy.

Your breathing was becoming ragged and your walls began to spasm and clench around his dick. “Min im about to cum..ughh shit” He suddenly slows down his pace, making you whimper from the lack of speed. He grabs you by the throat, giving it a light squeeze. “Say you love me first…tell me your gonna be a good bitch for me” Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head and your mouth is hanging open, and that brain is struggling to put one word together. “Say it or you get nothing” he slowly starts fucking into you faster, hand still wrapped around your throat, trying to make you break “Love you min..m’ur bitch” Your whole body begins to shake as you cream all over his dick . When you’re done he pulled out made sure to cum all over your face, globs of white sticking to your cheeks, nose, and forehead. “my good girl, baby” he says as his fingers stroked your cum covered face. After y’all get all cleaned up, he gently placed you in his bed where you knocked out as soon as your head hit the pillow. Armin couldn’t help but to admire your unconscious body, sleeping peacefully on his side of the bed. Yeah, you ain’t ever leaving his room.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[darylsdelts]

Hi! Could you write a Daryl x f.reader hc in the mornings? I feel like slow mornings would be Daryl's favorite time of day, just enjoying his partner without having to think about the day ahead..

P.S: how did you not start writing sooner?? I love how your pretty brain brings our delusions to life lol

I’m gonna do the smaller request’s first so that they don’t pile up because having loads of requests makes me anxious😭 idk why but I’m getting to em all!

Anon!!! I love this so much! I love domestic daddy Daryl so much like yes! Idc what anyone says, he’s sooooo husband! And alsooooo… TYSM! I’m not really a writer😭 I didn’t intend to actually write on here but people started sending full on essays for me to write so why not. I did write some stuff on Wattpad though that I could post here??? If y’all want??? Anywayyyyyssss ily!

I always imagine these sorta things with you and Daryl in a secluded cabin, away from the community. You’re still part of the group but you and Daryl prefer to be alone together.

Living away from the community, Daryl is like a different person, he’s way more relaxed and less on guard. Less irritated by people too.

The sunlight seeps through the cracks in the curtains in the early mornings.

Daryl usually wakes up first but if he doesn’t then you shift closer, resting your chin on his bare chest and admiring his sleeping face.

His hair framing his relaxed face, he looks younger when he’s sleeping, your favourite part is how his rounded nose twitches when he starts to wake up.

As soon as he opens his eyes, you feel his chest vibrate as he hums, bringing his hand up to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What’d I tell ya ‘bout starin’, Hm?”

His lips twitch upward, he fucking loves the mornings when it’s so peaceful and it’s just him and you, like the world doesn’t really exist.

“I think you told me to quit it”

He chuckles, rubbing his thumb across your forehead.

Daryl thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, especially when your hair is messy from sleep and you’re in barely any clothes.

There’s no doubt that every morning, his mind drifts to thinking about staying in bed with you all day, worshipping your body and making you feel good.

And that fantasy is almost always thrown out the window when the both of you hear paws enter the room, dog jumping up on the bed, licking at Daryls face.

“Dog! Jesus chri-… yeah, okay okay, good boy”

After getting out of bed, Daryl pulling on just his jeans that sit low on his waist and you in a thin night dress, you both go to the kitchen area.

Daryl feeds dog so he stops whining and then he’ll cook up something he hunted and serve it to you.

You’re greatful for your hunterman, taking such good care of you.

Even after being together all these years, Daryl still gets shy, sitting opposite you whilst eating, barely able to make eye contact.

Some mornings, if it was hot enough, you’d go swim in the lake with dog whilst Daryl would watch over the both of you. He’s not greatly fond of swimming in the lake since he wouldn’t be able to protect you as well as he could from the side.

“Can we go to the lake?” You ask as Daryl takes your plates.

“Ya wanna? Ain’t so hot out today, darlin’”

“I wanna”

He’d roll his eyes, he could never say no to you.

He’d sit on the bank next to the lake, watching you in just your panties and bra, swimming around in the water with dog.

After you get out you’d complain that it’s too cold and he’d bite his tongue, he did tell you so.

He’d wrap you in a towel and leave you shivering whilst he towels dog off.

“Shouldn’ta let ya go in the damn water, yer gon’ get sick”

You’d pout as you shiver, Daryl wraps his arms round you, kissing the top of your hair.

“Let’s get ya inside, warm my girl up”

You have a feeling you know what he means.

This isn’t even really hc’s 😭 full on story I’m sorry but I always get so carried away.

[ec1ips3]

-;༉‧₊˚✧  𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧

⚡︎ pairing: leon Kennedy x reader

⚡︎ summary: you and leon move in together :)

⚡︎ warning: establish relationship, very fluffy, like really really fluffy, some swearing, no actual smut (sorry y’all) but it is like- hinted at?, uhm leaving but not for long, a shiton of fluff im so sorry-

⚡︎ word count: 3,167

⚡︎ a/n: let me just say, there were so many drafts for this because i literally had no idea what to write. and hold on, let’s talk about how this is actually on time. new changes people. anyway, this is actually so cute and i hope you enjoy it because i had a big writer’s block. happy reading! <33

masterlist | leon’s masterlist | taglist

You open the door and walk into, the familiar empty space that you’re ready to call home. You walk further into the apartment, imagining all of the memories that will lie within these walls. You couldn’t wait, the excitement causing you to squeal.

“I’m more than excited, but carrying all of these boxes isn’t all that exciting. You have so many things”

You pull back and hit his arm lightly. “Let me remind you, it’s both of our things combined. I’m not the only one that’s guilty, pretty boy. Now you gonna help me with the rest or what?” You ask walking out of the new place.

You pull back and hit his arm lightly. “Let me remind you, it’s both of our things combined. I’m not the only one that’s guilty, pretty boy. Now you gonna help me with the rest or what?” You ask walking out of the new place.

You and Leon had been dating for a bit now when Leon requested to take things slow, you agreed within a heartbeat. You kept your promise to him and the two of you really did take things slow, some may argue too slow, but it was the pace both of you were comfortable with.

Before the two of you thought of the idea you both had a toothbrush at each other’s place, it felt so natural. There was even a point where Leon basically lived with you for months because he didn’t want to be alone.

He was the first to propose the idea of moving in together, at first you were a little on edge. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to move in with him, it was just newfound territory. It wasn’t going to be for a few months, it was (you were hoping) going to be til you were old and wrinkly. He knew you were on edge with the topic, so he continued with a smile and a “only if you’re comfortable.”

After a few months and a lot of thinking, you brought up the topic again, having an actual sit down with his. You spoke about your boundaries and he spoke about him, once you both agreed to everything and had a quick makeout session because of the news, you figured everything out. Both of you wanted to have a new apartment, and a new environment, with new furniture, appliances, and space. You and Leon went apartment hunting together, bought furniture together, and packed everything together.

Now here you are today, walking up and down stairs, getting boxes from the truck, giving a glance at each other when you pass each other. Once all the boxes were settled, you laid out on the floor, Leon sitting next to you, the both of you out of breath.

“Let’s not move again after this,” he said, his voice scratchy.

“Agreed.” You responded as you got up to walk to the kitchen. You got the box cutter and opened the box with the label ‘Glass’ on it.

“When did you say everything was coming in?” He followed you as you took two cups out of the box.

“The couch, table, and rug are coming in next week, they said the mattress should be here tomorrow but the bed set and dressers won’t be here til the end of the week. I forgot when he said the dining things should be here. But we still have some tables and plants to get, along with maybe some paintings and picture frames.” you say as you put the cup under the facet and hand him a glass.

Leon groaned, “hotel tonight?” he asked sipping on his cup of water. You sipped on yours and nodded quietly.

The rest of the day was spent with both of you putting all the kitchen things in the cabinets and drawers. Then once you were done with that you did some cleaning and some planning on where to put things. Once it was starting to get dark Leon left to get some take-out nearby, coming back 20 minutes later.

Sitting on the floor and talking about the future of the apartment, making up some plans and ideas whilst eating. It already felt so natural that at this moment, you made the right decision.

Once you were done you wanted to go back to cleaning and putting things away but Leon insisted on looking for a place to stay for the night since the both of you did a lot. You didn’t want to leave just yet so you settled on a game of rock paper scissors, Leon won.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: . ☽ . :☆ﾟ｡･ ───

When you woke up the next morning, the familiar arms around your waist the first thing you thought of was the mattress that was being delivered today. After you fought for your freedom away from his arms you went to take a shower and started your day early. When you came back and noticed him still sleeping, you decided to wake him up, explaining what you had to do today.

After all the effort he finally woke up, mumbling some complaints and going to the bathroom. Coming out with a new outfit on and his teeth brushed. You checked out and went to the apartment, now waiting for the mattress.

You were finishing cleaning up while Leon was on putting the things in the bathroom duty. Leon’s job is too easy and too quick for him. “Is that all you wanted me to do?” he asked, walking back into the main area.

“If you want, you could go look for a new bathroom set. Curtains, rugs, those cute little toothbrush holders.”

He tilted his head, “are you sure you don’t want to do that with me? You look like you have a style going for you.”

You stopped sweeping. “I still have to clean up, it’ll save so much time if you’d just go now.”

Leon still looked unsure, not convinced.

“Leon, you are a grown-ass man. Please go outside and get a good-looking set.”

“Is there a style you wanted? Or like a specific color? Maybe what you don’t want or-”

You kissed his lips lightly, “just make sure it looks cute, kay?” you smile up at him. Leon looks like there are a thousand thoughts in his mind but once he shakes his head, he focuses. “Okay, yeah. I’ll get the- the cute ones..” he says, telling himself more than he’s telling you.

He shakes his head against and kisses your lips quickly again, “I should be back soon. Love you” he said as he kissed your cheek, heading out the door.

“Love you too!” you called back, the door closing when you finished your sentence. You huffed and looked back at what you had to do.

You spent the rest of your time cleaning till everything was perfect. After a couple of hours, you began to worry since Leon still wasn’t back and you hadn’t heard from him since he left. When you heard your bell ring you were hoping it was him and he had forgotten his key. But after a few minutes, a knock was at the door when you found out it wasn’t your favorite blond but the mattress guy.

He put the mattress in the middle of the living room and left with a smile and a tip you gave him. You were tempted to jump on it and relax for a bit, but you wanted the first time to be with him so you continued your job.

A few hours after the mattress was delivered the door finally opened. Leon had so many plastic bags in his hand, take-out in the other, and he had only a smile on his face. He kissed the top of your head as a hello and just started speaking.

“You have to see everything I got, everything was just so nice in there!” He said, setting the bags down. “Oh yeah?” you asked, walking to the bags and looking at what was inside the food bag. The both of you sat on the floor again and Leon just kept talking while eating dinner.

“I got so many things in there that I didn’t just get bathroom stuff. I got this picture frame, you know for the entryway and it could be the picture of us inside. This picture frame could be when we get a dog, cat, or both. The landlord said he didn’t care, remember? Oh! And this! Oh my god, so it’s a fake plant but it looks real so I was thinking we could use it in the entry”

Leon just kept going and going, showing every item like it was your first time seeing them. He even told the reasonings as to why he got the certain color shower curtain with this oddly shaped rug. He was just so excited about everything that all you did was listen, nod, and admire him.

It wasn’t until he was out of breath from talking so much he stopped to get a glass of water. When he walked back, he finally noticed the mattress. “What is that?” he asked.

You laugh at him, “what does it look like, pretty boy? It’s our bed” you respond, getting up and throwing out the garbage. “It’s here already?” he asked. You looked back at him confused, “how long did you think you were out? I was able to put the covers, blanket, and pillows on it while you were gone” you respond to him.

Leon looked shocked, not by everything you did or how the mattress just randomly showed up but because of how long he was in the store.

“Wanna try it?” you asked, Leon’s heard perking up and nodding quickly.

He took your hand and the both of you jumped on it together. Comfortable wasn’t even the word for this mattress, it felt like you were with a cloud. It didn’t matter that it was on the floor in your living room, you were both so cozy and warm that you knew everything that you were once doing, wouldn’t finish tonight.

“This is amazing” Leon breathed out, “I agree. We made a good choice” you respond to him.

Leon held you close as he was now planting kisses all over your face while you were just giggling at him. He kept trying to pull you even closer to him but to no avail. “What’s gotten into you?” you giggle at him.

“Just happy to be home” he mumbled in between kisses. “Do you not like it?” he stopped.

“No, I love it. I just think there’s more to it than just this”

Leon then put his lips on yours, and you kissed him back as he put his hands on the back of your head, pushing your lips forward. He took this opportunity to deepen the kiss and you accepted him greatly.

When you pulled away you both caught your breath, “I knew there was more to it” you mumble, Leon only smiles and pecks your lips.

“Only testing the bed. You don’t have to if you don’t want to” he reassures you, looking at you in the eyes to make sure you’re certain. But what he sees is certainty in your eyes.

You nodded quickly, “let’s test it out,” you say, kissing him again, grabbing onto the back of his neck.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: . ☽ . :☆ﾟ｡･ ───

The next few weeks after this was just filled with work, shopping, and waiting for furniture. You both didn’t want to build anything until you had everything.

Leon had bought groceries so you wouldn’t be eating takeout for the rest of your life, you looked at some plants and paintings, slowly but surely placing them in random spots in the apartment. The couch was when the apartment started to look more like a place to live. Your entry table was the first thing the both of you built, it was pretty quick and easy, so when it was put in the entryway, with the picture frames, plants, and a calendar, you squealed together.

All of the furniture you build together, every dining chair, table, random seat, and the bookshelf was a joint effort. You placed all of the rugs in the spots they were meant to be in while Leon just decorated the bathroom.

The last thing to show up was the bed and dressers. Now when the guy delivered them his job was to also build them, and he was doing it for free. But Leon insisted the man leave so that he could build it. The man kept telling him that it was part of his job and that it was okay. But Leon assured him he had it covered and even tipped the man large just to leave.

He did not have it.

Leon groaned in frustration, “Y/n!” he called from the master bedroom. You rolled your eyes as you were setting the dining table. “Coming, Leon!” you called back. You stepped back and looked at the decor on the table stratified you walked to your boyfriend.

“What’s the problem?” you ask, he handed you a small booklet.

“Do you think you could read the instructions to me? It’s hard to stay on track while also trying to build”

You laughed and sat down on the mattress that was on the floor of the bedroom. “Nope. I told you I wasn’t going to help you because you didn’t let the nice man build it for you”

Leon rolled his eyes, “because I knew I could do it myself. I still can!” he tries to defend himself but you only laugh at him even more.

You get on your knees next to him, taking the booklet from his hands. You read the instructions and it looks pretty simple to you. You hand it to him and stand up, getting the pieces together. “Read it to me,” you say.

“Are you sure? I can do it while you read-”

“Read it!” you cut him off. Leon quickly turned to the page.

He starts to read out what you’re meant to be doing and you are doing it in a breeze. It wasn’t until the middle that conflicts began. Stupid little comments here and there.

“It isn’t meant to go that way,” Leon said, looking at the booklet and back at what you were building. You walk over to the booklet and walked back to the progress.

“It looks the exact same, Leon. Please just continue reading”

“No it doesn’t look how this is facing, your’s isn’t facing that way.”

“It is facing that way” you argue back.

“Maybe I should do this,” Leon said, putting the booklet down.

“Maybe we should’ve let the furniture man do this” you mumbled.

“I didn’t want furniture man in my home!” Leon defends his actions.

“He was here to build everything, what did you think was going to happen!?” you ask, a smile on your face. You both knew this wasn’t a serious argument so neither of you was able to keep it together.

“What if you looked at him building the bed and thought ‘hm, maybe I should live with him.’ Ever thought about that tough guy?” Leon argued back, a smile on his face too as his hands were on his hips.

You laugh loudly at him, walking over and wrapping your arms around him, Leon doing the same as he tries to hold back his laughter. “Why would I even think about that?”

“I don’t know, I’m making things up at this point,” he says

The two of you continue to laugh together finally deciding on reading and building together which actually helped get the bed frame done quicker. Once it was finished both move the bed to the bed frame and jumped on the mattress again, this time not on the floor.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: . ☽ . :☆ﾟ｡･ ───

Time after this was simple. Instead of Leon getting excited over the bathroom it was you getting excited over the bedroom. Every decoration you wanted and put fit perfectly in your shared bedroom.

Just like you did with him, Leon watched the way you squealed even with putting down a small picture frame of just the two of you placed on top of the dresser. He would always walk over to you and kiss the top of your head when you were done. He was completely smitten with you.

Once everything was settled this was a dream come true for him. He was happier knowing that he would be able to wake up and fall asleep with you by this side every morning and night. He was happier looking at the apartment while you were at work and just seeing how the both of you mixed everything to make this shelter for the both of you.

What he didn’t think would happen was how much harder it was to leave you. It was already difficult before, but knowing that’ll you’ll be in the apartment you shared, all by yourself, while he was out on a mission, fighting some creature…

It crushed him.

The night before he left, holding onto you tighter than he has before because he knew he would leave in the middle of the night. When he woke up and had to watch as you were asleep peacefully, not being able to give him a proper goodbye. He gave you one, of course, a kiss on the cheek with some whispered words. In the middle of the mission, he was just thinking of you expecting his arrival, that’s what keeps him going, you. When he’s finished and on his way back, his mind is just on you, nothing else.

You lay on the couch, watching the tv, blanket wrapped around you as you were slowly falling asleep when you didn’t want to. Your eyes close but flutter open shortly after, only for them to try to close again.

The room was dark, with only the tv screen and a few candles supporting it with light, the room looked so homey and cozy, it’d make anyone want to fall asleep.

You didn’t even realize the door had opened or that someone was in front of you until you felt your blanket rise as he moved to lay on the couch with you. You open your eyes slightly as you mumble his name, “Leon?”

He hushes you, his arms around your neck as your head rests on his shoulder. “I’m so tired, pretty” he mumbles.

“I am too” you respond.

You kiss the top of his head once you hear the quiet snores, closing your eyes again.

That’s when you knew you would spend the night sleeping on the couch, with the person you’d move in with a thousand times again.

this is actually so cute. i love this.

[cheezbites]

How COD Characters Would Text

✎: I’m such a slow writer/procrastinator so sorry for the slow posts. But I upload lots of skits and I know y’all love those !!😋

♡Summary: Headcanons of how COD characters would text.

Ghost

• He rarely replies to you or sees your messages, as for how you never see him texting you in the first place. (Or even using his phone for that matter). Every once in a blue moon, you would finally see a highlighted double check mark next to your messages.

• Has a black screen set as his profile picture.

• Leaves you on read and you took it personally, but he addresses your texts in real life since he finds the keyboard too confusing, and he doesn't have time to figure it out.

“I saw your text on the... Uh, ‘What App’, the meeting’s going to be at 2:30pm.”

Valeria

• Strictly sends voice notes; she also finds the keyboard too complicated. If she’s in an environment where she can’t send voice messages then she texts you back painstakingly slow, or she doesn’t bother trying.

• She adored calling you to hear your voice and have genuine conversations instead of staring at a screen and repeatedly tapping away. She also loved hearing about your day and what you were up to.

• Texts you at any time but mostly at night.

König

• Would only text you if you texted him; he has his notifications on for vital and crucial things but most importantly when you send him messages. Also a very messy typer, it would be impossible to not find a single typo.

• Has a cute stray cat he saw on a walk as his profile pic.

• König would frequently discover emojis; although you knew them all like the back of your hands you acted oblivious for him.

“🤪🤪 Did u kno this emoji existed?!”

“miawwww🙀!!! This emoji is very silly, we should use it more often.”

“🙈🙊🙈jajaja ich bin ein schüchterner Affe..”

Price

• Sends you corny facebook memes to start your day. You act as if you hated them and they're obnoxious but deep down you love when he sends them. You know it’s an ‘off day’ for him when you don’t receive one.

• He’s a massive punctuation enthusiast, and he doesn't type slow but not too fast despite his age.

“Good morning, how are you doing today?”

“Please ensure to drink lots of water, it’s going to be very hot later on.”

“Please don’t touch Simon’s sandwich in the fridge. He’s feeling very stubborn today.👍”

• Would make a group chat so the group can bond but half of you guys left over petty arguments and the other half are inactive.

• Him fishing on some boat as his profile picture.

Soap

• Has one of the default options as his profile picture. Or him posing with a rifle.

• Sends you memes you actually laugh at, they’re usually short videos. But then on the other hand, he sends you corny puns that you still find yourself laughing at:

Soap: “Y can’t scientist trust atoms?”

Y/N: “???? why”

Soap: “Cause they make up everything!”

Y/N: “hahahah soo funny dude😐”

And behind the screen you have the biggest shit-eating grin.

• Always double texts you, even if you say you’re busy and can’t take messages. Not even that, he’d triple text you because he can and nothing is stopping him.

• He’s on Do Not Disturb most of the time from all the spam emails he receives, mostly because he carelessly gave out his information to dodgy websites.

Gaz

• Over shares information so casually and then changes the subject, it honestly baffles you at times. To him, there's no such thing as TMI.

“Nearly got run over heading to the shops, but how are you?”

“There was a stabbing at the local chippy shop. What’s for dinner?”

“Just saw a homeless person buy drugs with money someone accidentally dropped. Fun day.”

• Texts you all the time, the moment you send him a message he opens it no matter what time it is or where he’s at.

• Has a selfie as his profile picture.

Alejandro

• Would try-hard being cool so he uses a shit ton of emojis in nearly every text, you can't help but laugh at his failed efforts. And expect lots of typos from him, too.

“Yo😁 any plans todsy🤔🤔??”

“Jow do I turn dowm the brightness.���☀️”

• He only messages you in the afternoon, in the morning he's too occupied and at night he’s getting that beauty sleep.

• You’re like his tech assistant, always helping him with the simplest of things. This one time, he set his keyboard to another language and was only messaging in Arabic until you could help him set it back to English.

Rudy

• Spams you like it’s super urgent, only to say: “never mind, it’s not important” knowing damn well he had nothing to say in the first place.

“hello?!??!”

“pick up y/n, very important. asap!!!!!”

“are you dead? where are you.”

And once you do get back to him…

“nvm the issue was resolved.”

• Turned off auto capitalisation, but he’s still punctual every now and then. Never sends emojis.

• On that note, whenever you say “ur” he does that know-it-all thing which we all know and hate where he says “You’re*”.

Horangi

• A mix of voice notes and texts, he generally does not text whatsoever even if it’s urgent. If you wanted to reach him you had to do so face-to-face.

• He would leave you on read with no shame and forget what you even sent ten seconds later.

• Is committed to that default image as his profile picture, he knows how to change it but he can't be bothered and he doesn’t even know what to change it to.

Keegan

• When he sends voice notes he acts confused as to why you’d bookmark them. (Fully aware girls simp for his voice - it’s a massive ego boost at times).

• Calls you early in the morning, (really early). As he knows you inevitably snooze your alarm and stay in bed for ‘a few more minutes’ but you stay glued there until the afternoon. It’s a really efficient way of waking you up so you’re not complaining.

Masterlist

[lust4lifemelanie]

𝑫𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒆? pt 1

| Matty Healy x reader

Summary: Friends to lovers, reader is kinda blind, playful flirting, slow burn, lightly based off fallingforyou. Btw this is really short but trust the process 🙏🏻

A/N: We are soo back, i’m actually so sorry for being so unactive i’ve had so much writers block. I hope y’all enjoy this one though.

Your clock read 9:30 p.m., as you were finishing last-minute homework you heard a knock on your window, making you jump slightly. You open your window and scoff when you see your best friend's face smiling like a dork.

“Really, was that really necessary?" You roll your eyes. “Yes, now can I come in? It's cold as fuck out here.” Matty practically whines, which you couldn't help but smirk at.

"Fine, but be quiet.” You open the window wider so he can crawl through. "I'm always quiet.” He scoffs as he climbs through the window.

“Since when? You never know when to shut your gob.” You tease him as you watch him climb through your window.

“Um? Yes, I do. I just prefer not to.” He stands up. “Whatever, why are you here? I thought your band had practice or something?” You look at him, slightly confused, as you sit down on your bed.

“We finished early; Hann’s mum wanted him home, fuckin pussy,” he says as he sits next to you on your bed. "Plus, I wanted to see you, I feel like we haven’t hung out in forever,” he adds on.

“So you crawled through my window at night because you missed me? Aw, Matty, have you gone soft?” You tease and pinch his cheek.

He playfully slaps your hand away and rolls his eyes. "I'm starting to regret coming here.” You smile softly. You’ve known Matty since primary school, but after he met that group of guys and started that band, you two kind of drifted away from each other. 

“Anyway, how was band practice?” As you gently look into his soft brown eyes, a crooked smile forms on his face. “It was good; we're working on a new song at the moment, so it's been a little more difficult than usual.” He scoots a little closer to you. 

“You should come to practice sometime; it's actually quite funny watching George get mad when he messes up.” He adds on, the smile remaining on his face. 

“I mean, I’d love to, but I don't want to be a bother or something.” After the sentence leaves your mouth, Matty instantly shakes his head.

“You wouldn't be a bother; Hann’s girlfriend always comes to the practices." You sigh because you know he isn't going to shut up until he gets what he wants.

“Fine Matthew, I'll go since you're so desperate to get me there.” Your sarcasm makes him roll his eyes again.

“Please, you practically jumped at the chance."  

For the next hour, you and Matty talked. Your favorite thing about hanging out with Matty was that you didn't feel uncomfortable with him. You could talk to him about anything; guys around your age were gross and annoying, but Matty wasn't; he was sweet and actually funny.

As your mid-conversation matty's eyes wander to the clock on your nightstand, his eyes go wide. "Shit, I missed curfew. My mums going to be pissed. I got to go, but I'll see you later, Bye Y/N”

You smile softly. “Bye Matty, I’ll pray that Denise doesn't kill you." He flips you off before climbing out of your window, getting on his bike, and riding away.

 The next week, Matty got his way, you were sitting on the floor of his basement with your back against the wall, watching and listening to his band rehearse.

 Something about Matty's voice singing was oddly comforting for you. He had a way with his words; you weren't the biggest fan of rock or indie, but for him, you’d be the first one at the barricade.

After the rehersal, Matty sat down next to you and asked, “So what’d you think?” He smiles softly, looking at you with his pretty brown eyes.

“I surprising liked it.” You smiled back, he couldn't help but scoff, “Suprisingly? that sounds backhanded."

“Shut up. I didn't have to give you a good rating. Be grateful that I'm nice.” You say in a teasing tone, he raises an eyebrow after hearing your sentence.

“Nice? Bitch, please; you are so far from nice.” You roll your eyes. "I'm spending my Saturday here watching your band play; I think that's pretty nice if you ask me, Matthew."

 “Actually Y/N, I'm saving you from a boring Saturday of doing homework or going out with whatever douche bag you're dating at the moment.” His cocky attitude was so annoying sometimes.

“Is this slag off Y/N hour?” You ask sarcastically. He smirks, "I'm just taking the piss, darling.” He puts his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side.

There was a little bit of silence. Matty’s friends were upstairs, getting drinks. It was just the two of you. “I missed this, Y/N.” Matty breaks the silence and looks at you.“Hm? Oh yeah, same.” You smiled softly, and he smiled back.

 The boys came back down with water bottles, tossing two to Matty and me. The boys sat on the couch in the basement and were going on about the songs, cracking a few jokes here and there.

You never really hung out with Matty’s band friends; as much as you loved Matty, you’d much rather hang out with your girlfriends than with a group of guys. "Matty how come you’ve been hiding Y/N from us?” George asks and playfully nudges Matty’s shoulder. You smirk and join in. "Yeah, Matty, how come?” Matty scoffs at the both of you.

“I haven't been hiding her from anyone; blame her; she's the one who hates meeting new people.” He says defensively, and you roll your eyes.  "Well, I didn't know that your friends were funnier than you.” You say it jokingly, causing the others to laugh.

 A dramatic fake pout forms on Matty's face. "Well, now I know the taste of betrayal." He puts a hand to his heart like the drama queen he is.

 The day went on in Matty's basement, and you got along well with the group. The sun started to set, and you thought it would be best to start heading home before it was fully nighttime.

 You told everyone goodbye and made your way back upstairs out of Matty's basement. You were almost out the door when you were stopped.

 "Wait, Y/N,” you said, turning around to see George. “Yeah?” You look at him slightly confused.

 "I'm having a party Saturday, and I thought maybe you’d want to go?” He flashes a flirty smile.

 You smile back and say, "Yeah, sure, I’d love to." George's smile widens when you agree.

 “Cool, I'll have Matt give you the details. Oh, and you can bring a friend if you want."

"Thanks; Ill see you until then.”

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

Olá, adoro suas histórias, meu escritor favorito, queria solicitar alguns proxies×leitores quando ficarem com ciúmes, tipo sfw e nsfw, se não for incômodo, desculpe

TRANSLATION: “Hello, I love your stories, my favorite writer, I wanted to request some proxies×readers when they get jealous, like sfw and nsfw, if it's not bothersome, sorry”

Ola amor! I don’t speak Portuguese unfortunately so I hope google translate did its job correctly! I’m so glad you like my work and requests aren’t bothersome at all! 🖤

THE PROXIES WHEN THEY’RE JEALOUS

TIM:

Tim gets more insecure when he’s jealous rather than Masky

He’d probably put his hand on your waist protectively when he feels like someone is showing off a little too much or their words are getting risky

Just small acts of protectiveness from him and quick glances to you to make sure you’re alright and they’re not bothering you

If you’re uncomfortable by someone else’s advances he won’t hesitate to step in and tell them to fuck off

He walks a fine line between himself and Masky when he has to step in

But as soon as he gets a punch in it’s like a light switch that flipped. Immediately having Masky front. It’s something about violence that makes it flip

But if you look like you’re enjoying their advances he’ll be absolutely heartbroken. He’d stay by your side until you got back home then immediately hole up in his room or go for a long walk

Either way you won’t be seeing him for a while. It’ll be until you confront him about his odd behavior that he avoids you

BRIAN:

Silent upset. You can see it on his face that he’s irritated with their attempts to flirt with you. His eyebrows furrowed and fire beginning to burn in his eyes

He won’t let anyone take you and he knows if you tried to leave he’ll only bring you back. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get irritated when they try to flirt with you when they see you’re obviously taken

Another protective hand on the waist kind of guy

If he truly feels like they’ve gone too far he might step up to them, not to the level that Hoodie would but still rather agressive

Unlike Tim, Brian can get a few punches in and still stay in control of himself but he doesn’t like to get violent when he’s not working

Will absolutely find the person flirting with you later and beat them to a slow painful death with his pipe. Or if he’s feeling generous he’ll shoot them quick

Gives you the silent treatment for a while if he could see you were enjoying the advances made by the other person

He’ll have a serious talk with you when he’s finished being silent. Even then he’s not much of a talker when it comes to the conversation

MASKY:

Loses his shit. Immediately lunges at the person and throws them to the ground.

In an instant he’s on top of them choking them out, probably slamming their head against the ground while he’s at it

They’d be lucky to be alive when he’s done with them

When they’re taken care of he’ll pick you up and take you home

(NSFW) When y’all get home he’s fucking you so you know you’re all he cares about

Possessive as fuuuuck

HOODIE:

Will stand behind you as they try to start flirting with you and he’ll silently pull up his hoodie to show the gun in his waistband.

Hopefully they get the hint and fuck off

But if they don’t he’d gently take your hand and bring you outside while he goes back in and takes care of the person

He doesn’t like you to see him get so violent 🫠

“TICCI” TOBY:

Feral. There’s two routes this man will take and it completely depends on how he’s feeling that day

First route is if its been a rough day he’ll absolutely lose it when it’s almost warranted. Screaming shouting and making a scene

He’d probably punch them if they touched you at all

Will absolutely find them and kill them later too

But if it’s been a decent day he’ll grab your wrist (harder than he thought) and drag you home

You’ll ask him why he freaked out and he’ll be completely honest, telling you exactly why.

He was worried you’d want someone more normal than him, he wanted to show you he loved you and he can protect you

[nakedtoasterr]

Male reader month | April edition

This one is late so I apologize but life happens, hopefully I can get into a rhythm of getting these done before the end of the month.

I added 3 experimental fics this time around. Two of them are character x GN reader and the other is a Fem character x Male reader. I’m hoping you all will enjoy these and please tell me if you don’t! I won’t add any in the future if that is that case

Ps: if anyone wants to help with these hmu im so slow 😰

Sfw male reader

Kittens; scoups | @seventeenficsformalereader

Scoups(?) x male reader

None listed

—

A Tease | @moonbyulsstuff

Kaidou x male reader

None listed

—

Tea at 9pm | @anystalker707

Vinsmoke Sanji x GN!Reader

babygirl sanji / wholesome relationship / reader is a writer who keeps a journal with the crew's adventures / extremely fluffy ending

—

Izuku midoryia x male reader | @odue-sp

Izuku x male reader

m/n has a problem with personal space and people touching him. m/n's quirk is tendrils, he is able to form them anywhere on his body they're usually invisible (warped areas). They're supposed to be visible but he's able to make them disappear.

Top male reader

Soft yandere Aether x MR | @dvlboy

Aether x male reader

Soft yandere aether

—

Sub/bottom Dottore and pantalone hc

@bazthefirstborn

Dottore/ pantalone x male reader

crying, (A LOT) spit, sensory deprevation, rp, bj's, (m reader recieving) just general gay men activities

—

who loves to be marked? | @chaepink

Izuku/Bakugo/kirishima x GN!reader

dom!gn!reader, suggestive, marking, biting, spanking

—

Tony Stark x Younger Poolboy Male Reader hc

@justice-maul

Tony stark x male reader

Sub Tony, age gap (not specific), porn with plot, reader is muscular and tall, manhandling kink, cum, degrading praise, humiliation, mentions of rough sex, and making out (tell me if I messed any, I didn’t double check this)

—

Bottom male reader

Daddy’s home | @dabisbratz

Gojo x male reader

light angst, daddy kink, bottom male reader, finger sucking, fingering, apology sex, dubcon (gojo’s a lil pushy but everything is consensual), dacryphilia, dirty talk, praise, biting, reader’s kinda bratty, possessiveness, established relationship, secret relationship, reader’s a regular civilian, anal sex, spit, mating press, sexualizing gojo’s thermographic xray vision, amab body terminology

—

Momo x male reader | @trafalgarya

Nsfw head canons

mommy kink, penetration, strap-on, oral (giving and receiving), soft dom!momo yaoyorozu, sub!male reader, praising kink, sex-toys, teasing, orgasm control, begging, nipple sucking, masturbation, use of "slut", a bit of ooc ig, analingus (receiving, mention of giving too)

—

The Devil comes to steal, kill, and destroy

@adoniss-tales

Gabriel x male reader

corruption kink, guided masturbation, praise kink, voyeurism, pet names (reader receiving), p.w.o.p, no actual penetration : reader is a follower of gabriel, but not an alternate. . Gabriel is referred to as "Mister Gabriel" once.

—

Ayato Petplay | @vikeii

Ayato x Male reader

pet play, established relationship, everything is consensual!!!, puppy play, mild praise kink, cockwarming, dumbification, male reader, belly bulge, mild overstim, mild nipple play, collars and leashes !! he/him pronouns for reader, amab reader, marking, biting

Hey y’all!!! I know I’m super extra late but I really did try… I’ll do my best to start earlier in the month so this doesn’t happen again I’m so sorry guys. Tysm for all the support on my last post!!! Seeing all the reposts and hearts really motivated me to finish this one. ❤️❤️

Extra apologies to the ppl I messaged when it was 3 am over here. I’m not my best when I’m bout ready to pass out

[fadingdaggerr]

heaven’s gate

pairing: larissa weems x gn!reader (r is only ever referred to as queer, no other specifics)

summary: locking eyes with a woman at a bar and finding purpose in her kiss

warnings (in order): alcohol consumption, making out, smut (thigh riding, fingering, eating out, heavy praise), r is a simp the whole time, so much side character use bc i like making up lil stories about the little people in my head, pretty dialogue heavy in some parts

note: sorry i’ve been gone, i’ve had severe writers block and my birthday was this past weekend so i was out and about. never written smut before so this is different from my usual comfort zone, let me know what y’all think <3 i also tried to keep r neutral as possible to accommodate all presentations and identities :)

the wind whipped against your face as you steadily continued along the sidewalk, numbing your cheeks. the honking of cars and chatter around becoming white noise as you were dead set on your destination, only need at this point to get out of the wind tunnels. an arm looked through yours suddenly, breaking your pace slightly.

“babe, you have got to slow down. these boots are not meant for walking, they’re for attracting,” parker says as he clings to you for warmth, even with his long emerald green jacket on.

you laugh a little, “i’m not freezing my ass off because you chose heeled shoes when you knew damn well we’re in the old district. that means cobblestone streets. i thought you had a college degree?” he shoves you with a laugh, there’s no point in arguing with the truth. he complains the rest of the way, and you just ignore him until he finally stops when the club comes into view.

the vibration of the music could be felt in the floors, on the chairs, at the bar. everything hummed together, music and voices. you took it all in until a rum and coke slid right next to your hand. you nod at the bartender in thanks, turning to take in the club, smiling at the group taking a photo in from of the lavender’s orbit sign with giant smiles and little pride flags in hand. your eyes continue to scan as you bring your glass to your mouth, then double back when a set of eyes connects with yours.

resting against a tall stool, martini in hand, was the most enchanting being you’d ever seen. lips curved into a smirk at your staring, but it didn’t stop you. you allow your eyes to travel down, taking in her short, white dress and her long legs, watching as blue and purple lights sway and highlight her body. your eyes snap back go to hers, returning her smirk before continuing your look around.

you find parker by the pool tables, cheering on the group playing there, not so subtle in his hands caressing one of their arms. you shake your head with a laugh, he was on a mission, just as he had said before you’d left. parker sees you and waves your over excitedly.

“okay, okay so will you play pool with me? and like, help me get them to like me?” he says pointing at the person in bleach-dyed overalls, only a red binder underneath.

“one game,” you say holding up one finger, “i’m not playing matchmaker all night, there’s someone i think i need to talk to by the bar.”

he jumps a little, hugging you, “okay perfect, one game is all i need. then i can help you get some.”

you grab a cue stick, applying chalk as you speak, “i don’t need help. and i think you’ll be a little to preoccupied to help me anyways.”

the object of parker’s affection, max, and their friend arlo, let you break the set. a singular solid ball fell in, putting you into a head start. as the game continued, you told parker what to do so that you could both win and help him with max, which didn’t seem to be an issue. the eight ball was your last in, as you aimed, you could feel eyes on you, burning into your back. turning, you see the woman from earlier watching, new drink, same look in her eyes. you nod towards her then shoot, the eight ball drops into the cup.

parker grabs you, jumping as he holds you, mostly just shaking you like a rag doll. max and arlo shake your hand. deepening their voices to sound all gruff and puffing their chests as they both say “good game, good game,” before breaking and laughing at themselves.

the three step away to get more drinks, and you turn back to where the woman in white had been, but instead she was walking back from the bar, two drinks in hand. she approaches you, setting one drink in your hand. a rum and coke.

“larissa,” she says, “that was quite the game.”

you accept the drink with a smile, introducing yourself, “the game? i don’t recall your eyes being on the cues.”

“perhaps not, but how could they look at anything else?” her words send a shiver down your spine, “let’s go sit, darling.”

you begin moving to find a place to sit down and talk with her. her hand rests on your hip as you walk to keep close to you and not get separated. her touch was electrifying, even through your shirt. you let her sit first, then place yourself next to her, close enough that your legs touch and her perfume fills your nose.

“what do you do for work, larissa?” you ask, eyes looking into hers. you couldn’t see how blue they were before, cursing the dim lighting around you for not gifting you this privilege earlier.

“i’m an english teacher at nevermore, it’s a private academy up in jericho,” she says proudly.

you nod excitedly, “i’ve heard of it! my friend jaya went there in high school since she lived closer to there than byron’s home in rochester.”

her eyes widen, voice nervous, “you know about outcasts?”

you grab her hand, “i am an outcast, i went to byron’s. maybe you know her, jaya o’leary? gorgon, perfect eyebrows despite not getting them done ever in her life?”

larissa laughs, “yes! we had a couple classes together during third year, that’s quite the coincidence.”

“all roads lead back,” you say, mostly to yourself. larissa’s lips form into a soft smile, the hand that’s still in yours tightening.

“what do you do?” she asks.

“i’m a counselor. i run support groups and one-on-ones for anyone in need, we have varying specialists and everything,” you say before you take a sip of your drink.

larissa leans closer, “what do you specialize in?” there’s genuine interest in her voice, and it makes you feel warm and fuzzy.

“queer adolescence and trauma. there’s a lot of kids that need a place to just exist as they are, and home is a confinement cell,” you say looking down into your lap, then back to larissa. she smiles at you, thumb running across yours.

“that’s an admirable profession, you should be incredibly proud of yourself,” her words are so heartfelt that you feel your chest bloom.

“thank you. and for the record, teaching is equally important. it’s a multi-faceted role, you should be proud too,” your eyes are locked with hers, trying to convey that your words are true.

just as she’s about to reply, a scream of your name catches both your attentions. parker’s freckles face popping into view as you watch him bob and weave through the crowd quickly until he stands before you with a giant smile. he almost speaks, but his eyes move to larissa then back to you with a playful smile.

“first of all, nice. second, wow. third, i am going to disappear for a little bit, are you okay here? i can stay if you need me too,” his words are hopeful, but you know his promise of staying is just as true, he’d never leave you if you said no.

“i’m okay, go have your fun and text me. for the love of god, wear a condom. and for the love of your best friend, do not give me extreme details about this later or i will vomit in your shoes,” you say as you shoo him away. he grabs your face and presses a fat kisses to your cheek with an i love you, i love you, i love you, before running off to max.

you groan and wipe your cheek, where did the gloss come from? larissa giggles next to you at the interaction, hand over her mouth. “nice and wow? he’s sweet,” she laughs.

your head hangs low, “that would be parker, the bane of my existence and my assigned ward at this point.” this makes her laugh again, and you almost think you heard angels singing.

“would that be the reason you didn’t come up to me sooner?” larissa prods.

you laugh a bit, looking at her through your lashes, “unfortunately, yes. he needed me to help him win the game so that he could look good.”

her tongue goes across her teeth, “i think it worked better for you, at least in my opinion.”

it’s your turn to lean a little closer now, “well i almost lost because someone, not going to name names, was quite distracting during the final round.”

her hand leaves yours, much to your dismay, but quickly finds its way to your thigh, “oh, i’m sorry. how could i ever make it up to you, almost-loser?” her tone and fake pout nearly kill you on the spot, her touch was making the fire within you burn hotter and hotter.

your hand rises to her neck, caressing her jaw with your thumb. she was so beautiful it was making you dizzy, but you spoke regardless, “i think you’ve already made it up to me just being right here,” you feel her cheek warm under your hand, “maybe i should be thanking you, you might have been my good luck charm instead.”

her lips are only centimeters from yours as she says, “maybe you can repay me then somehow.”

—

her lips were soft, but her kiss was not. her teeth nipped at your bottom lips as she pulled away to breathe, only to pull you back in. one hand gripped her waist, the other against the brick wall behind her to hold you up. her own held you face, keeping you as close as possible. the breathy moans she let out through the kiss made your grip on her tighten, then slide down more, just over the curve of her ass. you pull her hips into you, making another noise leave her.

her lips detach detach from yours, angling her head down, she begins to nip at your neck. you could’ve sworn she was a drug, your own personal aphrodisiac. your hand slides down more, catching her thigh and bringing it to your hip, pressing your hips into hers to give some friction. a noise escapes her at this action, something that makes you need to kiss her again, truly kiss her.

you lean away, ducking your head to catch her lips once again, kissing her with less lust and more intimacy. you savor the way she shivers as your fingers draw little patterns on her thigh as you kiss her, pouring everything into it. she pulls away, panting lightly. your lips migrate to her neck, gentle kisses and nips as you both catch your breath.

through heavy breaths larissa says, “my hotel is only six blocks away.”

your head leaves her neck, pressing a quick kiss to her lips, “my apartment is four.”

your eyes stay locked together, both of you grinning like teenagers. you whip your phone out of your back pocket, opening parker’s contact.

to: park nasty going back to my place. do NOT come back unannounced i was serious about the shoe thing. be safe ily

you shove your phone back in your pocket, hand now extended to larissa. she immediately takes it, weaving her fingers with yours and wrapping the other arm around yours, holding you to her. you’re about to speak to her again when you phone chimes.

from: park nasty ily babe go get some!! and a little more!!!! lord knows i’m about to go back for thirds

larissa reads the message from beside you, laughing at the outlandish text. you groan at it before typing your own quickly

to: park nasty damn give the poor thing a little recovery time u absolute creature. i’m not gonna feel bad for u tomorrow when u complain

you chuckle and put your phone back in your pocket. you look at larissa before you both burst out laughing. she didn’t even know parker but she basically got the full extent of him within one text and watching the two of you interact while playing pool and when he came to you both.

“i see what you mean by the assigned ward thing now,” she says through a chuckle.

you guide her to your street, “he’s a menace, but he’s the best friend anyone could ask for. the descriptive details of his sex life are the price i pay for friendship.”

she just has to ask, “park nasty?”

you cackle, “he decided on day one of us meeting at byron’s that that would be his name in my phone. he thought it would stick, like everyone would call him that or something.”

she laughs with you, “and did they?”

“no!” you laugh loudly, “who’s gonna call a fourteen year old boy that?” she giggles at the story, “but i never changed it because i thought it was so stupid that it was hilarious.”

larissa clings to you and rests her head against yours as you unlock the gate in front of the door, then enter the code to get into the building. you have her step ahead of you, guiding her to your door with a gentle hand on her lower back. she’s back against you as you unlock your door and let yourselves in. you grab her purse and place it on the bench behind the door, then take her coat hanging it on the hooks, along with your own.

just as you look back at her, her lips crash into yours. you immediately kiss her back, hands flying to her hips and holding her tight. hers found their way to hold the back of your neck, blunt nails digging into your skin. you began walking her backwards to your room, staying against the door for a minute as you savor each others touch. you fumble for the knob, backing her in once the door is closed. you’re completely overtaken by her, her lips, her touch, the way she’s holding you like you’ll disappear.

larissa’s knees hit the bed, and she pulls you to her lap as she sits down. you push her back more, laying her on the bed. you lips migrate from hers to her neck, creating more marks to go with the ones from before. working your way down, you press kisses to the expanse of her chest, pale skin just begging to be painted in your affection.

larissa’s legs shift and you suddenly find yourself under her, her dress riding up and exposing more of her thighs. her lips go back to assaulting yours, her hands sliding underneath your shirt to trace the skin of your abdomen. only breaking away to gently ask, “is this okay?”

you smile at her, leaning up to kiss her cheek, “more than okay, i promise.”

her lips are back on yours, your hands are back on the creamy skin of her thighs. she was your new drug of choice, you couldn’t stop the venturing of your hands on her body as her lips and tongue pulled soft moans from you. you need more of her, as much as she’ll allow you.

you shift your hips, raising your right leg to press you thigh to her center, making her lips stutter as she moaned against your chest. her hips instinctually buck against your thigh again, and you hear her breath hitch.

“are you okay? we can stop,” you ask gently, gently stroking the skin of her thigh to assure her.

“don’t,” she rushes out, “i want this, i want you.”

there’s nothing to do except kiss her, kiss her so that it feel like a promise. your hands slide from her thighs to her hips, slowly guiding her against you. she moans into your mouth and your hands move her hips faster, her pleasure was all you could think about.

her moans grew whinier as she desperately moved against you. her forehead pressed into yours as her release grew closer and closer.

“you’re so beautiful,” you mutter, pressing your lips to hers, sitting up so she was now on your lap. the new angle and your words forced a filthy moan from her lips, “and you sound so beautiful. god, how do i deserve this?”

larissa could only kiss you harder, stealing the breath from your lungs. her hips wild against your thigh, the feeling of your hands gripping her hips, it was all too much. your lips found their way to her chest again, you nudge fabric out of the way to kiss along her breasts, gentle love bites that were soothed by your tongue.

larissa’s hips began to falter, moans becoming louder and longer. you flex your thigh more, kissing her as you move her hips faster. her hands grip at you shoulders, eyes screwed tight with pleasure. she was so close.

“open your eyes, baby. i wanna see you, can i see your beautiful eyes?” you ask as you kiss her neck and jaw, biting the skin every now and then, “please?”

larissa’s eyes flutter open, lust-drunk eyes looking into yours. you quickly reward her by pushing her further down on your thigh, making a sweet moan come from her as she looks into your eyes.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful,” a kiss to her chest, “you’re doing so well,” a kiss to her neck, “you can let go whenever you’re ready,” a kiss to her jaw, “i can’t wait to see you fall apart just for me,” a final kiss to her lips.

your words seem to be the undoing of larissa weems. she moans loudly against your lips, hips quickening then stuttering. blue eyes find yours as a long and beautiful song escapes her, thighs shaking. you’re in awe, entirely captivated by her. you can already tell that you’re not going to be able to let her go, your mind had been screaming to keep her close since you saw her. this sight was the only thing that mattered now, pleasing larissa was your life mission.

her forehead drops to yours, eyes shut, breath heavy. you stay there for a moment, unmoving, allowing her to come down peacefully. your raise your arm slowly, gently brushing hair from her face before cupping her cheek. her cheek presses into your palm, and you just have to kiss her. it’s soft and sweet, just a reminder that she’s cared for. she pulls back, eyes opening slowly. all you can do is smile at her, and she returns it gently. your lips find her cheek, pressing a few kisses to her skin.

“where the hell have you been?” she says with a breathy laugh.

you smile harder at her words, “i’ve been right here. guess you’ll have to come to the city more often.”

“or you’ll just have to come to jericho,” she says playfully.

you kiss her softly before speaking, “i have a good reason to it seems. a very beautiful reason at that.”

she pushes you back, leaning over you to press her lips against yours. the dance is slow, meaningful. her tongue grazes your lips for entry, and she’s given it without second thoughts. she kisses with full passion, telling you everything with every movement. she sucks on your bottom lip, making you groan and pull her face closer. all you want, need is her. you whine as she pulls back, and she gives you a quick kiss to appease you.

her fingers begin to lift your shirt up slowly, eyes searching for permission. you grab one of her hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. you grab her other hand and guide them both under your shirt, letting her know you’re okay. she strips you of your shirt, and kissing down your chest and belly. her hands find your belt buckle, undoing it quickly while you lift your hips help her remove it. she climbs back up, kissing a trail from waist to your lips. your hands fall to her back, finding the zipper of her dress as she lazily kissed you.

she sits up and her dress falls down, revealing a lack of bra, leaving her in ruined panties. you sit up and your lips immediately find her chest, wrapping around one nipple as your hands traced her body. your tongue swirls around her, leaving her skin with with a gentle kiss before moving to the other.

“god, you feel so good,” she lets out breathily, whimpering at your touch. after a bit she forces your head away from her chest, pushing you back down to remove your pants and her dress, evening the amount of clothing you both wore.

the view of her above you was breathtaking, you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. her hair was messy, lipstick smudged around her face, bruises and bites across her neck and chest. she was a goddess in your presence.

“what are you staring at me for?” she whispers, insecurity well hidden.

“you’re… you’re just so god damn gorgeous larissa,” you pull her down and roll so that you’re on top of her, “i can hardly believe you’re here, that you’re even real,” you kiss her softly. your lips trail down her neck, to her chest, down to her stomach, “and i get to see you like this.”

she pulls you up to her again, kissing you soundly, “it’s hard to believe you’re real yourself. never has anyone spoke to me like this, even made me feel like this.”

you frown at her words, mad at her past lovers for not appreciating her enough. “can i show you how beautiful you are?” you ask gently, nuzzling your nose against her cheek before continuing, “can i taste you?”

she groans at your words, turning her face to kiss you hard, “please.”

you kiss her again, trailing back down her body. reaching her center, you place a light kiss to her thigh, biting the plush surface then soothing it with your tongue. your fingers lightly trace up her legs to hook in her panties and pull them down. you bite your tongue, nearly moan at the sight.

you kiss along her thighs some more, slowly moving closer to where she needed you. you look up at her, “do you want me to continue?”

her hand reaches down for one of yours, and you are quick to follow, tangling your fingers together. she squeezes your hand, “yes.”

you kiss her mound gently, then move to her clit. wrapping your tongue around her, her hand grips yours. your tongue swirls her clit some more before going to taste her fully. your tongue gathers her wetness, you moan into her at the taste. the vibration alone makes larissa choke out a strangled moan. you continue to lap at her, slow, long strokes against her, savoring every second.

a long lick up back to her clit, sucking it gently, working larissa up. your hand that was wrapped around her thigh came to her entrance, slowly pressing your middle finger into her. she moans softly at the touch, squeezing your hand as you pumped your finger slowly.

“more,” she whines, “please.”

you follow command, adding your ring finger when you push back into her again while your tongue plays with her clit. a deep moan leaves her, only egging you on. quickening the pace of both your tongue and your fingers, you feel her legs wrap around you.

you pull back from he clit, pressing a kiss to it when she whimpers. “do you want more, baby?” your only response is a nod and a moan of your name.

your mouth is back on her, only to pull away again to watch her take a third finger. when your forefinger enters her as well, her moans echo off the walls. she pulls the hand she’s holding, wanting for your lips. you keep your fingers in her, letting her adjust as you climb up to kiss her. her arms wrap around your shoulders while her hips chase your fingers, moaning into your mouth. your thumb finds her clit, toying it in circles at the same pace as your fingers fuck into her faster.

you shove your face into her neck, sucking the skin and licking it and she grinds harder against you. she grows frantic in her movements as she gets closer, her walls hugging your fingers.

you move back down, replacing your thumb with your mouth. her moans become more whispers, her breathing shallow. “you can cum, baby. let me taste you,” you whisper.

your tongue and fingers move together at a fast pace, willing larissa to cum. the tight curl your fingers inside her makes her cry your name out as she climaxes. you remove one finger at a time as you slowly fuck her through her orgasm, bringing your fingers to your mouth to clean them. her eyes bore into you as she watches, you watch her in return. you keep your eyes on her as you clean her folds with her tongue, greedily taking every last drop of her.

“you taste like heaven,” you say as you kiss up her body, finding purchase in her neck. you press a kiss to her skin before asking, “you alright?”

she grazes her finger up and down your spine, “more than alright.”

you pull away from her, shuffling off the bed to stand up. she watches as you grab a t-shirt from the top of your dresser and throw it on, admiring you from the bed. “i’ll be right back,” you press a kiss to her cheek before turning to leave the room.

true to your word, you return within a minute, two bottles of water and a wet washcloth in hand. you prop the bottles on the nightstand closest to larissa and move between her legs to clean her up. she winces slightly, still sensitive, but you make it up to her with kisses on her thighs and hips. you drop the washcloth in the hamper, grabbing a shirt for her from your dresser. you lay down next to her, just watching her as she puts your shirt on and lays down facing you.

“you’re welcome to stay, if you’d like. if not, i can walk you back to your hotel,” you say quietly.

“do you want me to go?” she asks at the same volume.

you shake your head against the pillow, “not at all. i’ll even buy you breakfast in the morning, anywhere you want.”

larissa looks at the clock, 3:36 looks back at her, “i think it’s going to be lunch by the time we wake up.”

“ever heard of a diner, gorgeous? they have breakfast all day. you can get…” you look in her eyes, pupils dilating for a moment, “crepes with berries and honey, and a hot chocolate with cinnamon on top whenever you please.”

she stares at you with wide eyes and mouth agape, “how the hell did you know that?”

you laugh, realizing you’d only told her you were an outcast and not what kind, “i’m a telepath, baby.”

she blinks a couple times, “you’ve been reading my mind the whole time?”

you grab her hand, playing with her fingers, “no, i choose when i want to listen in, took a while to figure it out though. i just wanted to know your favorite breakfast, so i just looked for that.”

she pulls you into her, laying on her back to have your weight on top of her, “you are utterly delightful.”

you prop your chin on her chest, “may i ask what kind of outcast you are?”

she takes a deep breath, this was always a dreaded question, but she found herself trusting you with her secrets. she exhales slowly, “i’m a shapeshifter.”

“that’s so cool, i know a couple shifters. parker’s a shifter, but he can only shift to this big ass dog. but not like a werewolf, it’s voluntary,” you say as you glide your fingers up her arm.

“explains the amount of energy he has,” she responds with a huffed laugh.

you giggle at her comment, “i would’ve guessed you were a siren, just from looking at you.”

she smiles, “why’s that?”

“because you’re fucking outrageously gorgeous, larissa. bewitching, truly,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

you stretch across her to turn the light off before nuzzling into her. you fall asleep to her steady breathing and calm heartbeat, larissa’s arms wrapped securely around you.

—

you wake up in the morning with your face shoved in your pillow, a weight across your back. you crack an eye open, looking down to see a pale hand next to yours. memories of the night before flood your mind, lips growing into a smile. grabbing her hand, you bring it to your lips, gently kissing her fingers. lifting her arm just a tad, you turn and bury yourself in her chest, wrapping your arm around her as well. her arms wrap tighter around you, a yawn passing her lips. you kiss the skin against her neck closest to your lips, mumbling a morning, baby.

she hums in return, snuggling into you as she wakes up. you run your hands along her side, gently coaxing her into the waking world as you press soft kisses to her skin. finally moves by rolling over, trapping you below her, stealing a kiss from your lips. “good morning, lovely,” she whispers.

your peace is interrupted by your phone ringing from the nightstand. she reaches for your phone and and hands it to you, you kiss her hand in thanks. park nasty is calling appears on your screen, you mumble curses as you go to answer.

“what?” you ask.

“good morning sweetheart, it’s lovely to hear from you too,” parker says sarcastically into the phone.

“whatever, i’m putting you on speaker. behave yourself, larissa’s here,” you demand.

“oooo, is that the sexy blonde from last night?”

“yes, now behave yourself,” you repeat before pressing the speaker icon.

“hello miss larissa!” larissa says ‘hello’ back through a little laugh, “anyways, you aren’t going to fucking believe my night. please tell me you’re free for lunch, i’ll be a normal amount of gross i promise,” parker speaks quickly and excitedly into the phone.

you look at larissa as you speak, “well, we were going to go get breakfast- don’t even fucking start,” you can already hear him an snickering on the other line, “maybe you and i can do dinner or something?”

parker suppresses his giggles, “oh, please let me come to breakfast! i need to properly meet this larissa, i wanna hear all about last night’s desser-”

“parker, i will call abuela so fucking help me,” you threaten, and he knows you would.

“okay, okay! but please, let me join!” he drags out the last word, “larissa! please, tell this meanie i can come to breakfast. i’ll be good, scout’s honor.”

larissa chuckles, “yes, you should most definitely join us.”

“larissa please, he wasn’t a boy scout. abuela thought it was american propaganda,” you plead.

“too late! text me where you cuties are going, love you both. bye!” parker hangs up immediately, not allowing room for discussion.

“i’m going to need to stop by my hotel before breakfast, i have nothing to wear.”

you nod in agreement, “i’d offer you something of mine, but it doesn’t really seem to be your style.”

getting up from the bed, you extend your hand to her, “shower before we leave?”

she takes your hand, following you to your bathroom. you grab the hem of the shirt she’s wearing, lifting it up to expose her love-stained chest. she returned the favor, removing your own, as well as your own underwear. she pulls you in for a short kiss, just loving the intimacy of the moment. you both shower quickly, not wanting to leave parker waiting too long, but savor in the closeness and quiet

once you dry off, you hand her her dress from last night, then walk to your closet to pull out a light blue sweatshirt and a sweater. you place the crew neck next to her while you tread to your dresser. pulling cargo jeans out, you slide them on, and your t-shirt is quickly replaced by the thick black sweater. larissa never takes her eyes off of you, shamelessly watching you change, admiring her handiwork across your neck and chest. you catch her staring, and she’s quick to grab the sweatshirt, throwing it on as a means to hide for just a moment.

—

the drive to her hotel was nice, you spent the short journey asking random questions, some pointless and minor, some more thoughtful. favorite colors, worst fears, best birthday present, embarrassing childhood moments, you loved learning about her. you wished you could slow time, freeze and rewind the last fifteen hours over and over again.

she pulls you to her hotel room with your hands interlocked. you gladly watch her go through her outfits with a soft smile on your face, seeing how she pieces together what to wear in her mind. you want to read her, but you won’t unless she allows you to, and even then you’ll likely never ask.

“which do you think?” she holds up a white satin blouse and a white cotton one, and all you can do is blink.

“i think you look best in nothing,” she throws the satin shirt at you, “jeez, woman! i say…” you lean over her bag, spotting a pair of straight-legged black pants, “these, and keep my sweatshirt on. you look good in my clothes,” you smile. she only kissed you in response, before disrobing to get changed for the day as you text parker.

“i can’t be bothered with makeup today,” she grumbles as she laces up a pair of white boots.

you walk around to kneel down to tie the other shoe for her. “you don’t need it anyways,” you squeeze her thighs as you stand back up. “all set, gorgeous?” she nods, grabbing your hand.

—

larissa ends up applying mascara and tinted lip balm in the car while you head to the diner. parking across the street in the pharmacy lot, you jump out to open the door for her, bowing and extending your arm in jest. she smacks your arm playfully before wrapping her own around it.

sitting at table, your let you fingers dance along larissa’s thigh, both talking about random things while you wait for parker. neither of you noticed when he walked in until he slid into the and smacked his hands on the table. “good morning darling, meanie,” he nods to larissa and you respectively.

“so thirds went well i presume?” you say with a laugh.

he nods excitedly, “fourths and dessert too.”

you shake your head as the waiter puts menus down and asks what drinks you’d all like. latte, coffee, hot chocolate with cinnamon, you already knew. you stare at the menu while parker explains the beginning of the whole thing with max.

you turn to the breakfast page, pointing to the crepes for larissa. she smiles excitedly, mumbling to ask you if they have honey, “of course they do,” you say to her with a little smile.

“and so they had me like over the count- you’re not even listening. neither of you, i can’t believe this,” parker goes to smack you with his spoon when you bat him with the menu.

the waiter comes back, and takes your orders, taking a little to much care on larissa’s order. she pays him no mind, leaning on you while she orders, looking at you when you do. he seems to take the hint and quickly walks away, parker’s laugh taking place in his stead.

“doesn’t the fool know a basket of fruits when he sees one?” parker asks making larissa laugh, her hand flying to her mouth. her laugh makes you smile, eyes resting on her face.

“can i ask now?” parker asks, looking at you.

“three questions,” you say with a sigh.

“each?” he says with a sly smile.

“three total,” you say sternly making larissa chuckle again.

“where, how many times each, and are you u-hauling yet?”

your head smacks against the table before coming back up, “i hate you. my place, two and one, and watch your mouth.”

larissa’s head whips to you, eyes bulging out of her head. parker seems to put the pieces together first, because there’s a beat, then a crack of his laughter. he’s nearly struggling to breathe, then cries out when you kick him under the table. he resorts to holding back laughs, wiping tears from his eyes.

“had that much fun, huh?” he looks at larissa, his face turning red from laughter, “oh my god, larissa doesn’t get it. oh my god, please let me stay while you explain this.” you’re want to drown in your coffee cup, you have to explain this with parker across from you while in a public setting.

you duck your lips to her ear and whisper, “i told you that you tasted like heaven, didn’t i? brought me there with just the taste of you.”

you pullback and look at her face, her cheeks go fully red, eyes fluttering. parker is silent screaming at her reaction, you hold your head in your hands. you’re definitely snitching to abuela about his nosiness.

the waiter brings the food, crepes with berries and honey for larissa, eggs with toast and pan fries for you, and waffles with an absurd amount chocolate chips on top for parker. larissa immediately passes hot sauce to you, remembering your comment about loving tabasco sauce. you thank her with a smile, then glare at your friend when he does a little aaaawe.

“are you going to see max again?” larissa asks parker as he shoves half a waffle into his mouth.

he takes a sip of his coffee, “oh for sure. they’re too good not to, super sweet too. they would’ve come along but they had plans at their babcia’s place for lunch.”

you smile at him, “that’s awesome buddy.” you pick up a piece of cantaloupe from your fruit salad and pass it to him to take, he loves it while you loathe it. it just works.

he takes the melon from your fork, speaking while he chews, “what about you two? gonna keep up?”

you and larissa look at each other. you hadn’t even thought about it much, nothing past post-orgasm conversation. you want to say yes, but you don’t want to put pressure on her. she takes your hand under the table and speaks first, “definitely.”

you look at her, “yeah, vermont sounds pretty cool. i could spend some time there,” you turn to parker, “she teaches at nevermore.”

he perks up immediately, “you’re one of us?”

larissa smiles, “yes, i’m a shapeshifter. but i try to keep that a little quiet.”

parker’s grin is huge, dimples showing off, “totally get it. i’m a shifter too, people get a little freaked out by dogs that are five feet tall on all fours.”

larissa’s eyes widen as she looks at you, “you didn’t say he was five feet tall in that form.”

you shrug, “i told you he was a big ass dog.”

parker chuckles, “she was probably picturing a great dane, you moron,” he looks at larissa, “think the grim the harry potter, but lighter fur and better groomed.”

you laugh at his comparison, “sirius black was in prison for twelve years. did you want him to be all fresh and clean?”

larissa just laughs and watches in amusement as the two of you argue over the mauraders, her head on your shoulder, your arm around hers.

—

the rest of the time larissa is in the city, she’s with you. the next three days were spent touring around the city, going to shops and cafes, always ending in either your bed or her hotel’s, depending on which was closer. her departure time was steadily approaching, making you both a bit upset.

she lays her head on your chest, legs tangled with yours, sweat across both your bodies. you take the time to map her body with your fingers, needing to remember every inch of her. she was worth a six hour drive, hell she was worth a six century walk.

“what’s going on in your head?” she asks gently, “i can’t see into your mind, you know.”

you chuckle, kissing her forehead and hugging her close, “i’m just wondering how i can change my powers from telepathy to teleportation. would be so much easier.” she cuddles into you more, hugging you tight.

the next morning is slow, her alarm going off around six, even though she didn’t really need fo be up until seven. she just wanted more time with you. you spend part of your morning just holding each other, soft kisses holding promises. more kisses and hands between each others thighs in the shower, your name spelled on her clit with your tongue, her name falling from your lips as she brings you closer and closer.

you’re enjoying hot chocolate together in the lobby when her phone chimes, the nevermore car was only five minutes away. she looks at you with watery eyes, you bring your hands up to cup her face.

“it’s a six hour drive, whenever you want me there, i’ll be there. i know it’s harder for you to leave, i can organize and do meetings virtually time to time,” you kiss her cheek.

she shakes her head, “you’re job is too important, i can’t ask you to do that. that would just be selfish of me, they need you.”

“baby, i’m only working in person half the week with clients, the other half is all online. i’m a phone call away from any of them, you won’t be stealing me from anyone,” you assure her.

“you have to promise me you won’t sacrifice your job for me,” larissa demands.

you draw an x over your chest, “cross my heart. i’m not sacrificing my job, but i also don’t want to sacrifice you. i’m willing to make this work if you are.”

she kisses you hard, “i’m more than willing.”

you walk her to the car, putting her bags in for her. shooing away the driver, you open the door for her and guide her in. you lean your head into the car, “call me when you get home, okay?”

she holds the collar of your shirt to keep you close, “i’ll probably call you before i even get there.”

you smile and press a sweet kiss to her cheek, “please do, i’m gonna miss your voice.” you clear your throat, “i’ll see you soon, larissa.”

you start to back out of the car when she pulls your collar, pulling you into a long kiss, “better be soon.” she presses one last kiss to your lips before releasing your shirt, letting you back away and shut the door.

the car pulls off, and you watch until she’s gone from your sight. you make your way to your car, exhaling deeply before starting the engine and backing out of the lot.

you’re sitting on parker’s couch, legs draped across max’s lap while you both wait for parker to come back from the kitchen with snacks. community plays on the tv, one of the paintball wars playing quietly while the three of you were talking. your phone ringing breaks the silence, larissa <3 is calling.

“i gotta take this. i’ll be in parker’s room if you need me,” you say quickly to max and you scramble down the hallway.

you click the green answer button, “hey there, beautiful.”

you hear her laugh lightly, “i wanted to call you sooner, but there was horrible service. i’m almost to jericho now.”

“i’m glad you’re safe,” you say through a smile, giddy from her voice, “i’m at parker’s with max, i’m outnumbered here.”

larissa laughs again, making your heart swell, “i’m sorry, lovely. once you come to visit it’ll just be you and me, no being outnumbered or interrupted.”

“don’t threaten me with a good time,” you say, “fuck, is it embarrassing that i miss you already?”

“only if it’s embarrassing that i miss you quite a bit already as well,” she plays.

the bedroom door swings open, parker’s head popping in and pointing at the phone. the second you mouth larissa he grabs the phone and starts talking to her. you wrestle the phone out of his hand, shoving him out the door. “i’m telling abuela!” you yell down the hall, you can’t just hog your girlfriend is screamed back before bringing the phone back to your ear.

“sorry about that,” you say with a huff.

“it’s cute, the two of you fighting over me,” she jokes.

you laugh at her, “pray tell, who has won your affections?”

“park nasty,” larissa deadpans.

“oh my god, i’m hanging up,” you say as you don’t even move to do so.

“no, no, no, no, no. you win, of course you win,” she yells into the phone, “you win over everyone, i swear.”

“everyone? even sarah jessica parker?” you joke, referencing back to her confession of her childhood crush.

she laughs, “yes, even sarah jessica parker.”

banging in the door pulls you from the conversation, max and parker both beating on the door and calling fo you. gimme a second! is screamed at them.

“baby, i gotta go, homosexuals are beating down the door,” she laughs over the line, “let me know when you get to nevermore, okay?”

“i promise. and i’ll see you soon. goodbye, darling.

“bye, gorgeous. i’ll see you soon,” the line beeps as the call comes to an end.

feedback appreciated as always, love you a bushel and a peck <3

[slutisnotabadword]

I’m sorry to that anon that said something about fetish

Like sweetie if you’re a buck Tommy shipper you’re literally the one having a fetish here. Y’all are so disrespectful and rude and yall only care an bout bucktommy because they’re white men and yall love to watch them kiss and make out and who knows what else (when buddie hasn’t done any of those things so no, you can’t call it a fetish. It’s called SLOW BURN for a reason :) )

And second of all, yall are literally homophobic and anti pride. Buck and Eddie are both NOT straight, and they made it clear recently with the recent interviews (especially when they confirmed it was Eddie who was supposed to be having the GAY ARC in season 7 and Eddie was supposed to kiss TOMMY!!!!! NOT buck so I hope every tevan shipper remember this!!!!)

And yall being so pressed about Eddie being forced to be straight is like disgusting, like it’s very clear now that they’re going to give him a queer story arc (and episode 6 is probably going to confirm that) so this just proves yall don’t even care about more lgbtq+ representation, and yall are literally gonna turn homophobic and turn on Eddie just because they’re gonna reveal he was always gay, he was just suppressing that bc of the catholic household he grew up in etc. and let’s be honest ofc yall gonna turn into hypocrites cause everyone knows the moment Eddie is confirmed QUEER, yall ship is DONE. Yall are literally gonna be so threatened cause obviously yall have no chance if Eddie is queer, obviously buck is gonna get with Eddie and that’s not our fault so!!! ESPECIALLY IF THE WRITERS ALWAYS PLANNED THIS!!!!!!!!!!! That’s yall fault for being blind and stupid

I’m leaving this here because they ate.

[mrsspringerslover]

Shit talker

Summary I’m which todo catches you talking ‘bout him to your friends, telling them lies so he plots against you.

Warning: Todo being mean to reader, rough sex, hair pulling, Mean!but dumb! Reader, selfish!todo, dumbifacation, writer DOES NOT know how to spell, broken bed, strong!todo, mentions of yuji

It was a Saturday and you were bored and there was nothing to do, and you didn’t want to go outside because it was way to fucking hot. Nun of your friends had anything good to do so you were on the phone with them, “gurl it ain’t nun to do! And todo working out as if he ain’t baking in that hot funky ass gym.” You complained, “gurl why don’t you just go get ice cream with him! Sum of us wish we had a man.” Maki rolls her eyes and the other girls agree.

“Gurl you saying that as if you weren’t fucking that 30 year old man last week!” This gurl is so dramatic I swear, “ I hate to say this but when todo is working out and training his trainee’s he acts like there bitches!” Before your friend could say something you heard the front door slam. That’s when you knew you fucked up. “Y’all I think todo heard me” “ girl no he didn’t you just hearing stuff” you weren’t just hearing stuff. A front door doesn’t just open and close its self, “anyways gurls I gotta go bye” you hung up before they could even finish.

You walked into the kitchen because you heard clanking of metal, but when you turned around you didn’t see any body there but you turned the corner to go back and your room your neck got snatched up. “AHHHH! Nigga don’t scare me like that! Why is you playing, bitch!” Now this was out of reflex you didn’t mean to call him a bitch, “wanna repeat that pretty?”

“A-ahhhh! Pa I’m sorry p-pleaseee!” This was the fifth round and your legs were shaking and he was still going, “ Nah I thought I was a bitch, crazy girl.” So he had heard you conversation and I didn’t help the fact that you called him a bitch for scaring you. “D-Didn’t mean it! Slow down daddy!” Now you were trying to run? He wasn’t having nun of that. He grabbed both your hands and pushed them down your back while holding you hips. “You like when this “bitch” fuck the shit out of you huh pretty?” “Yes daddy mhmm!” As he kept his steady pace deep inside of you, you arch raised a bit. “ fix yo arch for I pop you!” Even tho he said that he had already pop the fuck out of your ass, “c-cum! Imgonnacumimgonnacum! Can I please cum daddy!?” “ go ahead but don’t ever let me here that shit your mouth! Ya heard?” Finally you were almost free! “ I said do you here me lil girl?” “ yes daddy I promise!” You said ass you released. You felt you body collapse, and your vision was blurred going in and out. Todo walked out of the room and came back with cold water and a hot rag and whipped you down slowly with gentle pressure. “ I’m sorry daddy didn’t mean to hurt your feelings…” “ ‘so kay pretty but don’t let me hear that shit again, now lay yo ass down before I give you some thing to cry about, again.”

AYYEEE @dilfl0v3rss READ THIS AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK THIS SHIT IS NOT PROOF READ THO🌚🫶🏾😩

Damn that shit was a roller coaster ian never wrote like this before

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

HIT ‘EM UP! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: This chapter is LONG AS FUCK, so y’all have been warned! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

********

SEVENTEEN: MISDIRECTION.

Dear, Shoko,  Hello from Willow Springs! Yes, I’m here and yes, it was one hell of a journey as you can imagine. Let’s just say waking up in a soft bed and taking a hot shower in the morning is MUCH better than dodging bullets and fending off nature.  I can’t complain though. Gojo & Geto have been a big help to me. We’ve helped a lot of people on our way here and we’ll continue to do so once we leave Willow Springs. Right now, I’m staying with my parents. They moved out of the South some time ago and moved here, so they offered us a place on their farm.  I’m safe if that’s what you’ve been worried about. And I’m happy. Finally, I can live without looking over my shoulder or lying. Speaking of lying, I’m sorry I never told you who I really was or what my true intentions were. I hope you can forgive me.  I just hope you’re safe and happy too. How are the others? How is the saloon? Valentine is in prison again. I’m sure you’ve heard about his escape, but we took care of it. Still no Benji yet, but we’ll get him soon. You can count on that.  I hope you miss me just as much as I miss you. You don’t have to answer this letter. I just wanted to say hi. -Love, Y/N

After finishing your letter to Shoko, you lay back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling, the summer night breeze cascading over you from the open window. The letter lays on your chest, possibly never to be seen or sent off to your old “home”. Your old life.

Black Waters seems so much farther away now. Everything does at this point, including your snake bite. 

It’s been a couple days since you moved into your parents' home and things have been looking up for you. You’ve been following Nanami’s instructions down to the point and doing physical therapy––several minutes of walking and ankle stretches—which have helped you tremendously. Now, you're walking without the cane and you can even see the bite marks fading. 

You can hardly believe that the snake bite even happened. Days of simple living have made everything before seem like a dream…except one thing. Or rather, one person: Benji the Bandit. He is still out there somewhere, waiting for you, searching for you. You know that it’s only a matter of time until you fully heal and you’ll be back on the road to find him. 

So why not practice for it? 

In the dead of night while the house sleeps, you dress in a loose spaghetti-strap top, some riding pants, and boots before you tip-toe out of the house with your pistol. You go out of the kitchen to the backyard which is separated from the farm and the forest by two white picket fences. 

When you finally get outside, you breathe in the summer night air, staring up at the twinkling stars above. It is a clear, warm night with only the buzzing of insects and the hooting of a lone owl from the forest to comfort you. “Goin’ out?” a familiar voice asks behind you. 

You nearly shriek, whipping around with your pistol drawn and cocked. But then you see the Gunslingers lounging about on the wrap-around porch. “Shit!” you gasp, damn clear close to a heart attack. “Y’all scared me half to death.” 

Both of the cowboys sit in their neighboring chairs, both wearing jeans, riding boots, and their own tank tops that show off way too much muscle and skin to be appropriate…for you, anyway. They both pass a cigarette back and forth, reminding you of an indirect kiss when Gojo takes a puff of it after Geto gives it to him. 

The blue-eyed bandit gives you a humored smile. “I know,” he chuckles. “That was the cutest thing ever.” Geto rolls his eyes. “C’mon, Satoru, cut her a break,” he huffs. “She almost died a couple days ago.” 

You chuckle at his wry joke, loosening your grip on your pistol. Geto nods down at your boots. “Speakin’ of which, shouldn’t you be restin’ up like the doctor ordered?” 

“I’ve rested long enough,” you scoff. “Plus, I need to brush up on my skills for Benji while I’m here.” You twirl your gun around your thumb and position it straight again before aiming at a nearby tree. 

Behind you, Gojo gives an overly-dramatic sigh. “Benji this, Benji that,” he groans. “Christ, girl, don’t that bloodlust got an off switch? Besides, we can’t kill him, remember? Unless you want us all behind bars.” He gives you a smirk as he rises from his chair on his long legs, taking a stretch. 

“Well, I can still shoot and miss,” you hotly reply, placing a hand on your hip and cocking it to the side. The men watch your hips very intently, unbeknownst to you. “I’m not hellbent enough on revenge to let y’all get arrested, especially since y’all saved my life.” You flush warmly even though it’s true. The duo look happy from your words. 

For the next few seconds, silence descends on you. You take those shorts seconds to turn away from them and focus on drawing, moving your hand as fast as it can go until it cramps. Behind you, you hear the crunch of grass under some boots and turn to see Geto. The moonlight illuminates his hair, turning it silver. “How you been doin’ since we’ve been here anyhow?” He asks, giving you a warm smile. 

Gojo follows him, smoke billowing from his nostrils. He passes the cig to Geto, sticking it between his lips on his own. “Yeah, you’ve been avoidin’ us.” He pouts at you, his lush bottom lip poking out at you. 

Of course, you deny this because yes, you have been avoiding them. “I have not!” you protest, flushing with embarrassment. “I’ve just been helpin’ my parents who are up there in age, thank you very much.” You turn away, pointing at another tree that is much bigger and thicker. 

“Oh, we’ve noticed,” Geto chuckles, puffing on his cigarette. You don’t look at him, not wanting to see how hot he looks doing so. “Yet your dad is always out there in the trenches tendin’ to his farm and your mom seems overly excited to have us help her in the kitchen.” 

You groan at his words, inwardly cringing. You know Yuri has taken a shine to the duo as has Eren even though he doesn’t show it. You can tell they like the Gunslingers and though that makes you happy, it also makes you nervous. What if they start asking about marriage or pushing you to have something with them? 

Gojo shoved his hands in his pockets, looking over your small frame. “So about this ‘brushin’ up’ thing,” he begins. “Whatcha gonna do when you have no gun or knife? How are you in hand-to-hand combat?” You turn to him, frowning. “Gojo, I know how to fight.” 

He shares a look with Geto, both looking totally unsatisfied with your response. You scoff, putting away your pistol and crossing your arms. “Fine then. Teach me a few things.” Gojo raises a brow at you. “You sure?” he asks, looking unsure himself. “Not to toot my own horn or anythin’, but I’m a black belt in jujutsu.” Geto rolls his brown eyes, still smoking his cigarette. 

But instead of looking intimidated or second-guessing as you’re sure the duo thought you would, you put a good distance between you and Gojo, square your shoulders, and put your fists up to block your face. “I think I can handle it,” you whisper. 

The two look at each other and then at you, the moon illuminating their stunned expressions. Then they each break out into a smile, liking your willingness to try. “Alright, darlin’,” Gojo sniggers. “But don’t say we ain’t warn ya.” 

You never thought you needed much training or help when it came to fighting. You always thought you were pretty good after years of fighting outlaws which usually ended in you using your gun anyway. But while training with the Gunslingers, you realize just how much you need to learn when it comes to learning different combat styles and how to truly squabble. 

Geto is gentle with his approach at teaching you. He is the best kind of sensei–kind and nurturing but he isn’t afraid to point out your mistakes or things that need changing. He first teaches you about stance when facing off with an opponent. You square your feet, one behind the other to support your weight, and ball your fists up by your face while sizing up the oak tree in front of you as if it’s a gun-wielding outlaw. 

“Uh-uh.” Geto takes his cigarette out of his mouth and tosses it far into the forest, respecting your parents’ land enough to do so. You don’t know why that makes your stomach flip. “No, no, wrong stance,” he critically yet softly says. “Here, turn your hips so they angle with your feet.” 

You suddenly feel his big, warm hands on your hips, angling them so they are in line with your feet. You’re so focused on his hands that you barely notice Gojo slipping in front of the tree. He is now your opponent, a smirk on his face. 

You envision him to be Valentine or Benji and suddenly, you hear the blood pumping in your head. Geto is a soothing presence behind you, touching you without even getting near you. “Stop thinkin’ so hard,” he whispers, his lips near your ear. “I can hear those thoughts. Clear your head and watch your opponent.” 

You look at him, but turn back around when you hear a stick crunch beneath a shoe. You react just in time to Gojo’s sudden jab your way, ducking away from his blow. He smiles at you, nodding in approval. “Not bad, little lady,” he chuckles, grinning at Geto. “But I think I can teach ya better.”

Meanwhile, Gojo is all hands on and teases you every chance you get. When you practice punches, he puts his big hands up as punching bags and has you throw jabs at them, grinning annoyingly as you do. 

“C’moooon, little miss,” he cackles. “That’s all you’ve got? What, did your mama’s cooking make you soft?” Glaring at him, you give him a sharp jab in his side, earning a grunt. “Says the one who’s always beggin’ her to fix him sweets,” you retort, making Geto laugh. 

He, like Geto, likes to work closely and with his hands on you (with your consent, of course, and for the good of your fighting skills). He stands behind you, teaching you a new stance, and has his elongated fingers brushing against your belt. 

“You should have your hand at your gun if the opportunity presents itself,” he instructs. “Like so.” He takes your hand and places it on your upholstery, his hand covering yourself. “See?” he whispers, his icy mint breath fanning your ear. “You can slip your hand back here with no problem.” 

You feel his hand caress your hip and it’s like you’ve been dipped in a hot pot of liquid the way your body is in flames. “Gojo,” Geto critically growls, glaring at his friend. Gojo steps away from you, leaving you feeling cold. “What? I’m just anglin’ her hips right!” 

You then move onto more moves where Gojo acts as an actual opponent again. He stands a foot away from you while Geto watches leaning against a nearby tree. The white-haired outlaw towers over you, fists up and knees bent gingerly. “Try dodgin’ me again,” he instructs, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth. 

You nod, thinking that this will be easy being that Gojo has been so playful so far. But to your shock, that playfulness fades and he’s all business as he tosses you multiple punches and jabs one after the other that you need to dodge. You gasp and let out little pants as you dodge each one, ducking beneath his fists and side stepping him when you need to. Your eyes lock with each other and you clear your head, helping you size him up the way Geto taught you. 

You almost feel as if you’re dancing with him with the way your legs burn and a slight smile appears on your lips. Finally, when your body is screaming for rest, he stops. “Not bad at all, rookie,” he praisingly says. 

Geto claps from the tree, but you ignore it, too focused on Gojo’s nickname. “Rookie?” you scoff, raising a brow. “Don’t insult me like that.” The gunslinger just laughs, making a fire bloom inside of you. 

Now you really want a challenge. So you step father away from Gojo and put your fists up. “Alright, cowboy,” you tease. “Let’s see what you got.” He smirks at you. “What I got?” he scoffs. “Don’t forget about him now, sugar.” 

He turns to Geto and so do you, expecting him to have a gun drawn or something. But to your surprise, the space by the tree where he once stood is empty. Suddenly, you feel a tug at your belt and look up to find Geto standing behind you with your pistol dangling from his hand. “Hey!” you shout. “How’d you–” 

“Misdirection,” he chuckles, his eyes filled with playfulness. “That’s your next lesson.” Your eyes tick up to your gun, already figuring out how to get it from him. “You want it back?” He raises a brow at you, putting the gun in his back pocket. “Then come get it, darlin’.” And smirk stretches across his lips, making heat pool in your legs. 

The fight is on. You make the first move, lunging at him to distract him before sending a jab at his lower stomach. It isn’t enough to hurt him, but it’s enough to make him double over and give you a good chance to grab your gun. Geto is quicker than you though, and uses one arm to take a chop at the inside of your knees. 

With a gasp, you buckle and go down, your knees hitting the ground. Luckily, it doesn’t slow you down. You immediately pop back up and glare up at Geto who looks down at you with a darkened gaze. “C’mon,” he says. You lunge at him, but he takes off before you can catch him. 

“Pass it!” Gojo calls, waving his hands from the fence. Geto tosses your pistol at his partner and he catches it before the two jump the fence and enter the woods. You quickly run after them in your boots, jumping the fence and scampering into the forest. You’re about five feet from the farm when you track down Gojo standing in a clearing of trees. 

He grins at you, standing alone. You don’t know where Geto has gotten to, but right now you don’t care. Wordlessly, you put your fists up, scowling at him. He smirks and pockets your gun, slipping it into his belt. You watch him, already planning on how to get it back. 

When you blink, Gojo is suddenly closer, wordlessly telling you to make a move. Instantly, you do so, tossing a punch his way. He dodges it effortlessly just as he does the other ones. You decide to leave his handsome face alone and shoot for his waist, grabbing at his belt to yank it off. 

Gojo counteracts this by grabbing your arm and spinning your body into him. Your back presses against his front and he locks your arms behind your back as he presses his face against your ear. “You should’ve been watchin’ the hands, sugar,” he chuckles. 

You begin to squirm and writhe in his iron grip, trying in vain to kick back to get his legs or groin. Nothing works. You whine, the sound coming out like a cry for help. It must work because Gojo  loosens his grip a bit. “You cryin’?” he teasingly laughs. “Ain’t no cryin’ on the battlefield, little miss. You’d better wipe them tears or—“ 

With a hard kick, you aim your foot at his thigh, causing him to grunt. His grip loosens farther, allowing you to free your right hand and deck him in the face. As soon as it happens, you regret it. Gojo covers his cheek, his blue eyes blown with shock. “Oh, shit!” you gasp. “I-I’m so sorry!” 

To your surprise, he begins to laugh, still holding his wounded cheek. “No, no!” he cackles. “That was priceless! Damn, girl, did those antibiotics give you super strength too?” He continues to laugh, even as he takes your pistol out of his belt. 

You think he’s about to hand it over, but he tosses it somewhere behind you instead. You turn, watching Geto catch the gun and slip it into his belt. “Nice right hook,” he praises with a smirk. “But ya still didn’t get this back.” 

You immediately toss yourself at him, grappling with his belt, but he laughs and skips backwards, making you chase him. When you manage to reach towards his holster where your pistol is, he takes your arm and twists you so your back is pressed against him. “Geto, come on!” you shout. Give it back!” 

He continues to laugh as you struggle, much to your dismay. And the fact that he’s so fucking massive doesn’t make it any better. With his one arm holding your arms down, you decide to use your feet again and kick at his knee. He grunts, causing his arm to loosen, allowing you to bend down onto your knees. 

“Hittin’ below the belt?” he laughs. “Why, darlin’, that isn’t very–” 

But he doesn’t get a chance to finish because you’re looping yourself between his legs and popping up behind him before unsheathing your gun from his holster and looping your arm around his neck. “Misdirection,” you breathlessly whisper. 

He long-haired outlaw looks down at you, shock in his brown eyes that quickly turns to pride illuminated by the moonlight. Your eyes flit down to his lips, parted and soft, soft pants escaping them. Maybe it’s the moonlight. Maybe it’s the adrenaline rush you feel from the fight session. Maybe it’s his scent of pine and something else spicy that attracts and intoxicates you as you keep his arm looped around his shoulder.

Or maybe it’s the way his arm comes back around your waist to hold you, but not forcefully like before, making you feel safe. Either way, you find yourself kissing him. It isn’t as long as Gojo’s, but it’s just as soft and just as exciting. Geto’s kiss makes you crave more like you would cold water on a hot day. You stand up on your tiptoes to reach him because he’s so tall, causing your neck to strain slightly.m

But just as it happens, it ends and you pull away. You stare up at him wordlessly, trying to make sense of what just happened. He looks like it too, his expression stunned. “Y/N,” he says. “I–” 

He’s interrupted by Gojo who saunters to you, applauding you. “Not bad, rookie,” he praises. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone leave Suguru shaken up like that before. We definitely made the right choice invitin’ you into our little family.” He is completely unaware of what just transpired between his partners.,

Quickly, you tear yourself away from Geto and pocket your gun. “Uh, thanks,” you awkwardly reply. “I-It’s kinda late, so I should be headin’ inside. Thanks for the lessons.” Before either of them can speak, you quickly hurry off back towards the farm, abruptly leaving them. “What is somethin’ I said?” Gojo asks, utterly confused. 

You don’t stop moving until you’re back in the house and finally in your bedroom. Once you are, you close the door behind you and lean against it for a moment to compose yourself. Your heart is hammering like a rabbit’s and it has less to do with your recent activity and everything to do with the lips you just kissed. 

You can’t believe it. You’ve kissed both Gojo and Geto. Your partners. The same men you tried to kill weeks ago. How is this possible? How did you get from despising the outlaws to loving them? 

You pause, your brain practically scratching a record, getting stuck on that one forbidden word. Wait…love? 

And then it hits you. Like a herd of horses or a freight train barrelling towards you, it hits you dead on: you’re in love with Geto and Gojo. “Shit,” you say into the dark. Now things will never be the same. 

**********

Just as you suspected, things are not at all the same. 

For the next week, you barely talk to the Gunslingers. You go about your business, helping your parents out around the house, and spending time on your own. You avoid Geto and Gojo as much as you can which, fortunately for you, isn’t hard because they have barely been talking to you too. 

And it’s horrible. You feel like you’re all ghosts orbiting and existing around each other, invisible but still there. You want so desperately to talk to them, to discuss what happened with Geto that night and even what occurred when you got bit by that snake, but something always stops you. 

Embarrassment? Humiliation? Fear? You don’t know, but whenever you walk by their room or hear their voices, you feel that urge to talk but also that twist in your gut that stops you short. It’s exhausting! 

But instead of being an adult and discussing it, you continue to avoid your friends and help your ailing parents with chores, such as helping Eren out on his farm. You stand in his vegetable garden in the warm sun, your bare feet in the soil and overalls over your undershirt. Eren stands beside you in his flannel and boots stained with mud, his cowboy hat low on his head to block out the sun. 

“Now just sprinkle in the seeds like so,” he instructs. “Then we can water ‘em and cover ‘em up with dirt.” He hands you a bunch of cabbage seeds and nods at the bed he dug earlier for them. 

You crouch down in the dirt and sprinkle in the seeds, making sure they have a good distance apart. Eren hoops proudly, ever the girl dad. “Perfect!” he says, applauding you. “You always did have a green thumb.” You stand up straight, stretching your arms high over your head to touch the blue sky above. “Hardly,” you snigger. “I was always the one for the kitchen.” 

Eren throws his head back and laughs, his green gardening hose wound around his hand like a python. “That you were!” he fondly laughs. “You were always your mama’s little assistant. I still remember that gumbo ya made that time for New Years Eve. Still the best one I’ve ever had.” 

You smile wistfully, thinking of those times. Those times when you weren’t hardened by so much grief and revenge. Those times when you didn’t have blood on your hands. You wonder briefly what would’ve happened if you hadn’t left your parents and became an outlaw. Would you have been a better person? Would your life have been okay?

One thing is for sure though: you would’ve never had met the Gunslingers. 

They suddenly appear yards down from the garden, walking out of the barn with axes and a wheelbarrow. As if to tease you, Gojo only wears a white tee that is tight on his toned muscles while Geto is shirtless, each muscle rippling enticingly. His long hair is pulled back into a ponytail to avoid strands sticking to his face, making him look like a damn wet dream. “Good mornin’, Mr. Tokiyami!” he calls, waving one big arm to him. 

Eren waves back, smiling at the young men. “Just Eren, son!” he calls back. “And good mornin’ to y’all!” He turns to you, oblivious to your mixed emotions. “They volunteered to help cut some extra wood for the upcomin’ winter. They’re quite the help, your friends. I’m sorry about what I said about ‘em bein’ outlaws and all.” 

You pat him on the back, smiling proudly at his change of heart. “I’m sure they wouldn’t be mad at you, Papa.” He returns your smile and begins to water his tomatoes and herbs, leaving you to watch the duo walk across the land to the woods. 

They catch your gaze, but don’t say anything, only offering a smile and a nod. You were kind of hoping they would say something. Eren notices and pulls a face, perplexed. “Huh,” he says. “That was a little awkward. They ain’t even tell you hi.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you laugh, waving it off. “They’re probably bein’ weary because I yelled at them for makin’ all this noise last night while I was tryna sleep.” You come up with the lie on the fly, having become an expert at it. Eren scowls in confusion, cocking his head to the side. “Funny, I ain’t hear nothin’.” 

You laugh, bumping his hip with yours. “Well, that’s because you were sleepin’ on two glasses of whiskey and a full plate,” you joke. Before Eren can say anything more, Yuri appears in the garden in her cotton blue dress and apron. “Oh, there you are!” she exclaims. “Dr. Nanami is here to see you. I told him I’d fetch ya and tell you to clean up.” 

She begins to dust the mud off of you while Eren laughs, telling her to leave you be. Afterwards, you leave the garden and enter back into the house through the kitchen door so Nanami doesn’t see you. You change out of your sweaty, muddy clothes and into a clean red sundress that stops at your knees. Something cute but respectable. 

You then go back downstairs to see Nanami standing in the foyer. He, too, is affected by the heat, his spits slightly staining his button-down and his blonde hair pushed back. “Kento!” you sweetly greet him. “What a surprise to see you.” 

He stands from the wicker chair and bows, clearing his throat. “Good afternoon, Y/N,” he politely says. “I hope I’m not interruptin’ you and your family. Your mother let me come by.” 

“No, just preparin’ for tonight’s big celebration in the town’s square,” you reply and then giggle. “A shindig, if ya will. A hoedown.” Nanami cracks a smile at your goofiness. “Yes, I forgot that was today,” he sighs. “That’s why everyone is leavin’ work early and I’ll have no assistance.” 

The people of Willow Springs always celebrate on the first day of every new month. “It’s a tradition of ours,” Yuri explained to you one night while out for a walk among the trails in the backwoods. “To us, it brings good luck and fortune.” Businesses close early, food is cooked, musicians bust out their instruments, and everyone gathers in the square to dance until midnight. 

It sounded like a perfect distraction to you. It’s been a while since you actually relaxed and let yourself go, so a night of drinking and dancing in a place where you feel safe sounds perfect to you. 

“Oh, yes, the party!” Yuri shouts, scaring you and Nanami half to death. She suddenly appears in the living room near the delicious-smelling kitchen. “You’ll have to excuse me, Dr. Nanami. I cook every month for this celebration.” 

A ding penetrates the air and Yuri jumps. “Oh, those are the hush puppies!” she gasps before scurrying off. You turn to Nanami, sighing. “You may wanna stay in case she has a heart attack,” you joke. 

The handsome doctor chuckles. “I just came to check up on you and make sure you’re doin’ alright.” He nods down at your foot which has begun to successfully heal. You no longer feel any pain and can finally walk without the cane. 

“How sweet,” you coo. “I’m right as rain thanks to you and that magic medicine ya gave me.”

The doctor appears happy with that answer and goes to say something more, but he is interrupted by the sound of the front door creaking open. You turn around, your heart leaping at the sight of Gojo and a shirtless Geto. The only difference is that he’s put a flannel on to hide his glistening abs, probably to show respect to your parents’ household. 

They look at you and then at Nanami who silently stares at them. The tension is so fresh and so thick that you’d have to cut it with a chainsaw. Quickly, you try to dispel it. “Uh, fellas, you remember Dr. Nanami?” 

Geto only offers a smile while Gojo, the certified yapper of the both of them, verbally acknowledges Nanami. “How could we forget?” he chuckles. “You saved our partner’s life. Pleasure to see you again, doctor.” 

He thrusts his hand out for a shake, a smile stretched across his pretty face (despite the blindfold). Nanami slowly takes Gojo’s hand and shakes it like he’s afraid it will bite him. “Pleasure’s all mine,” he replies though he sounds like he really doesn’t mean it. 

Geto’s eyes meet yours, but you quickly look away, seeing visions of his face illuminated by moonlight before you shared that kiss. 

You feel like you’re about to either bolt or throw up from the awkwardness. It’s bad enough you and the Gunslingers aren’t talking, but Nanami also doesn’t trust them as entirely as you do. You feel like the room is about five seconds away from exploding. 

Luckily, your mom comes through, ever your hero. “Oh, boys, are you goin’ to the party tonight?” Yuri yells from the kitchen. 

The Gunslingers share a confused look. “Party?” Geto asks. “What party?” 

Yuri sticks her head from out of the kitchen, her face slightly flushed from the hot oven. “The party in the town’s square that happens every first of the month. Y/N, did you not tell them?” All of them turn to you and you shrink under their gazes. “Was I supposed to?” you ask. Yuri gives you a motherly glare. 

While Gojo looks happy with the invitation, Geto seems put off by the idea of partying with strangers. You can’t blame him for it. As a fellow outlaw, you have to be wary even if danger isn’t at every corner. “Thank you for the invite, Yuri, but I don’t think it’d be wise.” 

Gojo side-eyes him, definitely not down with this plan. “Why the hell not?” he scoffs. “You may still wanna lay low, but I could use a night of drinkin’ and dancin’ to take the edge off.” 

Geto’ jaw tightens and you can tell that this is going to be a fight. “Uh…excuse us for a moment.” He silently walks upstairs to their bedroom and Gojo silently huffs to himself, following after. Yuri gives you a guilty look, but you wave it off, silently telling her to forget about it. 

When she disappears back into the kitchen again, you tend to Nanami, trying to make this situation as less awkward for him as possible. “You want some lemonade or somethin’?” 

He shakes his head, taking his hat from th couch. “No, thank you,” he replies. “I’ve overstayed my welcome already. I should be headin’ back before my next appointment at 1 PM.” You nod, walking him to the door. 

“You should come tonight, if ya want,” you casually say. “We’ll have good food, music, booze…” He turns you to and blinks, looking shocked at the suggestion. He takes a moment to think about it and you begin to think that he’ll say no. “Social gatherings aren’t entirely my thing,” he admits. “But I suppose I could stay for a minute or two.” 

You are relieved at this, happy to have a friend other than the Gunslingers there. You don’t know when you started thinking that Nanami is your friend, but somehow it feels right. He is kind and respectful, which are two things you need right now. You open the door for him, letting in the summer heat for a moment, and give him a smile. 

“I’ll see you then,” you softly say. 

Nanami’s green eyes lock with yours and you feel as if you are being plunged into a refreshing pool of forest water. “Until tonight, Ms. L/N.” He then puts his hat on and walks out of the house into the heat of the day towards his horse at the end of the road that waits patiently for him. 

You then stand there silently and watch him and his horse totter off down the road, not realizing that the Gunslingers are watching you from afar…and the way you look at the doctor.

[lcvejoy]

perhaps a very sleepy and chronically ill reader dealing with a bad fatigue few days and Wil's out gone every day until the last day where he notices how bad it is and like maybe a lil bit of caretaking??

but also I see an argument somehow- you do with this how you will!

as always you're a wonderful writer<33

misunderstandings

wilbur soot x gn!reader

word count: 1,337

tw!: arguments, swearing, chronic illness - hurt/comfort tho - not proofread (are y’all noticing a pattern?)

a/n: listen, i tried my best. i don’t have a chronic illness but i tried to be *kinda* broad so if i got it so incredibly wrong, i’m so incredibly sorry. but anything for connor!! whatever connor says, i will do!!

if it were possible to be physically engulfed by your mattress, you think by now you would’ve sunk down to the middle.

rotting away in the same spot you’ve been in for 2 days. your blanket feels heavy, like it’s pinning you down. your limbs feel achy and wobbly, your head has been pounding for hours, and you are so fucking tired.

everytime you move, you feel as if you have to sleep for hours in order to recover from the 10 steps you took.

although this feeling is nothing new, this feeling is still something you’ll never get used to.

wilbur and you have been dating for 6 months. he knows of your chronic illness, but he’s never witnessed your symptoms during bad days. you don’t allow him to see you like this - you’re worried he’ll feel obligated to take care of you.

today wilbur is preforming in a small venue in your town. he’s been talking about it for weeks, excitement and nervousness in his voice each time he tells you about it. he’s been rehearsing everyday for a week for this show, so hiding your flare up from him has been easy. he hasn’t visited you this week, too busy with making sure his show runs perfectly.

you promised him you’d go. you’re determined to show up for him. you want to show him just how much you support his dreams.

so, you decide to take a small nap hoping it’ll give you the energy to get out of bed in time to see his performance.

however, when you wake up, the light outside has faded. you can see the bright streetlights. you check your phone to see if you have time to get yourself together, only to find 6 missed calls and dozens of texts from wil.

you missed the show.

how could you miss the show.

you’re beating yourself up as you lay back down, still so exhausted despite your 5 hour nap.

until you hear keys jingle at your front door. you hold your breath, nervous, knowing it’s an upset, disappointed wil who’s about to step into the door. you try to rehearse what you’re going to say to him, how you’re going to explain your absence, but the words get jumbled and it only exhausts you more.

you hear his footsteps walking towards your bedroom door. he’s dragging his feet and his pace is slow. the door creaks open. you don’t face him, you can’t. how could you look at him right now knowing you’ve broken your promise? you don’t think you’ll ever be able to look at him again without feeling guilty.

“this is what you were doing?” he asks, his voice is laced with anger and disappointment, “sleeping? you were sleeping while i was waiting for you to show up?”

he pauses. you don’t move or speak. he scoffs before continuing; “why does everything i say to you seem to just go through your thick fucking skull, y/n?” his voice is louder now, laced with venom. your eyes well up with tears, your head still pounding, you limbs still aching. “i’m sorry” you whisper, you’re not sure how to fix this.

“you’re sorry?” he scoffs as he speaks, “that’s it? you’re fucking sorry? i’ve been talking about this for weeks, i was so excited for you to see this and all you have to say is you’re fucking sorry?” his voice echoes through your room as he speaks, each word he says bouncing off the walls and hitting your head like a boulder causing a sharp pain. you’re exhausted, and the emotions and words are only making you more tired.

“i’m sick. i should’ve texted you but i fell asleep. i didn’t mean to, i had every intention on waking up on time to come but…i’m just exhausted” your face is half squished into your pillow, causing your words to come out muffled.

“this isn’t fucking about you” he yells now, his voice coming out like a boom, you sink further into your bed, “why are you making this about you? i- i trusted you”

exhaustion is hitting you fast. despite the volume of his voice, the pain in his words, the emotions in your body - you’re finding it hard to keep your eyes open.

“c-can we talk about this when i’m better? please? i-i’m so tired, wil.” your voice is slurred as you speak. there’s silence as your eyes blink slowly. you’re forcing your body to stay awake until you gain his permission.

you hear footsteps approach you, and a body slowly steps into view. wilbur crouches down so he’s within your line of sight. his face is etched with worry now, a much different sight to the one you were expecting.

he searches your face, looking you up and down. you imagine you look terrible. you haven’t had the energy to shower, you ran out of water in your water bottle and you’ve only eaten the emergency snacks in your bedside drawer.

“is this a flare up?” he asks, his voice gentle and soft. you nod your head against the pillow.

“i should’ve told you” you whisper, “but i really did intend on coming. i promise. i would never miss a show on purpose.”

“i know” he whispers back.

“i know you wouldn’t. i’m sorry” he reaches the back of his cold hand to touch your warm forehead. the touch is soothing, causing you to lean further into it.

“what hurts, baby?” he whispers gently.

“i’m okay” you respond quickly. you don’t want him to feel responsible for taking care of you, especially after breaking your promise and hurting him.

“let me take care of you.” his eyes are filled with worry as he speaks. “i’m sorry i yelled. i shouldn’t have yelled at you. i wish you would’ve told me this was happening.”

“didn’t want you to worry” your voice is slurred and slow, the exhaustion is obvious.

“i always worry” he laughs, before immediately switching back into caretaking mode - “let me take care of you. please. tell me what’s hurting you, precious” he says it so gently, so full of love and worry. he’s petting your hair, waiting for you to give him instructions on what to do next. he’s never seen you like this before and it breaks his heart to see you in pain and so exhausted you can barely speak. it hurts him even more when he realizes he yelled at you while you laid alone in this state.

“m’head” you mumble.

he nods, getting up and taking your empty water bottle in his hands. “i’m gonna get you some water and medicine, okay? you can sleep after you take some pain meds” he explains, still whispering, before softly walking out the door to grab what you need.

when he returns, you gratefully take the two pills laid out in his palm and drink the cold water before laying back down.

“can you hold me?” you ask. though it’s muffled and slurred, he understands.

“‘course i can” he responds. he crawls into the opposite side of your bed, inching towards you but trying to keep his movements slow and soft as to not further agitate your pain.

“i’m sorry for missing the show” you say, as he pulls your back into his chest and lays his head behind yours. he kisses your shoulder softly, tracing his thumb over your stomach as he holds you.

“that’s okay, darling” he whispers, kissing the back of your head, “just rest. i’ll be here when you wake up.”

you shut your eyes, and sleep quickly takes you away.

wilbur stays awake, holding you as you sleep and watching as your chest rises and falls. he feels guilty for yelling, for assuming your absence was intentional. he should’ve known you would never do anything to hurt him - at least, not if you could help it.

we’ll talk about it in the morning, he thinks, before he joins you in a deep sleep.