#fic: the opposite of hunger | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

her-favorite · 2 months

Text

UNDER THE SCREEN; M. BEER

MADISON BEER X F!READER

warnings: SMUT, soft!dom!reader/sub!madison (though, there’s not much talking), exhibitionism (?) - MEN DNI!!

wc: 1,294

a/n: REQUESTED! this is more so a blurb than anything but first Madison fic!! more requests are beyond welcome, i’m so in love with this woman it’s absurd

SYNOPSIS: During Madison’s stream, you couldn’t help your hunger for her..

tags!: @chrissv4mp @mattybsgroupie @marvelwomenarehot0 @emotionalblues

“I - shit! Sorry, I.. hit my toe.” Madison was having more than a tough time right now.

If she was honest, she couldn’t even remember how she got into this situation to begin with. Your tongue lapped greedily at her wet folds, fingers digging into her soft thighs as you devoured her like your last meal. Everything about her was intoxicating, but as soon as you got a glimpse of what she tasted like, you were a goner.

Madison spares a glance down at you, forcefully making eye contact as you looked up at her with those dangerous eyes, only making her thighs tense in response. Your lips couldn’t help but curl up at her reaction, your girlfriend’s jaw clenching as she has to scold herself in her head for staring down too long at you, realizing how suspicious it must’ve looked.

“Um…” Madison hums as her pretty brown eyes dart to the chat, scrolling through the fast words, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. With her hands already under the desk, it was easy for it to not come off strange as her fingers slide into your hair, acrylics scratching your head as you hum against her. The vibration elicits a gasp from her, plump lips parting as her hand subconsciously tightening it’s grip.

The harsh tug only drove you further as your palms grab her legs, sitting them atop your shoulders as you dive in, rapacious for more of her taste on your awaiting tongue. Your own thighs clench as your panties grow wetter, your eyes trailing up her form as you watch the way she tries to hide the vulgar acts that are happening just below the screen.

“When is..” Madison tries to read out from the chat before inhaling sharply through her nose, just barely stopping a whimper from leaving her mouth as your lips envelop her clit, sucking and licking the sensitive area. “When is your n-next song coming out?” She stutters, swallowing dryly. Madison knew how poorly of a job she was doing trying to conceal the inappropriate acts that were happening in front of a live audience, but she was too far in to care. The last thing Madison would do is push you away to stop you from eating her pussy.. for hers and your benefit.

As she tries to answer, your bring your hand up to gently graze your middle finger along her slit. You notice the way her eyes widen just barely, something that would only be caught by you, but it made a sense of pride well up in your chest.

Settling your finger on her clit, you rub teasing circles on it as your tongue darts out again to prod at her entrance. Madison’s free hand dug her nails into the arm of her chair as she tries her best to keep quiet, but that’s the opposite of what you wanted. You wanted her to react, you wanted everyone to know who’s she was.

“Um, well.. I actually just released a new single c.. called 15 Minutes!” Madison answers, a deep exhale flowing through her nose, so close to breaking - too close. Her fingers clench in your hair, eliciting a quiet, breathy moan from you. The sound only drives Madison further as her thighs tense, swallowing dryly.

“Where’s Y/N?” Madison reads out, blown pupils hastily trying to read some of the chats. “She’s, uh..” She starts before her palm flies over her mouth, immediately reacting to the way your tongue thrusts in and out of her. An almost squeak-like noise comes from her lips before she condemns them shut with her palm, breathing through her nose. Realizing what she had done, she clears her throat and parts her fingers, but leaves it to rest on her face. “She’s at the store, getting some groceries for us.” Madison lies, her fingers clawing at your hair as you devour her, tongue and mouth greedy for more of her taste.

Your nails dig into her thighs, needing her to come for you. You craved her taste as your warm muscle licks at her, occasionally moving out to tease her clit again. Your eyes dart up as you watch her, your view causing your arousal to pool in your panties. Her low, silky pigtails sat on her shoulders perfectly, her small cheetah print tanktop hugging her frame nicely. You weren’t sure what her camera showed, but you would’ve done anything for it to not show her chest as you silently wish to roam your hands along her body.

Your finger taps on the plush skin of her thigh, signaling for her attention. Almost immediately, Madison’s pretty hazel eyes look down at you, her chest heaving slightly. Your tongue picked up the way she was getting close to the edge as her thighs can’t help but try to clench as she makes eye contact with you.

“Want you to come f’me.” You whisper, quiet enough for her mic on her cute headphones to not pick up. Your lips quickly attach to her clit again, your finger traveling down to tease her entrance, gathering wetness before moving it inside, smiling at the way her thighs tremble.

Madison takes her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to conceal her moans that so desperately wanted to escape. As soon as she thinks about saying your name, she remembers what she’s doing. Darting her head back up, she looks at her computer screen, eyes frantically searching the lit up area.

‘what’s she looking at??’

‘ur so gorg omg’

‘play roblox!!!’

Madison lets out breath as only a few skeptical questions are asked, ignoring them. She bites her tongue as she feels you stretch her out, a second finger joining your middle that was inside her. Sucking on her clit, your tongue pleasures her as Madison’s stomach tenses, a knot inside her becoming tighter as seconds pass by.

She tries to warn you that she’s close as her fingers hectically tap your head, only eliciting a smile from you in return. Madison’s lip trembles slightly before she bites down on it, trying to distract herself with looking through her computer. She knew better than to try and answer some questions because if she opened her mouth to speak, it’d backfire and she’d moan from the euphoria you’re giving her.

A quiet whine bubbles up in her throat as Madison quickly covers her mic with her palm, her legs shaking as the knot inside her breaks. All she wanted to do was lean back and scream out your name, but it’d be more than obvious if she did so.

You eagerly lapped at her release, the sounds somewhat audible as you greedily taste her. You let her thighs go as they immediately clamp around your head, trapping you between them as she rides out her pleasure. Her hips involuntarily jut towards your mouth, becoming too sensitive as her euphoria begins to subside. Her chest rises and falls quickly and she swallows dryly, her plump lips parted as she breathes. Her hand has yet to leave the back of your head as she blinks, the white flash of pleasure fading away.

Pressing a few more kisses to her slit, Madison can’t hold back a quiet whimper at the feeling on her sensitive skin. Your hands hold her thighs as they sit on your shoulders, your knees beginning to ache, but you didn’t care.. you were too greedy for her.

Licking another stripe along her, Madison freezes as her thighs flinch, over sensitive at the contact. Her nails scratch your head as she tugs on your hair, trying to pull you away. She tries to inconspicuously shake her head, becoming too overstimulated with your eager tongue.

“Keep talking, baby. Don’t mind me.”

#madison beer x fem!reader #madison beer #madison beer x reader #madison beer x you #madison beer smut #madison beer x y/n

373 notes · View notes

tom-whore-dleston · 7 months

Text

Denial and Devotion

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x f. reader

Word Count: 880

This fic contains: preludes to smut, implied smut, amnesia, mentions of squirting and fingering, reader was a Soldier Boy fangirl (like me fr xD), toxic celebrity culture?

Summary: You are in denial that you slept with the Supe you used to crush on.

Notes: I'm just a girl that writes Soldier Boy fanfic at 2am knowing damn well I have work at 9am flksdghk this gif replays in my brain every waking moment of the day I literally hate how hot he is >:( This is my weekly contribution to @flashfictionfridayofficial’s prompt no. 241: Hour of Denial

The moment you rose from your slumber, you knew something was wrong. First off, you woke up in a room that you did not recognize. Then, you realized the cotton sheets of the unfamiliar bed clung close to your bare skin as if you had slept in it before.

You attempted to lift yourself out the bed, but your muscles were weak, soreness more prominent in your hips and thighs. As you winced in discomfort, your eyes widened upon the discolored love bites scattered over your body. Your eyes finally glanced to the opposite side of the bed, only to discover the person occupying it was none other than Soldier Boy.

When you were younger, Soldier Boy was your first crush. At the time, he was presumed dead, but your father would tell you stories about how he was one of the greatest superheroes to ever live. Your childhood room was covered in Soldier Boy posters and you had a doll of him that never left the box. As you got older, you conducted more research on the man you worshiped, but eventually learned that he was a monster in a superhero costume. As a result, you ripped the posters to shreds and finessed some cash off the doll in hopes to erase any trace of your Soldier Boy phase.

You stared in disbelief at the same man that lay peacefully asleep. Your mind raced with questions. The only logical answer to all of them was that you were dreaming. To test the theory, you pinched your forearm as hard as you could. After cursing from the pain, you tried another method by poking Soldier Boy in his meaty bicep. Without fluttering his eyes open, he grunted in annoyance and rolled over.

If your head wasn’t already spinning, it definitely was at this very moment. You slithered out of the bed, making sure not to disturb the sleeping man, and frantically searched for your clothes. In a hurried attempt, you shimmied back into your little black dress from the night before. Regardless of whether this was all a dream or not, you silently vowed that you are remaining sober for the rest of the month.

“Where you going so fast, sweetheart?” You turned toward the groggy voice that belonged to Soldier Boy, who was propped up against the bed frame with his muscular torso in view. It felt as if no time had passed since the beginning stages of your devotion to Soldier Boy. Your eyes scanned over his physique with a hunger that only he could satisfy. Heat radiated your body and you stood paralyzed in your unzipped dress, leaving enough uncovered for his imagination to run wild.

As Soldier Boy hopped out of bed, you swiftly turned away as his thick cock unveiled from the thin sheets. He began walking towards you, but you ignored him by fiddling with the zipper on your back. You grew frustrated with the zipper’s defiance the closer the beefy supe inched towards you. His intense stare begged for your attention until he took matters into his own hands by lifting your chin up to his gaze. Your heart pounded against your chest as his green eyes studied your face. Except there was no studying necessary.

“I’m a little embarrassed by this,” you laughed nervously, “but I don’t remember anything from last night.”

Soldier Boy smirked. “Want me to give you a reminder?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” You paused. You may not have been as infatuated with the supe as much as you once were, but you didn’t want to come off as rude. “I mean…I’m sure last night was great but I shouldn’t impose-“

“Great? Well if you define squirting on my fingers and cock until you begged me to stop as great then maybe I gotta fuck you harder.”

You were about to let out a moan, but quickly masked it with a sigh. Every part of you wanted to hate him but the ache in between your legs betrayed your voice of reason.

“You can play the ex-fangirl game all you want, but you and I know you never truly get over your first crush.” There wasn’t a more pathetic feeling than regressing back into that naive girl who treated a flawed superhero like a god.

Suddenly, your back hit the wall and Soldier Boy towered over you, his arm the only thing keeping him from pressing you against the wall to grind into your core. His free hand hooked under the strap of your dress, slowly pulling it off your shoulder. As the dress pooled around your feet, he lightly kissed the crook of your neck, electricity coursing your blood as his beard pricked your skin.

His hot breath fanned over your ear. “There’s no need to deny me anymore, sweetheart. I’m here for you to worship and fulfill all your pretty little fantasies.”

Fuck it.

All your common sense flew out the window as you desperately smashed your lips against his. Gripping your wrists, he pinned you against the wall before grinding his semi hard cock against your wet pussy.

Soldier Boy may have been the biggest pain in your ass, literally and figuratively, but he was right about you never fully recovering from your first crush.

Navigation | Fanfic Masterlist | Soldier Boy Masterlist

header credit: @saradika | divider credit: @firefly-in-darkness

707 notes · View notes

murdrdocs · 1 year

Text

saber tooth | f. odair

description. just two days out from the Games, your mentor and best friend, finnick odair, comes to your room late at night in a mutual fit of insomnia to fulfill your (potentially) dying wish

includes. SMUT 16+, fem!reader, oral f!receiving, fingering, loss of virginity sans p in v, canon-complicit angst, mentions of finnick’s trafficking, best friends to lovers, reader’s a tribute, finnick’s her mentor, extremely brief misunderstandings, soft dom finnick, pleasure dom finnick, brief mention of drug use (one line), finnick and annie were never together but he mentored her, he rlly cares abt r :((, giggly sex (sometimes), throw away line abt lack of body hair but i rlly like body hair

a/n: whaddup whaddup! this started as a blurb but it um ,,, clearly expanded. there’s no p in v simply bc im so tired rn however i would like to continue this in the future if my mind would allow it :) also the title has nothing to do with the fic i was just listening to easily by chuck inglish

word count: 4k+

part 2

A week of anticipation, festivities, and celebration for the Capitol, was a week of anxiety, tears muffled into pillows, and wishing to be somewhere else for you.

The week leading up to the 72nd Hunger Games.

The Reaping, Opening Ceremony, and the three days of training that followed were mostly a blur. Your body picked up on the techniques you would need to survive, and with the help of Finnick, you’d managed to commit them to memory. You remembered the way you’d been trained to sit and talk and the jokes you should slip into conversation with Caesar tomorrow night.

All of their training was working, and Finnick had told you that you had a high chance of making it out of that area. A high chance. Nothing was guaranteed at this point in your life. Which is why you needed to do a few final things.

The door to your bedroom slides open. You lift your head from the pillow and squint. There’s a little light coming from the hallway, and it backlit the figure. But even without it, you would know who was coming to see you. The only person who’d been coming to see you since the arrival at the Tribute Center.

“Hey, Finn,” you mumble, resting your head back against the pillow that’s always cool.

Finnick takes a few steps into your room, stopping to flick a switch that only turns on the lamps beside your bed, and the two ambient ones in the corners.

“Hey, sweetheart,” his voice is raspy, as if he’s tired, but not to the point of already greeting sleep. It’s a little later than it should be, you were recommended to have gone to sleep two hours ago but you couldn’t. There was too much going on in your head, too many unsaid words and undone actions. You couldn’t sleep with your consciousness this awake.

Finnick voices the matter. “You can’t sleep, can you?”

You shake your head, deciding to sit up a little, your bare lower half still secure underneath the thick comforter. Your room was always cold, and the silk sheets mirrored the temperature. Physically, you were the most comfortable you’d ever been, wearing the softest cotton undergarments, and a silk button up nightshirt, your toes warm beneath fuzzy socks. But the weight on your mind was the complete opposite.

With the way Finnick looks at your face, he can tell just how exhausted you are.

“Want something to help with that?” He asks as he sits at the edge of the bed, close but entirely too far from you. “A drink? Pills? The Capitol has it all, you know.” The way he says it is the opposite of marveling, the words laced with annoyance and frustration. His tone prompts a small smile from you.

“‘M okay. I trust my body to do what it’s supposed to.” Finnick’s head is turned down, but you see the way the corner of his lip curls up.

He lifts his head to fully smile at you, one of sympathy and pity and sadness. His hand reaches out and his palm rests over the outline of your shin. Far too many layers are between the bare skin on both of you, but you don’t say so. You just give Finnick an equally sad smile, expressing your dismay for your situation, and you begin to pick at your nails in your lap.

“What’re you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Finnick shakes his head. “No such luck for me either.” He shrugs as if he’s used to it and you remember that he’s been in this position too. Just a few years ago, a young boy, your best friend, was sitting in this bed, with similar thoughts weighing on his mind. And now his best friend was in that position.

You push the sheets back, exposing the beginnings of the skin on your thigh, and you pat the space beside you. “C’mon,” you encourage, not ceasing your patting until Finnick scoffs and slides his slippers off, crawling up to slip under the covers with you.

The bed is larger than you’d ever seen, something your escort called a ‘bed fit for a king’, but Finnick chooses to sit right beside you, the heat of his body warming yours.

“We could watch something. What plays on the television in the Capitol?” Finnick’s sitting so close to you that you can feel him shrug. Whenever you reach over to the bedside table, pulling the drawer open to grab the remote, you come back to sit even closer to him, where your arms are pressed flush against each other.

“Mostly shows about the lives of celebrities here.”

You gasp, turning to face him. “Is that rumor about you appearing on some reality show true?” Finnick’s ears redden and that’s enough confirmation that you need. Your head throws back with a hearty laugh, and you click on the TV with hopes of finding an episode.

Finnick sits quietly beside you as you click through the channels, reading the titles and watching maybe a second or two of content before you decide to try the next thing. When you’ve gone through most channels, you land on the one that will play the Games.

He says your name, as a warning perhaps, but you click it anyway, seeing that they’re talking about you.

“Now the odds of this one making it out are pretty high. She’s pretty, smart, and trained by the Finnick Odair,” a clip of you and Finnick appears, one that must’ve been taken backstage during the Opening Ceremony. He’s standing close to you, crouched down just enough to meet your eye level. You’re obviously nervous, and he’s obviously attempting to soothe those nerves, cracking jokes with a hand held to your heart, both of yours over it. “The Capitol’s Prince.” The announcer pronounces those words clearly, enunciated, making sure every late night viewer understands Finnick’s alternate title.

Clips of Finnick throughout the years show and you grow silent, watching how he commands a room better than you ever could.

“If she were to make it out, I’m sure she could become the Capitol’s Princess, right?” The announcer smiles just as the remote is snatched from your hands and the TV is clicked off, ridding the bedroom of the colorful hues and leaving you and Finnick with the yellow light from your lamps.

“Why did you–?” Finnick’s interrupting. He’s thrown the remote to the side of him and he’s turned to face you.

“I want you to make it out of the Games, I really do.” You nod, watching the way his chest rises and falls with breaths that fill the hesitant silence. “But, I don’t want what happened to me to happen to you.”

“What do you mean? You don’t want me to be loved and adored by the Capitol?” You say it a tad bit sarcastically, but your tone dulls down when you notice how serious his face is.

He shakes his head. “No, I really don't.” You scoff, beginning to get upset over the idea that a night that was turning peaceful, began to turn on its head. “Because everything comes with a price here,” he says your name, making sure you’re listening. “The ‘love’ the Capitol has for me is ingenuine, they love me like I’m an object. Not a person with thoughts and feelings.”

“Finnick, I don’t think I understand.” But you do, you really do.

He tells you as much, that same sad smile from earlier on his lips.

Before you can speak, he does. “Look, I came in here to ask you what you want.”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Before the Tributes I mentor get sent off, I like to fulfill their wish. In case they don’t…”

“In case they don’t make it back.” He nods. “So a dying wish?” Another nod.

“So, what d’you want?”

You know what you want. You’ve wanted it since you were a teenager, watching Finnick, the most loved victor, leave for the Capitol and come back weeks later. Since you watched him train Annie Cresta and everyone, including yourself, believed there to have been something between them. Since he walked into your room just 20 minutes ago.

“What I want, I don’t think I can ask you for.” You speak low, your voice a whisper. Your head rests on the headboard behind you, turned to face Finnicks.

He shakes his head gently. “I have connections. I can guarantee almost anything.”

“No, Finn.” You don’t think you can ask him for this. Especially with what he’s essentially just told you. It would be selfish, it would be insincere, it would ruin the friendship you have between you two.

“I can’t.”

His head’s already facing yours, and he brings one of his hands up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing the skin.

“Yes, you can.”

“No, Finn, I can’t.” Your eyes sting, as does your nose, and you know there’s no use in pretending the tears aren’t there. He’s seen them, he’s acknowledged them by swiping his thumb under your eye, catching the first drop.

“I would do anything for you. Just say the word.”

You search his eyes, his face, the tip of his ears, his Adam’s Apple. You’re looking for his tell. But it’s not there. It’s just Finnick. Your Finnick. And he wants the best for you.

You’re the most vulnerable you’ve ever been at this moment; sitting in a bed in the Tribute Center, just two days out from the Hunger Games, a period of uncertainty that is life or death; your best friend, and unrequited crush, as your mentor, having to hold your pieces together at least until the end of this.

There’s no point in hiding anything. You know you need to lay it all out. So you do.

“Even take my virginity?”

The air is still. Stiff. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t breathe. His thumb halts. He doesn’t blink.

You sit there, watching him, holding in the sob that threatens to wrack across your body.

“Forget it. I’m sor–”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes.”

There’s a moment where you don’t act. A moment where disbelief trickles down your body like the tears from your eyes do on your face.

“Finn…”

“I would do anything for you. I have wanted you since we were young, but I thought…”

“Doesn’t matter what you thought then. Not anymore. We go from here now.”

And there is the nagging possibility that all of this could be because of your potential fate. Maybe he’s humoring you, or letting you in on that final step of human intimacy before your life ends. You prefer not to think about it. Especially whenever Finnick’s moving closer to you and you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your lips are almost touching, the tanned skin of his face is right in front of you, the same goes for the pink of his lips. He’s almost there, then he says, “Are you sure?”

“‘M sure.” And Finnick is kissing you. Finnick Odair is finally kissing you.

He kisses you softly, sweetly, with precision and a gentle nature. As if he’s afraid that he’ll do something wrong and hurt you.

You kiss him back in a similar fashion, just with added timidness that Finnick doesn’t possess.

Your hands raise slowly, in choppy motions that are both due to your uncertainty, and the distraction of finally having the man of your dreams kiss you like you’re made of porcelain. But you manage to get your hands to Finnicks torso, palms pressed flat against his thin shirt so that you can feel the abs along his torso.

You’ve felt them before, in time of play fighting, or whenever he would have you replicate his breathing or form. But touching along his torso in this circumstance is different. Now, your touch ignites a fire within you. It makes Finnick grip the back of your neck and pull you closer with one hand, the other sliding the covers away and hooking his hand at the back of your thigh, pulling your left leg over your right.

Your hands slide down to the hem of his shirt, slowly starting to slide it up until he gets the hint and pulls away just enough for you to slide the shirt between you two, up and over his head. Then he’s back on you.

When you sigh blissfully into his mouth, he starts to kiss you like he’s desperate to have you close. Like he wants to engulf your entire being until you’re intertwined.

The best you can do is physically move closer to him, letting the hand on the back of your thigh guide you to straddling his lap.

It’s then that Finnick pulls away from you. Your hands trail up to cup his cheeks, moving back to play with the golden blonde locks that seemed to never be out of place.

He stares up at you, sea-green eyes pulling you even further into a state of enchantment. Whenever he tilts his head, eyes stuck on you, and kisses into your palm, you melt. His hand lifts to gently circle around your wrist, nimble fingers rubbing little circles into the skin.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Finnick speaks. “I need you to remember that even if I’m doing the work, you set the pace. You tell me what you like and don’t like. You tell me when to go and when to stop. Okay?”

“Okay.”

And then you’re back at it. His hands circle around to your lower back, pushing into the curvature to bring your chest closer to him. He uses the position to his advantage, dipping his head to kiss at the exposed bits of your skin; your neck, collarbone, the starts of your cleavage. He quickly becomes frustrated with the lack of skin, and you bite back a smile as you gently nudge his head back and begin to undo the buttons.

He watches you in a trance-like state with a look that seems akin to awe. You can’t help but tease him just a bit, shifting in your position atop his crotch and slowing your work on the buttons.

Finnick groans and his hands leave your lower back to push your own hands away, deciding to undo your buttons himself, grumbling something under his breath about you being a tease.

When you giggle above him, Finnick has you pushed onto your back in what seems like the blink of an eye. Really, it did happen quick, but your eyes were already closed from giggling so hard, so reopening them to Finnick above you, your shirt opened and your barely confined tits in Finnick’s eyeline, is disorienting.

“Jesus, look at you,” Finnick mumbles. And he is. His eyes are hungirly skirting over your figure, taking it all in. From your eyes, to the bra that you wear, all the way to the cotton panties that hug your hips.

His gaze stops at your lower half for a while, watching your stomach rise and fall with your breaths and the way there’s definitely a little wet patch on your panties.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He mumbles under his breath. The question is rhetorical, and meant only for him. But, in a fit of nerves, you answer anyway, needing to do something other than lay there.

“I don’t know, Finn, there’s a lot that you can do. You can go down on me, give me your fingers, your cock.”

His eyes lift to yours, shock evident within them. “Did you just say the word ‘cock’?” He laughs between the words, that perfectly pearly white smile greeting you.

“Yeah,” you say, laughing through the syllables too.

Finnick shakes his head with that smile still present.

He swears under his breath but then his fingers are playing with the hem of your panties and you’re back under, focused on what he could possibly plan to do next. He hums, eyes on you, eyebrows raised.

It takes you a second to realize what his intentions were, but you do soon enough. “Keep going. Please.”

The tips of his fingers reach below the band of your panties. He begins to pull them down, just until your hip bones and the start of your mound becomes visible. At first, you disgraced the Capitols groomers' work of ridding your entire body of hair, but you can’t help but feel a little grateful that they did. You knew that Finnick wouldn’t care either way.

You lift your hips, letting Finnick pull your panties over the curve of your ass. When they sit at the halfway point of your thighs, he lowers his head and presses his lips to the area right above the waistband. And he continues to do so, sliding your underwear down and kissing through the journey.

The last kiss he gives you is on the arch of your foot, right before he guides the garment over the remaining part of your body, throwing them off to the side of the bed.

Finnick sits back on his heels then, just looking at you, looking at your legs which are just almost crossed at the knee, your ankles together and one knee raised slightly above the other. You’re shielding the most vulnerable part of you, hiding it almost. But when his green eyes meet your center, briefly meeting your eyes, you slowly part your legs, allowing him to see you in all of your glory.

Finnick sucks in a sharp breath of air, his chest rising with it. He doesn’t let it out until your legs are completely opened and bent at the knee, inviting him in. You sit halfway up on your elbows, watching him, waiting for him.

It’s not long until he makes a move, just a few tense moments and then Finnick’s kicked into action.

His calloused hands on your knees, sliding around to the back of your thighs as he lays on his stomach, directly facing your cunt.

When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. “I wanna taste you, sweetheart. Just for a bit. Is that alright?”

His eyes are visible over your mound, but they’re not focused on you just this once. They’re focused on your cunt, scanning it, taking it all in almost as if he’s committing this moment to his very strong memory.

You’re a little starstruck, reckoning with the notion that Finnick wants to give you head. Therefore, you sit there in stunned silence, attempting to find the words to deliver your over enthusiastic agreement. But Finnick takes your silence negatively.

“You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to, honey. Just wanna make you feel good. That’s what I’m here for.” And there are those eyes again. They’re pleading, but also making you feel comfortable, reminding you that you’re in charge.

You smile gently, nodding. “Yes.”

And the first lick has your head spinning. His tongue is warm, and wet, and he licks a long stripe from your leaking entrance to your clit. It’s slow, and methodical. He licks your juices up, but they’re coming back tenfold by the time he’s pressed a kiss to your clit.

A surprised moan pushes up your throat. The feeling has your hips pushing into his face on their own accord, your elbows slipping out from under you and your head throwing back onto the mattress.

Finnick disconnects from you for just a second to let out a pleased groan, but the absence is too much for you already. You’re wiggling your hips, searching for him.

Finnick laughs and the sound has heat rising through you. “‘M still here. Not leaving this pussy anytime soon.”

He lives up to his promise immediately. His mouth’s back on you, licking and sucking on your most sensitive parts.

It’s now that you remember how experienced Finnick is. How knowledgeable he is about the general spots of someone’s body. And he’s able to apply that knowledge to your body, with the help of your zealous responses.

You’re moaning, your back arching, your hands gripping the sheets. Your knees bend more, your legs spread more, it’s all more and more and more. You want more from Finnick. You need more.

You’re communicating that fact when you finally have enough courage to fist a hand into Finnick’s hair, and it’s like he’s rewarding you when he slyly begins to probe a finger at your tight entrance.

You’re clenched, far from relaxed, but with a deep breath, you’re loose enough for him to slide in to the first knuckle, then the second, then all the way, his single digit comfortable within your walls.

Finnick fucks you with his finger, aiding the penetration with his pretty pink lips around your pink nub. He sucks, the pressure making your head spin, your consciousness in the clouds to the point where you don’t notice another of Finnick’s deft fingers teasing your entrance.

“Another?” he asks, voice barely able to be heard due to his proximity to your cunt.

“Uh-huh,” is all the affirmation you can give.

It’s a little tight and uncomfortable at first, but once his digits are evened out and curling in you, and his tongue is lapping up your juices like it’s water, you’re riding so high in a blissed out state that discomfort is the last thing on your mind.

Your approaching orgasm becomes known to you quicker than you can anticipate. It’s like all of a sudden there’s tension in your lower abdomen, begging for your attention, begging to be released.

“Finnick, Finn,” he hums, not stopping any of his ministrations. “‘M so close. Almost there.”

You hadn’t thought it to be possible but Finnick gives you more. His fingers fuck you faster and harder, his cheeks hollow as he alternates between sucking along your nerves and stroking his tongue is the areas that you’re most sensitive.

It feels so fucking good, a pleasure you’d never experienced in your life. You couldn’t imagine being in this position with anyone other than your best friend, someone you trusted with your entire being. It’s as if he knows your body better than you do, because sooner than you would’ve liked, your back is arching and your legs are lifting off the bed and your nails are digging into Finnick’s scalp, all signs that your orgasm is right there and you cum with a loud cry that melts into breathy moans.

Finnick pulls his fingers out of your cunt but his mouth stays on you, placing gentle kisses and kitten licks along the slicked area. When your legs have lowered and your breath has evened out, he pulls his head away from you, a wince leaving his lips.

“Darling,” he starts, receiving an affirmative hum in response. “You’re pulling my hair out.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” Your hand lets go of his hair, your body burning with embarrassment. But Finnick’s bright laugh and content smile soothes you.

“‘S okay,” he mumbles as he leans up and presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. Your lips mold to his like they were created for each other, and the kiss is slow, methodical, loving.

You whine when he pulls away, but his hands have already hooked under your thighs and he’s pulling you with him as he starts to sit back.

You end up in the position you started in, sitting on Finnick’s lap, your hands on his shoulders.

Under you, you can feel his bulge confined in his pants. You shift a little over it, your throat beating with your heart rate due to the anticipation.

Finnick’s eyes close softly and his head throws back. Your hand rises to push back the bangs of his hair which lay on his forehead, in favor of resting your skin against his.

“Sweetheart,” he groans. “We …. We can’t.”

Your heart drops.

“Huh?”

“I wanna feel you, sweetheart, I swear.” His eyes open to stare at yours and you notice the sincerity in them. It doesn’t do much to lift your spirits, though. “But we can’t. Not yet.”

Your eyebrows furrow, waiting for further explanation. It comes from him quickly.

“I need you in your right mind in the Games. You need to be focused, and only thinking about survival. Nothing else.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

He chuckles. “Maybe. But we have to play it safe.” A beat. “You trust me, right?”

And you do. Wholeheartedly.

#finnicksworld!#celeste writes thg #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair smut #the hunger games smut #finnick odair x you #finnick odair #the hunger games

3K notes · View notes

agroteraa · 8 months

Text

Artemis

Oliver Quick x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Part 2.

Part 1: Actaeon

Part 3.1: The Wrath of the Stag (ch.1)

Part 3.2: The Wrath of the Stag (ch.2)

Warnings: smut, oral, handjob, penetration sex.

Word Count: 5,5K

After the events of the last night, you didn't join in watching TV with the Cattons and Oliver. No, you weren't tired, but you were overwhelmed with emotions and all that had happened. Besides, you couldn't imagine how you could just go and watch telly with Oliver after that. It would be too embarrassing to pretend that nothing had happened, and you didn't think he'd be able to keep his face either.

So, you just went to your bed, tossing and turning for most of the night, thinking about what scenes in the bathroom. It felt like Oliver's hands were still ghostly wandering all over your body...

You came to breakfast very sleepy and visibly a little lost. It was a beautiful and sunny morning, and all Saltburn habitants were sitting at a table outside and eating various treats.

"Good morning, everyone!" you said, not being able to hold back a yawn.

"Good morning, sweetheart!" Elspeth replied, looking at you worriedly, "Is everything alright?"

Felix echoed his mother's look, slightly raising his eyebrows in concern. The others were busy with their own conversations, and only Oliver silently cast a brief glance at you, returning to eating his full English breakfast.

"Yes, it's okay, I'm just... I couldn't fall sleep for a while."

"Okay," Elspeth nodded, satisfied with your rather innocuous answer.

When you took a seat at the table opposite Oliver, you couldn't look into his eyes, your stomach was twisting, not from the hunger, but from the excitement. You didn't feel like eating at all. Duncan brought you eggs cooked in your favorite way, you nodded gratefully to him, but you were in no hurry to eat. Oliver noticed it.

"Is something wrong?" he asked innocently, looking up at you.

"Um, I'm just... I don't know, I guess I'm just not hungry right now."

"Hmm. Well, but I am. I've been hungry since last night. Very much," he chuckled, returning to his meal with appetite.

You gulped. It seems that he didn't mean breakfast at all now?

That had how your morning went, and then you went about your own business. Oliver, Felix, Farleigh and Venetia went to play tennis. You dismissed the game, and even more so there were exactly four of them. Instead, you went for a walk in gardens of Saltburn, read a book in a shady gazebo and muse upon the evening ahead. So, the evening had finally come, forcing the hot sun to forget about itself until the next day.

You thought and decided to politely decline the dinner. To be honest, you were feeling sick with excitement, and you definitely wouldn't be able to eat anything at dinner, especially if Oliver would be looking at you. It was better to seem a little weird now than to get a bunch of unwanted questions later.

Instead, you decided to stay in your room, citing a slight indisposition. You really had it, though, for a different reason. You lied down on the bed and began to remember the last night. His touch, his breathing, his piercing blue eyes that turned dark with desire at that moment... a desire for you.

It was hard to even believe it, but it seemed that was it. Your breathing got heavy when you started running your fingers over your lips, feeling your hot breath on your fingers, because you imagined that it were Oliver's fingers...

... ohh. You definitely needed to do something about it tonight.

* * *

"Where have everyone gone? I've been looking for y’all for half an hour," you said, finding Oliver in the library, who was comfortably settled in an armchair and reading a book.

"They're playing Uno. It seems that Felix and Farleigh will quarrel even more than yesterday over the remote control, and Venetia is also with them."

"Why aren't you with them too?"

"I'm not a fan of these kinds of games," Oliver explained with an emphasis on "these" not even looking up from his book.

"Mm, yes, about Venetia. Although she is not giving concerts in the bathroom tonight, but now there is only cold water running, apparently there is also some kind of heating malfunction, and the second bathroom still has not yet been repaired..."

At this point, Oliver looked up at you, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Oh, really?"

"Mhm..." you confirmed, biting your lip.

He looked at you searchingly, tilting his head slightly to the side. Then, with a rising smile, he replied to you, "Of course. Enjoy yourself," and returned to reading his book. That was it, there was no further reaction or words from Oliver.

"F-fine." That was it? For some reason, you hoped that he would somehow hint that he would also join you, or at least react livelier to your words. But you had no choice but to go back to your room, get a bathrobe and go to that bathroom. You didn't bring a towel. Okay, Oliver, if you wanted to play ignore, we could arrange that.

Going into the bathroom of Oliver and Felix, you began to fill the tub. The room greeted you again with a pleasant dim lighting and the hum of water flowing down. His incomprehensible indifference throughout the day had upset you and even slightly angered you. Therefore, this time you had already put things on Felix's half on purpose and took his towels, no matter what Oliver had asked you to do.

After a while, you sank into the pleasantly hot water and began to wait. More precisely, at first you were really relaxing, but with every passing minute you were rather waiting for Oliver more than enjoying the process. But he did not come.

"Damn," you swore inwardly, and just as you were starting to think about getting out of the bath and getting ready, Oliver walked into the room.

"Hello!-" you started.

"Hi," he replied shortly and walked into his room, hardly looking at you. What?

You changed your mind about getting out of the bathtub right now and decided to sit in it until something would happen. About 5 minutes later Oliver came out, dressed in a domestic white tank top and stiped blue boxers. Your stomach turned over from this intimacy of his outfit. He went to his bathroom table, turned the water on and, as if nothing had happened, began to brush his teeth. He didn't start a conversation with you.

"So, uh, how was your day?" you began hesitantly, turning your head towards him.

"We played tennis, then took a dip in the pool, and then I enjoyed reading in the evening. Well, you’ve seen it."

"Yeah, that’s great..."

"And how was yours?"

"Not like... how I thought it would pass. I think I feel weird..."

"It must be because you didn't sleep well today. Go to bed early, yeah?"

"Huh? Yeah, I guess..."

You were a little lost. You looked at Oliver from behind, but he didn't turn to you. Of course, he was looking at you in the mirror again. He was a little on edge right now. This evening was not going quite the way he had imagined, but it was even intriguing.

The thing was that he had decided not to do anything with the second bathroom today. He overheard a conversation that the first bathroom had not been repaired again today, as the workers had confused the date and would arrive only tomorrow. So, it was even interesting for him to put it in the hands of fate. Would Venetia take over the only left bathroom again? Or would you just come in and innocently, hiding your gaze, ask Felix again or even Oliver himself if you could use their the bathroom again. Or maybe you would silently, struggling with your shame and desire, come to their bathroom and use it, hoping that something similar to the previous time would happen? Oh, he would definitely make your desires, which you were still afraid to admit to yourself, come true.

But no. You came to him and lied to him about the second bathroom, looking straight into his eyes.

"So, Y/N, do you want to remain innocent, but at the same time you know how to lie in your favor? It's interesting. You're beautiful and you did take a sacred bath, and now you really think you can be Artemis in every sense? No, no, no. No. Dear, there can only be one hunter here, and that's me," Oliver thought to himself, "And if you want to play on my field, well, I'll show you how it’s done."

With these thoughts, Oliver bit his lip contentedly, continuing to read the book while you left the library, but his thoughts drifted further and further away from the subject of reading.

At first, he wanted to nonchalantly go into the bathroom and, while he was brushing his teeth, catch your glances with his skin, hear your rapid breathing and catch the sounds of your feet fidgeting in the water. Then, having played enough with this longing, he would help you get out of the bathroom, wipe your beautiful naked hot body with his towel, hold your hands and take you to his room, where he would give you all the pleasure you would wish for. And this time he would have taken everything he wanted from you, enjoying you at its fullest.

But no.

You left your stuff on Felix's side. You took his towels. He told you not to do that.

His teeth almost bit his toothbrush in half when he saw it through the mirror. Was it an act of defiance, a way to attract extra attention, or a way to cause jealousy? Y/N, don't be a fool. But he hated to admit it, that some kind of jealousy had appeared in him anyway, and he was mad about it. No, don't you even dare to think that way. You were his, you would be only his.

The mood for a slow and sensual night has evaporated completely. Right now, Oliver could only bend you over and fuck you properly. Yes, that would be sweet too. But still, he didn't want to ruin everything and start your relationship like this. He'd better go to bed now, and tomorrow he’d know better.

"So, I'm going to bed, too. Good night, Y/N," Oliver said calmly, clutching the toothbrush in his hands with all his might, making it almost break it a second time.

You were left alone in the bathroom. What had happened? Were you too persistent, and Oliver was upset by your persistence? Or was he really that angry about your stuff left on Felix's table? It also occurred to you that he somehow intuitively felt and was upset about your lies, but of course he couldn't know that. But you still felt somehow guilty.

After getting out of the bathtub and draining the water, you dried yourself with a towel and, putting on your bathrobe, leaned your hands on the sink on Felix's side. You looked in the mirror and thought what should you do. No, you couldn't just walk away, there was too much left unsaid.

*Knock-knock*

"Oliver!"

The door opened a crack, in front of you there was Quick looking out of the darkness with his bright blue eyes. He took off his tank top and wore boxers only. You involuntarily looked at his beautiful torso, on which was nothing on but one chain, glittering on the neck. You gulped.

"Yes?" he asked in a low, hoarse voice.

"Can we talk?" this time it was you who walked into his room without waiting for an invitation or even more so a refusal.

You stepped into his dark, moonlit room. He stood a few inches away and silently looked you up and down. You continued, "You've been acting kind of weird all day, I'm sorry if this is me who..."

"Sorry" was enough for his pride and patience right now.

He silently pulled you to him, kissing you. You were very surprised, but you gave yourself up to this kiss with joy. Oliver kissed you passionately and long, then he took your hand and pulled you towards his bed. He carefully loosened the belt of your robe, admiring you from head to toe. Then he gently but abruptly threw you onto the bed and fell on top of you, leaning on his elbows and knees. Quick started kissing your neck, leaving hot prints of his lips on it, then he kissed your collarbone, then the place between your breasts. You started hugging him harder. Oliver continued his way down, kissing the place under your breasts and then slid his tongue over your stomach all the way to the bottom. You exhaled loudly, moving one hand to his soft hair on his head and squeezing it slightly.

He breathed out contentedly, and you could feel his smile on your skin. Then he cast a brief lustful glance at you, and went down even lower, to the most desired place. He kissed your inner thigh and then placed his lips on your folds. You felt his hot breath for a few seconds, as if he was enjoying this moment and didn't believe in it himself. Those few seconds seemed like an eternity to you, until he ran his tongue over your folds. You were already wet, so wet.

The tip of his tongue began to slowly glide up and down into the sensitive flesh all across your pussy, you left a sharp gasp. It was almost an electric feeling. Then he buried his mouth into you and started to run circles inside you with his wet and hot tongue. You began to moan softly while twitching your legs a little.

His hands were gripping your thighs, pulling your body even closer to his mouth. You buried both of your hands into his dark hair, letting a deep moan. Oliver was massaging your flesh from the inside, he was eating you out, almost humming to himself. Then he returned to caress your sensitive clit. You arched your back and you let out whine, burying hands deeper into his soft locks, almost tugging them. He let out satisfied pant and you looked down at him.

Gosh, he looked absolutely breathtaking, giving you a glare back with his piercing blue eyes on a half-seen face between your legs. And all this was happening in his moonlit room, like in some dark fairytale. It gave you a jolt of pleasure to the point you almost came.

He accelerated his pace and pressure until you tilted back your head and let out a long moan. You began to buck your hips but his hands were holding you firmly it almost hurt. His tongue got sloppy and messy as he feverishly caressed you. You couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Oliver!..” you cried out his name, clenching his head with your legs, his strong hands released the grip.

He raised his head with lips and chin glistening in the dark, panting and smiling. He was looking at your bliss, the result of his work, with indescribable delight. Oliver looked absolutely stunning that way, being covered in your bliss that he gave to you. You had almost come for the second time at that view.

"I'm very glad that you liked it. And now," he leaned up to kiss you briefly on the lips, "It's time to go to bed. Sweet dreams, Y/N, tomorrow will definitely be a better day."

You were surprised that he wanted to end it, but you were barely thinking and were still beside yourself with bliss, so, as if in a fog, you pulled on your bathrobe, nodded to Oliver and left on fast but wobbly legs. It was like you were bewitched and you didn't do it all yourself, but at someone's behest.

Oliver smiled contentedly, falling back onto the bed.

"Sorry" was enough for his pride and patience, but not to the point where he could completely control himself and not break into a rage that would just tear you apart if he met his desires utterly.

Thus, tonight it would be his hand again, but this was definitely for the last time. Tomorrow he would be counting on your hands and not only on them.

* * *

Tomorrow was definitely a better day. Your appetite had returned, Oliver secretly was moving to you plates with pastries and fruits. You smiled and happily ate everything he offered.

But what happened in the last few nights seemed to remain only there. During the day, there was some kind of different, still a little tense atmosphere. Except that the ambiguity was replaced by a more agitated expectation and intrigue. It was still difficult for both of you to do small talks when the pictures of previous nights were so vivid in your heads.

Tonight was going to be a busy night, because James and Elspeth's friends, numerous Henrys and their wives, came to Saltburn. You also knew many of them, so you spent the whole evening in lively conversations with the exchange of news over the past year, endlessly promising to send greetings to your parents. Oliver seemed to be a little lost, especially at dinner, but you were seated quite far from each other, so even if you decided to talk to him, you couldn't do it. But you nodded at him from the other end of the table, lighting up the whole evening with your smile. He felt much less alone from that moment onwards.

The dinner was sumptuous, and numerous flowers and candles rested on the dark mirrored table, the candlelight danced beautifully on the faces of wining and dining guests. You stole a glance at Oliver - God, how handsome he was in this evening tuxedo, did he know that? You had a growing desire to get alone with him, but you had absolutely no idea how you could do it unnoticeably, and generally... take the initiative. You wouldn’t go to his bathroom for the third time, would you?

The evening was followed by a karaoke night led by DJ Farleigh. Everyone was having fun, singing along and clapping each other, it didn't matter if someone sang noticeably badly or really very well. Although “uncle” Henry's performance to the song “Low" was already too much, especially at the moment when you almost got smashed by his thrown jacket.

"Good Lord, give me strength," you thought, and then changed your prayer, turning your head to the side at Henry's wife, who eventually got his jacket right in her face, "Although no, please better give this woman strength."

Felix had been gallantly pouring you wine half the evening, asking how your mood was, and made funny comments about the guests. Then Venetia came, you also had a drink with her and a lively talk, and then she and her brother went to stand in a corner while smoking cigarettes, hilariously dancing to karaoke songs. Elspeth walked and chatted charmingly with the guests, and James sometimes eagerly but out of pace clapped to the rhythm of modern dance floor hits with often dubious lyrics.

Oliver was sitting on the opposite couch almost all this time, drinking some kind of tropical long. You didn't talk to him much during karaoke, but the conversation with his eyes was more than enough. His expressive orbs alternated between looking at you and following your rolling gaze as you watched another Henry who was making another drunken joke. And then his eyes started to burn a hole in you more and more, but he still remained silent and did not approach. Okay. In a different state, you may had started overthinking it or getting upset again, but not now. Now you were drunk enough to perform some karaoke hit and tell him everything with it. Well, telling something, at least.

"Farleigh!" you shouted, pointing at him.

"Yes!" he poked his finger at you in response, holding the microphone.

"Toxic" by Britney Spears!" you said, calling out a few "o-o-o-ohs" from the audience.

"Great!" the DJ of the evening grinned, putting the right song and giving the microphone to you.

The familiar sounds of a sampled violin came in, and then your voice followed:

Baby, can't you see I'm calling?

A guy like you should wear a warning

It's dangerous, I'm falling

There's no escape, I can't wait

I need a hit, baby, give me it

You're dangerous, I'm loving it

You sang, turning to Oliver and looking into his eyes. He sucked his cocktail out of a straw and then put it on the floor without breaking eye contact with you.

Too high, can't come down

Losing my head, spinning 'round and 'round

Do you feel me now?

He was sitting on the couch in his smart black tux, leaning back slightly and spreading his legs wide. Oliver was listening to you so attentively, as if this was not a Britney song, but some kind of revelation addressed only for him to comprehend.

With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride

You're toxic, I'm slipping under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I'm addicted to you

Don't you know that you're toxic?

And I love what you do

Don't you know that you're toxic?

He grinned at you. You started swinging your hips slightly while you were singing. Oliver licked his lips lightly.

It's getting late to give you up

I took a sip from my devil's cup

Slowly, it's taking over me

What a confession. Or was it a call?

You kept singing while everyone else supported you and sang along too. Farleigh danced to the beat of the music, and Felix and Venetia just had a separate party in the corner of the room, as if they were really at a Britney concert, and not karaoke party, where their friend finally decided to sing, being a little drunk. Elspeth and James, somehow in an old-fashioned, but a very sweet way danced sitting on the couch. All this support from the Cattons was especially pleasant and inspired me to sing the song even more boldly!

Intoxicate me now with your loving now

I think I'm ready now (I think I'm ready now)

Intoxicate me now with your loving now

I think I'm ready now

Yes, it was definitely a call. Oliver shifted on the couch, outwardly remaining calm, but deep inside he just had a storm of emotions and desires.

Artemis was luring her Actaeon again.

The living room burst with applause and cheering. It was not that you sang better than the original, but still, this song had already become an everyone’s favourite hit, which could not be disliked in any case. And you sang charismatically, not to mention your body movements. You scored 100 points! And to Oliver it was all 200.

You chatted for a while with Felix and Venetia and one of the Henrys, who jumped up to you, drank more wine after such brave karaoke performance, and then sneaked out of the room, realizing that you urgently need to use the restroom. Your head was a little dizzy, but you got to that very bathroom of yours which actually worked fine. Having done all the necessary things, you began to wash your face and stood for a long time at the sink with the faucet open, gradually coming to your senses. Ugh, you shouldn’t drink like that, otherwise it won't be clear if you can remember the rest of the evening. And you really wanted the most interesting things to be just ahead.

"Oliver!"

He was standing against the wall opposite the bathroom exit.

"How did you know that you... that I... that I would go here and not, say, to your bathroom again?"

"Very simply, Y/N. You're drunk right now, and thus, you will most likely reach the place that you are most familiar with. Like on an autopilot. I decided that you use your bathroom more often than mine."

You thought about it. Indeed, everything was so simple when he explained it. He must be much more sober.

It was a good thing you left before Farleigh decided to make Oliver sing karaoke. It was unexpected and humiliating, very humiliating, but he turned the situation in his favor by handing the microphone back to Farleigh at the most ambiguous moment of the song. Soon it would be Farleigh paying his own "Rent". Fortunately, no one read this subtext except the two of them. Oliver wasn't worried much about that right now, he had more important things to do tonight, so he went looking for you, fortunately, it wasn't difficult at all.

"So, you sing," he stated, pulling away from the wall and leisurely approached you.

"Not really, more like when I have a little drink, huh..."

"Are you feeling better now, Y/N?"

"Yes, much better, thank you," you said, still musing, "And also I sing when there is a good reason for it"

Oliver came close to you, and leaning into your ear, asked, "Am I a good enough reason?"

You looked into his eyes, "What do you think..." and reached out to kiss him. The taste of your wine mixed with the taste of his sweet strong cocktails. "It seems he drank more than I thought after all, how is he holding up so well?" you wondered, but soon you lost the thread of thought when his tongue, even more saturated with alcohol, penetrated your mouth.

With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride

You're toxic, I'm slipping under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I'm addicted to you

Don't you know that you're toxic?

Those lines from the song started spinning in your head again while your tongues were spinning in their own dance. You started to lose the feeling of the ground under your feet, but Oliver held you tight. But you still got to lean more on his sturdy body under that beautiful black and white suit.

Then, barely interrupting your kisses, you moved into your bedroom. It was lit by the moonlight, just like Oliver's bedroom last night. He began to take off your dress, gently kissing your shoulder. Then, you helped him undo your bra and stepped out of the shoes. At this time, he was taking off his tux without taking his eyes off you. He looked at you ecstatically from head to toe.

"Beautiful, so beautiful. Did I tell you that already?"

You nodded, smiling.

"I'll say it again. You're so fuckin’ beautiful," Oliver said with his deep sexy accent.

At these words, you became completely aroused and let out an inaudible moan, as he threw you on the bed, just like yesterday. After kissing you on the lips, he immediately went down on you, caressing your most sensitive part with his tongue and squeezing your hips harder than before. You shifted on the bed, entangling with his soft dark locks, and began to moan softly.

Oliver himself was also damn attractive, to say the least. His strong, slender stripped body covered yours, and only the chain was dangling on his neck. For some reason, this detail turned you on especially hard. Finally, you saw him completely naked, not just a couple of times in the tall grass, but right in your bedroom, when he was pressing you to the bed, towering over you. What a view.

His tongue was flicking over your clit, Oliver was almost moaning into your cunt as he eats you. You squeezed his head between your legs so hard, but he wouldn’t pull back. He was groaning and licking you relentlessly.

You were so close to orgasm, but he stopped and reached for your face, greedily kissing your lips with his shiny lips, this time for a long enough time so that you could taste your own arousal. It drove you crazy.

"Now you know just a little bit how delicious you are, Y/N," Oliver almost breathed those words right into your mouth.

He pulled himself up to you, and you felt his hard cock pressing against you. You put your hand on it, which made Oliver exhale sharply. Resting on his hands, he lifted up a little while you caressed it with your hand. He looked lasciviously at you, as your hand was moving up and down, stroking his dick. Then he hugged you and rolled over on the bed with you, and you were on top now. You sank lower, carefully wrapping your lips around his cock. He tilted his head back, mouth half open. The feel of your soft lips and warm tongue almost drove Oliver crazy. He put one hand in your hair, gently running it through.

"Yes, dear Y/N, that's it..."

"My sweet Y/N..."

Then you, without stopping your actions, looked him straight in the eyes. It was too much, and Oliver groaned and gently released you, turning you back down under him. His cock was harder than the steel of any sword that was in this manor.

"Do you know what is the best thing about a karaoke night, besides your amazing number?" asked Oliver and gave the answer himself, "It's that you can scream and moan all over the house, as loudly as you want. Or whatever I want it to be."

Those words flooded you with moisture, and at that moment Oliver entered you.

He gave you a moment to adjust to his size, his cock completely filling you up as he was buried deep inside of you. He exhaled, full of admiration and lust.

"Gods, Y/N, you’re so tight," he said breathlessly, kissing you. You started moaning into his mouth as he began to move. The pace of his hips was leisurely at the start, gently rolling into yours, your eyes were connected to each other. His strong arms caged your twitching body under him. It all felt so good you were afraid that you might just woke up from some kind of dream or fantasy that you had, thinking of Oliver and falling asleep.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as he increased his pace. Soon, the speed of his pounding becoming relentless as his panting and your own moans. You wrapped your legs around his body, nails digging into his back as you gave him the perfect angle to go even deeper into you.

“Fuck, girl, moan for me, yeah. Let the whole house know who is giving it to you, that pleasure,” Oliver’s hot whisper almost burned your skin.

You let out the loudest groan as he began slamming into you, driving to the edge of existence. The entire floor was really filled with your screams of pleasure, echoing in the dark. His hips slap against yours loudly, shaking the old bed. He clenched his teeth, watching the way your doe eyes look up at him, eyes were full of sensuality and desire. Oh, how beautiful and docile you were, he could not believe himself it was all happening at least.

You clenched around him and soon you arched your back, his name fell from your lips. He followed later soon, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he was doing last movements with his hips.

You went soft and limp under him as he panted with his hoarse voice in your ear. Oliver exhaled contentedly, triumphantly smirking.

You changed your position by lying down next to each other. For a while, you both just lay silently in bed, recovering your breath and feeling the spreading bliss to every cell of your bodies. Quick began to slowly and gently stroke and caress your body, leaving a weightless touch on your skin. He gently brushed two knuckles of his finger against your soft cheek.

"Oliver," you whispered into the darkness.

"Yes, Y/N?" he said, playing with your hair.

"Tell me, you've liked me since Oxford, haven't you? At first, I didn't even realise it, but in recent days I've been thinking so much about our acquaintance and how you looked at me then… So I thought it might be true..."

Oliver chuckled softly.

"Yes, my clever Y/N, you're absolutely right. I lost my head about you nearly as soon as I saw you. Seems you can't hide the truth from you."

You smiled, snuggling closer to him, "It's so good that you also got to Saltburn this summer," you mused, "Maybe, it is some kind of fate."

Oliver smiled at your words, gently tucking a lock behind your ear.

"Yes, I guess, it is."

The mixture of satisfaction, happiness and alcohol acted on you like a magic potion, and soon you peacefully fell asleep on his shoulder. Oliver was very glad that it was your room and you didn't have to be disturbed in any way. Saltburn had his own eyes and ears, it was not worth creating unnecessary rumors now. He wasn't in a position here to be able to afford it, at least, not now.

He kissed you gently on the temple and carefully left your bed, dressing up in his tuxedo and returning to the living room.

The fun continued. The hunt was a success.

611 notes · View notes

mintmatcha · 5 months

Text

Inevitable Things: chapter five

Aizawa x reader fic

cw: cisfem reader, no quirks, office au, miscommunications, slow burn. full tags available on AO3 (linked in masterlist)

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Fridays are the only day you carve out time for lunch. Less than coincidentally, Fridays are also the only day lunch is catered.

“Here-” Izuku jams his bowl of take out into Katsuki’s face. “Does it smell like there’s peanuts in here?”

Bakugo Katsuki, Izuku’s fiance, is only half as ornery as he looks. A premature wrinkle has formed in between his brows, a sign of his almost constant annoyance. His straw colored hair is a sharp contrast to his deep red eyes, currently narrowed in disgust.

“Get this shit out of my fucking face,” he groans. “I’m not a fucking allergy alert dog-- I can’t smell peanuts.”

“To be fair-” Ochako interjects through a mouthful. She’s the opposite of Katsuki: dark hair, round eyes, a smile so sweet that it makes your teeth hurt. Her cheeks are always flushed, spots of broken blood vessels spattered like freckles. “Peanuts do have a smell.”

“Did you ask him to smell for penis?” Denki says, too loud to be genuine. “Kind of homophobic to ask a gay guy that.”

Both men give him identical deadpan stares.

“That’s just his fucking country-ass accent.” Katsuki brushes Denki off and turns back to the curly haired man. “Why would chicken have peanuts in it anyway?”

“The o’l.” Izuku stresses.

“The what?”

“Some places use peanut o’l.”

“Say oil.”

Izuku sneers a bit in return, smoothing out the curves of his accent. “Oy-I’ll.”

“Jesus christ, I’m marrying a hick.” Katsuki leans back in his chair and meets your eye with a jerk of his chin. “Can you believe this?”

You snap back into focus. Your own lunch is untouched, fork still in its little plastic wrapper. Hunger nips at your stomach, but nausea wins over today. The cafeteria isn’t very busy, but in the next couple minutes everyone will start pouring in. The lot of you arrived early to get the best seating-- a little couch and coffee table in the corner, a perfect place to eat and people watch.

“Oh, yeah, uh- Izuku, they have an allergen free option.”

“Well, yeah, but-” He tilts his head as he talks, watching you with those wide, green eyes, like he sees something just below the surface. “It doesn't have chicken-- are you good?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.” Katsuki fingers a piece of Izuku’s food and pops it into his mouth, much to the man’s dismay. “You’ve been making that sad little face all day.”

You pout a bit harder at that. Shit-- you thought you were being subtle. You haven’t been able to walk this whole Aizawa thing off yet, despite all of your attempts. No amount of emails, meetings, and other petty office bullshit managed to distract you from the absolute shock and humiliation of… whatever that was.

Embarrassment.

Embarrassment? You’re certainly not the prettiest girl in the office, but embarrassing? That makes your gums ache, like a punch to the nose, and it makes you feel dirty, like the fall to the ground afterwards.

“You’re doing it again.” Ochako points to your face and it’s apparently sadness. “What’s going on?”

You hem a bit, before condensing it the best you can.

“I’m having issues with a guy.” What an understatement.

A collective glance is shared between the group.

“Touya again?”

Again, Touya haunts a room he’s never been in. You debate what to say. If you admit to it being someone new, they might start sniffing around and jump to conclusions-- though Aizawa would certainly be the last assumption they would make, you still can’t risk it. Besides, you don’t need a gaggle of 23 year olds dissecting your every move. They’re going to jump to some stupid conclusion, like you’re dating Toshinori, if you aren’t careful.

“Yeah, it’s Touya,” you lie, as sheepishly as you can. “Oops.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ.” Katsuki rolls his eyes so hard that you imagine his brain must hurt. “Again?”

“Shh, just tell us what happened,” Izuku urges, elbowing his partner rather sharply.

“I don't know where I stand with him. It's so-- Ugh, I thought things were going to start going well and then it was just ice cold.” You press your palms into your eyes and sigh. The pressure feels good and helps with the remnants of your hangover. You need an electrolyte drink, stat. Maybe another fucking drink too. “And I’m not even sure why I’m surprised because it’s ice cold a lot.”

When you look up, Ochako is offering a hand, palm up and open. When you take it, she giggles a bit, squeezing gently.

“I think you need to prioritize yourself.”

Denki nods in agreement, cheeks stuffed with food. He’s finished his meal and started stabbing bits of yours. You just push the whole bowl towards him in defeat and slump down into the couch.

“Stop giving men who treat you poorly the time of day.” Ochako says. “When you let them in again and again, you’re basically, like, giving them permission to do this stuff.”

“Yeah!” Denki says through a mouthful. “Cut that fucker off! Don’t even talk to him!”

“Oh, I dunno--” You glance between them. “I think that’d be mean.”

Conflict makes your head spin. It’s so much easier to roll over and take whatever people give you, negative or otherwise. It’s what made your relationship with Touya work-- and it’s what’s allowed you to stay in this job for so long.

“Good!” Denki says. “He deserves it.”

“You deserve to be a little mean and a little angry when people treat you poorly.” She smiles again, wider this time. “Grow some balls. Stand up for yourself.”

“Yeah! Balls!” Denki agrees.

You suck on your bottom lip and turn the idea over in your head. Are you even angry at Aizawa? Or just hurt and confused? Right now, those things may as well be the same thing-- they certainly burn the same in your chest. Cruelty isn’t your usual indulgence…

But it’s someone else’s.

“What do you think?” You turn to Katsuki, who’s been scrolling through twitter for a bit now. His face doesn’t change when he speaks, locked into a general annoyance.

“I think you should kill that fucker.”

You turn to Izuku, the rational one of the couple. He shrugs, straw in mouth and completely unamused.

“Oh, I also think you should kill him,” he says, tone matching Katsuki’s.

Not helpful.

“Listen--” Katsuki leans forward, elbows on his spread knees. He uses a fork to articulate as he speaks. “I’m the expert on being a cunt-”

“-we don’t use that word!” Ochako grimaces.

“And it’s the most freeing and addictive thing you can be.” The tongs of the fork point directly towards you, as sharp as his gaze. “More people should be cunts more often. The world would be a happier place.”

Ochako gasps. “I don’t agree with that at all!”

“Oh please, miss goody-goody,” Katsuki sneers. “You wouldn't need to go to kickboxing five times a week if you let your anger out day to day like a normal motherfucker.”

The girl of the group puffs out her cheeks, but does not argue back. Izuku pats her shoulder affectionately. His food is still untouched, but his free hand guards it from Denki.

“I'm telling you. Try it out. You’ll like it.” Katsuki leans back into his seat. “Or don't. Your life.”

“Question-” The other blonde pipes up. “Did you, like, do something?”

“Kaminari!”

“I mean, like, was there a catalyst?” “A fight or a date or-?”

You know exactly what drives Touya away everytime, but Aizawa is a new beast. Did you breathe wrong or--

“Oh, I uh,” A realization hits you. “I ignored a couple texts, I guess.”

Suddenly, you’re very aware of the outline of your phone and how it presses into your pocket. If there wasn’t a chance of you flashing the group pictures of their boss, you’d check it immediately, but you can’t mentally handle the risk.

“What an overreaction,” Ochako sighs. “Dump him forever and move on-- Mr. Hizashi and his wife-”

“We aren’t like that.” Ugh. You love Hizashi, but the trio relationship isn’t your speed. “Besides, I don’t like blondes.”

The two toe-heads of the group roll their eyes in a practiced synchrony. Ochako’s smile changes a little bit, something tighter and brighter; is she excited that you aren’t interested? Interesting and a bit gross: she’s too young for that. They’re more than ten years older than her-

(How old is Aizawa? He went to school with Hizashi, so he’s at least 38-- but you could have sworn there were whispers of his fortieth last year. You’ll have to snoop.)

“We’re in agreement. Be a cunt, move on. The end.” Katsuki turns away from you, done with this topic. “Izuku, just fucking eat it already.”

The boy takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his curly hair. “Well, alright, but if I get hives, you’re the one who has to deal with me.”

…

Be mean.

You’re written it on a sticky note and placed it under your computer monitor, like some sort of fucked up mantra. The mere idea of it feels antithetical to who you are at your core; you enjoy helping people, you love making the world better. That’s why you work like a dog for the company-- you know it’s improving the lives of its customers. If Toshinori wasn’t sick, you know he’d be doing even more too.

On the other hand, being nice has led to your own detriment many times. Touya has hurt you, your parents, and now even Aizawa. And you can’t even blame Aizawa, can you? Texting him was your mistake--

You rest your forehead against your desk. There’s still a sticky spot from when you spilled your coffee yesterday. God, yesterday feels so close and yet so far away. How does a man yoyo between yelling at you, sending you his weiner, then telling you that you’re embarrassing? The idea of ‘always wanted you’ goes flying out the window.

Just as you try and put yourself to work, you hear it. The familiar lopsided stomp. Fuck, it’s him, probably looking for his afternoon coffee. He’s been by much less than usual, a fact you’re very grateful for, so you haven’t even thought about the pot since before lunch. You glance over and see it’s empty. Crap.

As you start to get up, the sticky note catches your eye again. Be mean. That’s right. Why are you popping out of your chair for this, this, this--- total fucking cunt? Your chair squeaks with the force you sit down with. You try to embody Katsuki with your face - furrowing your brow and yet keeping your mouth unaffected-- and your worst nightmare turns the corner.

You keep typing and hope Aizawa doesn't notice that it's the same words over and over again, hit in the same rhythm. P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l. He waits a long moment, then clears his throat louder. You don't gift him your attention until he grumbles something under his breath, shifting his weight on to his other leg. Just as he begins to say something, you interject.

“I had more important things to focus on,” you lie. “You can figure out how to brew coffee, Mr.// Engineer.”

You throw in that last bit without thinking, but the bite rolls so easily off of your tongue. It’s nothing like your usual tone, but it feels so, so right. From the corner of your vision you can see his literally reel back, blinking hard,

“That’s how it’s going to be?”

You don’t respond. P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l P-e-a-n-u-t-O-i-l. Your fingers shake from the adrenaline boost. Ochako was right; don't even give this man the time of day.

“It's going to be like that?” He yanks the pot from its stand. “Fine.”

You have to muster all of willpower not to grin as he starts slamming open the drawers and scrounging around for supplies. It takes a whole ten minutes before he presses brew, then another five before the pot is almost half full. The whole time he grumbles to himself, leaning his whole weight against the flimsy table.

This is good. Too good. The vindictive rush of power feels almost sexual in the way it satisfies. Teeth dig into your lip as you hold back a smile even harder.

Embarrassment? You'll show him what embarrassment really means.

Finally, he pours himself a cup. He doesn't fill his thermos nearly as much as he normally does, most likely trying to leave as quickly as possible. Just as he starts to turn, you get up out of your chair and walk over. You take one of the little disposable cups from the stack and take your time adding three sugars and two cream, each one at a time, as he lurks there. Then, you pour the coffee, thick and oddly gritty into your cup. You finally meet his eye when you take a swig.

Aizawa’s face is set hard, small eyes narrowed even tighter. His lips are screwed up with annoyance, wrinkling his low bridged nose. Pissed would be an understatement. Just as you brace for another yelling match, he turns away, marching down the hall.

“Enjoy the fucking coffee.”

Oh, Katsuki was right. Being mean tastes good.

….This coffee, however, does not.

259 notes · View notes

vixstarria · 11 months

Text

Admit that you love me

Connected with my other headcanon fics, but works as a standalone as well.

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav, Astarion is bad at feelings, Gale is bad at everything

Bit of angst, bit of comfort, bit of fluff, love, banter, humour and all the other good things. Non-explicit. Early Act 2.

Approximately 2,000 words.

AO3

You traversed the shadow-cursed lands. Earlier this week, Elminster had showed up, eaten all your cheese, essentially told Gale to kill himself and promptly went back to wherever he had come from. And you thought 200 year-old vampires were erratic... You hoped you would never come across a vampire wizard.

It was an average evening in camp. You and your companions were passing time by the fire before calling it a day.

You were sitting on the ground before the campfire, as Astarion sat on a fallen log behind you, trying to massage a crick out of your neck and shoulders. You weren’t even being obnoxious about it, your neck had genuinely been killing you and he was trying to alleviate the pain and discomfort.

You’d closed your eyes and leaned forward a bit, trying to give him better access, when a remark from Gale caught your ear, and the hands stilled.

“It’s truly heartwarming to see how well Astarion takes care of his livestock.”

In the sudden silence that ensued, before you had even registered your own emotions for the insult, your immediate instinct was to seize the hand that was still on your shoulder, and say:

“If you kill him, he’ll take us all with him.”

It turned out to be the right call, as Astarion re-sheathed a dagger you hadn’t even noticed he had drawn (or had on him), and gave your hand a small squeeze.

“I... I’m sorry, that was a poor joke.” Gale looked at the ground shaking his head. “If you can call it that. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He started to get up. “I better-”

“Disrespect my lover or me again, and I will personally burn everything that you cherish, and rip out the throat of every person you hold dear.” Astarion’s voice was an icicle. “I won’t kill you… But I will fulfill my need to hear you scream.”

Astarion gave your hand another squeeze and got up. He met your eyes as you turned back to look at him, and gave you a barely perceptible shake of the head before stalking off.

Gale, who had stood silently through Astarion’s cold outburst, wordlessly turned and left in the opposite direction.

You still sat on the ground, elbows on your knees, eyes shut, now rubbing your temples. Great. Perfectly normal (in accordance with your definition of ‘normal’, anyway) evening ruined. No Astarion, Gale at a new lowest low, awkward silence, you still with a crick in your neck, and now an unfolding headache. All while feeling like you’ve been spat on.

“Is that what you all think?” you asked quietly, still rubbing your temples. “That I’m a stupid lamb offering myself to a wolf for slaughter?”

To your surprise, it was Lae’zel who answered.

“It is true that the vampire is a predator, and there is hunger and lust in his eyes when he looks at you. But there is also love and yearning. You both carry it. My people are proficient in recognising it, for we are taught from a young age to quash such notions at their conception. Love and attachment make you weak. But you two, you have turned it into a source of resilience and strength. The wizard is as delusional as he is out of line.”

You were completely taken aback by what you just heard.

Firstly, by the fact it came from Lae’zel. But also... You hadn’t actually exchanged words of love with each other. Oh, there were the ‘my love’s, but that was more of a silly casual pet name that had started long ago. You both regularly addressed Karlach as ‘love’ as well. It didn’t mean much.

But to have a githyanki set it out for you so candidly...

“...I couldn’t have said it better myself, Lae’zel,” spoke Shadowheart.

“Aw, none of us doubt you or fangs,” added Karlach. “Hells, sometimes I worry my heart will have a meltdown not from exertion, but from seeing you two.”

You hoped no one could tell your face had coloured scarlet by the light of the fire.

“Gale just hasn’t been himself lately. I’m sorry you and Astarion took the brunt of it. I’m sure he feels awful about this.” Wyll apologised as though he had anything to do with it. “I better go speak to him, make sure he knows we understand.”

You excused yourself and went to your tent soon after as well.

Astarion didn’t return that night. On checking his tent, you noted he did take his weapons with him, though. That’s all you really needed to know. He could take care of himself. After all, he was one of the horrors other people were scared to encounter in the shadows. Still, when you finally fell asleep, it was only due to sheer exhaustion.

It was morning when he finally showed up at the entrance to your tent. Probably. You could barely tell night from day in this blasted place. You were sitting cross-legged on your bedroll, getting ready for the day ahead. You didn’t get up to greet him as you continued to fasten the belts and buckles of your equipment.

“I was worried.”

“I know,” he said simply. When you didn’t say anything, he sighed and added: “And I was angry. Furious, actually. Murderous. I didn’t want you to see it.”

You bit back a swear.

“I can-”

“Before you say you can handle my anger, that’s not the point. I don’t want you, of all people, to be exposed to it to begin with.” You frowned and he continued:

“When everyone keeps telling you you’re a monster, eventually you no longer want to prove them wrong – you want to show them just how much of a monster you can be. And you’re the only person who doesn’t think that about me. Why on earth would I do anything that might make you look at me the same as they do..?”

It broke your heart a little to realise that that’s what he thought.

“They don’t think you’re a monster, Star,” you said imploringly. “Gale said something stupid which he immediately regretted, yes, but the rest of them were on our side.” You made sure he was taking in what you were saying. “On your side.”

“...They were?” Astarion’s eyes softened.

“Yes. Lae’zel gave a whole speech, just about.”

“Ugh,” Astarion curled his lip. “And I thought you were serious for a moment there.”

“I am serious! She was quite poetic about it, actually.”

Astarion suddenly took a step back out of your tent, looking up at the sky in alarm.

“What is it?!” you reached for your bow.

“Oh just checking for flying pigs...” he stepped back into the tent. “...So what did she say? I’m intrigued.” He still looked skeptical, but much less guarded than before.

You paused your preparations, set down your weapons and met his gaze.

“She said she sees the love in your eyes.”

You weren’t about to tell him that she actually said she saw love in your eyes as well.

“Oh...” Astarion seemed momentarily taken aback. “That is quite poetic for a githyanki.”

You continued to study him without saying a word.

“...Oh no. No no no.” He waved a finger at you. “I see EXACTLY what you’re doing, and I am NOT falling for it.”

“What am I doing? I’m not doing anything.”

“Exactly! You’re not saying anything, forcing me to fill the silence until I start stammering like a fool and admit that I love you!” He paused, turned away and huffed, before turning back to look at you, hand on his hip. “And that is NOT on the agenda!”

“You’re not going to admit it?”

Astarion looked away again, wrung his hands, opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, and looked back at you, cocking his head to one side before finally saying:

“...Not today..?”

You burst into a laugh. How long had your heart been pounding?

“Gaaaaaale! Old buddy, old pal!” you heard from Astarion.

You lifted your head to see Gale approaching.

Fucking Gale, you thought.

You got up to face Gale at the entrance to your tent.

“Morning! I would say ‘good morning’, only that would be a lie for all of us, in light of-”

“Oh for the love of all that is unholy!” Astarion cut him off. “Spare me your words and drawn-out explanations, and I will spare you my daggers. We don’t need that. We can sort this out like two mature, adult men.”

The next thing you knew, Gale was on the ground, looking in disbelief at the blood dripping onto his hand from a possibly broken nose.

“There. Now, for all intents and purposes, this matter can be resolved, if you wish. As previously advised, in the event of any further disparagement of me, Tav, or the nature of our relationship, I WILL be committing arson and turning everyone you love and care for inside out, Tav being exempt, of course. Now that this has been explained to you, if you accept, the damage you just took to your face can serve as compensation, to the full and final satisfaction and discharge of the idiotic shit you said yesterday. Are we in agreement?”

Astarion held out a hand

You stood back observing Astarion, your arms crossed. Theatrics to cattiness to violence to legalese within the span of a minute. How flustered and giddy was this man?

Gale was still on the ground, also looking at Astarion incredulously.

“I sometimes forget that you used to be something far worse than a vampire.”

Gale accepted the offered hand and got up.

“And you, Tav? Would you like to break the spare lute over my head, perchance?”

Astarion perked up at that, but you were quick to protest:

“No, no, let bygones be bygones and all that...”

“Then it is settled,” Astarion interjected. “Well then, off you go, friend.”

“Actually,” you cut in. “I think Shadowheart needs to rest a while. Gale could come with us today instead, seeing as you’ve sorted everything out. Gale, are you up for it?” you asked as Astarion stared at you in disbelief.

After the borderline sleepless night you’d had because of these two idiots, the least they could do was entertain you by suffering each other’s company.

“...Sure, let me just ah... do something about the blood. I’ll only be a minute.”

And just like that, you and Astarion were back on your usual bullshit, causing a loud ruckus as you headed out of camp, him on your heels.

“I object! It’s ME or HIM! And if it’s him, you can give me my ring back!”

Wyll snapped his head in surprise to look at you two, as Karlach gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

Astarion paused as if to say something to them, then waved a dismissive hand and continued walking after you.

“...Because I am NOT dying in camp like a sitting duck just because HE couldn’t keep you safe!”

“It’s my ring now, and you’re both coming! And so is Lae’zel. Lae, are you ready?”

“Always,” came an unperturbed answer from the githyanki, as she got up to follow you.

“There. She can lecture you on poetry, between the fighting.”

Astarion had finally caught up to you.

“You cheeky pup,” he said only loud enough for you to hear, his red eyes narrowed and a wry grin on his face. “We’ll need to have a long talk about your behaviour.”

“Is that on the agenda? For today?”

Astarion swore under his breath, smiled to himself and fell back again.

Yep, definitely flustered, you thought, fighting a stupid grin that was threatening to take over your face.

Oh you were going to enjoy this day.

~~~~~

Author’s note:

Sorry bloodweave gang, my headcanon is Gale and Astarion are constantly beefing.

I wanted to work in the “disrespect me again” line from Early Access – although I ended up altering it. A lot.

~~~~~

Next in series - Confession

OR, chronologically appropriate smut - Seeing stars

Series master list

AO3

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfic #gale dekarios #astarion fanfic #fkn gale

821 notes · View notes

chaos-in-deepspace · 3 months

Text

L&DS Zayne: Tug | 18+ Drabble

I saw a tiktok and this came to mind and I ran to write it ngl. Hope y'all enjoy it. Also I finished Rafayel's part for the Panda Outfit series but I'm too lazy to actually reread my work tonight so I'll post it eventually...

Pairing: Zayne x Reader Warning: Collars, Dom/Sub Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Zayne

Zayne looked at you with a certain hunger to his eyes. You had been acting up, as per usual, so he decided to try out his newest gift for you. The black leather was almost loose against your neck as you looked back at your lover. The chains connecting the edge of the collar dangling slightly with your movements.

His footsteps echoed in your apartment as his fingers were placed under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You diverted your gaze, knowing it would get you in more trouble but you knew you'd fold if you saw the intense look in those piercing eyes.

"Eyes on me." Zayne's voice was always so calm as he spoke. You bit your lip as you continued to defy him. The little game you played was coming to a close, you knew this. You could never defy his wishes for long, not when he was like this.

You didn't expect to feel his soft kisses lining your chest, making their way up. You were tempted to look, just to check what he was doing. His large hands clamped down on your shoulders, forcing you to still.

"Zayne..." You murmured, finally making eye contact. You looked down at him from where he was bending down just enough for his mouth to pepper a kiss on your jaw.

"If you have something to say, then say it." His voice was husky as his hazel eyes locked onto yours.

"I..." You began, not knowing what to say when he looked at you like this. You were half tempted to make a sassy remark, half wanting to apologize for being a brat while out in public.

Those words were gone as he spoke, "At a loss for words? That doesn't surprise me...not with how you were acting earlier in the restaurant." He murmured. You briefly recalled pressing your foot against his crotch under the table, making a small blush creep on his cheeks that he had to bite down. Perhaps you had gone too far, trying to fluster him at an important dinner.

"If you have nothing to say, then I'll take it as a admission of guilt." He said, "And for that..." Zayne's mouth pressed a kiss against the space between your collar bones, "You'll be punished thoroughly." You watched his mouth bite down on the metal bit of the collar and he pulled back.

The collar tightening around your neck until you could feel it choking you. His grip on your shoulder not letting up as he looked at you. Your face flushed at seeing him like this. The chain hanging from his mouth, the promise for a long night, all of it had you weak to the knees.

This man does things to me I'm telling you. I am the opposite of alright. Also I sometimes want this man to be dominant, and sometimes I want him to be my little meow meow. The duality of man for real guys.

#loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #Zayne Love and Deepspace #Lnds #Lnds Zayne #lnds x reader #x reader #reader insert #zayne x reader #l&ds #l&ds zayne #l&ds zayne x reader #lads x reader #lads zayne #lads zayne x reader #rabid rabbit hours

184 notes · View notes

constelationprize · 6 months

Note

any tlt au kevjean crumbs for us queen…. - dayurno

@dayurno oh dayurno........ You need to understand that every since I claimed that prompt I open the doc daily and I have yet to churn out an opening I like despite it being fully plotted in my mind. It's L after L over here

However. I do have some snippets of future scenes I've written down so. Please accept this humble offering until our Ressurector, the Necrolord Prime, the King Undying, our Kindly Price of Death sees fit with gifting me the inspiration

"They kissed, once. They were young, but not enough to not know better. Riko was away, called off by the Master, and in that rare moment of peace the two of them had taken to sparring. Kevin was disarmed, cornered, and Jean's practice sword had went full force for his throat – or it should have gone, but he hesitaded in the last second before wood met skin, and in the space of that breath, Kevin hooked his foot along Jean's ankle and pulled them both to the ground, landing perfectly on top of Jean, one hand cradling his skull so it wouldn't hit the pavement too hard. The other was against Jean's chest, and as the moment of victory stretched a little too long, Kevin could feel the heart pounding beneath his palm, so hard he could have believed he was holding it.

It felt like something he could break.

Kevin had looked from his hand to Jean's face. The cavalier's eyes where the exact grey of the atmosphere in the second between sunset and nightfall. His lips were parted, perfectly pink as the blush of exertion along his pale cheeks.

Kevin didn't so much decide to lean down as he did catch himself already kissing him. Jean's hands wandered up his waist and down his thighs, and it that moment, they had been the only two people left in the universe."

And here are some assorted news:

Kayleigh used to be Tetsuji's cavalier. She died while they were both serving on the Cohort, at which point he retired from his military carreer

Kevin was originally supposed to be Riko's cavalier, but the plans changed when he was discovered to be a necromancer. Riko, however, has had a hard time getting over it

Kevin is a flesh adept and Riko is a soul adept (breaking with Third tradition). Also breaking with Third tradition, he may or may not have attempted soul siphoning before

On paper, Jean is Riko's cavalier, and Kevin has none. Everyone knows, though, that Jean serves as cavalier to them both. As for which of them he is actually devoted to...

The story is set in the year before the myriadic year of our lord. Here's a snippet of Kevin's opinion about it: "Riko can believe what he wants, but Kevin knows the real reason why they're here. They're guinea pigs. It's not that the Emperor expects them to fail, but He knows no one would be sad with the abomination of the Third House out of the way."

This story has a theme of when it comes to hearts :)

The title is the opposite of hunger

#kevjean #my wips #fic: the opposite of hunger #kevin day #jean moreau

14 notes · View notes

g0kotta · 3 months

Text

Hunger

Dabi never got over the hungry feeling scratching inside of his body - itching to get out. Flowing in his blood. Seeping out of his pores. The anger - the obsession. You had to be his. (aka Dabi’s childhood best friend becomes a hero and he realises that his feelings never left).

Yandere-ish? Dabi x reader (no gender specified). This is like 600-700 words, so it’s just an idea I had. Might turn it into a longer fic later? This also might not be too realistic since I dropped mha a long time ago

(y/h/n) - your hero name

The bar is empty. The untouched whiskey glasses that sat on top of the cupboards - covered in a thick layer of dust. It’s quiet and the loudest noise in the room is coming from a clock which stayed hung in the corner of the leagues hideout. Shigaraki had left a while ago, probably to run away from the real problems for a few hours and play a few sessions of the game he was overly obsessed with. The others (which were seen on more rare occasions in the bar - unless it had to do something with the meetings) were gone at this hours.

The people that spent most time there, were Dabi and Shigaraki themselves (with the exception of Kurogiri, as he served as the bartender of this lonely bar).

Dabi lets out a sigh as he tilts his head backwards, the staples digging into his skin and he clenches his jaw. An uncomfortable feeling which he was more than used to after all these years. One of the few clean glasses was snug in his palm, no longer cold as the ice had melted a while ago. He slowly lifts it up to his lips and as the the chipped rim touches his bottom lip, he downs whatever mixture of melted ice and shitty cheap whiskey runs down his throat. He grimaces a bit, but shakes off the feeling of disgust. It was better than it had been before. At least now he has where to stay - a roof over his head. And now there’s other people around him too. He’s no longer alone. He sneers in his mind. He’s no longer alone. He needs to be alone. He doesn’t need the help of others to finally get revenge on the man he had to call a father. He tips his head to the front and puts the glass down, rougher than intended. It slams onto the table, filling the room with a loud bang for a second. The same hand reaches for the remote next to it and clicks on the first button it touches. He needs to fill the silence before it drives him completely mad.

But what he doesn’t expect to see is a familiar face. But it’s not a face that causes an unpleasant feeling to seep into his bones. No. It’s quite the opposite. His lips twitch as a small smirk forms on his face, his eyebrows raise in amusement. Finally. Something interesting.

“A new pro-hero is climbing up the ranks. In just a few months, the incredible (y/h/n) has reached the top five.” A woman with dark curly hair, smiles and pictures are displayed on the screen. Your pictures. “The people have been head over heels for the new young hero! The new generation of youth-“ she continues talking, but Dabi blocks out her voice.

You became a hero. You had chosen to continue the path that the both of you had to walk through. You continued the dream that Dabi had buried years ago, with Touya. His finger starts tapping the wooden bar top as a low, rumbling chuckle slips past his lips. He leans forward and rests his face on his palm. A small spark sets off in the inside of his body. A desire.. No. A need. Dabi needs to have you. You’re the only one that can bring some familiarity back into his life that has been longing, without even realising it. The sound of a chair scraping the floor echoes in the room and Dabi slowly walks out of the building of the hideout, the TV still playing in the background. He realises that he never got over the hungry feeling scratching inside of his body - itching to get out. Flowing in his blood. Seeping out of his pores. The anger - the obsession. You had to be his. One way or another, you’ll be laying in his arms soon enough.

He’ll make sure of it.

#imagines #dabi #bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x you #touya todoroki #touya x reader #mha touya #todoroki touya x reader

133 notes · View notes

pinknipszz · 7 months

Note

Hi! I like ur shogun sukuna fic so much.

May I get a Headcanon with sukuna where reader and him have an argument and reader decides to not back down in the argument?

I LOVE YOUR WORKS 💋

HII and im sooo happy to hear!! <3 i think shogun!sukuna is a silly little guy who’s incredibly strong, wildly unpredictable, and really bad with feelings. everything you want in a man. ILYT!

shogun!ryomen sukuna who’s as stubborn as he is strong, a dangerous quality that fans the flames of his fervor. you think that he rose through the ranks in one day? no way. it took months, if not years of fending for scraps at the bottom of the food chain, training every second of his life, serving feudal lords to fabricate a reputation, and navigating through the nation’s social network. sukuna is just an exceptionally ambitious man who’s dead set on doing things his own way. so expect to get into a lot of arguments with him.

shogun!ryomen sukuna who doesn’t take you very seriously, with one reason being you’re a woman. despite your status as the seishitsu of the house, which nearly makes you of equal importance to the shogun, sukuna still hides details about his work. he makes you sit beside him during meetings, orders you to sit still and stay quiet while he does all the talking, before carrying on with his day while you’re left completely in the dark. and it alarms you. it’s one thing to be bound to a despotic man for life, and another to live it blindly.

shogun!ryomen sukuna who’s unimpressed by your sudden outbursts. he’s not entirely stupid to the way he’s treating you. if anything, sukuna is hoping that you’ll eventually conform to this lifestyle like an obedient wife, but of course you’re making it difficult for him and yourself. when you talk back to him for the first time since your wedding, nearby servants count the seconds before he rips your head off. or maybe trades you in for someone else. but it’s all for naught when he merely states, rather boringly, that you won’t be eating food for a week.

shogun!ryomen sukuna who thinks that starvation is enough to gain your compliance. surely you’ll crawl towards him on all fours, begging for food with desperate pleas that teeter towards the edge of an apology, but sukuna is pleasantly surprised to find the complete opposite: you, sitting on the engawa and braiding loose strands of hair, seemingly unphased by the hunger that gnaws your stomach. he wants to test something and decides to mock you a little, expecting you to hide your in shame at how a woman of such status is feeling a hunger akin to that of a pauper's, but you only bite back. it’s enthralling.

shogun!ryomen sukuna who treats it like war and refuses to be on the losing side. and that's exactly what it is. a war. a never-ending battle between him and a worthy opponent. you want to give him the silent treatment? be his guest. you want to find company somewhere else? have fun trying to make friends around here. he knows not a single soul will dare to get too comfortable with his wife, even if said wife doesn’t want to acknowledge it yet. sukuna knows your stubbornness and his are a lethal combination, no doubt a double-edged sword for marriage, but he wouldn’t have chosen you if it had been any other way.

(masterlist)

taglist: @yoontaedotin , @lzaj19

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna imagine #sukuna headcanons #sukuna x you #shogun!sukuna #ryomen x reader

195 notes · View notes

lyrablack1883 · 8 months

Text

Charon

They said, if you wish to cross the river Styx, you have to pay Charon, the ferryman, a single coin. Severus never actually meet Charon but he meet other ferryman during his lifetime. Men who pushed him gently into the silent of eternal night.

The first ferryman was his father, a muggle who hated magic and himself. To cross over, Severus pay him with his childhood. He remembered the belt, the stings of cold winter, the hunger and the sound of rats running around the alley. But it wasn’t enough. The second ferryman was a beautiful boy with silver eyes. To cross over, Severus continue to pay him throughout his teenage years. He remembered the stings of hexes, the humiliation, and the wetness of his robes clinging to his body as he was drop into the lake. The ferryman then deliver him to the wolf. But it wasn’t enough.

The third ferryman was a man with red eyes and charming smiles. The ferryman told him, he understood his suffering, and gently, he marked him as his own. To cross over, Severus pay him the one thing he ever loved. He remembered the anguish, the regret, the stain on his arm, and the never ending crucio. But again, it wasn’t enough. The fourth and final ferryman was a man one step before d3ath itself. To cross over, Severus pay him with the only thing he had left, his soul. He remembered how the ferryman’s body falls, the way his last word was of him begging him to end it. With this final payment, the third ferryman approached him and in turn will deliver him to his final rest. However again, it seems it wasn’t enough. As the boy with silver eyes, took both of his hand, together they ran and the boy rowed them back into the opposite direction.

(I genuinely forgot what I was going for the first time I had the idea, so above is just the general idea of Severus and his connection with men who controlled his whole life, who he paid dearly for every stage of his life, and after, at the end, he was finally rewarded with death, except I don’t want his story to end like that, so Sirius here had the role to bring him back, you can view him here as a ghost or alive [where he didn’t fall into the veil], why him especially? I viewed these two as characters who lived through the same hell, the type that goes “you put me through this hell, so I’ll drag you down here too” but also “you and I went through the same hell, I managed to get out, so I’ll do anything to get you out with me”) [according to the extremely biased characterization in my head ahaha]

The age of these characters portrayal is set during the time Severus felt closer to death because of them. Tom riddle in his 50s when he killed lily, Tobias in his 30-40s when Severus still lived with him, Sirius in his fifth year when he sent Severus to werewolf!remus and dumbledore in his 150s when he asked Severus to end his life. Since this was also done from Sirius pov, Severus here is also portrayed in his fifth year except for the last panel where he is portrayed a moment before his supposed death at 38.

This was loosely inspired by the song ‘Achilles come down’ by gang of youths and this wonderful fic two sides by blue_inking and Zain

#severus snape #sirius black #tom riddle #albus dumbledore #tobias snape #harry potter #digital illustration #animatic

395 notes · View notes

sspextkr · 8 months

Text

crave - avox!coryo x rich!reader┊ao3 ┊masterlist

instead of being sent off as a peacekeeper as punishment for cheating, coriolanus got his tongue lopped off and was sold as an avox. your family bought him, not knowing your history, and you can't help but feel bad for him.

a/n: hhh i love this au might make a longer fic out of it,,,

word count: 1.2k

trigger warnings: little bit of angst

No one had heard a word from the boy since his tribute won the Hunger Games- He vanished just as she did. Did something happen? He wasn't there at graduation, nor was he there for the after-party. The party made sense, but the big graduation ceremony, where the announcement of who got the Plinth Prize took place? That was unheard of. To everyone's surprise, the prize money was distributed evenly between the top remaining students. How nice?

You and Coriolanus had a certain.. History. You could be seen as rivals, but there was a lot of underlying tension that said otherwise- And a certain drunken incident behind a club a year back. That was in the past, though. Neither of you mentioned it, no badly how much you wanted to.

Still, your mind couldn't help but wonder. He wouldn't miss something as big as this unless something happened..

It still felt off to you, but you brushed it off and decided to call it an early evening, already feeling tipsy from the posca you had consumed earlier. Your mansion was surprisingly bustling when you arrived home, Avox’s raising up and down the stairs. That was odd. Normally, it was only ever this busy when you had company, and you weren't aware of anyone coming over. Surprise change of plans?

“Mother?” You called out, slipping off your coat and hanging it up.

“Ah! There you are, darling.” Your mother entered the foyer, wearing her iconic bright smile. “Sorry about all of the.. Commotion.” She gestures to the tongueless servants running up and down the stairs with a hint of disgust. “We're getting your graduation present in order.”

“Aw.. Mom, you didn't have to do that.” You smile, and she pulls you into a hug.

“Nonsense, darling.” She pats your shoulder as she pulls away. “You've done so well, worked so hard.. It's the least we can do. You just go rest now. We'll take care of everything.” She kissed your cheek before dismissing you.

You wove your way between a few servants before finding yourself in your room, and you drift off to sleep nearly the second your head hit the pillow.

***

A few days later, your gift was ready. After a lush breakfast, your mother took your hand and led you to the servants quarters- Where the maids and Avox’s resided.

“Mother? What are we doing down here?”

“You'll see.” She said in a sing-song voice, leading you down an unfamiliar hallway. The chemical-y smell in the air gave away that it must be new. She paused in front of the door and turned towards you again.

“You're starting to truly become your own person, and that's a lot to handle on your own. Yes, you have help around the house, but… You need something a bit more personal. Someone who caters to your needs and your needs only, so..” She trailed off, grabbing the door knob and pushing the door open.

“Surprise!”

Oh, what a surprise indeed.

A boy sat hunched in the corner, shackled to the wall by his ankles with his knees pulled up to his chest. The light from a window on the wall opposite of him highlighted his blond curls and sharp features. Was he more than skin and bone at this point?

You took a step closer, only to find yourself face to face with him.

Coriolanus Snow.

“.. Oh my God.”

Your breakfast threatened to reappear.

Coriolanus’ head snapped up, and you got a better look at him. Sunken eyes, hollow cheekbones, chapped lips.. What had they done to the poor boy?

You were never a big fan of him to begin with, but.. This was just wrong. You took a hesitant step forward, and the boy flinched, cowering like a wounded animal.

“I'll leave you two to talk.” Your mother said a bit too cheerfully before leaving. How was everyone so okay with this?!

You kneeled in front of Coriolanus, watching the way his jaw tensed. “.. What the hell did they do to you?”

His chapped lips parted for a moment, like he was about to say something, but they quickly closed again. Oh, right, he can't say anything. The boy would live the rest of his life in silence.

You swallowed down the bile rising in your throat, turning your attention to the shackles around his ankles. The cuffs were far too tight and restrictive, leaving bright blue and purple splotches against his pale skin. There were a few marks around his wrists, implying further restriction, but they must've been removed earlier.

"Those look bad.” You muttered, reaching out to touch one of the bruises without even thinking about it. Coriolanus yanked his arm away from you, eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Sorry..”

You backed a step up before looking around in search of something to free hum. Nothing. Damn it. Your gaze traveled back to the blond. “.. I bet you're hungry, huh?”

He nodded after a moment, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed awkwardly. Was it always that prominent? “How does some broth sound?”

A flash of life returned to his eyes for a second, extinguished by the reality of the situation. It nearly made your heart flutter.

You smiled softly. “Yeah? Alright.. Just give me a moment..”

***

You returned around 10-15 minutes later with your very own ‘Avox-Care-Kit’, complete with water, broth, a blanket, and general first aid. You still couldn't find the damn keys to his shackles.

Coriolanus almost looked relieved when you stepped back into the room, looking up at you like a puppy begging for food. How adorable.. Almost. It's a sick thought, but when he couldn't speak, he was almost bearable.

You draped the knitted blanket around his shoulders before setting the bowl of broth and water down in front of him. “I don't know how you are with solids yet.. We'll start small.”

Coriolanus mouthed a small ‘thank you’ before picking up the bowl with shaky hands and taking a sip. You watched as he swallowed, his face shifting into an expression of discomfort. He'd have to relearn how to eat.

The discomfort seemed to be somewhat tolerable as he downed the entire thing fairly quickly. The boy had never been that buff to begin with, but you'd certainly remember if he was this thin.

“.. So, uhm.. Can I ask you something? Or at least try?” Coriolanus nodded, looking puzzled. “Uhm.. Okay, how about..” You pulled out a sketchpad and pencil from your care-kit. Good idea, right? Until you found another way. You handed it to him.

“Okay.. What the hell did you do to end up as an Avox?” He cringed at the question, picking up the pencil and staring down at it in disdain before writing a sloppy answer and passing it back to you-

“Cheated. Don't ask.”

“Cheated..” You clicked your tongue. “Ah. Guess Highbottom wasn't kidding when he said cheaters wouldn't have a future, huh?” You joked. Coriolanus shot you a glare. Clearly, he didn't appreciate that. “.. Sorry.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly before standing back up. “I should probably go, uhm.. I have homework, and you need to rest.”

Coriolanus’ eyes widened a little, his brows creased with displeasure. He looked upset to see you go. In what world did Coriolanus Snow want you to stay by his side? The boy despised you.

Then again, this wasn't the same boy from the Academy. That playfully sinister glint in his eye was gone. This.. Was Coriolanus in his most vulnerable state. One where he couldn't say no. One where he had to listen. The tables had turned, for once.

Maybe you'd have to take advantage of that in the future.

#ao3 #fanfiction #the hunger games #thg #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #au #avox au #my fic

196 notes · View notes

mononijikayu · 8 months

Text

unholy — gojo satoru.

The shared kisses became even more sloppy, deeper and passionate. He gripped your jaw, wanting to keep you closer as his tongue entered your mouth. Tears start to spring from your eyes. Each moment from then on was a symphony of desire and longing that overtook you, possessed you, harsher, primitive, relentless. Both of you were lost in the heat of the moment. Nothing else mattered but this moment. In the race to pleasure,you couldn't get enough of him, craving his touch and his taste with an insatiable hunger. And he was the same. He would always be the same.

Genre: Post - JJK 0, early 2018;

Warning/s: R-18, Smut, Explicit Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Pet Names, Praise, Breeding, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Possessiveness, Daddy Kink, Clan Leader Gojo, Clan Leader to Lovers;

masterlist

listen: unholy by sam smith ft kim petras

note: i got carried away, i was supposed to do my other series fics and i just,,,,,, i just couldn't help myself. gojo satoru is too hot.

THIS WASN’T YOUR TYPE OF THING. But knowing the fact that your clan needed to mingle and make friends and you, another clan leader, needed to do your duty. Yet you knew that this would be quite a dull affair. Much more because you were going to be forced to meet with the elders. You hated them, and you knew they hated you too. If not for your consistent opposition to tradition, then perhaps for your association with Gojo Satoru.

You purse your lips, your mind suddenly lost in the thought of him. You take a moment. You haven’t seen Satoru in a while. And you missed him. You wonder if he will be here tonight. He usually hated being in the social functions of a world that he wanted to shun. Yet with his duty as clan leader, you knew he should be here.

As you pondered over the thought of Gojo Satoru, your mind drifted to the memories of your interactions with him. His charismatic presence, his unyielding determination, and his rebellious spirit always left a lasting impression on you. Despite the differences in your clans' ideologies, you found solace in his companionship, knowing that he shared your disdain for the rigid traditions upheld by the elders.

Lost in your thoughts, you hardly noticed the approaching footsteps until a familiar voice broke through your reverie.

"Ah, there you are," a voice called out, pulling you back to reality. It was one of your advisors, a trusted ally who often acted as a bridge between your clan and others.

You blinked, refocusing your attention on the present moment. "Yes, I'm here," you replied, forcing a polite smile as you greeted the advisor.

"The elders have requested your presence," the advisor continued, their expression betraying a hint of concern. "They wish to discuss matters regarding the upcoming alliance."

You inwardly groaned at the prospect of facing the elders, knowing that their intentions often clashed with your own vision for the future of your clan. Nevertheless, duty compelled you to comply, and you nodded in acknowledgment.

"I will attend," you responded, masking your reluctance with a facade of cooperation.

As the advisor led you towards the meeting chambers where the elders awaited, your thoughts drifted back to Gojo Satoru. Despite the looming presence of tradition and duty, the anticipation of possibly seeing him tonight sparked a glimmer of excitement within you, offering a temporary respite from the dreary affairs of clan politics.

As you entered the grand hall of the gathering of Jujutsu clans, the atmosphere crackled with anticipation and power. The room was a tapestry of colors and sounds, filled with esteemed sorcerers and shamans from various lineages, each emanating an aura of strength and wisdom that added to the palpable energy in the air. Among them stood Gojo Satoru, a towering figure whose mere presence seemed to command attention effortlessly, his enigmatic demeanor and charismatic charm drawing the gaze of those around him.

It had been weeks since you last saw him, weeks filled with the rigors of training, perilous missions, and the ever-present chaos that permeated the world of sorcery. As you navigated through the throng of sorcerers, exchanging polite nods and greetings along the way, your eyes briefly locked with Gojo Satoru's six eyes. In that fleeting moment, a spark ignited between you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that existed between two individuals navigating the tumultuous waters of their respective duties.

However, before you could dwell on the significance of that brief encounter, you were whisked away by the tide of conversations and engagements that awaited you. The evening progressed, marked by discussions of alliances, negotiations, and the intricacies of clan politics. As the crowd began to thin and the fervor of the gathering waned, you found yourself standing alone in a dimly lit corridor, the events of the day weighing heavily on your mind.

Lost in contemplation, you suddenly felt a familiar presence behind you, a magnetic pull that sent shivers down your spine. Without turning around, you could sense Gojo Satoru's proximity, his aura permeating the air around you with an electrifying intensity that was both exhilarating and unnerving. A rush of emotions flooded your senses as you grappled with the unexpectedness of the moment, unsure of what to expect next.

In that solitary moment, amidst the quiet solitude of the corridor, the tension between you and Gojo Satoru hung palpably in the air, as if the universe itself held its breath, waiting to see what would unfold between two individuals whose destinies were intertwined in the ever-shifting tapestry of sorcery and tradition.

"Missed me?" His voice, smooth as silk yet laced with a playful edge, sent a jolt of excitement through me.

Turning around, you found yourself face to face with Gojo Satoru, his signature grin lighting up his features. His gaze bore into mine, intense and unwavering, as if searching for something deeper within you.

"I might have," you replied, unable to suppress a smile of your own despite the fluttering in your chest.

Without a word, he closed the distance between the two of you, his presence engulfing you in a whirlwind of sensations. His hand reached out to gently cup your cheek, his touch electric against you skin.

"I've been thinking about you," he confessed, his voice low and husky, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through me. “Missed you too much, sweets. It’s been…been too long.”

"Is that so?" You teased, unable to resist the playful banter even in this charged moment.

His piercing blue turned dark for a moment. “Oh be careful with that tone, sweets. Daddy….doesn’t appreciate the teasing.”

“Oh, you’ll make me pay for it, won't you?” You whispered slowly, looking back at him. “Or won’t you? Hm, daddy?”

“Oh, you wanna act like a mix, huh? Sweets, you tread dangerous waters.”

“You like it, don’t you?”

His lips curved into a smirk, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Care to join me for a little... private discussion?" he suggested, his tone suggestive yet tinged with genuine curiosity.

With a silent nod, you allowed yourself to be led by him, your heart pounding with anticipation, pleasure brewing deeper and deeper, as we disappeared into the depths of the gathering, leaving the world behind us for a moment of stolen intimacy.

You knew how it was going on.

And you could care less about it.

Being unholy with him, it was everything.

He didn’t have to talk all about it.

One kiss and you’re sinning with him.

BOTH OF YOU RUSHED THROUGH THE HALLS OF THE MANOR. As Gojo Satoru led you through the labyrinthine corridors of the guest wing, your heart raced with anticipation, the pulse of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Each twist and turn only heightened the sense of excitement and uncertainty, but you found solace in the reassuring grip of his hand, tightly interlocked with yours.

Finally arriving at a dimly lit guest room, the air was heavy with anticipation, the subdued lighting casting shadows that danced across the walls. Despite the chill that permeated the room, Gojo Satoru seemed unaffected, his singular focus fixed on the desire that burned within him.

As he closed the door behind you with a definitive click, the world outside seemed to fade into insignificance, leaving only the two of you in the cocoon of intimacy. His gaze locked with yours for a fleeting moment, a silent exchange of unspoken desires and mutual understanding passing between you.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into his embrace, his arms enveloping you with a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine. The sensation of his lips meeting yours ignited a fire within, a primal yearning that threatened to consume you both.

In the darkness of the room, his touch was electric, every caress igniting a symphony of sensations that left you breathless with desire. The weight of his body pressed against yours, pushing you against the wall with a force that left you powerless to resist, his strength rendering your arms momentarily out of commission.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as the world outside faded away, leaving only the raw intensity of your connection with Gojo Satoru, a forbidden indulgence in the midst of a world bound by tradition and duty. With each impassioned kiss and fervent touch, the boundaries between you blurred, giving way to an unspoken understanding that transcended words, binding you together in a passionate embrace that defied the constraints of society.

“You want me, don’t you? You want me so bad.” Gojo Satoru leaned in, whispering hotly in your ear. “I will give you all you desire. Let daddy do it.. Just let me do it.”

You remove his hand from your face and place it towards the obi of your silk kimono, looking at his handsome clean shaven face. He could feel his cock twitch at the sight. So sublime in the beauty that you only show to him. You were wearing something he gave you. The silk reminded him of his eyes, and oh, how you loved his eyes. How you praise the hues, how you yearn to always be in the sight of them. Expensive as it was, he bought it. He didn’t care. He wanted to mark you for all to see. To wear his colors, to tie you to him so completely.

How you wore it so beautifully. So seductively. Only for him. Only for his blue eyes to see. He opened his eyes as he followed the sight of your hands. He looked so beautiful this way. His bright blue eyes gleamed darkly looking at you. He pursed his lips at the sight of your face eagerly seducing him as you came closer.

“Then take me, daddy.” You say, leaning closer to him. “Take this lover who yearns for him.”

He needed no more convincing as he rushed you towards the table and eagerly, hastily, leaned against you. His weight overwhelmed you, the touch of flesh against flesh burned you into flames. Gojo Satoru could only grin as he looked at you. He allowed himself to devour you with his mouth with his own. You return the favor as you kissed him back just as passionately and just as fiercely. Brutally, yearnful, mournful.

You missed him. He’s always gone, and you knew that he had a life of his own. He had goals he wanted to reach. To bring the world to reflect the world he wants. And so you yearn for him. Yearn for the warmth in him, mourn for his touch, the pleasure he gives. Both fought for dominance like animals, needing to resolve their hunger. His strong hands were undoing the laces of the bottom of your dress as your arms were wrapped around his neck, massaging it gently earning little grunts from him.

His tongue inserted inside of your mouth, fighting against yours in a fury as he managed to remove all the satin ties on your kimono. They were now intertwined with one and you in this heated mess, his hands ripping off your clothing from you as quickly and as carefully as he could as you continued to kiss him harshly. You moaned as you felt his touch burn you, each and every thread of his fingers lingering made you shiver. Gojo broke the kiss to move all of your silk kimono slowly and continued towards you, earning a laugh as you eagerly groaned against him, pushing your hands to help him.

He sat you on the table and as he stopped kissing you lips and moved on to kiss with such tenderness, your shoulders, your neck and your collarbones. He looked at you as you nodded. He smiled against you, kisses that lingered in your flesh. It was as if he’d imprinted himself on you. Nothing was left untouched by him.

You could feel yourself get lost in so much of him, when you’re embraced by his godly figure. You could feel that pleasure burning you but when he started to leave more and more bites, even harder than before. Ones that will surely continue to haunt you when he leaves you alone again. Ones that will keep you coming back for more. You threw your head back, whimpering against him.

"I have waited for this moment for weeks, to have this moment, sweets.” He said, biting at your lips. You tried to calm yourself, feeling hot against his touch. “To worship you like this again.”

"Love me, Satoru. Please. Love me in the way only you could.” You replied to your lover as he grinned at you and kissed you, moving your breasts around before putting his mouth on your breast, causing you to moan hard and throw back your head at the pleasure. Your hands touched his silver white hair, encouraging him to ravage your breasts. “Give it all to me.”

He touts at you. “Be patient, sweets. Just a little more fun.”

Your bodies were melting into one.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You wanted him, so badly, too much.

And he could only smirk, knowing it all.

When Gojo finished with your breasts, he kissed you again and took your legs to wrap around his waist. Gojo eagerly carried him towards the direction of the bed, continuing to respond to your kisses.

He laid by you down onto the wide expanse of the pillows with care, your hands deep into his long hair. You could feel yourself getting into it more, feeling high at the desire he so brutally wakes in you.. Breaking away from his lips, You eyed him as you took time to breath, having been overwhelmed by his passionate lips.

“Don’t you think that you are too fully clothed, clan leader Gojo?”

Gojo chuckled at your words. “I suppose so, sweets. You want to help me with that?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

You attacked him with your lips, kissing him so roughly as you helped him out his haori, your hands desperately throwing them onto the mahogany floorings. He started removing the outer kimono he still wore from him and without breaking the embrace, throwing it away into the vast expanse of the room. As you moved towards his hakama, he eagerly tried to help you, but you bit his lower lip.

You wanted to do it yourself. You kept diverting his hands elsewhere on your body. He laughed against your vicious attack, his hand resting on the back of your head as he kissed you deeper. Once you successfully removed his hakama, you could feel him tugging at his underwear himself. You were certain he had ripped it apart in his hurry. But you couldn't care for yourself. You felt pleasure at the fact that his manhood was touching your skin.

You could only moan in pleasure as he kissed your body moving down to your crevices. From your ear to your legs, he marveled at you. Just as he does with the bright beam of your long hair scatterings into the sheets like sunglow.. Gojo Satoru had felt like he was just a peasant, a lowly human being as he stared at you. Whatever god was out there, he knew you were his. You were his to worship. He was your most devout follower.

He was the only one that could see you this way, the only one who could truly love you like this. His heart swelled as you reached for him. Yearn for more of his warmth on your skin, to mark you, to own you. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. But he knew he couldn’t. Not when you were so beautiful. So out of his world breathtaking. And no one can stop him.

He could forget every other woman, every other man, every other person in this whole world. He could forget the world, but not you. He is just lost in you. And he doesn’t want to be found. He needed only you. Gojo Satoru placed a kiss on your pleasure, causing you to moan. Then, he allowed himself to look at your crevices and smirked at you before allowing his finger to move about it.

You could not help rolling your eyes back at the pleasure your beloved blue eyed lover was giving you, after all they had been through as he continued to dominate you in his conquest across your body. He moved to lean over to you, kissing you neck and then moved to your ear to whisper, causing you to giggle.

You felt the pressure inside of your body build up as he continued to pleasure you well. Gojo had always loved the sight of your body being consumed by him, little by little with every bit of you becoming his once again. He kept moving and whispering to you until You could not hold on any longer, taking his forearm and holding it in place as You came.

“You are so beautiful.” He commented huskily in that tone you had never heard from him in a long time. He had always been so eager, but more so tonight. He was a man who was hungry for you. He kissed your body once more, watching you still release yourself from the high of his touch. “So beautiful, so perfectly wholly mine, sweets. You’re only mine.”

Satoru looked to you and allowed his tongue to lick your juices, earning great favor from the goddess in his arms as he did that. You did not expect him to add his fingers slowly but You should have. Gojo was willing to take care of you and you just had to let him. The loud pleasure-filled noise exploded out of your mouth like a thunder storm out to sea, reveling in sensual gratification in the pleasure he was giving you.

It was even more than what you had expected, what you had wanted. More than what you could do to yourself in his absence. This is where you belonged. Gojo smirked slowly as he continued to lick you until you could no longer deal with the rise of your pleasure. He placed his fingers back inside of you, making you throw your head back against the pillow once more.

He pumped his fingers in you deeply, finishing with you and focused more on causing his beloved into a pandemonium of pleasure. You felt the arch you back with wordless nonsense and satisfied moans gracing your lips as your heart burst out of you.

Gojo kissed you gently once more, your pleasure growing through their lips. “So wet, you are, my dear little sweets.”

Gojo leaned down to look with haughty desire, consumed by the pleasure he gave you. It was filling him with so much lust, lust beyond understanding. It had all been bubbling up inside him. Not once did he bed anyone in the weeks you were apart. Not once even offered. No one could compare to you. Not even if they tried.

He had been yearning for his little sweets, who was so ready to give him all that he wanted. You were the one he needed. You were the only one that could satisfy him, the only one that made him greatly filled with eagerness to continue to please you. No one can make him yearn for it so much, to wait so long for one moment. None had ever had the power to do so. Only you.

You could feel yourself getting tighter around his fingers and as he kept pumping into you, all You could ever think was the amazing feeling, almost intoxicating and devouring. You can only call out Satoru’s name over and over again, which pleased him with delight. It had been something he had been wanting. Each time you screamed his name, crying out that you were his — this had energized him so much as he pumped into you even harder. You felt then that You had come hard, the swirling pool of desire flowed through you.

As you sat up when the high of pleasure ended, it caused you more pleasure to see your lover lick your juices from his fingers. “You taste wonderfully, sweets. Truly nothing like this in the world. You taste so sweet.”

You could see a smile in your fantastical delirium, but that smile was as wicked as it could be. He was not done with you just yet. He hadn’t even come yet. Before long, the six eyes had lunged towards your pleasure with his lips, making you whimper as he entered his mouth into you. You could feel his tongue swirling around your insides like it was the fountain of life.

Youth sprang through you and through him. You had not known anything like it, not even when they had laid to get you all those years ago. You pulled at his hair, red scarlet decorating your flesh. The heat was unbearable. But you didn’t care. You wanted him. You wanted more and more.

He continued on and on and on and on, not giving you any rest. Only the scent of pleasure consuming them all at once, not caring for who shall see or who shall come to expose them.

Gojo groaned as you did too, pushing even harder and harder as you started to move against his tongue. You cried out in ecstasy, feeling yourself come once again. He removed his tongue from you and kissed you, the taste of your pleasure ever so salty against the tongue.

He pulls away and smiles at you, lazily moving away and returning down south. He kisses at your thighs lovingly, Gojo Satoru could only be happy to watch you body limp through weariness as pleasure slowly shakes you body.

“Y’did so well, f’r me, sweets.” Gojo coos ever so sweetly at you, heavy in pleasure as he watches you shift your body after you recover yourself — even if his grip tightened about you.“You did so well.”

You kissed his palm as You leaned upwards. “I am so delighted by you.”

“Y’know my answer, sweets.” Gojo whispers, pressing a kiss on your sides. “I’ve missed you too much, sweets. Don’t wanna be apart from you like that again.”

You look at him tenderly. “Me too.”

"You willing to make up for our lost time, sweets?” He asked you, but you could only shake your head. He raised a brow at you. “Why, sweets? You tired?”

“I want to touch you.” You say wistfully as you neared his manhood and looked at his eyes. “Let me, daddy. Missed you. Your cock too.”

He laughed, palming your cheek. "Can’t say no to you, sweets. Go on ahead, sweets. Make me shake up.”

You smiled at your snow haired lover as you looked at him, bending your head down with your hair following. You allowed your fingers to touch the tip of his cock, causing him to grunt a little. He was so big, so big for you. You knew that he would only ever feel this much excitement for you.

Oh, it made you want him even more. You grinned as you allowed one hand to grab it into a small fist. Gojo grunted more as you started to allow the fist to go up and down, slowly and then gradually with effort to speed. You watched his face become contorted with pleasure as he started to become undone as you started to move your hand faster and faster and faster.

Gojo felt you stop. He lowered his body, gazing at you before finding himself throwing his head back as You took hold of the cock with both hands and took it in your mouth. You allowed half inside then little by little you allowed all of it inside of you. Once he was fully inside you mouth, You started to bob you head deeper and deeper at you pace.

Gojo was groaning and moaning, holding onto the linen as it started to get him to unravel. Your hand started to massage his balls while your free hand started to pleasure yourself too. You whimper, your eyes narrowing as sweat poured through you. Moan after moan released from him, muffled pleasure from you. It was too much of a dirty scene. And you reveled in it. You knew your lover did too.

Gojo felt his hand rest on your head as you continued to work him, bobbing into his manhood and soon he was helping you as he thrusted into your mouth and his hand forced your head to thrust into him deeper. You felt yourself gagged at the tightness of his manhood in your mouth.

You finally came with a small sound bellowing from you. Gojo groaned hard in pleasure as he continued to thrust and thrust into you and came inside of you with a loud roar. You opened your mouth and certainly, the excess fell through from your lips. Gojo’s hazy blues could feel the scene make his cock twitch even more. He could feel himself remain ever so hard at the sight of you.

As you embraced each other with fervor, you could feel the warmth of Satoru's sweat-stained body pressed intimately against your own, heightening the sensation of our connection. Every touch, every caress sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a primal desire that consumed my senses. Even more so knowing that you would get more and more, that you wanted more and more from him.

You moaned softly as Gojo shifted you closer to him, his movements deliberate and confident, as he entered you with a force. You gripped through the sheets, as you felt him ever so deep in you with all that belied the raw passion between the two of you. Droll escaped your lips as he wrapped his arms around you, starting to move. Our bodies moved in perfect synchrony, finding a rhythm that mirrored the beat of our racing hearts.

As he enveloped you more and more into him, you could feel yourself truly be one with him. You whimper against him, rough echoes whisper at your flesh with each and every motion of overwhelming love. You were certain that you would easily surrender yourself completely to the intoxicating pleasure he gave you—you always did.

You did it just a while ago. You always will. Because you loved him. And you knew that too well, that you would give anything and everything to him. You groaned as he continued to piston harsher into you. A loud groan leaving his lips. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and contour with a reverence that sent shivers of anticipation down your spine.

When you came, you shouted so loud, you think the entire manor heard you. But sense was out of the window as much as manners was. You could care less about it all. Your body shook so much as you held tighter onto your white haired lover, who was whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he rushed harder, deeper, faster inside of you – trying to chase his own happy end. You knew you were fucked out of your mind, overstimulated beyond compare.

“About to come, sweets.” He cried out, his hands gripping his fingers onto your thighs. He rocks his hips harder against you. “I’ll come inside, sweets. God, I don’t, Oh, oh. It’s about to come, sweets. Let me, let me in.”

“Come inside.” You encouraged, holding tighter onto him with tears of pleasure pouring even more. “Come inside, daddy. Do it, make me feel good, Make me yours.”

And that’s what he did.

Gojo Satoru cried loudly.

He bit your shoulder hard.

And then he came inside.

His hips continued to move, trying to keep more and more of him, trying to lock more and more of his pleasure into you. Gojo knew he bit too hard on your shoulder. He could feel the metallic echoes saltily against his lips, he could feel your body shake against him even more than before. Lips pursed as he released your shoulder. He smiled against you, kissing your neck as you sobbed and rested your head on his side. You were too exhausted now, he was sure.

“You did such a good job, sweets.” He says to you, patting your hair gently with his hand. His arm wrapped around you, to keep you from falling if you pass out. “Did so well for daddy, sweets. Did so well.”

You cooed against him.

Darkness consumed you.

He smiles down at you.

You were daddy’s to play with.

He kisses you, looking at you.

You deserve this reward.

169 notes · View notes