requested - heyy could u make a sam x reader thing where he fucks rlly roughly but heâs really sweet during aftercare bc the idea that sam is rough during but sweet after makes me weak in the kneesđ« đ (anon)
a/n - this is. probably the most filthy thing iâve written. itâs just filthy smut. with a hint of sweetheart sam at the end. i need him so bad itâs not funny. still working on my longer plot fics but i wanted to get this out today to get back into writing!! hopefully you enjoy :) would very much appreciate feedback! <3
cws - fem!reader, 2.4k, nsfw 18+, meandom!sam turned soft!sam, oral f!recieving, praise, very mild choking, condescending words, p in v, mild overstimulation, tears, aftercare, fluff
other fics can be found on my masterlist
ËËË â ËËË
She was convinced that Samâs mouth was a whole new kind of heaven.
Heâd already made her cum once with his mouth alone, large hands pressed into the plush of her thighs to keep them spread, her hips stilled, which were twitching with every sweep of his tongue. He was skilled, drawing the pleasure out of her like it was nothing. Sam had easily spent fifteen minutes down there, eating her out like a starved man, like it was all he wanted.
And she didnât know how she was still breathing. There was a relief that ran through her that Dean and Castiel werenât in the bunker that night, because even though they were shut away in the privacy of their room, she was sure that she wouldâve been heard. Sam had been pulling noises out of her all night, obscene lewd sounds that she wouldâve been embarrassed about being heard if it wasnât Sam with her.
He always made sure that as much as he made her feel, none of it was embarrassment.
His tongue flattened against her, licking a stripe up between her folds until he pressed against her clit and she shuddered, a horribly whiny sound pushed from her lungs when he closed his lips around the bead and sucked, like he was trying to pull the life out of her. Her hips jolted, unable to go anywhere as he had her pinned down, and she was practically seeing stars as Sam worked down there. She wondered if he was even breathing.
âSam- oh my godââ She whimpered, hissed in a breath when he licked back down to her entrance and his nose nudged against her clit, stomach clenching as she reached her hands down to grasp onto his hair, fingers curled into the soft strands.
And then he pulled away.
His hands left her thighs as his mouth left her, but she didnât have time to whine her complaints at the loss of sensation as his long fingers curled around her wrists, yanked her hands out of his hair. âWhat did I say, huh?â The tone of voice made her pussy clench around nothing. âHands to yourself. Youâre pretty bad at listening, baby.â
Sam shifted over her, his face over hers as he pushed her wrists down onto the pillows above her head, and she almost squirmed when she saw the look in his eyes, the way his lips were wet with her.
âAre you listening?â He squeezed her wrists as a reminder, and her eyes quickly flickered back up to his eyes. âDo I need to tie you up, or will you keep these here for me?â She knew he wouldnât hesitate to do it. Sam could be such a soft lover â heâd kiss every inch of her skin, whisper praises and compliments, tell her he loved her a thousand times as he made love to her. But he could also be like this, mean and demanding as he fucked her silly over and over. She wasnât sure which she liked more.
âIâll keep them there.â She breathed out, her voice still a little too whiny. Heâd gotten her so close to cumming again, the lack of stimulation was driving her crazy, her cunt throbbed as she stared up at him.
âOh yeah?â Sam narrowed his eyes like he didnât believe her, and let go of one of her wrists to take both into one of his large hands. Her eyes left his face to follow his second as it dipped down between them, fingering at the waistband of his boxers, until she heard a sharp, âeyes on me.â
Her gaze quickly flickered back up to his face. âSee? You can be good sometimes, canât you?â Sam cooed, boardering on condescending, as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her mouth, allowing her to taste herself. âYou just need some reminding, donât you, sweetheart? Get so lost in that pretty little head of yours when Iâm making you feel so good.â
Sheâd been so distracted by watching his face, head spinning with his words, that she didnât realise that heâd freed himself from his boxers until she felt the head of his cock nudging between her folds, gliding easily against her with the slick and spit collected there, and she mewled at the feeling, eyes squeezed shut as he nudged at her clit.
âEyes open,â his hands left her wrists â which she knew now to keep still â and his fingers splayed across her jaw, squeezing unkindly until she looked up again. âDonât make me tell you again. You wanna be good for me, donât you?â
She nodded dumbly, sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth as he rubbed her clit with his cock. Teasing her. âMhm, I will.â
âYou will?â Sam gave her jaw one more squeeze, just for good measure, before he wrapped his fingers around the bare skin of her throat. He didnât squeeze, didnât put any pressure, just held her, but the threat was there. The head of his cock rested up against her slickened entrance as his head dipped down, lips brushed her ear as he whispered, âwhatâs your colour?â
They had a pretty rigid safe word system set out â it was something he went over with her every time they had sex, especially like this, when he was mean and grabby and knew that she wouldnât like it every time. If she so much whispered the word red heâd be up and off of her before she could blink.
But all that left her words was a whiny, âGreen, please Sammy.â
She felt his lips curve up against her ear as he smirked. âGood girl.â
Without warning he pushed into her and she sucked in a sharp breath, her own fingers grabbed at each other in an attempt to keep her hands still, and she shoved a breath out of her throat. Heâd worked her open with his fingers when heâd been settled down between her legs, but she still felt the stretch, the burn as he settled his cock deep inside of her, and for a moment she had to remember to breathe back in.
âFuck honey,â he grunted in her ear, fingers gripped her throat just slightly tighter, still only enough for her to feel pressure. âSo tight for me, baby. Can barely take it, huh?â
He pulled back before he rutted back inside and she whimpered, squeezing her own fingers together so tightly so she didnât break his rule. Needing to hold onto him somehow, though, her thighs clamped harshly around his hips, already trembly from the first orgasm heâd pulled from her.
He thrust in again, and again, and again, and soon she saw stars, gasping and whimpering with every drag of his cock against her gummy walls, pleasure rippling through her in waves that made her stomach clench, her cunt clamped down so tightly around him it was a wonder he could move at all.
âSo noisy baby,â he crooned on a particular harsh thrust that made her whine, fingers a little tighter around her throat. âCanât help yourself, can you?â He huffed with another thrust. âNeed me to do all the work, hm? Greedyââ he grunted, âgreedy girl.â
It took an embarrassingly short time for her to get close again. Sam was fucking her with determination, grunted every time he pushed himself back in, the head of his cock nudged the soft spongey spot inside of her that made her shudder again and again and again until she was a mess beneath him, lewd wet sounds accompanying her whimpers with each shift of his hips, her pussy fluttering around the stretch of his girth.
He didnât slow down, didnât ease up, didnât give her a breather. She was close to tears by the time she was almost there, already sensitive from her first orgasm.
She clenched around him and his fingers, in turn, tightened on the sides of her throat. She trusted him, she knew he wouldnât push it too far. Just enough for her to feel a little dizzy, for the bliss to wash over her like a high.
âSam- mm- Sammyââ She was practically blabbering as her eyes filled with tears, gasping with each thrust, each smack of his hips against hers.
âOh honey,â he cooed, condescending, mean. âToo much, hm? Need something?â
His hand loosened on her throat and she inhaled a little shakily.
âPleaseââ she whined, blinking through tears up at him. She didnât miss the flicker in his eyes as the tears dribbled down her cheeks, but she knew that he knew sheâd tell him if it was too much. It had happened before, neither of them messed around when it came to their safe words.
âPlease what, huh?â He thrust in harshly and she groaned, cunt fluttering, so closeâ âAh-ah, not yet. Donât you need to ask me something, dolly?â He squeezed her throat once. âYou remember what happens if you cum without asking, donât you?â
Of course she did. The week prior sheâd cum too soon, and he spent the next what felt like hours edging her, too skilled with his fingers, words too filthy that they made her head spin. Heâd made such a mess of her that she hadnât been able to even get up off of the bed for a little while after he finally let her cum.
âMhm, mm, yeahââ she inhaled shakily, whining, thighs clamped tighter around his hips. âPlease- please can I- please let meââ she groaned.
âLet you what?â He was dragging it out, the fucker, grunting into her ear as he leaned down over her, pushed his cock so deep her vision almost whitened out. âTell me, honey. Use those words for me, câmon.â
The tears were bubbling over faster, rolling down her flushed cheeks. âLet me cum, baby, please.â
âAsking so nicely,â he grunted, pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear. âHow can I say no to something so pretty, hm? âCourse you can, baby, go ahead.â
It wasnât his words that did it for her, but the hand that snuck between them and pressed down on her stomach, the press of his cock suddenly so much more delicious that she almost fucking fainted.
She came with a breathless whine, hips jerked as she finally gasped a breath and whined again, her cunt throbbed around his cock as he kept pumping, rode her through it entirely. Her head tipped back, his mouth on her neck as her eyes squeezed shut, colours danced on the inside of her eyelids, her own little fireworks display.
Sam came shortly after, groaned into her ear in a way that almost made her cum again, and he rutted into her a few more times before he stopped, warmth spreading through her as he panted against her shoulder.
âFuck,â he huffed, his own chest heaved, brushing against her bare skin. âOh sweetheart.â The shift in his demeanour was palpable, soft kisses immediately littered across her shoulder and collarbone, palms flattened to smooth over her sweat-dampened skin. He could be so mean in the moment, so dominating and controlling that he left her a fucking mess underneath him, but afterwards? Heâd probably feed her grapes and fan her if she asked him to.
She was still gasping for breath, head spinning, and when she knew she wouldnât be told off for it her hands lifted, immediately clung to his warm shoulders. She loved the way his shoulders felt underneath her touch, muscles rippling with every movement.
Sam kissed up her throat and jaw before he landed on her mouth, and he kissed her slowly, huffed breaths into each other's mouths as he licked between her lips, sweeped behind her top teeth, their lips both wet with spit.
By the time he had pulled away, heâd so thoroughly kissed her that she almost had her breath back.
âYou okay?â His voice was so soft it was like there was an entirely different person on top of her compared to five minutes prior. His hand left her throat, smoothed upwards and cupped her jaw. She felt him thumb away tears that had fallen, some clung to her eyelashes, somewhat cool against her hot and flushed skin.
She nodded as she stroked her fingertips along his shoulders with her fingertips, like sheâd committed him to memory. She had.
âHey,â he lightly tapped her cheekbone with his thumb. âNeed words, honey.â
She couldnât help her smile. He was so caring she sometimes wanted to cry. âMâokay,â she whispered, voice soft like sheâd shared a secret. âReally good. Youâre so good, Sammy.â She praised, tilted her head to kiss his wrist, and he smiled and blushed like he hadnât just been the one to fuck the life out of her.
âSays you,â Sam leaned down and kissed her forehead. âYouâre perfect. Love you,â another kiss. âLove you so much.â
She smiled so much her cheeks hurt. âLove you too.â
Sam smiled too, that soft smile that made his dimples peek out, eyes crinkled at the corners, and he stroked her cheekbone again. âMâgonna pull out, okay?â
Only when she nodded did he shift, slowly pulled his hips back until she was empty, until all she could feel was the wetness coated between her thighs.
âChrist, made a mess of you,â he murmured, not in the condescending tone from before, instead something closer to admiration. âYouâre so pretty when you cum, yâknow that?â
She blushed, hard, and shrugged as her cheek dipped to meet her shoulder.
Sam laughed, rolled his eyes as he leaned in and kissed her again. âDonât get all shy on me now.â
She was still blushing when he helped her sit up, fingers delicately curled around her elbows to pull her upright, her back also damp with sweat. Theyâd need to change the sheets.
âTwo options,â Sam murmured as he gently stroked hair away that was stuck to her forehead, baby hairs that clung to her temples. âWe take a shower and let me wash your hair and then go get food, or you let me run you a bath and you wait there looking all pretty for me while I get you something we can eat in there so I can dote on you.â
âYou just wanna wash my hair huh?â
Sam smiled. âGuilty.â
Her fingers found his, intertwined with a squeeze. âBath sounds nice,â she eventually settled on. âAs long as you donât take too long in the kitchen. Iâll miss you.â
He was laughing when he pressed another kiss to her mouth. âOf course. Promise to not take too long, okay?â
She giggled and nodded, smiled against his mouth when he kissed her again. âOkay.â
âËâč⥠sexxx dreams | sam winchester x reader
inspired by the song sexxx dreams by lady gaga
a/n - aaah hi !! itâs been so long since iâve written a full fic im sorry for disappearing off the face of the earth. life has sucked but iâm back!! itâs been far too long since iâve posted a sam smut so hehe i hope you guys like this. took me way too long to write a sex curse fic lmao. but i hope you enjoy !! leaving feedback on fics is the world to fic writers :)
cws - fem!reader, 8k words, friends to lovers, smut, sex curse, witchcraft, wet dream, brief jacking off, p in v, riding, missionary, size kink ish, a lot of cum, needy and kinda whiny sam, flirty rowena, big brother dean, feverish sam, brief cage/lucifer mentions
other fics can be found on my masterlist
âShit- ah fuck,â Sam grunted with the next roll of his hips, the warmth around his cock so euphoric it was a wonder he didnât cum right then. There was a haziness in the room, a strange atmosphere that in the moment he hadnât thought to question. A bed he didnât recognise, sheets too plain and walls even plainer, but his focus was solely on her beneath him.
Which led to the other strange thing he hadnât thought to question â they hadnât done this before. But his best friend was underneath him and the tight warmth of her cunt sucking him back in with every thrust just felt so right.
âSo good, thatâs so good, honey.â
Her fingers were in his hair and she just kept whimpering his name in a tone that made his cock throb harder, arousal curling deeper. His hands were tight around her hips as his own rolled again and again, pressing harder inside of her in a way that made both of their breaths shudder.
âSam- mâso close,â she whined, her breath hot against his cheek, her grip tighter in his hair. The smell of her skin was addictive, his head tipped forwards to nose his way up her throat, her pulse throbbing in the side of her neck. âGonna cum- Sam-â
A low groan left his throat as his hips rolled forwards into the lumpy mattress beneath him, spilling into his boxers.
It took him a moment to grow coherent enough to realise exactly what predicament he was in. Breathing heavily into the pillow Sam blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the sight of his motel room, the empty bed he was in. There was a burning tingling shame that spread right down to his stomach when he realised heâd had a wet dream about his best friend.
âWhat the fuck?â He breathed out hard as he sat up, and was relieved as he glanced across the room to see that Deanâs bed was empty and that he hadnât been caught doing⊠whatever that was.
Sam wasnât stupid, he was painfully aware of the feelings he had for her, the feelings that had been simmering for years. But what was he supposed to do? Even in the extremely unlikely case that she did feel the same, it wasnât like acting on those feelings was a good idea. Nothing ever went well for him, itâd just be another thing he ended up losing one way or another. So heâd tried to shove it as far down as he could.
It wasnât like he hadnât tried to deal with it before. There had been a few times that heâd had his fist around his cock after a long day of trying to ignore how close theyâd been throughout the day when heâd thought of her, jacked off and thought of what sheâd feel like or sound like beneath him, but each time heâd grown so shameful of what heâd been doing that heâd turned himself off completely and went to bed hard and uncomfortable.
But this? This was so much worse than that.
Sam grimaced as he pushed the covers off and felt the now cooling cum in his boxers, the fabric sticking to his skin, and so fucking embarrassed he quickly got up and went into the bathroom, once again glad that his brother wasnât in the room.
He pulled off his shirt and stepped out of his boxers, a mental note to go to the laundromat later that day appearing in his head as he caught sight of the mess in his pants, then started the shower and stepped in beneath the spray of water.
What the fuck was wrong with him? Sure, he was a guy, heâd had wet dreams before, but not since he was a teenager and certainly never about her.
It had seemed so real. Her panted breaths against his neck with each thrust of his hips, the way her pussy had clenched so deliciously tight around his cock anytime his tip kissed her cervix, the way sheâd moaned his name.
Sam huffed out a sharp breath through his nose when he realised he was already hard again.
âWhat the fuck?â He hissed, voice hidden beneath the sound of water hitting the tile. âJesus Christ. Cut it out.â
His hand found his cock anyways, so hard he was fucking aching, and he took a few minutes to jack himself off to the memory â the not even real memory â of her beneath him until he was groaning deep in his throat and cumming onto the shower floor.
His hand reached up to turn the temperature dial all the way around to cold and he finished up in there as quick as he could, heart still thumping.
Pull it together.
It didnât take long to pack up his stuff after his shower, but by the time Dean returned with coffee for the three of them Sam was hot. Not hot like heâd worked up his temperature by moving around the room, but like the warmth was sitting beneath his skin like a fever. The back of his neck was sweaty and his hair was sticking to his forehead, and as he took one of the to-go cups from his brother Dean frowned at him.
âYou okay, Sammy?â He asked. âLooking a little pale.â
âFine,â Sam waved him off as he grabbed his bags and moved towards the door. He was hard again, which was all he could focus on, frustration simmering with the heat. âJust wanna get on the roadââ
He pulled the door open and stood face to face with her, and his jaw clenched as his cock throbbed.
âHey,â she smiled sweetly, dodging past him to take one of the cups from Dean too. âMy stuffâs in the car. Are we going?â
Sam hadnât moved, shoulders stiff and throat dry as he stared at her. She looked like she usually did, if not a little worn down from yesterday's hunt, and maybe that was the worst part â nothing was different so what the hell was wrong with him? Heâd become an expert at shoving away his feelings. There had been multiple occasions where she literally had her shirt off in front of him so he could patch up an injury and his eyes had never wandered further than necessary, respectful in the way he touched her and looked at her and thought of her. So now? He felt like a fucking pervert. She was his best friend.
âHello? Earth to Sam?â Dean waved a hand so close to his face that he flinched and glared at his brother. âYou get out the wrong side of the bed or something?â
At the mention of the bed and the thought of what heâd done that morning Sam glared harder, her eyes on him like a red hot laser and he didnât dare look at her then. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck and he felt so uncomfortable and so fucking hard that he just wanted the ground to open up beneath him and swallow him whole.
âIâm fine,â he grit out. âCan we just go?â
Being in the car made everything so much worse.
The only saving grace was that he didnât have to look at her, but her voice floating up from the backseat and the smell of her perfume was enough. Each bump in the road made him shift in his seat, achingly hard and pressed against the zipper of his jeans. Heâd had to discreetly palm himself through the denim just to try and get some sort of relief a few times when Dean wasnât looking.
When the heat didnât die down heâd come to the conclusion that he mustâve been harbouring a fever. Since getting in the car heâd shed his flannel to just be left in his t-shirt and rolled the window all the way down, and though the wind blowing his hair back was nice he was still fucking hot.
âDude,â Dean knocked his knee against his and he flinched, glancing up at his face. âAre you sure youâre okay? You lookâŠâ
âLike shit?â Sam scoffed when his brother nodded. âYeah. Iâm fine.â His eyes flickered up to the mirror and his jaw clenched at the sight of her in the back.
âAre you sure? You donât look fine,â his brother pushed. âI told you we shouldâve double checked what that witch did yesterday.â
For the past few days theyâd been tracking a coven of witches across three separate towns. Ten different murders, all husbands, all mysteriously died in front of their partners. It hadnât taken all that long to figure out that it was witchcraft when theyâd found hexbags in most of the houses. Bitter with the loss of their own lovers theyâd gone on a killing spree and caught too much attention.
The last of the witches theyâd put down in the basement of the house theyâd been camped out in had at one point shoved Sam up against the wall, gripped his throat so tightly he couldnât breathe, and had murmured an incantation he hadnât been able to make out through the ringing in his ears. There had been a hot pressure in his chest that started spreading outwards, but a moment later Dean had shot her in the back and sheâd died right in front of him. The magic couldnât have lingered if she was dead, could it?
âShe died, Dean, you killed her,â Sam murmured, clenched his teeth tight when Baby hit a pothole and his cock was momentarily pressed harder against his zipper as he was jerked slightly in his seat. âJust feel a little hot. Iâm fine.â
His head tipped to the side to watch out of the window as he did his best to ignore it, ignore how it felt â the simmering beneath his skin was a heat heâd only felt once, and he wasnât eager to think about his time in the cage.
The heat only continued to get worse somehow. The only rational explanation he could think of was that heâd run himself down after back-to-back cases and was a little under the weather. He did not, however, have an explanation for the way the heat seemed to simmer worse whenever he looked at her, heart thumping and arousal curling deeper into his gut whenever she spoke.
They got to their next motel just before sunset, with the intent of getting a good nightâs sleep before either finding another case in the morning or just heading back to the bunker. If he was being honest Sam just wanted his bed at home, but he didnât really have the energy to argue with his brother, not when every single thought in his head was swirling over how he felt, over her.
The other two were talking as Sam forced himself to get out of the car, too focused on the drumming pulse in his ears to listen to what they were saying, so when he rounded the car towards the trunk and a hand landed on his arm he jumped at the burn. White hot like electricity. He flinched and his eyes shot up to meet her eyes, which were quickly growing concerned.
âSam?â She frowned, and his eyes locked onto the plush of her lips. He knew theyâd feel good against his, soft and warm, the little âoâ shape theyâd make as she moaned underneath himâ âSam? Are you okay?â
Guilt flooded him immediately and he forced his gaze away. What was wrong with him? He couldnât just think about her like that, it was disgusting.
He didnât even utter an excuse, just quickly rushed into the room before he could make things worse.
âSam?â Dean had followed him in and Sam grit his teeth. Heâd been planning on sorting himself out in the shower again, at this point it was legitimately a necessity. âWhat the hell is up with you? You ignored her the whole drive-â he cut himself off when Sam turned to face him. âWhatâs wrong?â
There wasnât even any point in insisting he was fine anymore. The heat just kept getting hotter, he felt sweaty and weird and still thinking about that dream. âI just⊠have a fever.â
Dean scowled as he stepped forwards and reached up to touch Samâs forehead, even as he tried to bat his hand away. âWhy didnât you say anything in the car? Youâre burning up, man,â there was a pause before he sighed. âCall Rowena.â
âHuh? Why?â
âBecause what happened yesterday isnât sitting right with me and if anyone can make sure that witch didnât do something to you itâs her.â
Even through the simmering beneath his skin Samâs lips twitched. âYouâre willingly asking me to call Rowena?â
âSheâs still a bitch but she can be useful sometimes,â Dean rolled his eyes. âJust call her.â
Much to Samâs dismay and an I told you so from Dean, Rowena also suspected that something was wrong after Sam called and explained his symptoms â well, not all of them, he didnât dare mention the dream or his problem â and cut the call off with a chirpy confirmation that sheâd get to him as quickly as she could.
It was dark out by the time Rowena got there. All of the windows in the room had been opened as wide as they could in hopes that the cold night air would do something to help the fire in his veins, but nothing was helping. His chest had tightened with the rising heat, there was absolutely no doubt that something was wrong.
âWell arenât you a⊠sight.â Rowena hummed as soon as she stepped through the door, taking her time like she was just there for tea. The silk of her dress caught in the draft from the open door, blowing forwards with a harshness that should have been brought with cold. Sam didnât feel it, the wind that hit his skin did nothing to soothe the burn. If not for the fact that she was visiting he wouldâve stripped down to his boxers already.
He stood from where heâd been perched on the edge of his bed, fists clenched tight. âRowena-â
âCalm down,â she raised a hand as she closed the door behind her. âIâm here to help, arenât I?â Another gust of wind blew through the open windows and she pulled a face. âMy itâs cold in here, isnât it?â
âNo,â Sam grit out, chest heaving with heavy breaths as he watched her step forwards. It had become harder to ignore the worse it got, the memory of the cage, what Lucifer had done to him. Burned his skin until it was all gone and then healed him to start all over again. The smell of his own flesh was something he was never going to forget, part of him kept expecting to look down and see his arms on fire. But they werenât, like some cruel trick on his mind. If not for Dean noticing that something was wrong he wouldâve been convinced that he was going crazy again. âItâs hot, Iâm hot, I canât fucking cool down it feels like Iâm on fire.â
Rowenaâs tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth as she came to a stop directly in front of him. âHm. Take your shirt off.â
âHuh?â
Her eyes rolled. âI need to see if you have any magic attached to you, and itâs easier without your clothes in the way,â perfectly manicured nails dragged against the fabric of his t-shirt before she smirked. âTrust me, I donât mind.â
Maybe he wouldnât have been so quick to agree on a regular day, especially with her looking at him like that, but he was both desperate for this to be over and also used to Rowena being Rowena, so there wasnât much hesitation as he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head, dropping it down onto the floor.
Rowena made a show of looking him over, lips curled upwards at the corners.
âRowena-â
âAlright, Samuel,â she sighed. âForgive me for finding some enjoyment in the situation. Sit.â Her hand pressed to his chest and he flinched, expecting to feel the same burn that heâd felt from her earlier that day when sheâd touched his arm, but Rowenaâs palm felt cool against his flushed skin. It was actually nice, and he breathed out shakily as he allowed himself to be pushed backwards until he was seated on the edge of the mattress.
Rowena stepped forwards until she was stood between his legs, and then her hand was on his chest again. A pressure pushed through his ribs and he stiffened in the effort to keep still and let her search for any lingering magic attached to him. His eyes lifted to her face and he watched as her expression went from focused, to shocked, to⊠amused?
âYour symptoms,â she met his eyes as she pulled her hand back. âTell me.â
âIâve already told you-â
âTell me again.â
Sam huffed out a frustrated breath and pushed a hand through his hair. âIâm hot, it feels like Iâm burning from the inside out.â
She just continued to watch him.
âWhat?â He didnât mean to snap but he was seriously losing his patience.
âYour other symptoms?â He opened his mouth to protest but she held up a hand. âJust be honest, Samuel. I think I know what the curse is.â
His jaw clenched. Heâd never actually vocalised his crush to anybody before. Sure, maybe Dean wasnât completely oblivious to have not noticed, but heâd never outright admitted it.
âI had this⊠dream, uh,â he ran a hand over his face, the heat in his cheeks now from embarrassment. âAnd it kinda stuck with me.â
Rowena was smirking. âAnd what was the nature of this wee dream, hm?â
He glowered at her. âIâm sure you know.â
âOh I do, but itâs way more fun if you tell me,â he just continued glaring and she sighed. âYou boys just have to suck the fun out of everything, donât you?â She moved to sit on the bed beside him, and after adjusting her dress over her legs she turned to face him. âItâs called mali desiderii.â
âWhat does that mean?â
Her lips twitched again, like she was really trying to be serious. âItâs a curse that attaches itself to your deepest desire and makes you, well, want it.â
Sam swallowed around the dryness in his throat. âHow dangerous is it?â
Rowena lifted a hand to gently circle her fingers around his wrist, her cool fingertips pressed against his pulse point felt nice. âYouâre already burning up, and itâs only going to get worse. Unless you sate the desire, youâll completely burn up from the inside out.â
He felt his stomach drop. âItâll kill me?â
âMhm, in a day or so, unless you deal with your little⊠problem,â She gestured to his jeans with a wicked smirk that made him want the ground to open up beneath him, before she sighed, a more genuine expression settling on her features. âSam⊠sheâs next door.â Her hand laid on his arm though that time he stiffened.
âI canât justââ
âIt doesnât matter if you canât. Youâre going to have to,â she told him firmly, before her lips curved upwards again. âYou never know, it might be something the both of you need. Sheâs smart, Samuel. If a big strong man came knocking on my door asking me to help him out, Iâd⊠well, like I said, sheâs smart.â
He grit his teeth and breathed out sharply. This was so stupid. She was his best friend, he couldnât just turn up at her door and demand to have sex with her. âIsnât there a cure or something?â
âThis is the only way,â Rowena didnât give him much time to think on it before her hand was on her knee, squeezing, then she stood up. âYouâll be fine. Trust me, out of all the things you couldâve been cursed with, this is definitely the most⊠pleasurable.â
At her smirk his stomach twisted uncomfortably, but still he stood up to let her out of the room. He didnât bother to put his shirt back on, stood in the doorway as he watched Rowena climb into her car â a Porsche that he was certain didnât belong to her the last time they spoke â the breeze of the night doing absolutely nothing to cool him down. As she pulled out of the parking lot heâd had a mind to go and tell Dean what was wrong, but he paused when his eyes landed on her door next to his.
Sate the desire, Rowena had said. Maybe on a typical day he wouldnât have wanted to even approach the topic with her, save himself a lifetime of embarrassment when she inevitably turned him down, but this was his only shot. And the thought of finally having her was enough for his body to roll with another wave of aroused heat.
âFucking crazy,â he breathed, hand lifting to knock on the door once he was stood in front of it. âThis is fucking crazy.â
The door opened relatively quick and then there she was. Sheâd changed into her pyjamas since getting to the motel, a t-shirt and shorts that left him unable to help his gaze dragging up the length of her legs, imagining dipping between them. She really wasnât making this fucking easy for him, was she?
âSam?â She blinked, worried eyes widening as her gaze dragged downwards, and embarrassed he remembered he hadnât put his shirt back on. Christ, this probably looked like the opening to a shitty porno. By the sounds of it, thatâs how it was going to end up. Either that or he was going to die.
âSorry,â he quickly blurted out, chest heaving with heavy breaths as his eyes fell down away from her face, before he caught himself staring at her legs and he had to look back up digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. Get a grip. âSorry, uh⊠can I talk to you?â
Instantly she stepped aside. âAre you okay? Why was Rowena here?â
His teeth ground together with the realisation that Dean hadnât told her that anything was wrong, either not to worry her or because he was just leaving it to Sam he wasnât sure. He stepped into her room and exhaled sharply. The heat was getting bad, hands trembling as he pushed sweaty hair out of his face and turned back to face her.
âSam you donât look so good,â her eyebrows were pinched together in such worry. âCan I get you anything? Do you want some water? You look a little sick, you sit down and Iâll just-â
âItâs a curse,â he just got out. âOne of the witches yesterday cursed me. That's why Rowena was here.â
She looked⊠god, the look on her face, she looked so devastated for him. âI- cursed? How bad is it? Are you okay?â She rushed forwards and touched his arm sympathetically, and usually it wouldâve been nice â she was sweet, she was always physically affectionate but always more so with him than Dean. There had been many times theyâd held hands on a hunt when either one of them was unnerved, or on nights where they could only get a motel with two beds or had to sleep in the car she always chose to sleep with him. Curled up with no choice but to hold each other in a small twin bed or the backseat of the Impala heâd always felt comfortable with her.
But her touch then on his arm, it felt like being singed. He jerked backwards and hated the way she looked at him when he did it. âSorry,â he breathed her name like a plea, the last thing he wanted was to make her feel bad with what he was about to ask of her. âIâm⊠hot. The curse is burning me up and if I donât do something about it then Iâve⊠got a day.â
âA day?â Her voice broke and it shattered something deep in his soul. âSam, I⊠Rowena has a cure right?â
His eyes squeezed shut tightly and he took in a sharp breath. This was it. âItâs a, uh⊠well, thereâs one thing I can do but itâs- Iâd be asking a lot of you.â
Her response was immediate. âAnything.â
Steeling himself he finally just pushed out, âitâs a sex curse.â
She blinked at him. âWhat?â
âItâs a- god, this is so stupid. Itâs a sex curse. If I donât have sex in the next day then Iâll die.â Saying it out loud he realised just how ridiculous it was, how this really was just some fucking stupid porno, something heâd catch Dean quickly shutting off in the motel whenever he got back. âIt really is stupid huh? Fuck, I donât even-â
âOkay.â
It was his turn to blink at her. âWhat?â
âI said okay,â she hesitated before stepping forwards, like she was expecting him to jerk away from her again. âIâm not gonna let you⊠the curse isnât gonna take over, okay? Of all the ways weâve dealt with curses before this is actually a pretty easy fix.â
He was just staring at her. âBut I canât ask you to-â
âYou arenât asking, Iâm offering,â the control in her voice made his cock throb in his jeans and he bit back a groan. Itâd be nice to finally get some fucking relief. âThis is gonna be easier than you going out to a bar and finding someone, Sam, and I trust you,â a pause then, her voice went softer. âAnd you trust me. Or at least I hope so.â
ââCourse I do,â he breathed. âBut-â
âSam,â she stepped forwards until she was right in front of him then, until he could smell her perfume and feel her breath hit his chest. âLet me. Please.â
Any restraint heâd been clinging onto snapped in that moment.
Giving in to the curse, at first, felt like being possessed, like watching from inside his body as he acted upon it. His hands cupped her jaw as he stepped closer, tipping down until he caught her mouth with his, hard, all desperation and lust as he licked and sucked at her bottom lip only just hesitating enough to not slip his tongue into her mouth immediately. She was making soft breathy sounds through her nose and it was making everything worse, his veins burned hotter and his cock was so achingly hard that he couldnât help his hands sliding down to her hips and gripping hard as he started walking them back to her bed.
But he was shaking, his breathing all heavy and hot in his throat, the fever was still clinging to his bones and the curse made it hard to think about anything. His hands had just slipped beneath her shirt when she leaned back with a huff of breath, her palm pressed flat against his chest.
âSam.â She breathed, heavy but concerned, eyes all soft and crinkled at the corners as she looked up at him.
âYeah?â
Her fingers travelled down to gently start threading the leather of his belt through his buckle. The sight of her hands so close to where he needed them was almost enough to just cum in his boxers thinking about her. Again.
âLet me⊠let me take care of you, okay?â She breathed, pulling the belt free and then working open his zipper. âYouâre shaking, let me do this,â she leaned forwards and kissed his chest and he shuddered. âLet me help you.â
All he could do was nod dumbly, hands squeezing at her hips as she unzipped his jeans and pushed them down his legs until he could step out of them. She hesitated as he fingers touched the waistband of his boxers, but he nodded, and she pulled those down too.
For a moment he was too distracted by the curse to really take much in, just panting softly as he waited for the inevitable relief. But when he did catch sight of her face, the way her eyes drifted down to his cock, hard and leaking like it had been all day, the way she swallowed, fuck.
âCome here.â He breathed, lustful and needy and possessive all in one, and then his mouth was on hers again as he took the final two steps back to her bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress. Sam moved to pull her in immediately but she paused to quickly slip her shorts and underwear down her legs, and only then did she let him pull her onto his lap, straddling his thighs.
If he was a little more with it, heâd have felt bad. In all the times heâd thought of being able to finally have her, it had gone differently. Heâd been sweet and kissed her softly, taken her to dinner or for some drinks, theyâd dressed nice and heâd complimented how pretty she was. Heâd been gentle with her, taken his time, hadnât wanted to rush it. She deserved better than the rushed desperation coursing through his veins, but he couldnât help himself.
Sam was kissing her again once she was close enough. A hand slid up her back, soft skin beneath his palm, before he gripped her shirt and panted out, âcan I take this off?â
Only when she nodded did he grip the hem and lift it up and over her head, dropping it on the floor with the rest of their clothes.
He allowed himself one moment to stare and take her in; chest rising and falling heavily, hardened nipples, soft thighs slotted over his like they belonged, her lips kiss-bitten and wet with their spit. Sam wasnât entirely sure which part was the most devastating.
âGod-â he choked, fingers curling around her hipbones again. âLook at you.â
Her chin tucked towards her chest all bashfully, and for a moment the flicker of guilt touched him. She deserved better than this.
But then her fingers wrapped around his cock and through the white-hot pleasure any other thoughts were wiped from his mind.
A grunt escaped his throat and his eyes squeezed shut, his grip on her hips tightening. âShit-â
She shifted on top of him, lifting up on her knees to line his cock up with her entrance, and even if the feeling of his tip kissing her folds was enough for his head to spin a little he still stopped her with a squeeze of her hips.
âAre you ready? I meanâŠâ Sam wasnât stupid. He knew he was big, bigger than most. When heâd been with Jess heâd learned exactly how many fingers he needed to stretch her out before she could comfortably take him. He needed to feel her more than anything but he didnât want to hurt her.
âItâs okay,â she breathed, and leaned down to kiss him again. âI can take it.â
Her tongue pushed past his lips and he moaned into her mouth as she slowly sank down onto him.
Nothing he had ever felt compared to that moment.
Charged, sparking pleasure exploded in his gut, shooting through his veins making every nerve ending tingle. Fuck. This was the relief heâd been craving, the lust he hadnât been able to sort out himself with his hand or how much he could imagine in his head.
Her pussy squeezed tightly around him as she sank down slowly and for a moment all he could do was pant into the skin of her neck as he held onto her, grunting into her throat the deeper she took him and the tighter she clenched around him. Once he was sheathed all the way inside of her his breath punched out of him heavily. Somehow he hadnât blown his load right then.
âYou feel-â he whined as she shifted, rubbing against her gummy walks and spending more sparks of pleasure through him, âso fucking good, thatâs- yeah, thatâs it.â
She shifted again and that time it was her who whined, her palms hot on his shoulders as they grabbed at the muscle there. âSam,â she breathed his name against his ear. âYouâre so deep.â
He had a feeling heâd be getting hard over that sentence for the rest of his life.
âCan I-â her voice was trembling, and when he glanced up at her she looked a fucking picture â eyes all blown out, lips parted and panting, expression pinched in pleasure. âCan I keep moving?â
He couldnât find his voice so he just nodded, and at the first shift of her hips his eyes rolled back and he moaned.
Time seemed to blur. He found himself able to release the death grip on her hips and instead smoothed his palms over her back, as his head tipped forwards to lick and suck at her neck. Heâd never felt anything like this, it was like being high. Each squeeze of her cunt around his cock stole the breath from his lungs, made the magic from the curse flare inside of him in a way that had his hairs standing on end and his cock throbbing where it was held deep inside of her.
Noises were pulled from him without any of his say so. Keening whined and gasps of her name whenever she shifted. Her fingers tangled in his hair at one point and pulled and he almost completely lost it then.
She didnât seem to be in a different state to him, if he knew any better heâd have said she was cursed from the way she was clinging onto him, panting his name and squeezing his cock inside of her.
This completely blew his dream out of the water.
âHah- Iâm-â It took an embarrassingly short time to get there, but given the heat bubbling inside of him he really did need the release sooner rather than later. âFuck honey mâgonna cum-â
Her breath was hot on his cheek as her temple pressed to his, hips rolling and cunt squeezing along with her whimpered, âplease Sammy.â
Sam watched as her hand dipped between them to rub at her clit with each roll of her hips and with the next time his tip brushed against her cervix he was gone.
He was certain that the sound that left him then he had never made before. Almost animalistic, in any other situation he wouldâve found himself embarrassed, but the way pleasure shot up his spine, through his veins, made him shudder and gasp into her throat as his orgasm literally whitened his vision, he wasnât in control of anything he was doing. It literally took his breath away, made his ears ring, one moment he was holding the back of her neck and kissing at her throat and the next he had his forehead pressed to her shoulder as he heaved breaths against her chest.
She mustâve cum too, not that heâd been able to even realise in the moment, but sheâd also slumped into him, arms draped over his shoulders as she melted into him.
For one long moment, it was the best heâd ever felt.
âHey,â she eventually whispered, leaned back to meet his eyes with hers, all soft and caring. âHow do you feel? Did it work?â
âI think so.â He murmured, still trying to catch his breath.
His hands were more gentle on her hips as he helped her move off of him, hissing through his teeth as his cock slipped out of her, though he rubbed her back once she was sat on the bed beside him.
There was a flare inside of his chest, and then it hit him. That time it was almost unbearable, left him breathless with the fire that rolled through him. His eyes squeezed shut and his fists curled up as he winced in pain.
It hadnât worked.
âSam?â Her hand burned against his back. âWhatâs wrong? Are you okay?â
He couldnât help it, tears stung in his eyes then. âIt didnât fucking work.â
His breathing was sharp as he looked back up at her then, and the way her expression dropped made everything else sink in. What the fuck was the point of that? Sure, heâd wanted her for a long time, but not like that. She deserved to be taken care of, treated like an angel and kissed sweetly and loved on. Instead sheâd had him like that â sweaty and gross and needy â and sheâd had to do all the work. Let alone the fact it was all pointless anyways, he was still going to die.
âI thought you said Rowena said itâd work,â she breathed, voice so soft and scared. âWhat did she say to you? Maybe we did it wrong or something.â
Sam pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes hard, hands shaking. âShe said I need to sate my desire.â
She frowned at him then. âThat doesnât mean sex, Sam.â
âHm?â
âYour⊠desire, that doesnât have to mean sex,â she turned to face him a little more. Their lack of clothes and post-orgasm exhaustion was momentarily ignored as her hand found his and squeezed. The heat made his fingers tingle. âIt just means what you want the most. And I mean it obviously wasnât sex with me,â her fingers squeezed his. âSo what is it?â
His breath left him in a rush. âYou.â
She blinked at him. âBut it didnât-â
âNot the sex,â his hand squeezed hers tightly. âYou. Youâre my best friend and I⊠Iâm in love with you. I donât even know when it happened but youâre all I can think about all the time.â
She was just staring at him with those wide eyes of hers, mouth opening and closing a few times before she could actually form a response. âWhy didnât you ever tell me?â She eventually pressed, soft.
A bitter laugh left him then. âWhat would be the point? I care more about you than what I want. I was happy to just stay friends- I am happy to do that,â he pushed out a sharp breath and dragged his fingers through his hair. âBut it doesnât fucking matter anymore. Because itâs not going to happen and Iâm going to die.â
âSam,â her hand gripped his tightly and when he looked up at her face she was scowling. âYouâre an idiot.â
Before he could even think of a response sheâd leaned in and then her mouth was on his. The kiss was soft, more gentle than their lust fuelled kisses from before, the plus warmth of her lips against his making his gut curl tighter than when sheâd been grinding on his cock.
Her forehead pressed to his as she pulled away and her whispered words hit his ears, âI love you too.â
Sam leaned back enough to look at her. âWhat?â He breathed. âI- donât just say that because I want to hear it.â
âSam,â her fingers were gentle as they cupped his face. âI love you.â
The fire disappeared with a tingling hiss like heâd been dunked in ice water. Each heated nerve ending and muscle was instantly soothed with a coolness that made him groan as she kissed him again. Soothing cold ran up the length of his spine, down his arms, into his fingertips as he cupped her face and kissed her, lovingly, his tongue sweeping over her lips and pressing into her mouth saying everything that in that moment he couldnât.
âGod,â he breathed, all shaky, fingers stroking through her hair. âYou- how long?â
She giggled as she looked up at him, eyes all crinkled at the corners as she smiled. âA while,â her hand lifted and laid flat on his chest. âHow do you feel?â
âBetter,â he sighed, fingertips gentle on her skin. âI think it broke it. I think you⊠youâre incredible.â
Her smile was like the sun. âDitto.â
Sam laughed, the lightest heâd felt all day, both of them smiling too much when he went to kiss her again and he ended up kissing her teeth. âDitto? All of that just to get a ditto?â
She was giggling against his mouth as his hands smoothed over soft skin, fingers tracing down her spine as he leaned over her, cupping the backs of her thighs so he could manoeuvre her onto her back. Laid beneath him like that, her pretty eyes and her pretty mouth and all of her that loved him, the feeling pressing against his ribs was no longer a heat, a curse, it was something much more magical.
His head dipped to kiss along her throat as her thighs pressed against his hips, drawing him closer. âI love you,â he whispered into her skin, a promise. âI love you.â
She was still wet from before, her chest brushing against his with each needy pant she made, so it was like second nature for his hand to reach between them until he could press his cock up against her, dragging the tip through her wetness until he caught her entrance and sank in slowly, the grip of her cunt around him making him moan into her throat as his hand found hers, fingers lacing through hers and pressing it down onto the mattress.
âSam,â she moaned as his hips rolled, his cock nudging that soft spongy spot on the inside of her walls that made her whine when he hit it right. âOh- fuck thatâs-â
His tongue soothed over bruises he was sucking into the skin of her neck as he fucked her into the mattress gently, hands carressing and worshiping her. She deserved better than him, he knew that, deep down he knew she deserved everything he couldnât give her and more.
But she wanted him. She wanted him. How could he deny her?
He moaned against her ear as he started fucking her a little deeper. His hand slid down her side to cup the back of one of her thighs, bringing it up and over his hip to press further into her slick cunt with each thrust.
There was a haziness in the room, not caused by a veil of a dream or curse, but the kind of desire that made somebodyâs head spin with it. The bed beneath them a bare, plain motel standard, wales just as plain, but his focus was solely on her beneath him.
This wasnât a dream. It was real. He had her.
âSam Iâm-â her voice trembled with each gasp she let out. Her nails dug into his shoulders that sent delicious sparks of pain down his spine where they dug in. Her cunt was clenched tightly around him, he could tell she was close, the way her gummy walls fluttered around his cock each time he sank himself back inside of her. âPlease.â
He would do anything for her if she begged him like that.
âYouâre okay, honey,â he breathed into her throat with another kiss. The image of their last round briefly flashed in his mind, her fingertips pressed to her clit when she got close, and he removed his hand from her thigh to dip between them. They were both soaked with leftover cum from before and new aroused slick that collected at the base of his cock. His fingers dragged through the wetness briefly before the pads of his fingers pressed against her clit where he started rubbing small circles that made her clench tighter around him, a whine punching up and out of her throat that made his gut clench. Fuck. âThat's it, good girl, just feel it.â
Her hands gripped tight to his shoulders and she whined right in his ear. He almost came right then. âIâm- Sam-â
She shuddered against him as she came and Christ. The feeling of her pussy pulsing around his cock in waves as her orgasm dragged a breathless moan out of her throat was too much for him to handle. He only managed two more thrusts before he followed her, groaning into her skin as he rutted twice more into her before finally stilling on top of her.
For a moment, time didnât move.
His fingers stroked feather-light up and across her ribs as he dotted kisses against her neck and jaw, until he finally lifted his head to press a soft kiss to her mouth.
âHi.â She whispered when he leaned back and he smiled, a sweet loving thing.
âHi, you,â he murmured, stroking her ribs. âAre you okay?â
She nodded, all flushed as she stole another kiss, her fingers stroking his hair made him relax. A thought nagged at him that he was sweaty and gross and he sighed, expression shifting to something a little more serious.
âIâm sorry.â
She frowned at him. âFor what? Sam that was⊠that was great.â
He shook his head. âYou shouldâve had something better. Iâm⊠Iâm gross and sweaty and it was so rushed and I shouldâve taken my time with you and⊠Iâm just sorry.â
Her hand lifted to cup his cheek. âDonât say that,â she leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and he just about melted. âWe broke the curse. I just saved your life, mister, I think thatâs pretty great to me.â
He was still frowning. âI know but-â
âSam,â Her finger pressed to his lips. âIt was good. I promise.â
She kissed him again, soft and slow and gentle, and time melted again.
Eventually they pulled away from each other, and since he hadnât taken care of her in the moment, he made sure to completely care for her in the aftermath. He got a wet cloth from the bathroom and gently wiped her clean before himself, and kissed her forehead before he left again to run the shower for her so that the water would be nice and warm by the time she stepped in. There was a relaxing domesticity to the way they stepped around each other with gentle shared kisses and whispered comforts until she took up the shower first.
Once the room was full of the scent of her shampoo and the gentle pitter of the shower on the other side of the bathroom door he found his phone and thought it was best he told Rowena it had worked.
âSamuel,â she greeted in that delighted tone of hers she had whenever they spoke. âHow's the heat?â
âThe uh, the curse is broken. Iâm fine now.â
He could picture her grin through the phone. âMarvellous. I knew you could do it. It hasnât been that long since I left, dearie, she mustâve been quite eager to help.â
He ignored the heat that rose to his face. âYeah, well⊠thanks for your help, Ro.â
âYouâre welcome, pet. I got started on the cure just in case you didnât have it in you so Iâll send it your way once Iâm finished in case you happen to ever need it.â
Sam stilled. âYou told me there wasnât a cure.â
âAye, I suppose I did. Itâs a pretty simple potion, actually. I just thought this way would be a little more⊠beneficial for you and your love.â
âRowena-â
âIâve got to go now, Samuel, but Iâm glad youâre feeling better.â
The line went dead and he lowered his phone, sitting with what sheâd just told him for a moment, that there had been a cure, a simple one. But then his eyes trailed up to the closed bathroom door, the soft humming behind it reaching his ears, and he just laughed.
if youâd like to be added to my tag list pls send me an ask letting me know what fics youâd like to be tagged for <3
Please be advised that this story contains mature themes and explicit content. I do not own the characters, core themes, or the world of "Heated Rivalry".
anakin who's soso sweet and gentle all while having you folded absolutely gutting your insides out đđđ !! he's soo attentive and understanding cus that's his baby !!!!
warnings: explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, intense dom!anakin, mention of belly bulge/fullness, tears & overwhelmed crying from pleasure, praise, rough but gentle dynamic (heâs careful but still fucks her deep), overstimulation, established relationship.
youâre soft under his hands, bare skin warm as your breath trembles out your chest. he looks at you for a second, dark eyes warm and wanting all at once.
heâs gathered you up gently, your knees folded up toward your chest, so pliant it almost hurts. heâs careful, but he isnât shy about it: the stretch burning in that dizzy, perfect way, your chest arching up into himâ heâs nestled so deep inside it steals the words right off your tongue.
âyouâve got no idea what you do to me,â he grits, voice full of that aching intensity only he could carry. he braces his gloved hand against the mattressâ the other, warm and calloused, ghosting over your cheek.
it spills a trembling sound from your lips, your nails digging uselessly into the hard muscle of his shoulders. he doesnât flinch, doesnât stop, just keeps you there: folded open, your body twitching under the weight of him.
the length and thickness of him sinks through you â the drag of every thrust giving your belly the faintest swell each time he bottoms himself out.
âdo you see that, my love?â his voice roughens, almost hushed, like he can barely believe it himself. âhow full you are⊠starsâŠâ
your lashes dampen with tears, breath catching in little sobs that melt into moans. it knocks something raw from your chest â a half formed âaâaniâŠâ whimper when his hips roll deeper, itching a spot inside that makes your vision blur.
he leans closer, forehead nearly touching yours, curls damp at his temple. âtoo much?â he whispers, so close you feel the words against your mouth. his forehead almost rests on yours, sweat beading at the hollow of his throat. even asking, he doesnât quite stop â hips still pushing himself slow and deep.
you shake your head, barely â your voice catching in your throat. his thumb brushes your cheek again, softer than anything, and you swear you could cry from it alone.
âthatâs my girl,â he murmurs, voice breaking gentle and low. his hand traces down, fingers pressing light against your belly, feeling the way heâs filling you so deep it aches. âtaking me so wellâŠâ
he watches it all, gaze dark and warm, so full it makes your heart feel too big in your chest.
and the way he keeps you folded, so careful even when itâs overwhelming, makes you feel breakable in the sweetest way â like heâd die before letting you slip away.
âmy sweet love,â he rasps again, hips rolling deeper, your breath hitching sharp. âalways so good for me⊠alwaysâŠâ
it lingers like thatâ your heartbeat skittering under his touch, everything else falling quiet around the steady, aching closeness. and in that hush, it feels like he could keep you right there forever⊠âĄ
ANAKIN SKYWALKER didnât even flinch when you climbed into his lap. His chair just creaked softly beneath both your weights, the city lights casting reflections across the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him. His black tie was loosened around his neck, sleeves rolled up just enough to show those strong forearms you loved to cling to.
ââno, I said I want the numbers by noon, not excuses,â he said firmly, sharply, edge of his tone screaming in frustration, with his jaw tight, into his Bluetooth earpiece,
Yet, one hand had already slid up your thigh under the hem of your silky little dress like it was normal. Like you werenât slowly sinking down onto his exposed, free cock (from your love making before), right where anyone could walk in, really.
You bit your lip, trying so hard to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape. You were already so full of him, stuffed to the brim, and he hadnât even moved yet. He turned his head just slightly, letting you press soft, open-mouthed kisses against the hinge of his jaw. The golden skin of his was warm, rough in all the right places, letting his veins poke against his throat. And he definitely smelled like expensive cologne yet with a hint of vanilla.
âUh-huh,â he muttered into the mic, though his voice dipped just slightly--because youâd rolled your hips just so right, and your tight little cunt was already clenching around him. âThen figure it out. Iâm not repeating myself.â
You whimpered ever so faintly against his throat, hands gripping his shoulders as you started to move--slow, teasing bounces that made your thighs tremble. He was so deep, so thick, so good it made your head spin.
âShh, sweetheart,â he whispered under his breath, free hand coming up to palm your tits through your dress. âYou wanna be loud? Gonna make me hang up on this idiot?â
You shook your head quickly, lips brushing over his ear as you kissed down the side of his neck. You couldnât help it- you were obsessed with him. His voice, his scent, his age, the way his skin tasted when you sucked a mark just under his collar.
âJust look at you,â he mumbled, clearly not caring if the guy on the line could hear the shift in his tone. âRiding me like a good girl⊠quiet as a mouse. Fuck, this little hole feels good.â you clenched at the praise, nails digging into his shoulder as you bounced a little faster, breathing ragged against his neck.
âThatâs it,â he groaned lowly, finally muting the call for a second just to grab your face and make you look at him. âGonna come for me, baby? Huh? Riding daddyâs cock like this? Look at that pretty faceâŠâ
You nodded desperately, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes from the pressure and the pleasure, as he thrusted up into you once--hard enough that you had to bite down on his neck to keep from crying out.
you sit up and rub your sleepy eyes. you decided to drag yourself out of bed and splash some water on your face to aid in waking you up. to your surprise you find your very handsome soon-to-be husband in the bath. heâs more of a shower person, but you werenât complaining at the sight.
âgood morning, my blossom.â he smiles at you. âmorningâ you yawn back, cheeks tinting slightly at the nickname. âcâmere baby.â he gestures towards you. you, forgetting what you came in here for in the first place, walk over to him and sit in the edge of the tub. âhi, pretty thing. howâd you sleep?â his hand comes up to softly stroke your cheek, fingers slightly wet from the bath water. âi slept well. did you?â you match his actions, gently rubbing your thumb against his soft face. âheâs so beautiful.â you thought.
âi did too, had dreams about you.â he smirks, leaning forward and kissing the arm thatâs keeping you from falling into the tub. âoh, yeah?â you laugh. he continues kissing up your arm, making his way to your lips, hypnotizing you into leaning down further. âdreams about you joining me in the bath, getting soaking wet, taking care of you.â he whispers between kisses.
âClay, donât you think about it.â you giggle at him. âoh why not? hm?â heâs smiling now, struggling to kiss you back while grinning. you feel his arms wrap around your waist. âClay!â you exclaimâClay donât! iâm in your shirt!â your laughter fills the room. âwe have a dryer.â heâs laughing out loud now too.
Clay bests you and you tumble into the water with him. âClayton!â you scold and slap him gently on his chest. he feigns injury and offense. âoh! iâm wounded!â he continues laughing. you needed revenge now. while he was busy laughing at his victory you decided that it was the perfect time to adjust your position and straddle his lap, you can already feel him getting aroused.
both of his hands grab your face, making you kiss him back, tongues dancing in harmony, both of you letting out soft moans. you both starting moving your hips, desperate for friction. Clay started removing your (his) shirt. âfuck, youâre so beautiful. every-fucking-thing about you is perfect.â he sits back to eye you up and down, you turn your head shyly. âlook at me.â he turns your chin towards him, holding your gaze. âso fucking pretty.â he pulls you in by your face, kissing you again.
you can feel how hard he is now, every little movement you make, he lets out a groan. if you werenât in the bath you could probably feel a pool of your own arousal. âcome on, blossom.â his guides your hips down to align your heat perfectly with his cock. âjust like you did last night.â he whispers against your lips.
you take one of your hands and guide him into you, still feeling a little sore from your escapades the previous night. you both moan aloud as he slides into you. âah, so perfect. just like you were made for me.â he wraps his arms around you, pressing your chest against his. your eyes roll into the back of your head and your jaw drops open. âjust relax baby, let me do it.â he moans, you can hear the water sloshing around and splashing out of the tub. his hips slamming into yours. âshhh thatâs it baby, let me do it, let me take care of you. ohh good job baby, good good job.â he praises you for taking him so well, you were always so good for him.
âah! Clay!â you escape his grasp, leaning back so his cock slams against the front of your walls, hitting that perfect spot. your moans echo through the bathroom, due to your insides remembering this exact pounding from last night, you were twice as sensitive.
âi know, baby. i know.â his hands now forming bruises on your hips, tugging you up and down rhythmically like you were his own personal toy. your moans syncing with his movements. âah! ah! ah! fuckfuckfuck! youâre gonna make me cum soon!â you scream.
âgood. cum for me, pretty baby.â he moans, itâs obvious his release nearing soon, his eyes are shut tightly, his nails are digging into your soft skin, his mouth making a relaxed o-shape. almost on command, you started squeezing down onto him in pulses. your hips stuttered and you sprung forward, clinging onto him to ground you as your orgasm ripped through you.
his arms flung around you once again, squeezing you tightly as he released inside of you. his moans coming out louder and higher pitched.
both of your voices eventually subsided into soft gasps, he releases you from his vice grip and pulls himself out of you. you lean back again, giving him a soft, loving smile. âi love you.â both of you blurt out. after shared giggles and lots of kisses, you shakily climb out of the tub, followed by Clay. he wraps you in a towel and carries you bridal style to your bedroom. he places you down softly in bed. âiâm gonna go get myself a towel, okay? after we cuddle for a bit, how about we go to your favorite breakfast spot?â he strokes your face again and you nod sleepily.
Where the Shadows Kiss (fae male (Emrys) x fem human reader)
Summary: You discover the forbidden Grimoire of Emrys inside the infamous Shadow Castle. You ignore the warnings scrawled on its first page and touch the book. The act awakens Emrys, the ancient fae lord of shadows, who makes you pay the price for touching his book.
TW: NSFW, MDNI, dark romance, magic, power imbalance, fated mates, emotional tension, supernatural binding/contract, shadows like ropes and moving like tentacles, oral (fem), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, restraint using shadow-ropes, praise, creampie, nickname (little thief), lots of fluids.
This was a surprise commission to a dear friend on patreon. Enjoyy!
This is the Grimoire of Emrys.
In the year when the moon eclipsed the sun, this tome was bound with shadows and soul.
To touch these pages is to bind yourself to my keeping.
Body and shadow. Heart and soul.
Mark this well.
This is no book of mere learning.
It is contract.
It is trap.
It is mine.
Sealed by Emrys of the Night Court, Keeper of Shadows.
You couldnât believe youâd found the Grimoire.
It was even more impossible to believe that, after reading the stark warning on the first page, you had stubbornly, foolishly, opened it further.
It was as if the book had been waiting. As if it had called you.
The old gothic castle was silent, the library smelling of wax and dust. Youâd heard the rumors. Visiting the Shadow Castle meant you had a chance to find the legendary Grimoire of Emrys. Youâd risked it. Entered the magnificent castle from a door that was open at the back entrance.
Surprisingly, you hadnât met a single soul. Nor had you planned to wander toward the library, but your feet had carried you there, to this desk, as if pulled by a string tied to your very soul. Stupidity? Perhaps. But now it was too late. Youâd chosen to stay.
And so you stood before the desk, with the massive, throne-like chair behind it. Too big for you to sit... or rather hop on. Your palm lay flat on the Grimoire and with a soft breath, you turned it over and opened it. The heavy cover fell back with a thump and you winced because it was obscenely loud in the quiet room.
You prepared for the worst.
Nothing happened.
The pages were thick and velvety, spread open of their own accord filled with warnings, magic spells and sigils. The words seemed to pulse, the ink a living blackness that swam before your eyes.
Again, that should have driven you away. Logic, survival should have prevailed.
Turn back and run the hell away from this place, your mind said.
But instead⊠you felt warmth. Stay, your heart whispered.
A strange heat bloomed in your chest, spreading down your belly, then lower, warming between your thighs. You turned another page, eyes widening. There, inked in black and white, was a drawing. It was him. Emrys. The fae Lord.
Achingly handsome with broad shoulders and a face of sharp angles, eyes so emotional they seemed alive. Commanding, pulling you in. The longer you looked, the less it felt like paper and ink. It felt like he was looking back.
âWow,â you whispered and leaned closer, eyes drinking him in; his powerful wings unfurling behind him, vast and dark, surrounded by claws. His cruel mouth was perfect. Before you could stop yourself, your hand moved, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, then drifting down to his lips.
You jerked back as if burned by fire. They had felt warm.
âYou should not touch what is mine.â
The voice came from nowhere and everywhere. Husky and low as a growl. The candles flickered once then steadied. The hairs rose on your arms.
âEven after the warning⊠you still read. You still look. Touch.â
âWhoââ you gasped, whirling around.
Shadows appeared in the corner of the room. swirling like ink dropped in water. A wind rolled through, even if the windows were shut. And then he was there, stepping from a black portal. Emrys.
Tall, unearthly, hair pitch-black, eyes too sharp to be human.
Your pulse thundered in your ears. Gods... The drawing had not done him justice. He was taller, broader, more potent. His skin was a muted gray, his clothes black, blending seamlessly with the huge, clawed wings. A regal powerful body. Sharp cheekbones, pointy ears and a mouth that looked carved for cruelty.
Speechless and frozen, you watched as he approached, his booted feet making no sound on the Persian rug. The smell of him hit you next; a musky blend of night flowers, spice, and a masculine musk that went straight to your head. It made your knees weaken, your chest heaving.
âYou were warned. Yet you opened the book. You read the inscription, studied my face. Foolish human.â
Your lips parted, but your tongue was a dry, useless thing in your mouth. Why were you frozen? Why couldnât you command your legs to run? Was it him?
âItâs me,â he answered your silent panic. He moved closer, one clawed wing scraping along the floor, black and golden eyes roaming your face and body.
âUndo this right now,â you demanded, your voice stronger than you felt.
To your shock, he did. The invisible bonds holding you vanished and you jerked a little.
âThere. Magic gone.â He gestured with his hands, a smile ghosting his mouth. âIâm surprised, though. I did not think you would come to me so soon."
âThis is insane. People say youâre a myth.â
âPeople say many things. Humans have short memories and big mouths. That does not make me less real.â His gaze flicked to the open book, then back to your face. âYou touched my Grimoire. You woke the binding. That is not a myth. That is a choice.â
âI did touch it andâŠIâm sorry.â You squared your shoulders. âBut I certainly didnât choose you.â
âYou did. The moment you entered my castle, you accepted me,â he said simply, taking another step, forcing you back until the hard edge of the desk dug into your buttocks. Only a few inches separated you. âYou were always meant to open my book.â
You chuckled, fingers curling against the rough oak. âYouâre saying the most dangerous grimoire in the world simply allowed me to read it? That it opened for me? Wanted me?â
His smile vanished. Shadows appeared from around him, twisted and ropelike, moving in the air with a life of their own. More tendrils of living darkness seeped from the Grimoire itself, curling across you. Emrys spread his hands and caged you before you could flee, his palms slapping down on the desk on either side of your hips, his body leaning in close.
âNo," he drawled against your lips. âI am saying I wanted you.â
So near. He was so near. Your eyes met his, vivid and fathomless as ink with golden flecks in them. Your pulse was in your throat, frantic, but not from fear. Something else was blooming under your ribs. Heat, hunger, a dangerous, thrilling kind of curiosity.
âAnd what happens now?â you asked boldly. There was no going back. You were caught. Youâd storm through whatever happened. âYou punish me for opening it?â
âPunish?â His claw traced the edge of the desk, so close that the air against your wrist prickled. The shadows followed the motion, trailing from his fingertip to wrap around your wrist. It felt warm and so soft and your whole body awoke in goosebumps.
âNo, little thief. But I will claim what is mine. Curiosity has its price.â
His words coiled low in your belly, and you hated how much you ached for more. For the danger of the unknown. For him.
âAnd if I donât want that?â
Emrys leaned in, his breath brushing your cheek, his scent warm, dizzying. The tendrils of shadow slid closer, higher. Two curling around your hands. Another, like a rope, slid up your calf, behind your knee, making you jolt. But the touch lingered, featherlight, fondling rather than grabbing.
âOh, you do,â he murmured. âYour body already trembles for me. You donât want to run. You want to stop thinking and succumb. You want me.â
He was right. You were trembling. A reaction you couldnât suppress. Betrayal was in your own body, defying logic and causing heat to rise under your skin. Your heart was hammering so hard it hurt, and there was that fluttering ache between your legs that left you raw and desperate.
âWhat say you, little thief?â
You exhaled and finally said, "I shouldnât want this, but I do.â
His lips came down to yours, hand cradling your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheekbone. You let go, your palms flattening against his hard chest, feeling his muscles contract as you kissed. Lips brushing and merging as if pulled by gravity.
Your noses nudged softly when he deepened the kiss, his hand rising to cup the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. You responded, your own fingers sliding along the sharp line of his jaw, tilting his face to better claim his mouth.
Lost in the feel of you, Emrys devoured your lips, tasting and tasting, unable to have enough. He lifted you on the tall desk, pulled you harder against his chest, and breathed softly against your wet mouth.
"Open."
Your lips parted on a sigh and his tongue sank in, tracing the seam of your teeth before delving deeper. A soft sound left you before you surrendered completely, your tongues meeting in a hot, wet dance. Gently at first, then with a deeper rhythm before slowing to tender again.
Amid the frantic kiss, he laid you down on the surface, his shadow-ropes wrapping around your wrists, pulling them high above your head. Pinning them flat against the cool, carved wood of the desk.
More shadows snaked around your knees and calves, spreading your legs open just enough to make you aware of every hard inch of him pressing against you. Emrys kept kissing you, and you kept responding, your tongue tangling with his, your fingers clutching at his clothes, knuckles white.
Cold air touched you everywhere.
Youâd been so drugged by the kisses that you didnât realize heâd used his magic to remove your clothes. Every single stitch. You rested bare on the desk, nothing between your skin and him but the bonds of his shadows. They slid over you like silk, making you shiver.
Emrys pulled back from your swollen lips and stood between your spread legs, his wings arched behind him in a beautiful sweep. His eyes roamed over your naked body. He still couldnât believe he had you. His mate, accepting him and his shadows, spread open like a feast for him.
Pouty, well-kissed lips, softly curved breasts, hard nipples, and the prettiest cunt weeping for him.
A snap of his fingers and he was naked too, huge and powerful. You gulped, your turn to stare. He was magnificent. A broad, sculpted chest, a chiseled stomach, thick thighs, and between them⊠your eyes widened at the size of his cock. Inhuman, thick, long and thickly veined, with a bulbous head dripping with pearly pre-cum.
But he didn't take you with it. Instead, he bent down and resumed kissing you, letting that monster shaft rest against your inner thigh, like a lonely beast. You wanted more. You wanted that crazy, huge cock buried inside you, stretching you, filling the void.
âSo beautiful. Open and exposed for me,â he said against your lips, tongue flicking against yours. âYou know you can still say no.â
âI donât want to.â
âTell me what you feel.â
âHeat⊠everywhere,â you gasped, the magic ropes feeling like his mouth, his hands on your skin. âLike youâre touching me in a hundred places at once.â
âGood. Thatâs exactly what I want. You thinking only of me.â
A low growl rumbled from his chest as he rubbed himself against you, his cock brushing your inner thigh. His wings adjusted, curling around the desk like a leathery curtain. Two new shadow-ropes slid up your belly, tracing your belly, then moved upward to the underside of your breasts. You moaned as they wrapped around them, pressing, lifting, jutting your nipples up.
âHmnnnn⊠haaaa.â
Emrys suckled one delectable nipple, tongue teasing the tip hotly. Simultaneously, a shadow stroked and circled your other nipple, mimicking the action of his mouth before his lips moved to claim that one, too. Strong, veined hands brushed along your inner thighs, so close to where you desperately wanted him, but stopping just short of your slick pussy.
âI⊠godsââ you moaned. âYouâre⊠warmâŠplease⊠hnn...â
âSay it,â he demanded and bit down gently on a taut nipple, just enough to make you squirm and cry out anew.
âYouâre making me wet,â you blurted, pussy fluttering for his attention, for anything he would give you. âI need more. Please.â
He smiled. âGood girl.â
Again, he crushed his mouth to yours, lips meeting hotly, breaths teasing before his tongue thrust in your mouth. You whined into the kiss, pulling your tongue against his while more shadow-ropes neared your thighs.
Finally, came the hot touch slid between your pussy lips, sliding up and over you in a single stroke. A teasing circle that made you cry out in his mouth. Emrys drew back, watching as his shadows caressed you.
Ropes held your limbs, others worshipped your tits, two more playing with your cunt. Two shadow-tendrils spread your outer labia, baring your glistening hole to his eyes. A place to be fondled, suckled, kissed, and fucked.
Emrys lowered himself, his wings arching to accommodate the movement. He bent his head and brushed his lips to your slick folds, kissing your pussy lips the same way heâd kissed your mouth. You went frantic, your body awash with pleasure. But you could do nothing but take it as his tongue lashed out, lapping up your juices, flicking your clit, and growling against your flesh.
âThere,â he murmured, lips kissing your folds, his nose nudging against your clit. âMine. My pretty, dripping little cunt.â
Another shadow rope returned, the bulky tip nudging against your pussy while the ones curled around your legs shifted, tilting your hips up, presenting you fully to him. Emrys growled, the sound vibrating through your very bones as his hands settled under your ass, lifting you to his mouth.
âYouâre trembling,â he said. âBoth your heart and your cunt. Don't fear. Every shadow is a part of me. When they touch you, it is me, little one.â
âI'm not afraid! I want you to fuck me. Youâthe ropesâwhateverâjust⊠hnn!â
Your words were cut off when a shadow-rope thrust past your tight entrance at the same moment his mouth fastened on your clit. You cried out, already teetering on the edge of rapture. Emrys could tell and never changed the rhythm, the shadow-tendril pumping in and out of your pussy in perfect harmony with the suckling and lashing of his mouth and tongue.
All perfectly coordinated, giving your pussy their full attention while the rest of the tendrils caressed your hypersensitive body. Flicking your nipples, fondling your neck, rubbing your inner thighs. Your whole body sang under the multitude of touches, coiling tighter and tighter until it exploded in the most powerful, convulsing orgasm of your life.
âDo you belong to me?â he whispered against your dripping cunt, his now glistening lips forming a smile.
âYes⊠yes, I do!â you muttered weakly. âAll of me⊠yours!â
Another deep growl and his mouth returned to your clit, kissing the swollen bud before suckling it back into his hot mouth. You shattered again, thrashing in his hold without any hope of escape.
At the same time, a second shadow joined the one already fucking your pussy, squelching inside with all your wetness, both of them stretching you wide, opening you with shallow thrusts. The ones curled around your breasts kept flicking your nipples, this time with tiny pulses of magic that made your toes curl in the air.
The pleasure stacked, overlapped, became an unbearable continuous wave. Little aftershocks rocked over you, tears of bliss in your eyes. You couldnât tell where one orgasm ended and another began. And yet Emrys kept going, pushing you further.
âToo muchâŠâ you sobbed, head thrashing. âI canâtââ
âYes, you can,â he growled, obscene sounds echoing as he lapped at your cunt in the silent library. âYouâre built for this. Built to take everything I give you. Built to make a messy, pretty little puddle all over my desk.â
The shadows inside you pulsed harder, faster, until you were writhing against them, every nerve a live wire screaming his name. Emrys kissed around your swollen, well-used folds, around where two of his tendrils were fucking you deep, watching your pussy lips flutter and your clit throb as another peak rolled through you.
âThatâs my good girl,â he murmured in awe.
Breaths stolen, you wiggled frantically, hands pulling against the shadow-ropes not to escape, but to anchor yourself. Emrys held you steady, his mouth licking your clit slower now, same with the shadows inside you, helping you ride the waves of pleasure. He watched you, he always did, then placed one last, tender kiss on your hypersensitive clit.
At his mental call, the shadows drew back. The living ropes squirmed in your pussy and slid out, dripping with your essence, leaving your body feeling empty and needy. You shivered as the other ropes restraining you released, and easily rolled you onto your stomach. Your ass was lifted into the air, your face pressed against the open pages of the Grimoire.
A soft whimper escaped you when the shadows returned, this time from the book, curling around your newly freed wrists, coiling firmly like velvet cuffs. Binding you to the Grimoire. Another set curled around your ankles, keeping your legs dangling on the edge of the desk and wide apart.
Emrys moved, the heat of his chest pressing against your sweaty back. He tugged your ass closer, his hands curving around your hips to pin you to the desk. He covered you from behind, his massive, throbbing cock rubbing against your glistening pussy, lubricating himself with your juices.
âComfy?â he murmured, kissing along your spine. âYou look ravishing, little thief. But if you donât like it, Iâll release you. Say the word and it all ends.â
Your body arched involuntarily. âNo, donât! I want them. I want you. Like this.â
âIâm all yours, mate,â he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. âFeel me.â
And then came ultimate heat and pressure, the broad head of his cock pushing inside. Despite all the foreplay and stretching, he was too much. The sheer girth and depth he claimed as he pushed inside left you whimpering into the Grimoire.
Emrys groaned and his hand found the back of your neck, holding you steady as he stayed half-buried in your perfect, tight cunt. It was a feat; his whole body trembled with restraint. Your pleasure was his priority. So he waited, fingers teasing your nape.
âEasy. Breathe for me,â he purred and his shadows pulsed around you, teasing, pressing, stroking. Helping you relax and accept him.
You released a half sob, half moan. âEmrysââ
âI know,â he soothed, kissing your temple as he sank another inch deeper, the stretch making you see stars. âI know it's a lot, beautiful. But you can take it. You can take all of me. Let me in. Let me all the way in.â
A slight roll of his hips and you took more of him inside you. And that was how it went. Him pushing gently, steadily. And you gasping, moaning, crying out, waves of sensation rolling, building higher and higher.
When he finally buried himself to the hilt, his balls slapping against your skin, you broke all over again, your walls spasming wildly around the fat girth stretching them so tight.
Emrys growled, his hips drawing back, his cock slick and shiny with your juices before snapping back home with a wet, solid thud. He fucked you slow and tender, tracing his teeth and lips along your neck, murmuring, purring, praising, and dominating you all at once.
âFuuuck⊠thatâs it⊠so tight for me, so hot. Tremble for me⊠gasp for me⊠lose yourself in me, little thief⊠all of it⊠mine.â
The shadows pulsed in time with his movements, their rhythm pushing you back into him, your bodies meeting with loud, wet sounds that filled the quiet library. Emrys gradually doubled his pace, his hands clamping around your waist, wings flexing and pushing him even deeper inside you.
âEmrys⊠I⊠oh gods⊠I canât⊠itâs too muchâIâm gonna breakââ
All the shadows uncoiled from you completely.
Freed of the bindings, Emrys turned you over in his strong arms, gathering you against his chest, your breasts pressed to the hot wall of his torso. He scooped you close, his wings wrapping around you like a protective cocoon and kissed you hungrily, his cock impaling you right up.
You cried out into his lips and clung to him as he pounded up into you, this new angle making you feel even fuller, cockhead kissing your cervix with every deep thrust. Your lips merged frantically, breaths mingling, until you both exploded in a final, shattering release. Your convulsions milked him deep, jet after hot jet of his cum filling you up until it dribbled heavily out of your pussy and onto the floor below.
âItâs done,â he growled, his cock still spilling heat inside you. âBody and shadow. Heart and soul. Youâre mine.â
âWhat⊠do you mean?â you whispered, dazed, trembling, body yielding in his embrace.
He kissed your eyelids, your cheeks, your swollen lips. âYou always were the only one who could touch my Grimoire. The only one who could survive my shadows. The only one who could survive me. Youâre not just my little thief. Youâre my fated mate.â
âFated. YoursâŠâ you trailed off with a small, satisfied smile.
âYesâŠâ His fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up until your eyes met his, black shot with gold stars. âThe only one who can open the Grimoire and love the monster who made it. The only one who can accept my shadows into her body.â
âI love the monster who made it,â you whispered. âAnd his shadows.â
âSay it again,â he demanded, voice breaking. âSay it while looking at me.â
âI love the monster,â you repeated, holding his gaze. âI love you. And your shadows.â
He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them, the gold within was brighter. His hard mouth formed the most breathtaking smile. The shadows that had retreated now returned, curling gently around your arms and waist, stroking you with affection, massaging your tender spots.
âHmmm, so softâŠâ you murmured, leaning into their caresses. âThey touch me exactly where I need them to.â
âBecause theyâre yours now, too,â Emrys said, nuzzling your hair. âExtensions of me. Extensions of you. They will obey your command as easily as mine.â
You blinked. âBut⊠I have no magic.â
He nudged your nose softly. âYou didnât. But the Grimoire has a way of rewriting truths. Youâll feel it soon when you want something, the shadows will answer, little thief.â
You pouted. âDonât call me that. I didnât steal anything.â
âOh, but you did,â he rasped. âYou stole my heart and now, Iâll be taking yours in return.â
bear hybrid!husband x human!fem!Reader
Good to know: smut
More bear hybrid husband:
Your bear hybrid husband, who feels the change of the season down to his bones, is slowly getting ready to hibernate
Late autumn chill presses against the windows, but inside your shared home, everything is heavy with warmth. Your bear hybrid husband sleeps like the world outside doesn't even exist. He is like a mountain under the blankets. The bed is a mess of plush, cotton, and flannel, and at the very center of it, him. Stretched out and snoring.
You had breakfast together. Your husband cooked, you cleaned, and when all was well and done, he hummed something soft and affectionate into the curve of your neck, and like clockwork, he shuffled back into the bedroom.
And now, here you are, restless.
Aching.
You slip beneath the covers. It's dark and warm and smells like him. Like pine and the faint sweetness of the honey he dripped into his morning tea. He doesn't wake up when you settle down between his legs. He doesn't even stir when you run your hands over his thick, hairy thighs. You massage the relaxed muscles and creep higher. And when you finally wrap your fingers around him, he swells quickly. His cock thickens as you trace lazy circles just under the tip. You coax him into hardness while listening to his muffled huffs and puffs through the blanket covering both of you. Then, you dip down, taking him into your mouth. You lick broad, wet stripes along his length, sucking him. He twitches on your tongue, and you keep going until he is hard and leaking, spit and precum slicking your lips.
And he is still asleep.
Slowly and carefully, you crawl up on his body. The blanket falls from your back onto his thighs in a wrinkled heap. You straddle his hips, eyes roaming over his large frame from his long, fluttering lashes, coarse beard down to the hair across his chest, following the path to his soft tummy. Your thighs tremble as you let yourself settle over his length. Your pussy, already soaked, smears along his cock. The swollen, pink tip rubs over your clit, slides through your folds, and by the time he is soaked in your essence and you angle him just right, you are already panting with anticipation.
When you finally sink down and take him inch by inch, his eyes crack open. A lazy grin curls on his lips as he feels you clench down around him, and his chest rumbles groggily when he speaks. "Mmmh, my sweet thing," he rasps, rough from sleep. "Couldnât wait for me to wake up, huh? Had to come sit on my cock?"
You whimper and roll your hips until your clit rubs against the coarse hair at the base of his cock, and he just chuckles. The low, pleased sound vibrates along your spine.
"Look at you," he murmurs, eyes half-lidded as he watches you ride him. "So needy. My sweet little wife- Fuck! So full of me. Gods, youâre drippin' all over me, soaking me through. You like that? Waking me up by stuffing yourself on my cock? Such a greedy thing." Your pussy flutters around him with each word that leaves his mouth. "Fuck, thatâs perfect."
His large hands settle on your hips, kneading but not taking the reins. He lets you set the pace and use him to your own pleasure while his dark eyes linger on your face, then travels down where his cock disappears in your warm, wet hole stretched wide around him.
"Thatâs it⊠Take it, baby. Nice and slow. Oh, fuck, youâre squeezin' me so tight. Damn-" Every snap of your hips makes his cock drag against your walls, and every drag has his voice slip into a deep, rumbling growl. "Bouncing so good, love, pussy drooling down my balls."
His cock fills you perfectly, and you fuck yourself on him like that, slow and wet and needy. Your nails dig and crawl across his chest as your orgasm rips through you in a pulsing rush that leaves you gasping.
"Yeah, thatâs my good girl. Milk my cock. Take what you need," he growls, hips snapping up into you once, twice, his cock jerking as he spills deep inside you, hot and thick. It's so much it leaks and runs down his cock.
You are both still, catching your breath when he reaches up and pulls you down against his chest with a satisfied hum. He rolls lazily, tucking you close while his cock is still inside you, throbbing with the aftermath of his own orgasm.
He presses his face into your neck, beard scratchy, and murmurs, "Hm, gonna put right back to sleep like this, arenât you? Keeping me nice and warm while I sleep."
Outside, the world is cold. Inside, you are pressed against him, still wrapped around him, and everything smells like pine and sweat and sex.
hiiii there! I would like to request a rhysand x reader fluff aftercare, after their first time, when maybe she sore and star crying because it was overwhelming but not in a bad way, just an hormonal reaction, rhys PANIC
then it's all fluff and cuddles and real aftercare where rhys is so comforting and caring
thank uuuuu
Congratulations on the 30k! đđđđ
You manage to keep yourself contained for the entire cleaning process, but once Rhys's body weight settles beside yours, dipping the mattress and rolling you into him, you feel tears prick at your eyes.
He doesn't notice at first, whether it's because he's too blissed out from having been inside you for the first time, or because his eyelids are growing heavy with sleep, you're not sure. Either way, he's clueless until the first tear falls from your eye, and when he feels it moisten his skin he stiffens.
He raises his arm, lifting it from where your nose had been pressed against it and peering tentatively at you beneath his armpit. Your eyes are red, and you're trying very diligently to look like you're not crying, but you are, and all at once he turns his entire body to face yours, scooting an inch down the mattress to be level with you.
"Darling," He breathes, worry clinging to his velvet voice, "-you're crying."
"I'm- no, it's just-" You struggle with words, throat tightening and attempting to shut altogether unless a sob breaks through the dam. You give up, raising a hand to swipe harshly over your eyes. You're sure it does the redness no favors, but you're acutely embarrassed by your reaction to having sex for the first time with the man of your dreams.
With the love of your life.
"That's not good," He hums, trying to lighten the air even if none of it is funny, and he knows it. He reaches carefully for your face, testing to see if you'll rear away and dash for the bathroom, or if you'll let him thumb away your tears.
You crane your head up to meet his hand before he's even halfway.
"Darling," He croons again, this time nothing more than a pained whisper as your face crumples, "Come here."
He drags you against his chest, tucking your face tight into the junction of his shoulder and his neck, hands wrapping you in a fierce embrace. His limbs tangle with yours but it's sexless, skin against skin to soothe, not to touch.
It drags your muscles in a way that aches, and your first cry is muffled into the broad, bare expanse of his chest.
"I'm sorry," Rhys apologizes, for something he's not guilty of, and you know by his voice that he thinks it's worse than it is. You gulp for air like a drowned woman, freeing yourself from his chest to reassure him.
"It's not you," You swear, though you're sure he doesn't believe it, "Rhys, it's not- you didn't do anything wrong."
He hums doubtfully, but kindly, "I hardly know of anyone who cries after sex that was enjoyable."
"It was," You whimper, feeling sorry for yourself and Rhys alike, "I promise. It was really good, I just- it was a lot, and I'm a little overwhelmed now, and it... kind of hurts."
He stiffens again, his arms going tense around you.
"Not, like, pain." You're quick to correct yourself, "It didn't hurt then. Or- I guess it did a little bit. But it wasn't bad. It was just- a stretch?" You cringe at the lackluster description, "And now if I move it's a little sore. It's- I've never done this before," You laugh, throat thick and groggy with tears, "I promise you were great."
Rhys's chest heaves with one silent chuckle, but his violet eyes still swim with worry as he gazes down at you where you lay against his chest.
"You said it hurts," He begins, tackling each problem one at a time, "But it doesn't hurt like something's wrong?"
"No." You shake your head as best you can while it's pressed to his chest, "It's just sort of achy. Like I used a muscle I didn't know I had."
Rhys nods, tentatively reassured, "And- overwhelmed? Was it too much?"
"No," You croak, wiping at your eyes, "Not- not in a bad way. It was good overwhelming, I," You fall silent, speechless in front of your mate, the man whose soul is bound to yours by a golden thread that won't unwind itself from your heart. It squeezes, tight, pressing the breath out of your lungs as it shines with joy at your contact with Rhys, "I love you."
It seems a woeful understatement of your true feelings. There's nothing you could say to sum it up, no words in your vocabulary to communicate just how much the man you're laying beside means to you, just what heinous deeds you'd commit to spend forever in his arms. Words fail and you resign to using your bond instead, pushing the overwhelm across the pulsing cord between your mind and Rhys's.
Tears spring to his own eyes quicker than you can comprehend. They're a glossy sheen over his violet irises, and only one falls, but it's enough. You press yourself upwards, your face colliding with his, your nose slotting beside his own and locking into place like you're physically joined. You crawl over his lap, ignoring the soreness below your belly as you flatten yourself on top of him. Your hands grip his cheeks, your legs straddle his waist, and his arms gladly encircle your hips, clasping together behind you like you might fly away if he doesn't hold you there.
"I'm sorry," It's your turn to press velveteen kisses to his face, lips pressing over and over again into his wet, salty skin, "I didn't mean to make you cry."
"I love you," He finally gasps, his chest heaving beneath you, "I- I hope you know that. I hope you never feel like I don't."
"I couldn't," You shrug, speaking honestly, quickly, easily, "I know you love me. I can feel it."
"Good." He whispers, his hand flying to cradle the back of your skull, "Can you stay here like this for the night?"
"You want me to sleep on top of you?" You ask, a wary grin cracking through the frown on your face.
"I-" He laughs at himself, a torn sound, "Yes, alright? I'm well aware it would be more comfortable if we both laid on the mattress, but I like having you right here-" He jostles you slightly atop him, his strong arms keeping you in place, "-and I don't think I'd be able to sleep unless you were as close to me as possible. Not now- not tonight, not after that."
"I'll try." You admit, nodding softly as you brush your nose with his. He's eager to steal kisses, his lips pressing over and over again against your own. You manage to mumble through them, "I'm a- mmf, restless sleeper sometimes. I- hmm, I might end up across the room."
"Then I'll follow you," He laughs, the noise spilling right into your mouth as he grips you like a vice, his chest broad enough to be your entire mattress, "Maybe we'll wake up tomorrow morning on the balcony."
"I wouldn't mind," Your voice oozes sweetly like honey, "'Long as we were together."
"Horribly cheesy." Rhys decides, his chin chubbing slightly as he cranes it downwards to look at you, "But- I agree. Let's try to stay in bed, though?"
"I'll do my best." You sigh, settling down against his pec and tracing the swirls of his tattoos with your tired, heavy eyes, "So long as you try not to smother me with your wings."
You rushed out of the party, wiping tears from your eyes as the sounds of music and laughter faded behind you. You felt confident you had played off your emotions until you were out of sight, pretending to laugh along as they did.
But nothing was funny about the situation for you.
You groaned, kicking hard at the ground. You couldnât tell if you were mad at your friends or at yourself. This whole thing couldâve been avoided if you had just lied. One little fib and no one wouldâve ever known your dirty little secret. Your hidden embarrassment.
Your feet took you to the library, a room you found the most comfort in when you were at the House. You resided in the townhome, not having the wings needed to come and go from the House of Wind as you pleased. That was fine and a wonderful place to live, except whenever a large party was thrown. Rhysand preferred to host them here, partly for space, and partly for control. He enjoyed being able to ensure no one could come âcrashâ his plans, and no one would be able to sneak away either.
Which is super convenient for you, who would love nothing more than to sneak away. Alas, you are otherwise trapped here until one of your friends takes you home. And since you would rather never face them again, the library you stay.
You sigh deeply, throwing yourself down onto a chaise lounge by the fire. You burrowed your face in your hands, willing the memories of the last 15 minutes to melt away. To wake up from this horrible nightmare. You felt fresh tears fill your eyes as you recalled what had just happened.
âAlrighâ, Alrighâ,â Cassian slurred, liquid sloshing out of his glass. âWe will do an easy one! No oneâll drink, likely.â You rolled your eyes, giggling along with Mor. Youâd been playing a game the Illyrian had made up some time ago. It was simple, really more of a way to get drunk fast. Someone would say whatever act they could think of, and youâd drink if youâve done it. It often started off with targeting your friends, making jokes of hunts theyâve been on or people theyâve messed around with. Usually theyâre all too busy laughing at each other to notice you.
You hadnât been in the Inner Circle as long as the others, allowing you to hide off to the side when you wished. You adored your friends, of course, but you also enjoyed a quieter life. You hadnât done half the wild things they had, though no one had really noticed before.
That is, until Cassian came up with his âeasyâ prompt. A statement designed to allow everyone to take a break from drinking. He cleared his throat, making a big show about it all. âDrink if youâve never had an orgasm.â He beamed at the groans of your friends, Mor shouting out that he knew none of you would drink.
Until you brought your glass to your lips.
You realized immediately that you should have lied. Your friends went still, their eyes all trained on you in shocked silence. Heat flooded your cheeks, a nervous laugh bubbling out of you. âWhat?â You asked, looking around at them all.
Well, minus one.
You avoided the violet eyes that belonged to your High Lord. You didnât want to see the pity or laughter in them. Your heart would never recover.
âYou mean to tell me, youâve never cum?â Mor asks, eyes wide. You shake your head sheepishly at her, an embarrassed smile dancing across your face.
âWell, youâve been with someone before, right?â Cassian follows up, looking as if you just told him you were part dolphin. You shook your head again, face on fire. This was so much worse than you couldâve imagined.
âBeen kissed, even?â Azriel spoke, pity dripping off his words.
You cleared your throat, refocusing your gaze down onto your drink. âNo. Iâve done nothing.â You shrug as if itâs no big deal, that itâs completely normal to be a century old and have taken zero lovers.
âEnough. Leave her be. Continue the game, Cass.â Your body flushes even deeper at Rhysands tone. As if this couldnât be more embarrassing, heâs forcing them to stop asking questions. You quickly down your drink before standing up and announcing that youâll be right back, just refilling your glass.
Though you leave it on the table as you dash out of the room.
You let the tears fall down your face, small sobs escaping you. You knew your friends didnât mean anything bad by their questions, and honestly you didnât mind their curiosity. It was Rhys that had you upset. Not even anything he had done, but the fact that he now knows this about you. You didnât think heâd ever look at you before, but you knew he certainly wouldnât now.
The sound of the library doors opening broke you out of your pity party. You stood suddenly, brushing away the tears still on your face. Your heart dropped when you realized the very male you didnât want to see was standing in the doorway, staring at you. You sighed, waving your hand for him to come in. You turned and faced the fire, still too embarrassed to look at him.
You were shocked when he moved to stand directly behind you. His hands ghosted over your waist, before deciding to rest upon your shoulders. He gave a gentle squeeze, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. âI am sorry,â he murmured, thumbs drawing circles on the base of your neck.
âThere is nothing to apologize for,â you said, shaking your head. âIt was a silly game. I let it get to me is all.â
Rhys hummed thoughtfully behind you. There was a long moment of silence before he spoke again. âIs it true?â
You froze under his touch. ââŠYes,â you responded, voice barely above a whisper. You prepared yourself for his laugh or a cheeky joke, or even for him to simply walk away. What you did not prepare for, however, was his lips meeting your neck.
âI fail to see how that is possible,â he spoke softly against your skin, one hand moving to cup your neck while the other carefully moves down your front. âNo one has ever touched you?â
Your heart was racing as he continued to press slow, torturous kisses along your neck, moving to where it connected to your shoulder. His fingers brushed by your breast as they made their way further down, heat sparking through your body. âN-no,â you stuttered out, moaning softly as his teeth grazed your pressure point.
âA shame.â He accompanied his words with a harsh suck, your head falling back onto him as you gasped. âThough it brings me great pleasure to be the first to hear those sounds.â His hand flattened against your stomach, pressing you tight against him. His lips moved to your ear, teeth biting the sensitive skin. âTell me to stop,â he whispered, every moment stretched into infinity.
The only sound was your heavy breathing as he stilled against you, waiting for what you were going to say. You knew you should tell him to stop, that this was too much, that you didnât even know he ever saw you in this way. You knew, logically, there needed to be several conversations before it ever got to this point. You knew that this was rash, hasty, and likely wrong.
You also knew that you were tired of always playing by the rules.
âKeep going.â
He growled against your ear, a sound that went straight to your core. His fingers started toying with the waistband of your pants, torturing you with their slow movements. âRhys,â you whined, shifting your hips to try to hurry their journey.
âImpatient,â he murmured, the hand on your neck squeezing pleasurably. âLet me play. Iâve waited far too long for this moment.â
You chose not to dwell on his words, instead focusing on the feeling of his fingertips ghosting over your clit. You rocked back against him at the light sensation, so foreign to your body. You turned your head slightly, desperate to feel his lips on yours. He moved close enough that your breaths mingled, but still refused to fully touch you. You hung in that space of âalmostâ for what felt like ages, before everything changed forever.
Rhys pressed down hard on your clit at the same moment his lips captured yours. You moaned into the kiss, mind going blank as he began circling you. He sucked your lower lip into his mouth, biting down gently. You opened for him gladly, reveling in the way his tongue stroked against yours.
Fire was already licking up your spine as his fingers worked you. He slipped them down farther, carefully pushing one inside you. You gasped loudly into his mouth, arching off of him at the sensation. He chuckled against you, adding another finger. He curled to two deep inside of you, pulling pathetic cries from your lips. His thumb resumed the slow circling on your clit as his fingers began to thrust in and out, playing your body as if he was made to.
You pulled back from the kiss as your pleasure grew, your head rolling back on his shoulder. He wasted no time in kissing your exposed throat, leaving little bite marks wherever he could. âRhys,â you moaned, âI-Iâm close.â He hummed in acknowledgment, but didnât stop any of what he was doing to your body. You began to shake in his arms, unsure of how to handle the feelings he was giving you. His fingers pushed deeper inside, hitting a spot that made you shout his name. His thumb sped up ever so slightly, and it was all too much. âOh, oh!â You cried out, embracing the warmth that was rushing over your body.
âThatâs it,â Rhys said against you, âcum for me.â As if waiting for his command, your orgasm washed over you. Your vision went black as the air left your lungs, pleasure overtaking every inch of your being. He prolonged the feeling as much as he could, not stopping until your gasping breaths begged him to.
He held you in that moment, savoring each second of what had just happened. You felt you could live there, in his arms, until the end of time.
But all things must come to an end. He pulled his fingers out of you, your body aching at his absence. He straightened your pants and pressed a final kiss to all the marks along your neck before scooping you into his arms and carrying you over to the lounge chair. He laid down upon it with you, holding you as if you were something precious.
You had a million questions as your mind began to calm, though only one you wished to ask now. âWas it real?â You asked, a slight tremble in your voice. Rhys shifted behind you, tangling his legs with yours.
âOf course it was,â he answered, pressing a kiss to your hairline. âI have wanted you to be mine since the second you stepped into my life.â Tears brimmed in your eyes once more, though different from the ones from earlier.
âWhy now?â
His fingers flexed against where they held you, and you could hear the slight smile in his voice. âI couldnât allow you to continue on in my home, untouched, now could I?â
***
just a little teeny smutty rhys piece â€ïž i hope you all enjoyeddddd
Being the most powerful high lord in history is not easy, and sometimes he needs to burn out the stress in ways too depraved to subjugate to his sweet mate, but youâŠyouâre his perfect little wicked pet.
Trigger Warning - Please be aware the collection is composed of some rough kinks including but not limited to sadism, bdsm, brat tamimg, and breeding. You are responsible for your own media consumption.
MDNI
Rhysie letting her do all the work
Fingering you in Ritaâs
You move too much Princess, Rope!bunny
Bending you over his desk late at night
Sometimes heâs sweet
Sometimes heâs eating you like itâs his religion
But most times heâs fucking you dumb
Helping you ride him
Rhys loves it when you wear the jewellery gets you (anal)
Feyre might not like you but she likes to get involved atleast
âYou feel that my sweet? How deep I am..â
Rhysieâs favourite song being the way you fall apart on his fingers
If heâs bored you better believe heâll take you ok his lap like a toy
Face slapping and dumbification
Oral Fixation
Devlonâs been creating trouble in the camps - itâs going to be a long night
âShow me how much you yearn for meâ
Youâre his precious little princess
Flashbacks Rhys sends you when youâre in public
Thinking of doing a cass version next? Send requests!
it was a cozy night in, finnick had been laying in bed with you on top of him, stroking your hair as he read his book.
heâd been so enamored with his book and you whined, so desperate for his attention.
âmy baby is so needy.â he lets out a tsk as he places his book on the side table. placing his palms on both sides of your face in an effort to pull you close to him.
you grin, sitting with your legs on either side of him now as you leaned into the warmthâs his hands offered.
your lips connect with his, his hands left your face to run up and down your back as you let out a sound of satisfaction.
the kiss slowly turns into a his tongue assaulting yours in the sweetest way. you can taste him in your mouth- smiling through the kiss.
your hand reached behind his neck to dance with the hairs at the nape of his neck, still so soft, so pure. he deepens the kiss at this, stopping his hands at your hips and grabbing them firmly.
in reaction to his grip your crotch rubs further into his through your sleepwear. he pulls away from the kiss- letting out a huff of air.
you move your hips to slide off of him- but he buckles you down, forcing you to stay put. âstay on top of me.â he demands lowly.
you know exactly what he means behind those words, feeling an ache in your core.
his shirt had already been disregarded as heâd gone into bed- but now his nimble fingers expertly unhooked you bra and rid you of your shirt within seconds.
you grind down on him once more, his head falling back onto the pillow. his neck looks so inviting, so sapid.
you lean down into him, your mouth carries on attack to his neck as his hands find you chest- kneading into your breasts.
once you retreat from his neck he lifts your waist, neglecting your sleeping shorts and underwear. his follow soon after and you find your way back atop him.
finnicks size is well accounted for, you hesitate above his length. he of course, notices. taking his time to tease you, heâd never been in a rush in times like these. always wanting to take all the time in the world to be inside of you with that pleasure, he blames you for making it hard to last too long.
âdonât think itâll fit sweetheart?â finnick purrs. his rough, big hands find your waist once again , lining you up and sinking you onto his tip. âdonât worry, iâve got you doll.â
you all but scream out at the intrusion. âyou can take it baby.â you sink into him completely, hiding your face in his neck- engulfed by his scent as you attempt to set a steady pace.
âfuck finnick.â your voice rings through his ears- fucking him dumb as he moves your body for you- he just about rolls his eyes back into his head at the sensation this new position brings.
he thinks heâll cum now just by the way your tiny body can barely take all of him.
your sit upright, back arched and hands finding stability on his chest- taking back the control of your body as you let your hips subsequently rise and fall whilst rubbing against him.
âatta girl.â he cooes, hands finding your ass.
you feel that all too familiar coil build in your stomach, âiâm close.â you choke out.
ânot until i say so.â
the pleasure is too much for you- he knows this- but pushes you further, placing two fingers in between where the both of you connect- rubbing and pressing on your swollen clit.
you whimper obscenities, unnerved at his insistence. i canâtâs and itâs too much.
âso pretty like this, so tight.â finnick chokes out, grabbing your hips and bouncing you against his length. expletives follow as he recognizes heâs nearing his climax.
just when you think you canât hold it back anymore he lets out a low, âyou can let go now sweet girl, cum for me baby.â
at his words, his beck and call, you moan out- the feeling causing your legs to shake. he pants your name like a prayer- like your body is his to worship, cheeks red like a sinner.
he continues to bruise you love handles with his grip- allowing you both to ride out your high. once youâve come down your body falls slack against him- too dumbfounded to do anything else.
once more he strokes your hair, once more he tells you, âiâve got you doll, iâve got you.â
summary: you were a simple town girl. finnick odair was the crown jewel of panem. both of you needed an escape and found it at a secluded beach just outside district four. these were three ingredients that created a year-long friendship. but were friends supposed to have⊠impure thoughts about one another? you werenât so sure.
pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader
warnings: smut, wayyy too much detail, dirty thoughts, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, mostly readers pov, pre-rebellion, HEAVY dirty talk, fingering, unprotected p in v (big no no), multiple orgasms, so much pining, creampie, cock-warming
notes: iâm so sorry this took me so long. life has been up my ass lately and, as yâall know, iâm a slow writer. but thank you sm to everyone who patiently stuck around, i love yâall <3 this was supposed to be a short smut fic but um, apparently not. anyway, this has taken long enough to come out so imma stop rambling. ENJOY <3
word count: 11.7k
Mid-Autumn was closely approaching District Four.
Harvest in the fishing industry was at its peak and the docks were chock-full with boats bringing in their plentiful catches. The town centre was a bustling scene, crowded with people selling produce and trading for food to bring home to their family's kitchen table.
Last year's autumn harvest was the same pictureâoverflow, hustle, commotion; chaos like this was something you never came to enjoy. So, it was also around this time last year that you had decided to set off in search of the perfect location away from the rest of society. A place where you could be at peace, where you could forget the disastrous world you lived in.
District Four was home to many popular beaches, but the one you discovered was uninhabited, isolated, found after an hour-or-so-long trek through overgrown dirt pathways and a thicket of sea-grape and palm trees. A true paradise away from society. Or so you had thought in the first few weeks.
You weren't too sure when he had started showing up or how he had even discovered the beach.
However, one evening, as you were seated in the sand watching the sunset on the darkening horizon, you noticed a dark figure diving and surfacing in the flat, glimmering water. Their movements were so poised and fluid like the ocean was something they had conquered. You guessed it to be a dolphin or shark because there was no way a human being could move so gracefully.
But then the figure started wading to shore, and the next thing you knew, they were standing on two legs and exiting the water. You knew then that you had guessed wrong. The sun behind him obscured the bronze of his hair and the swirling lukewarm sea that pooled around his pupils. All you could see was the outline of his tall broad figure as he hiked through the sand toward you.
Fear had told you to bolt from the approaching stranger. You were in the middle of nowhereâit was the perfect place to be murdered or kidnapped. But something else, some deep and tangible instinct, also told you to stay.
"Didn't realise I had a captive audience," thestranger spoke, droplets of gleaming water sliding off his body and into the sand as he stood a few feet away.
Taken by surprise, you fumbled over your words trying to form a sentence in response. "I wasn'tâI didn'tâ"
"Easy, honey," he chuckled. The sound was so warm and pleasant that it almost alleviated the slight chill in the air. "Just pulling your leg."
Your mouth formed a small circle. "Right," you said, gaze locked on the golden sand in embarrassment. "I, uh, didn't think anyone else knew about this place."
To be honest, you were pretty sure it was a restricted area. Probably the reason it was so isolated. If a Capitol official found you, the consequences would most likely involve your tongue, a scalpel, and a hell of a lot of pain. All for a wanting a little peace and quiet.
"Neither did I," the man said. "I only come every now and then. Need an escape from the constant buzz back home. Time for myself, you know?"
"Yeah." You smiled, feeling the stranger's words resonate in your soul. "Yeah, I do know."
You thought you saw the corners of his lips curve into a smile, but the shadows on his face were so prominent that you couldn't tell.
"Mind if I sit?" he asked.
Well... if he were going to murder you, he would have done it already. So, you nodded. Sometimes you questioned your survival instincts. Or lack thereof.
He didn't leave much space as he sat beside you. Only an inch or two, meaning you could feel the humidity of body heat and salt water emit from his skin. Even sitting down, he was still quite tall compared to you, but that wasn't what caused your heart to drop into your stomach.
The setting sun, which no longer disguised his face with shadows, now illuminated his entire figure and revealed his identity. His hair was a mess of wet wavy strands, the colour alight like a pale fire beneath the sun's orange radiance. His skin was sun-kissed, no doubt from days he had spent perfecting his swimming abilities. And those dimples... wow.
He was gorgeous. A man sculpted by the gods of beauty, just like everyone in Panem had depicted him to be. Even his sea-green eyes were as striking as everyone said.
Finnick Odair.
The man who was crowned victor of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games at fourteen. Who trapped multiple tributes at once in a net and killed them one by one with his famed trident. A killer.
The man whose reputation in the Capitol was known nationwide. A proud womanizer.
That was what everyone made him out to be.
Only, in the brief interaction you shared with him, he seemed like quite the opposite. He radiated effortless charm and warmth, but not in the arrogant way the media had portrayed him. Then again, did the media ever accurately portray the truth of anything?
It was then that you determined it didn't really matter who people said he was or what he had done. He was a human beingâjust like you. He deserved a chance.
His pink lips stretched into a knee-weakening smile; you were grateful that you were sitting down.
"I'm Finnick, by the way."
The both of you knew he didn't need to introduce himself. The whole of Panem knew his name and face. Though the fact that he humbly did so anyway made you like him the tiniest bit more.
You returned his smile with one of your own and introduced yourself.
Time passed and the sun had set; the moon had risen, but you both remained sitting side-by-side in the sand. Conversation flowed so naturally between the two of you that it was difficult for you to remember that stopping and getting some air into your lungs was an important factor in keeping a conversation going... as well as keeping you alive.
You told him about yourself as he did himselfâsome things that were meant to remain secrets, some things that seemed too strange to tell anyone else.
At some point, he had offered to walk you back to your house. The trek was over an hour long but neither of you seemed to care. The time flew by.Â
When you were standing at your front door and he was gazing up at you from the bottom of the steps, you both promised to meet again the next day. And you did.Â
As you did the day after that... and the day after that... and the day after that...
**********
As soon as the nights carried that familiar chill and the town congested with markets and fervent buyers, you knew mid-autumn had made its return. This meant most of your evenings were spent at a certain secret beach with a certain District Four victor.
Having already finished his pre-sunset swim, Finnick was sitting beside you, fingers weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath you. A couple of weeks after you had first met, he had shown up one day holding it all rolled up in hand.
"Made this for you to sit on," he had said with a proud smile. "Took nearly all night and earned me a few good finger cramps, but I think it was worth it."
Pinpointing the exact moment your attraction to him first formed was tricky. However, that gesture was one your mind returned to often. That little palm-leaf mat, the time and effort he put into making it, was scored on your heart.
Finnick was very much a gentleman.
He would always offer you a hand when standing up and whenever you walked back through the overgrown seaside forest. Sometimes he picked fruits for you such as sea grapes and mangos or would climb one of the palms and knock down a few coconuts. One thing he always, always did wasmake sure you got home safe; he never let you out of his sight until you were safe inside your front door.
All those gestures, big and small, added up. Soon enough, Finnick Odair had infiltrated your heart and consumed all your thoughts. You saw his sea-green eyes staring back at you whenever you gazed out at the ocean by your house. Felt the ghost of his hands on yours whenever you picked a grape from the kitchen fruit bowl. Heard his voice calling out your name in your most vivid of dreams.
But there was more to it than innocent adoration.
The guilt came when your gaze started lingering on his body a little too long whenever he left the water at the beach. Shimmering droplets would glide down his beautifully tanned skin; his arm muscles would flex as his fingers raked back his dripping wet hair. It wasn't yourfault he was the walking definition of perfection.
Unholy was the closest word to describe the filthy thoughts that had perverted your imagination. What started as endearing daydreams soon became fantasies that had you seeking relief between your thighs late at night. Your thoughts went wild whenever he dropped you off at your house. It took everything in you not to invite him inside and ask him to fuck you senseless against the front door.
All you had to do was ask. You knew he would say yes.
A year is a long time to know someone. A long time for feelings to grow. It also serves as a lot of time for things to happen between two peopleâthings that linger in your mind even months after they have happened.
Like the times he would walk by you and teasingly whisper something provocative in your ear, then disappear for an hour of swimming, leaving you all hot and flustered in the sand. Neither of you would acknowledge it when he returned. Or when conversations took such a flirtatious turn, the tension only dissipated when houses were separating you at the end of the night.
But that's just what friends do, right? They tease and banter?
Maybe.
However, not all things could be chalked up to being just friends.
Another thing about Finnick's eyes was that they were transparent. You saw how helplessly they clung to you the days you stripped to your underwear and joined him in the water. He had this sort of reaction that turned his eyes into a dark violent sea, like you were some divine temptation planted to test the strength of his resolve.
Sometimes he could resist. Other days it was obvious he couldn't help but reach out and touch.
He would try to be subtle about it. Hands holding yours a little longer than necessary when he helped you stand up. Sitting too closely beside you so that your arms and legs would graze against each other. Brushing off pieces of seaweed that would stick to the dip of your waist and then constantly using the same excuse just to feel the heat of your soft skin.
There was one interaction, though, that you fell asleep to the thought of every night. It was a moment when things almost went too far; an interaction friends definitely did not share.
You could remember it clear a day. Hell, you could still feel it clear as day.
It was a hot summer evening. Both you and Finnick were at the beach and swimming in the water since being in the muggy coastal heat for more than five minutes was parallel to roasting in a thousand-degree sauna.
You were about twenty meters offshore, bobbing beside Finnick as he dived to collect various seashells. That boy could hold his breath for an unbelievable amount of time which meant sometimes you spent minutes alone on the surface, waiting, listening to the calm waves lap eerily around you.
This is exactly how people die in shark movies, said an unwarranted voice in your mind.
As usual, a minute went by. Nothing to worry about. Then a minute turned into two and you were starting to become a little concerned. And then it was two and a half minutes and you were now panicking.
"Finnick?!" you called out, hoping he could somehow hear you from the dark depths.
Three minutes had totalled, and you were pretty certain he had drowned. Just to add to the utter dread coursing through your veins, something slimy brushed against your foot. Most likely a piece of seaweed, but you didn't make that connection at the time.
That very same moment, Finnick burst through the water's surface, only mildly breathless and pinching a small iridescent shell between his fingers.
"Look at thiâ"
Before the words could leave his mouth, he found himself enveloped in your distraught embrace. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck, crying tears of relief.Â
Damn that stupid seashell.
He automatically secured you in his arms, concern palpable in his voice as he asked, "Are you okay?"
You pulled away, an indistinguishable combination of tears and saltwater rolling down your cheeks. Though it was hard to miss the look of distress found in your furrowed brows and trembling lips.
"Don't ever do that to me again!" you exclaimed, gripping his arms to emphasise your urgency. "You hear me?! Ever!"
Finnick's head tilted slightly, surprised by your emotional reaction. He hadn't realised he meant so much to you. The surprise faded into remorse, softening his features.
"I won't. I won't, I promise," he said sincerely. His eyes flickered over the worry lines etched on your forehead. He unconsciously brushed his thumb over the lines, hoping to draw out the anxiety with his touch, and then tucked away a strand of hair. "I'm sorry I scared you."
You took in a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to compose yourself. A mess of emotions stirred inside youâworry, embarrassment, irritation. You were partially frustrated with Finnick for making you fear for his life. Mostly annoyed with yourself for showing such vulnerability in front of him.
"God, you're an idiot sometimes," you sighed, shaking your head.
He smirked. "Didn't think you cared so much about me."
"No, you just don't think, Finn."
He glanced off into the distance for a moment with furrowed brows. "Well, that's definitely not true," he countered, meeting your gaze again with a half-smirk. "I think about a lot of things, actually."
"Oh? Like what?" you asked, slightly annoyed. "Do tell me what the great Finnick Odair thinks about instead of his own safety."
Slowly, the smirk faded from his lips. Something new tinged the atmosphere and suddenly everything around you seemed hotter than it previously was. Not an uncomfortable or sweltering heat, but one that held an intensity that sparked the air with electricity.
You suddenly became very aware that Finnick was still holding you in his arms. You recognised the confined proximity between you and him and realised that, before this moment, your bodies had never been so close.
Your legs were curled around his hips, pelvis pressed firmly against his. The position of his hands, which were keeping you afloat, was bordering on inappropriate but would only be deemed as such if you cared. Which you didn't. You liked itâhaving his hands on you.
One thing you couldn't ignore was the flickering of his gaze. How his eyes kept dropping to your lips. How they blatantly revealed a long-awaited confession that words just couldn't capture. Still, you wanted to hear him say it. You wanted to hear the purr in his voice as he told you.
Then he was leaning in. You weren't sure whether it was on purpose or if the pure magnetism of the tension between you was drawing him closer. Regardless, you started to lean in closer too, eyes drooping as you focused on his mouth.
And before the short distance between your lips and his became immeasurable, you whispered, "Tell me, Finn."
The hands keeping you afloat trailed up and down your back restlessly as Finnick forced a tense exhale through his nose. He seemed to be wrestling with thoughts. You waited in anticipation, and right when it seemed like he was going to make a moveâ
"I think..."
âyou were interrupted. By no less than a pod of dolphins as they leapt from the water, causing you and Finnick to jolt from each other's embrace.
The rest of that evening was not worth mentioning. Not because you had forgotten what happened, but because the sheer awkwardness between you and Finnick afterwards was so torturous that you wanted to keep the memory squashed in the recesses of your mind. Neither of you acknowledged what happened. Finnick still walked you home, but it was done so in agonising silence.
Surprisingly, you both returned to the beach the next day. You hadn't expected him to be his usual upbeat self, but he was. So, in turn, you too acted like the previous day was erased from history. But your friendship with him was never the same.
Flirty conversations no longer felt like a joke; they now had a deeper meaning. Fleeting touches caused full-body goosebumps that didn't happen before. There was so much unresolved tension, and it was painfully thick. Inescapable.
So, as Finnick sat beside you present-day, weaving dried palm leaves into the mat beneath your bodies, you couldn't help but notice the transparency of your body language and his. The gap between you both was comparable to the size of a pearl and even though neither of you acknowledged it, you kept catching each other stealing quick glances every half-minute or so.
When you were sure he wasn't looking, you found your gaze drawn to his fingers. They were sturdy, yet nimble; curling and manoeuvring in ways that had your face feeling hotter than the heat of any sunburn or warm summer's day. This heat was beneath your skin. Spreading through your limbs in little tendrils and wrapping around your nerves. A dip in the salty sea wouldn't cool you down nor would a gulp of cold fresh water.
As you stared at his hands, you knew only the source of the sensation could offer reprieve. But that wouldn't happen, so there you burned.
The fact that he was shirtless and that his hair was a gorgeous mess of damp bronze curls helped not one bit with taming the consuming desire inside you. God, you were a mess yourself.
You sighed.
The sun, glowing intensely with a divine orange, was beginning its descent on the horizon. Your feet were buried beneath the soft sand, trying to retain some warmth as a slight breeze blew against your exposed skin.
Wearing a short sundress probably wasn't the most practical idea. Embarrassing as it was to admit, practicality wasn't what was going through your mind when you decided to wear it... SomeoneâSomething else was.
"Something on your mind?" Finnick asked suddenly.
Your heart fumbled in your chest, terrified that he had somehow heard your thoughts. "Sorry?"
"You sighed," he said, turning his head to look at you. "Or am I just getting so old that I'm already starting to hear things?"
With relief of his lack of mind-reading abilities, you laughed softly. "You're definitely getting a bit old, Finn," you teased. "Any nursing homes you've been considering?"
"I heard retirement by the sea has its perks," he quipped, subtle dimples present as he returned to his weaving. "Although, I will need someone to make sure I don't fall asleep while swimming and get carried out by the tide. What d'you say, sweetheart? Up for becoming my personal lifeguard?"
Absolutely. "Depends. Will you force me to wear one of those awful flowery swimming caps with a matching tankini?"
He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I'm thinking more like those little red bodysuits. You know, the ones that zip open down the front?"
You reprimanded him by pushing his shoulder, wearing a betraying smile. "Very charming."
"I just think red's your colour, that's all," he laughed.
Your stomach fluttered. You knew he was teasing you; teasing was basically the foundation of your... friendship. Deep down, you knew there was also some truth behind his words. A truth that was as electrifying as it was upsettingâhow long were you both going to keep up with this whole 'friends' charade? Could you handle it if the answer was forever?
Best not to think about it. For your sanity's sake.
Finnick finally settled into a comfortable position with his forearms locked around his bent knees, apparently having decided to continue his mat-weaving another time. He had been extending it bit by bit ever since he first made it for you. At this point, you were sure he was attempting to cover the entire beach. For now, it was only big enough for two people to lie down on.
Sounds pretty convenient, came an abrupt thought.
And then you fell down yet another rabbit hole of depraved daydreams... A pair of hands interlocking your own above your head. Hot lips pressing kisses to your neck. Tongue gliding up the sensitive skin of your jugular. Your fingers tugging at bronze curls between your thighs.
You were sick. Diseased with immorality. Finnick was your friend. If not your best friend. You're not supposed to fantasise about fucking your best friend.
"Thinking about anyone in particular?"
You almost choked on your saliva. "WâWhat?"Â
How did he keep doing that?
Finnick seemed to find joy in your perplexity. It was written all over his face. God, those fucking dimples. "You've been completely still for nearly five minutes and your legs are covered in goosebumps," he pointed out. "Hence the question: who are you thinking about?"
As you looked down, you found that your skin was in fact riddled with goosebumps. It didn't occur to you then that the only reason he could have noticed was if he was staring at your legs in the first place. It also didn't occur to you that Finnick obviously had the very same debauched thoughts running through his own mind.
Why did you have to wear such a revealing dress? He already struggled enough with resisting you at the best of times.
If you had been paying attention, a simple glance in his direction would have revealed how his ears were pink and his pupils were dilated. More importantly, you would have seen his legs constantly shifting to ease the discomfort tenting his pants. Fortunately, he had mastered the art of winding himself down in a short amount of time.
Unfortunately for you, that ability was not within your skill set.
You scoffed. "In case you haven't noticed, Finnickâit's autumn," you said, a quick snappy lilt in your tone. "I know you've got some weird internal space heater built into you, but normal people tend to have a reaction to the cold."
Well, it's a good thing you didn't sound defensive...
Finnick raised an eyebrow at you, displaying a puzzled half-smirk that spoke a thousand words.
You lowered your head in embarrassment, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry," you murmured. "I just, uh, don't really like the cold."
"Who could've guessed."
Despite serving as an excuse, it wasn't entirely untrue. You really did dislike the cold. And it was now that you seriously regretted your choice of sparse attire. The breeze kept blowing up the dress's skirt, threatening to expose your dignity to the world. Or more accurately, to Finnick. Thankfully, you had decided to wear a pair of delicate lace underwear that morning instead of old granny panties.
Nevertheless, now that it was on your mind, you couldn't think about anything but the cold gusts of wind blowing against you. Chills ran over your skin and you were shaking like a leaf.
Finnick, being the gentleman that he was, scanned the surrounding area for anything he could use to keep you warm. He would've given you his shirt had it not been crumpled in a ball of wet sand on the ground.
There was nothing else of use. Nothing except a single apprehensive idea sitting in the forefront of his mind. It was all he had. He bit the inside of his cheek as he contemplated the potentially disastrous idea.
Then, after taking a silent deep breath, he finally said, "Come here then." Your eyes snapped to his. You must've looked like you had seen a ghost because his brows knitted together in confusion. "What?" he breathed out a chuckle. "I'd prefer not having to carry you home as a block of ice."
You thought about it for a moment. Was it really such a good idea after the thoughts that were just swarming in your mind? Another gust of wind blew by and you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself.
"I won't bite, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to," he added.
You rolled your eyes. "Oh, shut up."
With that, you slid across the mat, positioning your body, which was still facing the sunset, in front of his legs. There was a moment of hesitation. Anxiety. But before you could reconsider, Finnick wrapped a strong arm around your middle and pulled you back against his chest, situating your body between his legs.
The exhale that left your lips was instantaneous and you couldn't help but shudder at the warmth of his skin. "God," you sighed, overwhelmed by the sudden change in temperature. "How are you so warm all the time?"
"Oh, you know. Weird internal space heater."
You laughed softly, then felt Finnick's chest vibrate against your back as he joined you. His bare arms wound tighter around you, motivated by the affectionate atmosphere. Your body seemed to melt into the cocoon of warmth he provided, and a soft smile graced your lips.
"Better?" he asked.
You nodded, responding with a whisper, "Thank you."
"Anytime."
You could hear the smile in his voice and how intently he was trying to hide it. You wished you could have seen it. To see the sense of peace you shared. However, feeling it in the way he held you was enough.
Instead of blood, your heart now seemed to be pumping out rather odd alternativesâwaves of sea-green salted ocean, iridescent seashells, smiles paired with heart-stopping dimples. How could he? How could Finnick condemn you to loving him like this? So unwaveringly; so without a hope of ever being able to return to life without him in it.
He made a mess of you. A ruin. And even with wholesome affection running through your veins, you still couldn't ignore the hazy images conjuring in your mind from the way his body was pressed firmly behind you.
How could he?
The sun had just touched the horizon, granting the sky a few more minutes of light, meaning it was almost time to head homeâan upsetting reality. You weren't sure how much time had passed before your body started to ache from lack of movement.
You wiggled your toes which were buzzing like television static. The feeling started moving up your legs and you knew if you didn't stretch, you would later embarrass yourself trying to stand on dead legs. So that is what you did. You started moving.
First, you stretched out the muscles in your legs and then moved onto straightening your back against Finnick's chest, feeling the faint pops of your spine offer you relief. And then you started readjusting your position and wriggling your hips to fit more comfortably between Finnick's toned thighs. That was your first mistake.
"Stop moving."
You were taken aback by the rigid inflection in his tone. "What?" you asked, ignoring his warning and continuing your restless movements.
"Stop. Moving," Finnick repeated, sounding more strained.
His hold on you became stiff. Completely frozen.
You were confused. Everything was perfect a moment ago, and all you were doing was stretchingâwhy was he being so weird and snappy?
In response, you exhaled sharply. "I'm just trying to get comfâ"
"Fuck," he breathed out.
Your eyes widened and it was safe to say your stomach had flipped inside out.
That was the moment you finally realised your second mistake. The rigidness in his voice wasn't him being snappy with you at all. Not even close. He was just trying to prevent the pleasure he felt below from reaching his vocal cords.
But it was too late. It wouldn't have mattered if he managed to keep quiet because you could feel it now. The achingly hard length that was pressed against your backside, reaching all the way up to your tailbone.
"...Oh," you whispered.
"Yeah," Finnick said. "Oh."
Now it was your turn to freeze. Fear consumed you, similar to what you imagined having to remain motionless in front of tyrannosaurus rex to prevent from being eaten alive was like. Thanks to the damning wind, strands of your hair blew behind your shoulders, undoubtedly tickling the exposed skin of Finnick's chest. Even that minuscule movement had your heart threatening to explode with anxiety.
As per usual, panic wreaked havoc in your mind.
What do I do? Do I get up? How will we come back from this? Does heâ
Finnick cleared his throat. "Uh, you still alive in there?" he chuckled nervously.
You felt minor relief enter your bloodstream upon hearing the normality in his voice. At least one of you was composed enough to act normally. Well, as normal as one could act after becoming hard due to their best friend sitting in their lap.
"Is itâ" You swallowed the nerves rattling your voice "âis it because there's a girl sitting on your lap, or is it because it's me?"
That was the million-dollar question. Was his reaction simply biological? A natural response to stimulation? Or was it deeper than that? More personal.
Finnick was silent.
The rapid thumping in your chest moved to your ears, like a drumroll leading up to some grand reveal. You felt dizzy; both filled with dreadful anticipation and exhilaration. Your senses were so heightened, fuelled by an inane bout of adrenaline. You swore you could almost hear the gears turning in Finnick's mind, smell the smoke as they rotated over and over, trying to make sense of your question and form a suitable response.
Religion never played a factor in your life, but, oh, how you were zealously praying his answer would be the one you spent all your nights fantasising about. But still, he was silent.
And right when you believed he wasn't going to respond at all, his lips finally uttered that single life-changing word. "You."
Fireworks seemed to light up every nerve in your body. You.
You weren't sure what to make of your thoughts at first. The overwhelming abundance of emotion caused by a singular word was difficult to fathom. Only one sentiment stood out from the restâand that was the fact that Finnick felt the same as you did for him.
It was no longer a speculation. It was a fact. A truth. An undeniable reality. You had both verbal and physicalproof, literally digging into your backside.
Finnick slowly, very slowly, unwound an arm from your torso, and you held your breath. His hand slid across your waist and then plastered itself over your hipbone, careful not to apply too much pressure to make you feel uncomfortable. When you felt the slight movement of his thumb gliding across your clothed skin, you exhaled the burning air in your lungs with a shaky sigh.
"Do you want me to get up?" you asked softly while staring at the sunset, although you were focused on anything but.
"Not a chance." And then he unwound the other arm, now cupping both sides of your hips with two large hands. The heat from his palm sank into your skin, sinking deeper layer by layer until it reached the rapid flow of your bloodstream. "Do you want to get up?"
You felt a pulsing sensation between your thighs that had your parted lips inhaling slow deep breaths, and you knew the only logical answer was no. So, you shook your head.
Finnick reached up to skilfully tuck a lock of hair behind your ear before placing his hand back on your hip. He then leaned down beside your ear, voice a hot, velvety whisper, "What next then, sweetheart?"
A wave of chills ran down your entire body.
What next? Another question for the ages. You had dreamt of this moment a million times over. You had pictured the unholiest, most vivid of scenarios, and yet here you were, mind blank as an empty void.
Then it hit you. Rather than acting from a pre-planned script, wouldn't it be better to just let your body act on what it naturally desired? On instinct? You took in a deep, stabilising breath and gave yourself into moment.
You slowly began turning your head to the side until, for the first time since he pulled you into his arms, your eyes flickered up and found Finnick's. His lips quirked with the ghost of a smile at the exchange, but he held it back. His jaw clenched and unclenched, muscles ticking with tension.
He was looking at you in a way you had never seen before. Or perhaps, you were just never close enough to notice, and he had always looked at you this way. There was a blazing intensity in his eyes, dark and penetrative, a bridge between yearning and total reverence. It was so enticing that you could feel your hands itching to undress yourself in front of him.
Finnick murmured your name.
"Yes?" you managed to whisper.
"Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?"
Those wordsâhe had stolen them from the tip of your tongue.
You couldn't find the strength to muster any profound response. So instead, you found your head tilting back and the crook of your elbow winding up and around the nape of his neck. You didn't need to guide him down; he came willingly.
His lips caught yours in a soft, warm exchange. Singular yet prolonged. Then there was a brief pause of disconnection, a calm before the storm. And with Finnick, when it rained, it poured. Suddenly, a hand was cupping the area where your jaw and neck connected, and his lips were on yours again.
There was so much more heat in this kiss. A depth that kept growing with each connection of your lips. You could hear the fervour in the breathless exhales that exited his nose, the quiet groans that slipped into your mouth. Though the same could be said for you.
You couldn't subdue the moans and meek whimpers that leaked out. Especially when his tongue slipped into your mouth and took control over your own. At this point, you couldn't even be called putty in his arms; you were pure liquid, totally and completely submissive in his embrace.
It was impossible to tell who was throbbing beneath you anymore. All you were sure of was that the pretty lace panties you had put on that morning were now soaked. Though even if he never touched you, you wouldn't have cared. Having his lips on yours, his tongue on yours, was enough. And if he kept at it long enough, you were sure it would even be enough to get you off. That's how much power Finnick had over you.
Apparently, he felt the same too. Because when you leaned further back into him and your ass pushed against the length of his erection, his fist scrunched the fabric of your dress by your hip and his lips left yours to let out a shuddering breath.
"Fuck, sweetheart," he huffed, half chuckling.
Technically, it was a suppressed moan. Either way, you swear you almost came then and there.
With one last gentle kiss, you opened your eyes, pulling away to replenish your lungs with air. Finnick's eyes were already locked on yours in a drunken haze from the taste of your lips. Your arm unwound from his neck, grazing down his broad shoulders and bicep. During so, your eyes caught on the tiny bumps and raised hair scattered across his arm.
"You've got goosebumps," you smiled, trailing your fingertips across his skin.
His gaze moved to follow your hand, wearing a boyish grin. "Would you believe me if I said I was cold?"
Your throat buzzed with a suppressed giggle. Seeing the way his body reacted to yours was incredibly motivating. Someone telling you they lusted after you could easily be spoken with deception. But having visual confirmation, witnessing a reaction that couldn't possibly be forced, was a whole different story. Finnick's body craved you.
Given that incentive, the slight trepidation still holding you back now disappeared into the back of your mind. Your fingers curled around his wrist, dragging the hand beneath your jaw down to your neck, and then down to your chest. It didn't take him too long to figure out your intentions. He overtook your influence and autonomously moved his hand to cup your breast.
You were essentially caged in his embrace. Exactly how you wanted it.
You stared ahead with relaxed eyes, watching as the sun slipped into the dark water. Night had officially blanketed District Four and, now being shielded by darkness, the stars were your only witness. Strangely enough, you felt a new sense of shamelessness.
So as Finnick kneaded your breast in his warm hand and pinched the sensitive peak of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger through the lace of your bra, you allowed a soft moan to escape your lips.
It was almost as if you could actually feel the smirk growing across Finnick's lips behind you. One thing you actually could feel was the twitch of his achingly hard cock beneath you.
"You like that?" he asked, definitely smirking.
"Yes," you sighed almost immediately.
If only he knew how truly euphoric you felt. If only he knew how many times you had imagined being in this exact situation. Having him touching you like this. The guilt of imagining him in such a way used to eat you up. But now that you were past the guilt, there was no shame connected to the thought of Finnick eating you up.
Fuck, he would look so perfect between your thighsâbronze curls all messed up from your pulling and tugging; sea green eyes squeezed shut as he dedicated his attention to dragging you down to the pits of hell with his tongue.
Your head fell back against his collarbone. He took this as a signal to move your hair aside and start planting hot kisses onto the curve of your shoulder. Then he trailed further across, brushing his lips across your skin until he reached the side of your neck and started sucking gently, though enough to leave behind pretty little red marks of possession.
"What about this?" he murmured against the delicate skin.
The faint taste of sea-salted air sat in the back of your throat as your breaths deepened. You felt his tongue glide partially up the length of your carotid artery, and your entire nervous system seemed to short-circuit.
"Yes,"you practically whined.
He must have found this amusing because you could feel the vibrations of his chuckle against your neck. But he wasn't finished yet. Hell, the finish line was a lifetime away regarding the things he planned on doing to you. They probably couldn't all be done in one night though, unfortunately.
You had completely forgotten about the hand still splayed on your hip. Why would you pay it any attention when it was sitting idle? Only it wasn't simply resting on your hip anymore. No. Now it was moving. Moving down.
His lips were still on your neck and he was still cupping your breast, but all you could focus on was the carnal descent of his hand. He found the hem of your dress, fingers toying with the flimsy material as one did when deciding whether or not to go through with something potentially consequential. Ultimately, he began to drag the fabric up your thighs, knuckles grazing over your soft skin until the skirt of your dress was ruched around your hips.
You sucked in a sharp breath. The vulnerability of suddenly being exposed in such a manner hit you like a tonne of bricks. This was really happening. Finnick, the Capitol's darling, District Four's golden boy, and more significant;y, your best friend, was touching you. He was kissing you. He was seeing and feeling parts of your body you had never let him see or feel before.
Naturally, this unfurling web of thoughts produced a surge of insecurity.
But, when his hand curled around your inner thigh and spread a wildfire of warmth across your skin, every thought that was previously passing through your mind disintegrated and was replaced with unadulterated yearning.
Finnick's mouth finally detached from your neck to hover beside your ear. "And this?"
He lightly kneaded your thigh to emphasise his question, dangerously close to the place that undoubtedly crossed the boundary between friend and lover.
You were speechless. The desire running through your veins was paralysing. All you could do was look, see, feel, and hope to god you didn't pass out from the shallowness of your breathing.
"Come on, sweetheart," he roused in that low, seductive purr. "Don't go quiet on me now. Use your words."
And how could you ever disobey a voice like that? It took every ounce of strength and concentration you had in you, but eventually, you managed to find your voice.
"Iâ" You cut yourself off with a gasp as his thumb purposefully wandered up to the edge of your underwear. Asshole. "I lie awake every night imagining us like this, Finn. You don't need permission to touch me. You've already had it for months."
Suddenly, a gentle finger was turning your chin, compelling you to meet Finnick's gaze. His eyes lacked the intensity from before and were now brimming with awe, brows knitted as if he was asking for confirmation if what you had said was truthful. And it was, painfully so.
To answer his wordless question, you leaned forward and connected your lips with his. He responded with ardency, and not long after, you could feel his hand wander up to the waistband of your panties.Â
He wasted not a second before dipping his hand beneath the lace material and finding that sensitive spot that had been begging for his attention.
Your lips separated from his to let out a breathy moan. "Finnick."
He simply smiled, two fingers rubbing circles around your clit. He pressed gentle coaxing kisses to your lips, and you really did try to respond, but you were never one for multitasking. Especially when the man you had fallen in love with was touching you so.
His other hand wandered across your torso, holding your waist, grazing over your stomach, tracing the length of your sternum. All very loving adorations compared to what his other hand was doing.
"I think I'm going to hell because of you," he murmured, millimetres away from your lips. Such a disconcerting thing for someone to admit, but all you could manage was a hum in response. "Every time I see you, I can feel myself getting closer and closer. You derange my thoughts, sweetheart. You corrupt them.
How am I supposed to be around you if I want to fuck you every time you say my name? And what makes it so much more impossible is that you don't even mean to make me feel this way; you just do. God, you're maddening. So sweet and maddening," he cooed, fingers picking up in pace which caused you to melt back into his chest and let out a pretty little moan. "Drives me crazy."
"And to think," you managed, "I thought you had your hands between my legs because you hated me."
Your hips were rolling lightly along with the rhythm of his fingers.
At the very same time Finnick's thighs tensed around your hips from the friction against his cock, he abruptly plunged two fingers inside you. Punishment.
The moan you let out was positively filthy.
"Such an attitude you have," he said. "Anyone would think you're completely innocent in a dress like this. But I know better than that." His fingers slid in and out, curling every time the base of his fingers bottomed out inside of you. "I know exactly why you wore it. Just like I know exactly why you wore those lace panties you pretend that I can't see whenever you bend over."
Heat crept up into your cheeks from hearing his words. You wanted to provoke him by saying 'And look where it got me'but who knew how his fingers would respond to your attitude.
"You can't do that to a man," he continued. "It's criminal."
"It's only fair, Finn," you breathed out, struggling to keep your voice level. "You ruined me."
A deep moan rumbled in his chest, though it never escaped. He couldn't break that easily. He needed to remain in control. This moment, to him, seemed like an eternity forthcoming. He needed to make the most of this moment with you, needed to show you what it was like to receive earth-shattering pleasure so that you only ever wanted to receive it from him. No one else.
Despite his obvious attempts at keeping himself in check, you could still feel his thick impatient cock twitch beneath your ass. Even through the layers of clothing between you, you could tell that he was incredibly big. So much so that it worried you a little. Only, when his fingers curled again, you forgot all about it.
The pads of his fingertips buried into your inner walls with every curl. The heel of his palm struck your clit with every thrust of his fingers and you could feel your stomach start tightening. Fuck, he was amazing at this.
It had been so long since someone had touched you like this. Well, someone that was actually good at it. Just a few minutes and Finnick was already about to make you come.
"Feels so good, soâahâgood!" you moaned, eyes fluttering shut.
He reached a free hand up to your breast, lightly pinching your nipple between his fingers until you let out a gasp. At least one of you was good at multitasking.
"You gonna come?" he asked, not that he even needed an answer. He could feel the way your walls were contracting around his fingers, feel the sticky warmth of your slick leaking onto his knuckles.
You nodded fervently.
"Say please first."
"Finn," you whined in frustration.
You could hear him chuckle self-satisfyingly behind you. "Come on, baby. Sweet girls are supposed to have manners, aren't they?"
His low, husky voice almost threw you over the edge. Oh, how you would love to listen to the sound of him talking you through your orgasm. That is if he ever even let you get to that point.
Never had you ever thought you would be pleading with a man for anything, yet here you were. Though, Finnick Odair could hardly be called a man. He was so much more than that; he was bordering on divinity. And you weren't going to miss the chance of being unravelled at the hands of a divine being.
"Please, Finnick," you begged, your body literally buzzing with desperation. "Please make me come."
He pressed a kiss below your earlobe. "Since you asked so nicely."
His fingers picked up in pace. They weren't even plunging in and out anymore but were rather curling, over and over again in that electrifying spot inside you. He went hard and fast, working to bring you to your high as quickly as possible. Your moans were so unrestrained, so breathless and shallow that you started to feel the world spin around you.
Your hand flew back to hold onto his arm, nails digging into the hard muscles of his bicep. Your hips were writhing in Finnick's lap and you could hear him groan out a string of curses. He held you down by the hip to try and keep you still, then moved across to the bottom of your abdomen where he pressed down.
That is what did it for you.
You cried out as tightness spread down your stomach and pure ecstasy took control. Finnick murmured words of praise and reassurance as you rode through your high, though a lot of it didn't register in your mind. You heard only a few bits and pieces which were enough to prolong the feeling that was overwhelming your entire body.
"Taking it so well."
"That's it, sweetheart. That's it."
"Such a good girl."
As the waves of pleasure slowly began to subside, you returned to reality. The heat that had been building up inside you started melting away, leaving you in a state of relaxation. Your fingers, which previously clung onto Finnick's arm, now grazed absentmindedly across his skin. It felt like you had been sucked into a dreamâa little hazy and surreal, but incredibly tranquil.
"You okay?" Finnick asked softly.
You hadn't even noticed that his fingers had left your body. He had pulled down the hem of your dressâ not that your dignity really needed saving anymoreâand was holding your melted figure in his arms.
"Mm," you hummed contently, eyes fixed on the view in front of you. "Warmed up."
If only you were able to see his face, his smile. Those dimples. A powerful longing to be able to see every expression known to man morph his facial features washed over you. It was a little ridiculous how attracted to him you were. Nonetheless, you indulged the desire.
You pushed yourself from his lap and pivoted to face him
You were straddling his lap before any ounce of hesitation could hold you back. Finnick circled his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into his chest. He was smiling. He was smiling and it was even more beautiful than any sunset you had ever witnessed. You concluded that you had definitely made the right choice in deciding to face him.
"Hi," you whispered.
He smiled. "Hey, stranger."
He brushed back a few pieces of hair from your face, observing the blown size of your pupils and the sultry colour of your lips. He did thatâhe could not get over the fact that he did that to you. Finally.
You shrunk away from his gaze, a timid smile on your lips.
Finnick tilted his head slightly. "Shy thing."
You buried your face into the side of his neck, groaning quietly in embarrassment. You could hear the perfect sound of him laughing above you. He stroked the length of your spine, somehow managing to ease the nerves from your body with a simple touch. You left a quick kiss on the warm skin of his neck and rose back up to meet his gaze.
"Feeling better?"
"Much," you replied, sheepishly. Your eyes flickered across Finnick's, hesitated, and then gestured downwards. "But... you're not." His head tilted as though he were confused as to what you were suggesting, so you leaned in closer until your lips ghosted over his. "Still need to take care of you."
A breath of warm air fanned across your face as he chuckled. He shook his head. "It's alright. I can hold off for another time."
And although the prospect of doing this again another time was downright exhilarating, you couldn't ignore the palpable heat still lingering in your lower stomach, throbbing between your thighs. You could only imagine how he must have been feelingâcock throbbing with a need for relief, though ready to deny himself the same amount of pleasure he just gave you.
You suddenly curled a hand around the back of his neck and brought him into a slow kiss. To show him he was allowed to indulge himself. That you wanted him to. You ground your hips down on his lap and felt his lips falter against yours.
You pulled back and echoed your previous words, "It's only fair, Finn."
Time seemed to pause for a moment. Your breath and his mixed with one another in a sort of hot whirlwind of anticipation. Your bodies were still. Finnick's eyes were half-lidded staring at your mouth.
Then came the explosion.
His hands were hastily tugging your sundress over your head; his lips were on yours as he reached down between your bodies to unbutton his pants. It felt like a race against time. Like if you didn't do this now, the chance would never come by again. Hell, his pants hadn't even made it off his legs before he was holding himself in his hand and you were rising to your knees, positioning yourself directly above his length.
Your lips never left his, strenuous as it was, meaning the only gauge you got of how big he was wasn't from seeing it, but from feeling it as you pulled your panties aside, guided his cock to your entrance with one hand, and felt the entire veiny length of him fill you completely as you lowered yourself onto him.
A quiet, synchronised gasp left both your lips as you enveloped him completely in wet velvety warmth. His pelvis was connected with yours and his cock was pressed right up against your cervix. So incredibly deep, you could almost feel him in your stomach.
You stayed like this for a few seconds.
"So big," you gasped against his lips.
His hands were on your back, dragging up and down. "Want to stop?"
"Never."
This was so not what friends did.
He trailed kisses from your mouth, to your jaw, and down to your neck. You were grinding sinuously back and forth, Finnick's hands now on your hips as a guide, feeling his tip bury into the sensitive walls inside you. Your head fell back with a gratified moan as he nipped your neck unforgivingly, only to soothe the spots he marked with the glide of his tongue.
At that moment, the past and future were of no significance. The idea that doing this might ruin your relationship with him afterwards didn't concern you. You didn't bother recollecting a time when you and Finnick were merely friends, nor did you ponder how you even managed to reach this point.
All you could focus on was how fucking perfect his cock felt inside of you.
The cold, which was previously a nuisance, now served as a stimulant to your nipples which were only covered by the thin unpadded material of your lace bra. They were bouncing with every movement you made, the hard peaks rubbing against Finnick's chest and creating a triangle of pleasure between them and the depravity that was happening further below.
He was so hungry in the way he kissed you. His lips were soft, but they moved with heat and determination. His tongue was supple as it pushed against yours, moving masterfully in a way you could only compare to how he swam in the ocean. A conquerorâable to bring you into submission with ease.
You pushed yourself upwards, the muscles in your thighs slightly burning as you did so, and felt his cock glide through you. He inhaled harshly through his nose when his tip almost left your wet heat, and then groaned into your mouth when your hips sunk back down, engulfing him once again.
"Shit," he almost whined as your walls clenched around him. "I fuckinglove you."
You pulled away to look him in the eyes. It was incredibly difficult for you to contemplate his wordsâhis confessionâwhen he was, what, eight or so inches deep inside you?
He didn't look like he regretted saying it. He was simply staring at you with raised brows pinched together in pleasure, awaiting your response as you continued your sequence of rising and sinking to fill yourself up with his cock.
"You love me?" you asked in a laboured breath. He only nodded in response. You sank fully down onto his lap, discontinuing your movements, willing him to prove his so-declared devotion. "Then show me."
He was breathing heavily and watching you through strands of sea-salted hair messily splayed across his forehead. He was so beautiful it actually kind of hurt to look at him. His eyes fell to your mouth during this brief amnesty, a decision prominent in his mind. Then he was rushing forward, crushing his lips to yours and forcing your body to lay back on the mat beneath you.
Finnick somehow managed to remain inside you as he switched your positionsâhim now above you as your legs were wrapped around his waist. His body pinned you down with a comfortable weight, skin warm and flush against yours.
He was overpowering and dominating, and his thrusts were laced with a sense of appropriation like he was making you his. The slow grinds of his hips were hard yet measured and so breathtakingly deep, and the gentle upwards curve of his cock made sure his tip was prodding against that swollen pleasure-inducing spot every single time.
His kisses were sensual and slow; his tongue slipping languidly into your mouth, swirling and massaging your tongue like it was made of pure silk.
You had told him what to doânow he was showing you. Finnick Odair wasn't fucking you. He was making love to you.
Your hands were on his back, fingertips leaving red marks on the curves of his shoulder blades. You moved up to his hair, scratching your nails softly into his scalp, which earned you a soft moan in your mouth. Even you could feel yourself pulsing around his cock. Everything he did, every sound and action he made, had your body yielding to him.
His hand pulled you up into him by the waist, arching your back off the palm-leaf mat so that he was thrusting more profoundly into that blissful spot inside you. He never sped up his pace. He didn't need to. He was savouring the moment as much as he could, memorising each warm ripple of your walls his cock glided over inside you, every intoxicating moan your soft lips released, the pressure of your warm supple thighs hugging his waist.
He was committing every aspect of you to memory. Inside and out.
Having that knowledge only made the moment so much more pleasurable. Knowing that he wasn't just thinking about you with his cock, but was thinking about you with his heart too.
That feeling started creeping up inside youâthe blissful burn of heat pooling in your lower stomach. It made your walls flutter around him. Made you whine and moan uncontrollably into his mouth until you couldn't focus on kissing him anymore and had to pull away.
Your head fell back onto the mat, hair strewn out around you. The sounds coming out of you were pure sin. Desperate, greedy sin.
He couldn't exactly talk. The second you clenched around him again, he groaned out a curse and youâthe parts of your mind that were still relatively comprehensibleâwere sure you could feel the warmth of pre-cum ooze inside you.
"Finnick," you mewled, and he caressed the baby hairs framing your face. "Feels so good. Shouldâshould've done this sooner."
Through your half-lidded eyes, you watched as he nodded and then descended to your forehead, pressing his lips tenderly against your skin. I know, the gesture said. You felt a rush of affection flood through your body, ultimately accelerating the build-up happening inside you.
You could feel yourself teetering so impossibly close to the brink of your orgasm. The tightness inside you was so hot and overwhelming; it was a struggle for you to keep your eyes from fluttering shut and rolling back, though you willed yourself to keep them open. You had to.
Watching Finnick's face contort with pleasure as he's thrown into his own high from feeling your walls contract around him would probably be the highlight of your entire life.
"So beautiful," he cooed as he thrusted into you. "My sweet girl's gonna come, isn't she? Can feel it."
The words flew out of your mouth. "Come inside me."
"Come inside you?"
You were pretty sure he was mocking you from the devilish curve of his lips and furrow of his brows. But your lust-drunk brain didn't really care.
"Please. Wanna feel youâ" Your chest heaved with each breath "âeverywhere."
Finnick was so obviously trying to keep himself from giving in before you. But you could see how delirious his eyes were as they stared down at you and you heard how every low, gratifiedâfrustratingly sexyâsound he made betrayed him. He was so close.
"Anything for you, sweetheart," he said, finally.
He managed to unhook your hands from around his back and guided them upwards, holding your wrists together above your head with one hand before he brought his other back to your waist. It was oddly romantic how he held you, given that he was fucking you like life after that night wasn't guaranteed.
And then, without warning, he was pounding into you, bottoming out completely with each thrust.
It was almost animalistic nowâhow you were both unable to control yourselves anymore. You were writhing beneath him, impulsively fighting against the grip he had on your wrists. And Finnick, well, he was fucking you so hard, you weren't sure if walking home that night would be a possibility.
He was a disaster of pleasured vocals, deep moans, and heavy breaths. You thanked the absolute heavens he was because it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard in your entire life.
When your own moans started to rise in pitch, you knew you were done for. You felt so full. Stretched out to the max. Blinded by the heat that was drowning you. But your eyes managed to remain clear and locked on Finnick's the entire time, just as his were on yours.
With a fleeting glance downward, he once again placed a large hand over your abdomen and pushed down, and your back arched off the ground.
You were gone.
"Oh fuck!"
The heat, white and fiery, had consumed you. Your thighs tensed uncontrollably around Finnick, your body shaking beneath him as your insides pulsed all the way down to your stuffed entrance. White, sticky sweetness covered Finnick's cock as he continued to thrust into you, the wet sounds overpowering the waves cresting on the sands. It felt like fucking heaven.
He let out a moan, broken and breathless, and released the grip he had on your hands. In that short moment, you instantly gripped onto him, feeling his body shudder beneath your hands as his throbbing cock spurted out ropes of warmth deep inside you, the essence of both of you mixing inside your body, making you one.
You pulled him down and crushed your lips to his with a sudden intense urge to be as close to him as you could, if it were even possible to be any closer to him at that point. It felt a little spiritual, the way you practically wanted to merge your body with his. That's what having sex with someone you truly loved was like, you supposed.
The kiss was sloppy and messy, but it never lacked heat or affection. Lacking heat was impossible between you and Finnick.
A lot of time passed before either of you even contemplated pulling away from one another. Finnick was inside you for what must have been a good half hour after you had both finished. It felt close. Deeply intimate. He held you in his arms, his hands mapping out various parts of your body with unhurried measure as you lay beneath him, lazily yet affectionately making out with warm, reddened lips.
There were quiet giggles and heated words whispered between you that would have prompted another session had either of you been graced with the energy.
But it was late. The remnants of the sun had long since disappeared beneath the horizon, dimming the sky to a deep dark blue, the world's only source of illumination being the stars casting their sparkling light on the rippling water.
It was a new moon.
Eventually, you ended up laying over his chest, legs strewn across his as you both faced the ocean. Your head rose and fell with each breath Finnick took and it felt unreal.Â
You were momentarily worried your infatuation with him had grown too out of hand and you had imagined the whole day, or perhaps, the entire time you had known him. That it was all a figment of your vivid imagination.
Then, his warm hand slid into your own, which was draped across his stomach, and you knew that this, the newfound relationship between you and Finnick, was undeniably and rapturously real.
He slowly lifted them together above your bodies, palms flat against one another. There was a notable size difference between themâhis palm was large and calloused with long fingers that squared off at the tips, meanwhile, your own fist could probably fit into his palm.
Your fingers danced delicately together as you both watched from below. He traced the length of your fingers with his fingertips; followed the etches in your palm, and turned your hand to explore the protrusions of your knuckles. There was a certain gentle curiosity in his touch, similar to that of someone who was discovering the act of human connection for the first time.
"I don't know if I can walk home," you whispered.
Finnick lowered your interlocked hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles before placing them back on his stomach. "I'll carry you."
"For an entire hour?"
"I'll manage," he said, "I've got muscles."
You scoffed quietly to yourself, smiling. "Ok, big strong man."
"Says the girl who needs to be carried home."
"Well, you are kind of the one to blame for that."
You tilted your head to glance up at him and found exactly what you were expecting to see. He was wearing a proud grin, all apple cheeks and crinkled eyes. It was something you had come to adore, even though sometimes it was out of arrogance.
Your head turned to rest back on his chest. You watched as his thumb caressed slow circles over your knuckle.
"What you said before," you began, "is it true? Do you really... love me?"
The heart beating beneath your ear genuinely sounded like it skipped a beat. You imagined that was a good sign, though your nerves were still a little frayed. What if he had only said it because of the heat of the moment?
A beat went by. "I've been trying to tell you ever since I first wove the mat for you," he confessed, his voice quiet yet holding the weight of the history that made up your friendship.
There it wasâthe truth laid bare. Despite hearing the words, it didn't really change anything. You suspected deep down you knew the entire time; you were just too self-doubting to accept it. To accept that Finnick Odair, the crown jewel of Panem, had fallen in love with you, an ordinary girl from District Four who just so happened to meet him at a secret beach.
Although, there was a sensation you remember upon first meeting him. That instinct that had told you to stay instead of running away, as any logical human being would do upon being approached by a stranger in the middle of nowhere. That instinct, despite sounding utterly ridiculous, caused you to believe that perhaps it was fate.
Maybe you were destined to meet. Maybe it didn't matter that he was a nationwide celebrity, nor you a simple town girl. Maybe your souls were entwined from the start and, one way or another, you would have met anyway.
Maybe.
"That's a long time," you said.
He laughed. "Yeah, well, I thought you would've gotten the hint by now."
And you couldn't help but join him. You thought you were the one who was deranged out of their mind. Here Finnick was telling you he had spent an entire year trying to confess his love without you even realising.
"I'm sorry it took me so long."
"It's alright," he said, earnestly. "I'd say it worked out pretty well. I mean, look where your obliviousness got us."
You smiled. Your legs were tangled with Finnick's; his arm was holding you tightly against his bare upper body, and his fingers were lovingly tracing over yours. Yeah, you were pretty grateful for your obliviousness sometimes. A new pair of underwear might have been something to consider, though.
A silence settled between you, comfortable, peaceful. Being in Finnick's embrace almost made you forget entirely about the reality of your existenceâthe Games, the dominion over Panem, the chaotic environment back home. It was the reason you had set off last year in search of a place away from society.
You had now found that the escape you were looking for wasn't a place or a hidden paradise, but a person. It was Finnick.
"Finn?"
"Yeah?"
The trees and palm leaves danced in the light breeze. Waves lapped on the shore.
You angled your head back to look at Finnick and felt him pull you closer. His expression was a picture of relaxation and contentment. His eyes gazed down at you, glimmering with the reflection of scattered stars in the night sky, just like the sea in front of you.
He seemed to already know what you were going to say. Always the mind reader.
"Say it, sweetheart." The corners of his lips twitched expectantly.
Sweetheart. Oh, how could you have ever felt for him in any other way?
"I love you too."
His face broke into one of the happiest smiles you had ever seen.
Finnick Odair would be obsessed with getting you cockdrunk.
His biggest pride is giving you pleasure. Any pleasure. Brushing your hair out of your eyes, getting out a knot in your shoulder, giving you a little sweet treat. But his absolute favorite is to give you mind-numbing, thought erasing pleasure from his tongue, fingers, cock, anything.
Starting off with just his hand down your panties as you watch a movie, soft circles onto your clit, kissing your neck as you whine from his ministrations.
âWanna cum like this, sugar? Just say the word.â
Then heâd let his fingers move into you. Curving and curling them, letting them explore at first, before locking in on the target to get you to gush around him. And by your second orgasm youâre seeing stars. Placing his fingers in his mouth, cleaning them with his tongue, which then makes him desperate to properly taste you.
Letting his fingers re-enter you, tongue flicking over your clit at an impressive pace. And as your head is starting to spin, you are starting to beg. âPlease donât stopâ, âplease keep goingâ, âplease itâs too muchâ, pushing his head away from your center.
And Finnick looks up at you with his beautiful eyes, promising you that he just wants to clean you up, just going to gather up the last of your orgasm. So you agree, his smile so radiating and grateful as he carefully starts licking around you. But that bleeds into his tongue dipping into your cunt, moving it in waves that make your walls clench.
And as youâre coming down from that familiar high, your thoughts are turning fuzzy. So fuzzy that you barely notice how Finnick grips your hips, tossing you around so he can take you from behind. But heâll keep playing with you, blunt head of his cock teasing your entrance before rubbing against your clit.
The delicious stretch from his cock is soon replaced with pleasure that makes your arms give out.
âAww is that difficult?â Finn coos from behind you, moving your arms to their original place, âyou should not have to do anything difficult, honey.â
And this sick man will wrap his arm around your waist to play with your most sensitive nerve, the last nail in the coffin for pushing out any and every thought in your head, leaving you in a white cloud of just him.
âShould only have to be pretty and take my cockâ he mumbles into your hair, âno thoughts needed, yeah? Just cock. Youâd like that, huh?â
And your only answer is a quiet, incoherent babble <3
A/N:đ SooooâŠÂ Kinktober is coming up đ and Iâve got some smuts and kinks lined up just for you. All Matt Smith-centred (yep, him and his characters), and I am so so excited to start dropping these. Before we dive in, though, hereâs the list, so you know exactly what kind of unholy chaos youâre getting yourself into.đđ„
AAAAND the last thing⊠you have no idea how weird it was to write for Prince Philip. đ Obviously I used Mattâs version from The Crown (duh). Not the real one, may he rest in peace. Imagine the sexy uniformed Matt. Yeah. Modern royalty. Something I could not pull off with Daemon, unless it's some AU story.
Matt Smith - Mirror play
Daemon Targaryen - Breeding kink
Prince Philip - Authority & protocol play
The Doctor - Role reversal
Russ Miner - Posessive marking
Matt Smith - Exhibitionism
Prince Philip - Stockings & garters obsession
Daemon Targaryen - Blood play
The Doctor - Praise kink
Russ Miner - Manhandling
Matt Smith - Cigar smoke kink
Daemon Targaryen - Breasts / lactation kink
The Doctor - Teasing with sonic vibrations
Russ Miner - Gritty Praise Kink
Prince Philip - Uniform kink
Russ Miner - Semi-Public/Back Alley Hookups
The Doctor - Alien aphrodisiac play
Matt Smith - Cockwarming
Prince Philip - Secret sex in a moving car during a motorcade
Daemon Targaryen - Belly worship during pregnancy
Doctor - Face-sitting / smothering
Prince Philip - Power imbalance roleplay
Daemon Targaryen - Ritualistic sex
Matt Smith - Filming you sucking his cock on his phone
Russ Miner - Aftercare Obsession
Daemon Targaryen - Knife & jewel play
Prince Philip - Sweat kink
The Doctor - Fucking you with a toy inside while he eats you out
Matt Smith - Throat bulge while deepthroating
Russ Miner - Gun Kink / Power Kink
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