Bridgerton Shade Of Blue

Feyd Rautha would understand the gravity of impregnating a member of the Bene Gesserit. The promise of a powerful heir born with the voice and truthsaying abilities meant a stable driving force for House Harkonnen with ties to those closest to The Emperor. But when you grow a swollen stomach, round and full with his child, the political chess moves are far from his mind.

The Na-Baron is obsessed. At first you note his unwillingness to leave your side, refusing to take to the arena and slay Harkonnen prisoners while you are with child. His dual hunting blades gather dust, Feyd choosing instead to pose his aggression against any male Harkonnen that dares look your way.

Usually unaffectionate, Feyd lays claim to you by placing his hands on you often. His palm presses against the swell of your stomach, feeling the tiny kicks of the child inside. It almost makes him more protective, insisting he, alone, protect you.

Seperate from prying eyes, Feyd cannot keep his hands, his lips, off you.

“You witch,” he hisses between heavy kisses, his firm grip hoisting your thighs over his hips, “You have poisoned me— Bewitched me with your Gesserit powers.”

But when Feyd sinks his cock deep inside you, his palms splayed across your swollen stomach, he’s too busy growling out your name to accuse you of sorcery. In truth, Feyd Rautha would readily fill you with his seed again and again to watch you swell with more of his children.

dune masterlist

claim. oscar diaz

word count: 2.5k

warnings: swearing, some derogatory terms

requested: nope i wrote this a really long time ago and just found it

plot: oscar claims you without telling you first

a/n: just found this and reread and loved so i'm sharing lol look at all this content wow who am i??? anyway hope u like lmk what you think pls

masterlist

you spent the whole day receiving weird stares, feeling like everyone was talking about you. which was weird because no one ever talked about you. you walked outside over to where your friends sat eating lunch. you dropped your bag on the floor and your tray on the table.

"what the hell is up with everyone today?" you asked cluelessly. you friends looked at you, wide eyed and clued up. you weren't paying attention, you shoved a fry in your mouth, glancing up to see your small group of friends all staring at you. "what?" you chuckled.

"is it true?" your friend on your left was the first to speak, the others still sat with wide eyes and open jaws. jesus. what was wrong with them.

"is what true?" you continued to shovel fries in your mouth, assuming they were messing with you about something. you never suspected them to be thinking what they were really thinking.

"you and spooky?" you furrowed your eyebrows hearing his name, you stopped munching on your lunch. you and oscar were friends. your little brother ruby, was friends with his little brother cesar. so naturally you saw oscar a lot, he was always dropping cesar at your house and vice versa. he was nicer than people thought, he definitely wasn't spooky. that was a load of crap.

"what-- oscar? oscar diaz?" you clarified.

"obviously," she scoffed in disbelief. "you really have no idea?"

you looked puzzled between your friends who wore the same expression still. you were confused. "i don't understand."

"he claimed you."

"he— what?" you choked on a fry you'd just popped into your mouth, coughing and hacking as you tried to compose yourself. after a big gulp of water you let your jaw hang open. "he claimed me?"

"you didn't know?" your friend frowned. "it's all anyones been talking about all day."

that explained the whispers and the stares. but it didn't explain why oscar did it. you were just friends. or so you thought.

they all began to bombard you with questions about oscar. you blurred out the noise though. you didn't understand any of this. none of it made sense. oscar wouldn't just claim you. he's never even insinuated that he likes you like that. he was always friendly, and sure you liked him, but that didn't mean he could just claim you. you had to speak to him.

"is he good in bed?" you snapped out of your daze, frowning.

"we're not together." you shook your head. "i don't know who started this shit— but we're just friends."

you sighed, remaining silent for the rest of your lunch period. your friends got that you didn't want to talk about it and moved on. but you couldn't stop thinking about it.

straight after school finished you headed straight for oscar's house. you had to clear this up. you couldn't go around with people thinking you'd been claimed by a santo. it was ridiculous. it wasn't a long walk, you knew the route pretty well since ruby spent most of his time with his dumb friends.

you saw a few santos members hanging around outside his house as you got closer. you gulped, eyeing them up as you came up the path. no sign of oscar.

"have you seen spooky?" you questioned. you saw a few smirks, lingering eyes. you felt a little uncomfortable, you didn't really know oscars friends that well, you just saw them around the block a lot.

"he's inside, nena." you nodded, ignoring the pet name. you walked through the group of guys, ignoring the stares as you did, and up to the front door and knocking pretty loud.

the door swung open moments later, oscar standing in front of you now. you pushed passed him and came inside, eager to get out of the other santos members earshot. oscar scoffed, a small smirk on his lips. "come in."

you were pretty annoyed now that you were looking at him with your own eyes. now that you'd seen the way the santos were acting around you. it was making you mad. you never asked for any of this.

he could tell you were angry. "what's up, nena?"

"don't call me that," you snapped, harsher than you intended to come across. your mind was moving too fast. you didn't even know whether the rumours were true. he might not have done anything. oscar raised his eyebrows, taken back by your tone. "what the hell was that?" you pointed to where the santos where sat outside. "and what the hell are you doing telling people you've claimed me?"

his smirk drooped a little, but was still there. you crossed your arms over your chest. so it was true! he had no right to do that. no wonder the santos where looking at you like a piece of meat, no wonder people were whispering about you all day at school. everyone thought you were a whore. you couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of shit he'd been telling his friends about you. you didn't want to think about it. you were pissed.

"we're friends, oscar," you exclaimed. "you can't just tell people i belong to you now because you felt like it. that's fucked up." you raised your eyebrows, the strain on your face showing. he didn't react so much as he just ducked his head, wearing a sly smirk.

"y/n—" he tried to speak but you quickly cut him off. you hadn't gotten all of your anger out of your system. you wanted to wipe the smirk off his face.

"no— you don't understand," you frowned, you walked closer to him, having previously been on opposite sides of the room. "people are talking shit about me. i know because even my friends were dying to know just how big of a whore i am now that i've been claimed. by you." your breathing was heavy now, his smirk was fading the more you spoke. "it's not the same for you. you claim me. you get all the credit right? your friends big you up. you feel secure in your masculinity. but for me— i'm suddenly a massive whore."

"you're not a whore." was all he said.

"i know that!" you raised your voice. "but everyone thinks i am— your boys outside were practically undressing me with their eyes— so don't tell me you haven't been telling them lies about me." you were furious with him. he had no right to go and treat you like this. you thought you were friends. you might of even had a little crush on him, but that was gone now. how could someone be so nice to you and then go ahead and talk about you like this.

"they what?" he frowned. he didn't look like he had any clue what you were talking about. "if they said anything to you—"

"are you even listening to me?" you sighed. "why did you claim me? i thought we were friends." you furrowed your brows. oscar was standing pretty close to you now. he could see how heavy you were breathing after you'd gotten all that off your chest.

"i had to," he said briefly at first. you folded your arms across your chest ready to go off on him again but he touched your arm. "just let me explain— ok?" you took a step back, letting his hand drop from your arm, but you remained quiet, ready to pick apart whatever bullshit excuse he had made up. "i never said a word about you— promise," his expression was pretty neutral. you couldn't tell whether he was lying or not. "whatever people are talkin' about is bullshit, ma."

you nodded, hesitantly taking his word for it. you were still pretty mad though. he still claimed you, you had no say in the matter. he didn't put it past you. he never confessed anything to you. out of nowhere. no guys would ever talk to you again once they found out spooky of all people had claimed you.

"i was just tryna' keep you safe," you furrowed your brows. you weren't in danger. "we've been hanging out more and more. the homies noticed you. no doubt people would find out we're close sooner or later. if something happened to you because of me— i couldn't live with myself."

your breath caught in your throat when you felt him hand touch your face. his fingers traced along your jawline. you frowned, pulling away confused. "wait— what?" where was this coming from? oscar was always so calm and collected around you. you hung out but he never showed any signs. and believe me, you were looking for them.

"i like you, alright?" he huffed, embarrassed he had to spell it out for you. "don't be mad at me."

"i'm not mad at you," you mumbled. "anymore, anyway," you both stood still in front or each other. he raised an eyebrow. you rolled your eyes. "maybe a little."

he breathed a quiet laugh. "m'sorry you had to go through that today. i should've told you before i did anything."

"yeah you should've," you agreed. he seemed pretty sincere but you didn't know how to react. you just stood quietly in front of him, trying to think of something to say. "sorry i shouted at you."

"i deserved it."

you nodded. "yeah, you kinda did." he smiled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders, but you were still confused. you had a little crush on him, you knew that, but you never thought he felt the same. you were convinced he didn't feel the same. so this changed things. you were suddenly nervous, unsure how to act around him. you hadn't done this so much before. you bit your lip, avoiding his intense stare. you didn't know what to do.

"y'don't feel the same?" he mumbled, disheartened. you snapped out of the daze you'd put yourself in by trying to think what to say. you felt so different so quickly. five minutes ago you could've said anything to him, now you didn't know.

you shook your head. "no— i do— i mean— i don't know—" you stopped yourself, ducking your head. you were really bad at this. you'd lost any sense of comfort you felt being around him. he was making you nervous, he wouldn't stop staring at you. you huffed, running your hand through your hair and turning away from him. "stop looking at me for two seconds, please, so i can think."

you heard a quiet laugh come from him behind you. you ran your hand over your face, you were embarrassing yourself. you just needed to talk to him as if you were still friends. "i do like you. i just didn't think you liked me, so i didn't think about it and now you just went and said that— and claimed me— and i'm— i—"

"it's too much." you sighed, nodding, thankful he'd taken the words out of your mouth.

"i don't think you wanna claim me, oscar," you had turned back to face him again. you were standing further apart now. you didn't know how to read his expression, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pulled taught. "i know how you are with girls and i don't think i fit your usual type."

he watched you rambling away, trying to talk yourself out of it before anything had happened. oscar moved closer to you, he grabbed your hand and this time you let him hold it instead of pulling away. your eyebrows were furrowed.

"we can take it slow," he reassured you. you took a deep breath, not expecting this reaction from him. you were sure you had scared him off with all your doubts and your talking. you'd never been in a serious relationship before. this was pretty new to you. you were so sure oscar wasn't the type to take it slow and develop feelings just for one girl, that you'd tried to talk him out of it before anything started. "i don't mind."

he tugged your hand, pulling you closer to him. he held both your hands now, his face inches away, he could feel your heavy breaths on his skin. you nodded, softly. "y'sure?"

he nodded. "believe it or not, i've had my eye on you for a while," you found it hard to believe but he was so sincere all the time he was talking to you, you had no choice but to believe him. "mami, you're the funniest, smartest and the finest girl i've seen in a long time— i've only got eyes for you. we don't gotta rush anything."

your heart was beating out of your chest. he was looking at you a certain way, you were practically melting. you opened your mouth to reply but nothing came out at first. a smile broke on his face, pulling away from you for a second. you couldn't help but smile too. how your mood had changed so quickly was baffling.

"do you realise what my friends are gonna say when they find out?" you scoffed, still kind of finding it hard to accept that oscar of all people was acting like this towards you. he laughed at your comment. you thought again. "what will your friends say?"

"mami, i claimed you. if anyone gives you any trouble. let me know." you nodded. you gulped at the pet name.

"yeah about that," you untangled your hands from his and poked his chest. "if you get to claim me, then i get to claim you too. on principle."

he tried to hide the smile on his face, nodding, agreeing with your terms. "fine by me."

"ok." you nodded.

"ok." he crossed his arms over his chest. you suddenly felt much more relaxed than you had before. things were starting to feel like they did before any of this was out in the open. you were happy. you smiled. "te ves bonita cuando sonríes."

you hummed a quiet thanks. your cheeks tinted, involuntarily. you tried to disguise it but it was hard. he was so good at this. you felt like an amateur. oscar just chuckled, placing to hands on your hips and pulling you against him. you wrapped two arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes so you could reach. you didn't realise just how much taller he was than you till now. he squeezed you tight and you laughed, pulling away from him. without thinking about it, he pressed his lips against your forehead. your hands moved from his neck to either side of his face. he had the nicest brown eyes you ever saw. you wanted to kiss him but something stopped you. you smiled softly, standing on your tiptoes once more to kiss his cheek.

you'd had a whirlwind of a day but you were pretty happy with how it turned out. you had a lot coming your way but you felt a little better knowing oscar would be there to defend you every step of the way.

The Serpent and The Jaguar

Pairing: Namor x F!Reader

Summary: "All the beautiful flowers you've brought me and you put a dying one in my hair?" you mutter, confused. "What is the meaning of this?"

Warning: Public sex, rough sex

There's a bathhouse in the capital of Jabari Land, just on the outskirts of Gorilla City, the perfect therapeutic recreation to soothe tension after suffering the company of colonizers.

Your father had insisted on you joining him for an informal diplomatic conference in Italy over the weekend. Your two older siblings in line for the throne could've gone but he'd been adamant about you getting some experience under your belt. Overall, the trip could be summarized as boring. Long, drawn out conversations focusing on resources and trade that had always circled back to Wakanda's vibranium.

To make matters worse, another tedious sounding meeting in Golden City had been called the second the two of you arrived back home. You had slipped away, however, as the spirited and loudmouthed Elder M'Baku held your father's attention. The only person you wished to see likely not attending.

The former king and leader of the Jabari Tribe had been mentioning something about his city's bathhouse which put the idea in your mind to visit in the first place. It's been a while since you've visited Jabari Land; impossible to believe that such a beautiful place had been isolated from the rest of the country at one point.

The city's bathhouse is structured to resemble the smooth and cascading weathered boulders on the snowy mountains. Smaller huts can be seen in the distance, the steam baths used for individual medicinal purposes, healing sicknesses and couples trying for a child. Life-giving heat.

The bathhouse itself provides both indoor and outdoor facilities as well as public and private rooms offering a long list of amenities. Torches light the winding corridors, flickering on intricately designed rock carvings of the Jabari Tribe's glorious Hanuman. But the colors and markings of all five tribes fill the space, their warm laughter and chatter expressing eagerness for saunas and mud baths, luxuries that makes journeying to this cold, rough terrain worth it.

The staff have already prepared your favorite private room, appropriately named The Blackberry for the dark wood's sweet aroma and its deep, oval shaped tub made of the same material. A wooden torch pedestal stands in each corner. There's a few built in shelves, some stacked with smoking incense. Everything about the room was designed to maximize the tub which is filled to the brim with water, the steam rolling off in waves warming your chilled skin.

You undress and head for the adjoining closet sized space in the room to shower and scrub before you soak. While you're cleansing you hear the main room's door slam shut. Frowning, you distinctly recall informing the staff that you don't wish to be disturbed. Grabbing your robe from its hook and slipping it on, you step back out into the main room.

It's in an incredibly different state than the way you left it behind mere minutes ago.

The Blackberry is now completely filled with dozens of bouquets. They're on the towel and bottle lined shelves, surrounding the ground-level tub all the way to the door, flowers are even placed atop the birch logs suspending from the ceiling on hemp rope. Orchids and water lilies and marigolds. And these flowers shine in gorgeous yellows and oranges and reds, resembling the rising sun, contrasting pleasantly with the room's smooth blackwood.

The mutant god Namor of Talokan stands in the center of it all.

Technically, he's hovering with the aid of his buzzing wings. He's carefully arranging a handful of marigolds on one of the logs when he glances down at you. He's dressed in his usual attire. A gold and turquoise pectoral shaped into double headed serpents, his neck is adorned with pearls, ears and nose pierced with jade. And he's wearing those damned form fitting green trunks.

You've frozen up in surprise and stunned silence. A rush of emotions flood through you, the most palpable one pounding artlessly yet with pure sincerity at your heart like a child's first drum.

"You're here," you say with a gasp.

"At last, my favorite flower has come to join me," he practically purrs, a grin stretching across his face as he descends. "Princess." He reclines his head in a slight bow.

"K'uk'ulkan," you greet back with a fond smile, his name soft and sweet on your tongue. You've missed him and it's obvious the feeling was more than reciprocated. Time has not been kind, the both of you having been caught up in royal duties and responsibilities lately, it feels like ages to you. How long must it feel to him?

Kneeling down, you scoop up a bouquet and bury your nose in the flowers, inhaling deeply. "This is lovely," you murmur with burning cheeks, your eyes flitting to and away from his. "Thank you."

If you look at him right this second for too long you don't know what your eyes might tell him. Of course, he brought you flowers in typical Namor-like fashion. He brought you an entire garden's worth. He'd once told you that flowers reminded him of his mother who often mourned her gardens after being forced to leave her home. In his opinion, flowers are one of the few worthwhile offerings the surface world contains.

Namor doesn't reply, he doesn't have to, the heat in his gaze says enough.

He was intimidating as Bast sometimes. Not on purpose. Not towards you. Ever. He can't help the unsettling quietness in his movements, the burning eyes that tell a tale older than anyone he shares a room with, the heavy weariness his words could take on sometimes when it's just the two of you.

There's a playfulness to him as well.

"I brought the sun to my people, and now I bring it to you on this night," he says, pleased with himself.

You laugh. But touching as this gesture is, Namor is behaving very boldly. He could've seen you stark naked sneaking into your privately booked room like this. You suppose that's why such noise was made to alert you to his presence. He isn't anything like your former suitors, all promising young men of Wakanda from noble families, who you're certain Namor's scared off the moment he'd decided to tie your life to his.

And Namor's made it no secret that he's deadset on making you his.

It isn't merely for strengthening the alliance between Wakanda and Talokan. Or that you are a mutant with control over the earth, born from a mutant mother who commands the sky, and that an heir from you and the ruler of Talokan who controls the seas could likely take on anything in the world. This isn't strictly strategy and politics for him. Not when he goes about it with a naked vulnerability and lack of decorum with his words and actions.

You haven't exactly been acting with the dignity your station requires either. Sneaking off with him around Wakanda in the night when he visits, showing him the beauty of your land, off the beaten paths and sights untouched by human progress. Riding on the backs of whales, entwined in his arms as he dances with you above the Atlantic ocean.

"You know you shouldn't be here, it isn't appropriate," you warn with a tilt of your chin, and all the haughty regalness you normally love to poke fun at.

You have to admit every now and then that it's a bit exhilarating toying with a man revered as a god, whenever it was certain you could get away with it.

Namor smirks. Unconcerned. "You only have to say the word and I'll go."

And you don't.

Instead, you glimpse down at the tub he's blanketed with Lily of the Nile. Blue, purple, and white petals float atop the steaming, milky hot water. An expert you are not–especially in comparison to Namor–but you know this flower in particular is an...interesting choice. Feminine energy and rebirth and symbolic of the sun. The sudden flash of heat overcoming you has nothing to do with the room's temperature.

"Is that allowed?" you ask, unable to smother the meek amusement in your tone.

He laughs arrogantly. "I am Wakanda's honored guest, of course it is." It probably also helps that he's been friends with Elder M'Baku for nearly half a century.

Namor prowls around the tub, careful not to crush the flowers beneath him as he nears you.

Your fingers curl into the fluffy robe you're wearing and he takes the bouquet cradled in your arm, he turns away as you disrobe.

You slip into the tub with a contented hum, the dull sting of hot water instantly rewarding as you lower yourself in, limbs loosening and muscles relaxing. The water wraps around your shoulders like the finest silk sheet. The lilies kiss at your throat, and as you pull them below the surface as you wade backwards they glide over your stomach and thighs over your stomach and thighs.

Sighing, your eyes drift shut for one blissful moment before landing on Namor again as you rest your head against the tub's rim.

"This bathhouse is a sight for beauty, I can see why you favor it," Namor says, his eyes roaming above the domed wall before dropping to the swell of your breasts. "It reminds me of a temazcal."

He sits across from you, lowering his legs into the water. His strong, thick thighs and the bulge between them an eyeful unlike anything you've seen before.

"Does it?" you reply in a low rasp, licking your lips. You swim towards him, your fingers curling around his knee as an anchor. "You know...I wasn't made aware you would be here in my country today. It was me who should've been prepared with a gift."

"Your will is my gift," Namor says, bending down to caress your cheek. "To be here as long as you wish."

He must think you're a fool. Namor only plays by his rules. When a situation fails to satisfy him he'll find a way to bend it to his advantage eventually. You can tell him to leave right now and he will, but he'll come back the next day twice as determined.

You laugh giddily and distance yourself as much as you're able to, your feet brushing along the tub's edge. Oh, does that wipe the smile off his face. Amazing how impatient a five hundred year old can be.

"Would you like some company, princess?" he asks, staring at you as if he's thinking of all the ways he can plunder your heart and soul while leave nothing behind.

You forget yourself as it is so easy to do with him, losing all of your royal training and normally coolheaded instincts as you sputter out, "sure."

Namor chuckles gamely. Doesn't bother to remove anything as he dips into the bath with practiced grace. Before you can ask what's going through his mind he's slipping underneath the water and out of sight causing barely a stir.

A thrilling sort of panic has you grinning in anticipation. You gently push away from your position, intensely focusing on the murky water as you bend your legs to you curl into yourself. Pulse thrumming under your skin fast as his wings.

You're starting to grasp just how large and deep this tub is (it could easily fit at least ten people) when fingers slide up your calves. You squeak, jolting at the sensation and end up splashing water on your face as you flail and attempt to squirm out of his tightening grip, erupting into uncontrollable giggling.

"K'uk'ulkan," you call out, half whining and half exasperated. You then wince, remembering where you are and most importantly who you are.

You reach an arm into the water and feel his inky, soft hair swaying between your knees. The unmistakable pressure of his lips kissing up your calf to your thigh nearly drowns you then and there, a whimper catching in your throat. Gasping, you secure a grip to the back of his head before you find yourself sinking.

Namor emerges, sharp teeth and twinkling eyes, laughing boisterously.

You swat at his chest as your own heaves. Heat pools low in your belly at his closeness. And then your hand simply stays there, your other hand still running through his hair. He paws at your waist, pulling you closer and bends down–

You lower your head, resting it on his chest.

"Tell me what is troubling you?" he demands in a sweet, coaxing rumble. He wraps his arms around you more firmly, his nose nuzzles at your temple and he whispers in your ear. "I think we both know you're stalling what is inevitable, my little jaguar flower."

"You know...flowers don't last long once you've picked them," you solemnly explain, muffled into his skin. Nevertheless, you continue slowly stroking his hair and press your cheek onto his chest. "Perhaps we should consider that before we move any further, Namor."

"You don't need to worry about that."

"It is entirely selfish on my part, I assure you," you tell him, laughing humorlessly. "I can't bear the thought that when I'm gone I will have to live a life without you in the ancestral realm without ever seeing you again."

Namor assesses you with half-lidded eyes, his anger more stifling than the room's heat. He moves you both to the edge, reaches behind you and presents a wilting water lily.

You frown. It's the only flower in the room that isn't bright and lively. He tucks it behind your ear, the stem limp and petals bruised.

"You will not." He sounds as if it's already true. Written and recorded on his codice, you and him, a long and happy life rather than the blink of an eye that lays ahead if you continue this.

"All the beautiful flowers you've brought me and you put a dying one in my hair?" you mutter, confused. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I'll make sure death will never touch you so long as I breathe."

He leans forward to kiss you now, his fingers marking your waist.

"I will make it true," he hisses like the feathered serpent he is between your lips. "You only have to believe my word, little jaguar." As you stare up at him speechless and in shock he continues. "If I can bring life back to this water lily will you put your faith in me then?"

"How are you going to do that?" You swallow hard as his hands skim down to palm and squeeze your ass, pushing your lower half to him. "It isn't within his power," you tell him, breath hitching. "Only mine."

"You doubt your king, little flower?"

Namor's hand presses on your lower back, maneuvering you as he switches your positions so he's reclining back until he has you above his lap. You encircle your arms around him, eyes wide and watery.

He presses a kiss to your neck as his fingers leisurely stroke your pussy. "And you address me as Namor," he admonishes you, his voice rough and passionate. "Never do that again, unless you are begging for my mercy. After you dare to doubt me."

Your breath hitches and you nuzzle your damp cheek to his in apology. "Yes," you breathe out in agreement, gnawing on your bottom lip as he angles his finger, slipping it between the folds of your pussy. "My love. My K'uk'ulkan."

He groans and plants kisses down your neck, murmurs that it's okay even though you know it isn't. He brushes his fingers up your mound, applying pressure around your clit as he starts rubbing in tight, little circles to stimulate the little bud. You cling to him, grinding in tandem to the his slow, firm pace he's set.

You stop a few times as your body wracks with shivers, your breathing a mess, but Namor keeps rubbing you off as the heat of the bath and your arousal scorches you.

Finally, finally Namor pushes a finger inside your slippery walls. He groans and lets out puffs of air that cools your overheated skin as you clench around him.

You whimper, capturing your wobbling bottom lip in your teeth. Already so desperate and aching for his touch. Even under the cover of the cloudy water you feel completely exposed and adrift in pleasure, his ornaments budge and scrape against your buoyant body, the heat of the water enhancing the sensitivity of your skin.

Water soaks your scalp and he chuckles as your eyes flutter open, not even aware that you've closed them. You're not scared of giving your trust over to him, safe in his hands in his element, but you're surprised at how quickly you've lost yourself in his touch.

Namor's fingers clamp around your nape and he pulls you back up, keeps your throat bared to kiss and suck and nip at his leisure. His fingers don't stop moving, rubbing and circling around your clit, stroking your lips like his tongue tracing the seams of your mouth. Your hand on his shoulder tightens as you cover the one between your legs, pumping your hips frantically as you whine for more.

You curse him, back arching, the cold air sudden and biting at your breasts and hardening your nipples. His hot, wet mouth latches onto your chest and his arm tightens like a vice around your waist as you write and moan.

Your plush walls spasm with every unforgivingly rapid thrust of his fingers, the heel of his palm rolling against your clit. Your body twitches with every jolt of pleasure rippling out of you like air bubbles swiftly stealing your breath.

Namor sings his praises under his breath that you're too blissed out to bother translating. Your weightless and floating, tethered only to him and his thick fingers, the connection growing tighter as you're ready to snap.

Namor drags you down into the water as you come, his lips sealed to yours as you cry out and spasm in his arms.

He twists you around to face him, hitching your legs around him and you're not sure what's happening until you're on your back, staring at the flower padded logs hanging from the ceiling. Namor kisses you all over your face, murmuring "ocēlōxōchitl" as he drinks in the water droplets from your skin until you're laughing softly.

He huffs eagerly above you as he works removing his belt ornament and trunks. He smiles down at you with lust and affection, water sliding down his nose onto your face.

He pushes inside you, watches as your tender lips kiss the crown of his head. An icy chill settles over you making you tremble. Namor curves a hand under your back and bears more of his weight down in you, both groaning as your pussy flexes around his throbbing cock sinking into you. That's when a chill starts to really register on your skin and your body trembles. Until you're snug and he's buried to the hilt.

If the staff and customers of the bathhouse hadn't heard you before they surely do now, moaning as you shift underneath him. Namor swivels his hips, cock twitching, and you accommodate every rigid bump of him nudging against you. When you press your palm to your mouth he pushes it away just as soon, tangling his fingers between yours.

He takes his time. Rolls his hips to push deep inside you. He kisses you, mouth clinging to yours when he breaks apart. It's close to unbearable, another slow climb towards pleasure that keeps you teetering on the brink, so close but never quite enough to push you over. A steady rhythm your breathing can't seem to match.

Bodies slick with water and sweat, skin hot and cold, sticky from the steam and the cum sliding down your thighs. You dig your nails into his back and he snaps his hips with a guttural groan, the rough thrust pitching you upwards.

"Please, please..." you whimper, beads of tears forming in the corner of your eyes. "Namor, please."

Namor quickens his pace, burying his head into your shoulder as he fucks you like you're impervious to breaking.

"You can take it, can't you?" he tells you between his strained, heavy breathing and moans. "That's why you're mine."

You whimper, nodding, words escape you. Namor's cock stretches your tensing passage, he slows for a moment and moans low and deep. Your nails claw down his back and he hooks an arm underneath your thigh.

The friction rubs at you in a new way and you cry out. Yes. Right there. Namor drops his head to yours, his eyes ablaze and possessive, thrusts becoming sharp as your own relents to him with lewd, wet slaps.

All it takes is his rough thumb flicking at your clit and his face pressed to the soft flesh of your neck, his teeth grazing you. You press yourself to him and everything comes to a standstill, your body becoming rigid as an intense orgasm ripples through you. Your vision turns white as you succumb to the throbbing pulses of intense euphoria drowning you.

He writhes above you, hips stuttering, his mouth dropping open as exhales your name in a broken whisper. He moans and the sound sings down to your bones as he jerks his hips, spilling his warm cum in you.

You turn to trail kisses up his cheekbone, panting, you gently press your lips to his pointy ear and Namor makes a deep, rumbling noise.

The iciness of the earth melts from your skin and warmth settles in you. Your flower has bloomed. The white petals of the dying water lily has come back to life and in your line of vision, tickling your skin as it lifts and opens wide.

"There it is," Namor grunts, satisfied as he tenderly plucks the flower from behind your ear. Delicate but strong. A blazing yellow bud bleeding pink into the white petals. "See? Do you believe me now?" he says, rather smugly, beaming. "I told you I could do it, it's life has been prolonged."

You roll your eyes, laughing. "Hold on, I'm pretty sure I did that."

He pouts. "Not on your own, my love."

You hum, sated and exhausted. "That is true," you admit, smiling. When had you willed your powers over the small lily? When your emotions got out of control they could be strong enough to affect the earth and plant life around you without any conscious effort. "I see you are very persuasive."

"And together we can do anything," he says in a fierce whisper, serious now.

Your smile widens and you cradle his face in your hands. "Yes, my love, I believe you."

“On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway.”

A PROFESSIONAL INTERVIEW -- sebastian vettel

part 2/4? previous next

pairings! redbull!sebastian vettel x fem!journalist!reader

In which, Sebastian Vettel has always been a cocky, and an annoying f1 driver to interview, but suddenly his tendencies seem more flirtatious than annoying.

note: i've had a bit of writer's block recently and i'm still in it, so that's why most of my fics and recs may be coming out slower. hopefully ill break out of it soon!

taglist: @viennakarma, @chiliwhore, @i-wish-this-was-me, @sugyomama, @gcldtom, @bladestark (sorry if i missed you)

Qualifying for he Bahrain Grand Prix. You had a few media days and free pratice interviews, Lewis Hamilton seemed to be the driver reporting pairing your employers were looking for, or maybe he was just the driver they had randomly selected. One thing you would admit is that you liked interviewing drivers who were actually winning, it was less depressing, and people actually watched the interviews with winning drivers. All those days had gone well, media day, and free practice, good outfits combined with good interviews and good racing, but qualifying proved a struggle.

You awoke in the morning, groggy, and confused. You had an alarm set for 7:30 am, four hours, enough time to prepare your questions, shower, do some cute makeup, make a healthy breakfast, maybe even work out. You wanted to feel good about yourself, and waking up to be productive seemed like a very adult thing to do, but oh no. Your alarm hadn’t gone out, and you woke up at eleven. You let out an obnoxious scream at the glimpse of your clock, looking down at your blue sweater and white joggers. You swiped on deodorant, and brushed your teeth, you could get food at hospitality, and do your makeup on the bus ride there. You hadn’t planned on taking the bus, but your brain ran through solutions for your tardiness quickly, and taking a fan bus was a solution. You had seen the sign the night before. 

You quickly poured tea from the night before, and poured it into a water bottle. You put bread in the toaster, pulling your hair into two plaits as you bounced around, filled with stress. You poured jam on it, too lazy to even wipe up the jam from the hotel counter. You shoved it into your mouth, nearly forgetting your bag full of everything you needed. You were the worst dressed out of the women, all of whom looked like they had put extensive effort into their looks for the day. You curled your lashes as you looked over the notes, leg bouncing intensely as you skimmed over the question. You would be interviewing the redbull boys, was it something you were happy about? No, of course not, the memory of Sebastian ruining your date and then ending up driving you home still haunted your memory, and only when you looked down at your sweater did you realize something, that was his sweater! You mentally slapped yourself, how could you have been so stupid, you didn’t even know how that had ended up in your suitcase. You briefly recalled using it as a pajama top when the weather got cold, because you had been mainly using Y/B/F’s clothes. How stupid could you have been.

You arrived at the track five minutes late, sprinting full force across the pit line, almost certain you were in the background of at least three “on site” interviews. You nearly ran into Lewis, and the urgency took over you even more.

“Lewis, I need you to hide this!” You exclaimed, shoving the sweater into his arms. A pink tank top and baggy joggers didn’t look bad, but you did feel as if you were on the way to work out.

“Why?” He asked.

“It’s Seb’s, long story. I’ll explain later. Thank you so much!” You thanked the Mclaren driver as he looked down into his hands. He wanted to ask more questions, but you were already sprinting off, your tote bag hitting you in the hip as you ran. You arrived in front of the red bull garage winded, Mark Webber and Sebastian Vettel staring at you. You dumped your tote bag on the ground, and stood across from them, pulling your plait over your shoulders - you thought they looked cuter that way - and smiling at the two. Mark seemed content to act like the situation was normal, offering a small compliment on your minimal makeup, but Seb had to ruin it.

“Did you sprint the whole way here?” He asked, crossing his arms and leaning back.

“I did, my alarm didn’t go off.” You told him. 

“Is that why you’re wearing sweatpants?” “It was either that or having bad breath.” You looked over at the camera crew as they hooked you up to a microphone. “When does this start?”

“A few seconds.” A guy replied. You gave him a thumbs up, and he signaled that they were live.

“Welcome to qualifying for the Bahrain Grand Prix, we are live at the Bahrain International Circuit with the Redbull boys, Mark Webber and Sebastian Vettel.” You introduced, smiling over at Mark and intentionally ignoring Seb. “Now, what are your thoughts going into the new season, any specific goals?”

“Well, we have a new car, so hopefully we continue ranking high, and winning races.” Mark told you, smiling. You nodded and turned back to Sebastian.

“And what about you, Seb? Do you have similar goals to Mark?” You asked, meeting his eyes despite your mind screaming against it. 

“A bit, but this year I’d like to win the World Championship.” He told you confidently. The camera would witness your reaction to his words, a bit surprised at his confidence, and maybe his lack of insults that you had obviously expected. “I was close last year, and I am confident that I can get there this year.”

“And I imagine that will start with gaining pole position for tomorrow’s race?” You said, trying your best to give an attractive smile, the camera was on after all.

“Of course.” He replied, flicking a small glance over at Mark, who looked slightly dejected by Sebastian’s answers. The blonde showing up his teammate once more. You asked a few more basic questions, and a couple that dug a bit deeper, before being notified that your time was almost up.

“Well, Mark, and Seb, I wish you both luck at qualifying, and I will see the two of you tomorrow for post race interviews.” You said, smiling at Mark, and not Sebastian.

“Will you be wearing the dress you wore in France?” Seb asked, and you begged your cheeks not to flush like they always managed to. “You know, black, very tight-”

“I didn’t pack it.” You interrupted.

“A shame, it would’ve given me more motivation to show up.” Seb said, shaking his head lightly. You frowned.

“Does the twenty five thousand euro fee for skipping not motivate you enough?” Mark asked jokingly. You took that as the perfect time to finally close the interview, clapping your hands together unexpectedly loudly.

“Well, that’s it for today’s interview, I will see you, and the Redbull boys after the race on Sky Sports!” You told the camera cheerily. The cameraman gave you a thumbs up, that it was over, and you smiled. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Sebastian open his mouth to say something to you, it was most likely something insulting, and so you turned to Mark"

“Good luck at quali tomorrow, Mark!” You told the dark haired driver before speed walking away, completely forgetting your bag.

Seb watched as you quickly walked off, a frown settling on his face. He understood that you most likely assumed he was going to say something rude, and rather on brand for him, but that wasn’t his plan. He just wanted to ask you if you needed a ride to the race tracks, after all, he had heard that the two of you were staying in the same hotel. He looked down, your bag still laying on the ground. He reached down and picked it up before turning to Mark, the driver you seemed to like so much more than him.

“Y/N left her bag, do you know her next interview?” He asked Mark. The brunette shrugged.

“I think she’s mainly broadcasting this weekend. I’m sure you can find her room number though.” Mark told Seb. The blonde nodded, and began rummaging through the bag. “Not like that! Just ask someone!”

Though Seb did find the room key, and read the room number over in his head, memorizing it quickly.

“She better have grabbed an extra.” He told Mark, holding up the key. 

“Y/N can sometimes be a mess.” Mark told Seb. Seb frowned.

“I mean, she’s very organized, and prepared usually . . . ,” Seb started, realizing what he was saying. Mark couldn’t know Seb’s actual thoughts about you, couldn’t know that he genuinely thought you were an incredibly smart, and rather beautiful woman. That would be a nightmare! As he walked down the pit lane, examining the other cars, Lewis walked up to him. The world champion held a blue sweater, Seb’s blue sweater. His mind ran through all posibilities, maybe you had given it to Lewis, those few interviews you had done together turning into something more.

“Hey, Seb!” Lewis said, smiling kindly.

“Hey, Lewis.” Seb replied back, trying to match the energy of Lewis.

“Is that my sweater?”

“Yeah, Y/N gave it to me this morning, said it was yours.” Lewis told Seb, handing him the sweater. “Since I couldn’t find her, I figured I’d give it to you. I didn’t know the two of you were close.”

“Yeah, well, some things just happen.” Seb said, trying to seem vague enough so that Lewis couldn’t be certain of what he was trying to hint at, but could also sense that Seb did not want Lewis and you dating

Seb waited in the hotel lobby for you that night. He was feeling good about himself. He had gotten pole position in the first race of the season, the Ferraris behind him. His plan on winning the race, and hopefully the championship were looking good. You arrived at the lobby later than Seb expected, he sat silently, and watched you talk to the woman at the front desk. He couldn’t look as if he had taken actual time out of his day to give you back his bag, and his ugly blue sweater.

“I know, I know! I don’t have my wallet. I left it at the race track, come on, do you watch Formula One?” You pleaded, hands placed together as if in prayer. “I can introduce you to Jenson Button, he won the championship last year!”

“I don’t watch Formula One.” The woman deadpanned and your face dropped. Sebastian felt himself standing up and walking over, feeling slightly bad for leaving you to suffer.

“I didn’t know we were both staying in this hotel.” Seb said, even though he did in fact know exactly that, and had asked a few other journalists what hotel you were staying in.

“Seb, hey.” You said, rather unenthusiastically, scratching the back of your neck and looking down at your bag. A smile appeared on your lips, and Seb pumped his fist in his mind. “You have my bag.”

“You left it at our interview.” Seb said, placing his hand on the counter, and then quickly removing it. It looked weird. He quickly reached in the bag and pulled out the sweater. “And Lewis gave me this.”

“Oh.” You said, frowning. “You can have it back.”

“I didn’t think you’d keep it. I thought you’d leave it in France.” Seb said, wringing the soft fabric through his hands. Seb was glad that even though the sweater was ugly, it was still good quality, most things he bought were.

“I live out of a suitcase, and I had planned on going home for winter break, so I actually don’t own any winter clothes.” You explained. It sounded like an excuse, but was probably the truth. He handed back the sweater and the bag.

“You should probably keep it then, can’t have a journalist getting cold at the paddock.” Seb said. You furrowed your brows, but Seb kept on talking. “What floor are you on?”

“Fifteenth.” You replied, beginning to walk away from the counter, he trailed slightly behind you.

“Perfect! I’ll walk you to your room.” He said, not giving much time for you to deny his offer as the two of you entered the elevator.

“Um, okay, what floor are you on?” You asked, looking very suspicious of the formula one driver who stood next to you.

“Twentieth.” Seb replied with a smile. 

“Huh,” Was all you said for the first ten floors, but on number eleven progress was made. “Nice job at quali today, a flying lap.”

“I’m pretty proud of it.” Seb replied with a shrug.

“Do you genuinely think you’re going to win the championship?” You asked. Seb paused before speaking, not wanting to seem overly confident, even if that was how he tended to act.

“I can, I have the skill, I have the car. Now it’s all about luck.” Seb told you. He watched intently, analyzing your reaction while you analyzed his words. Your lips pursed together, and you gave a single nod. Seb couldn’t tell if it was a nod of approval, or you thinking he was delusional. He had to continue speaking, maybe say something awkward or mean that ruins everything, but that’d be better than watching you over analyze his words. “If I end up winning the whole thing, do I get a date?”

Your head snapped up immediately, eyebrows shooting to the top of your head. You spoke slowly,

“If you win the WDC, you want to go on a date with me?”

“Sure, why not?” Seb asked. You looked confused when you exited the elevator, Seb taking a step out as well at the last second.

“Um, okay. If you win the 2010 World Drivers Championship I’ll go on one date with you.” You told him, trying not to laugh. You swiped in your hotel key card, Seb briefly glimpsing a messy hotel room. “See you after the race.”

Seb didn’t get a chance to offer to take you to the race tomorrow before you shut the door quickly. Leaving him standing in the hallway. He didn’t quite know what he had expected, you to invite him in? No way, you would never do that. He supposed he wasn’t used to rejection.

Your alarm thankfully went off early in the morning, you had fallen asleep insanely early, you had ordered takeout, too lazy and busy to go out. After multiple years of working in formula one, you had come to accept that you needed to relax on most days, and most likely wouldn’t be able to fully appreciate the cities you stayed in. You woke up early, doing a quick workout in the hotel gym, showering, and preparing yourself for the race. The hotel offered free breakfast, and so you devoured it quickly. You smiled at the mirror, pleased with your pleated white trousers and blue top. You checked your watch, a prized possesion of yours, the gold watch looked expensive, and it was, but it was a hundred dollars, not a few thousand. You had to leave for the race, you smiled, happy at the start of your day, especially compared to your nightmare start the day before. You slipped on nice shoes, and opened the door, doing a double take immediately.

“Seb! What are you doing in my hotel room doorway?” You asked, lips pursed together as you looked at the Red Bull driver, wearing red bull gear, of course.

“You were late yesterday, do you want to be late today taking the fan bus?” Seb asked, raising an eyebrow. You held up your hands in defense.

“I was going to take a normal bus today.” You stated, rolling your eyes.

“Okay well now you get to drive in an Aston Martin.” Seb said with a confident smile. You shrugged, you would go, but Sebastian Vettel would still be annoying, not much could ever change your opinion on him.

For the Bahrain GP, Sebastian was gifted a dark green Aston Martin. You could appreciate a beautiful car, and decided not to slam the door this time. You held your fancy tote bag in your lap, leaning against the seat and feeling a strong sense of deja vu to the end of winter break. Thankfully, you were comfortable in your outfit, and not planning on regretting your time during the first race of the season.

“Do you like dogs or cats?” Seb asked as you reviewed the words in your notebook.

“What?” You asked, wondering if you had misheard Seb. 

“Are you a dog or cat person?” Seb repeated.

“I think I’m a dog person, but my parents had a lot of cats.” You said, still confused by Seb’s sudden change of attitude over the past few weeks. “What about you?”

“Dogs, I don’t like cats.” He replied, eyes focused on the road.

“Are you allergic?” You asked, always wanting to ask questions.

“No, I just don’t like them.” He replied honestly.

“Oh, cool.” You said. You weren’t as fast speaking, and your brain never worked as quickly as when you were working. Those two versions of yourself were very different, you always assumed it was because you often needed a break from formula one. You could sink into another girl, and then become fast talking and thinking on race weeks. A part of you wondered if the people you met in formula one were surprised when you acted differently, wondering if Seb was one of those. You were still smart, and well spoken, but it was different, you didn’t feel the need to prove yourself to the thousands watching formula one when you were on the way to the Grand Prix.

“I think I’ll get a dog when I retire.” Seb told you.

“Why not now?” You asked. “You can get a dogsitter.”

“Yeah but then I wouldn’t be able to hang out with it, and it wouldn’t think of me as its owner.” Seb said. “And that would be sad.”

“My grandma had a little purse dog that she brought with her whenever she was traveling. She said it was a service dog but it was definitely not.” You told him. Maybe you were bordering the lines or over sharing, but you really weren’t sure of how to act during that situation. You couldn’t just start liking Sebastian Vettel because all of the sudden he decided to be nice to you. The two of you made slight small talk on the drive, and arrived in silence. Fans were waiting when Seb parked his car, only a few, but they were there. You  exited the car, trying to seem slightly invisible to the audience Seb held up his hand to help you up, but you stepped up away from him, and began walking away as fast as you could, while still looking normal. You arrived at the paddock, tapping your key card in and waving to a few photographers that you knew. Little did you know they would catch Sebastian sprinting behind you while you looked onward peacefully.

“You ran away from me!” Seb called out, stopping next to you. He hadn’t broken a sweat at all, stupid formula one drivers.

“Yeah, we have separate places to be!” You shouted back. The photographers are still snapping away at photos.

“Where are you going?” Seb asked, brows furrowed together.

“Mclaren.”

“I’ll walk you.”

“You don't need to walk me there!” You exclaimed, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t get it, I don’t like you, you’ve been mean to me since I started in formula one, and it’s fucking weird because now you think you can be kinda nice to me. No, you can’t!” 

“I’m just trying to be nicer, okay? I don’t get why you’re so mad about that.” Seb told you.

“I’ll be mad about whatever I want!” You shouted back. You stormed off to the Mclaren garage, and thankfully Seb didn’t follow you, but a teeny tiny part of you wished he had.

You pushed your way through the fellow journalists to take your seat in the second row. Seb, Nico and Jenson sat at the table. Jenson smiled and waved, and you smiled in return, hands too full to wave back. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Seb’s gaze flickering between the two of you. You listened adamantly to the driver's response as to how they had performed. Nico thought he had done a good job pushing to advance, but thought he could have pushed a bit harder. Jenson, the reigning world champion, definitely was expected to achieve more, and Seb, he was mad. He wasn’t showing it very much, but you could tell. Losing three positions might not be terrible if you started out of the points, but from pole? No driver would be happy about that. You were handed the microphone. You weren’t quite sure who you wanted to ask questions to, and you decided on Jenson, a driver you were on speaking terms with, and was nice to you outside of work. Hopefully you wouldn’t ruin that.

“This is for Jenson. Obviously, there is more pressure on you to win a lot of races this year, and rank high on the World Championship. You gained one position this race, and people might argue that last year you could’ve placed higher. Do you think this is the result of driving for Mclaren, is the car better or worse then your car last year? Or is it a driver thing?”

“Obviously it feels different driving for a new car, but I believe I can continue to win and get high results this year.” Jenson that with a smile, you thanked him and passed on the microphone.

“Wait, I have a question for Y/N,” Seb announced. You furrowed your brows and accepted the microphone.

“You can’t wait and ask me later?” You asked, not enjoying being put on the spot in front of millions of watchers. You slightly fixed your posture, and glanced at the camera, and back at Seb.

“I can take you back to the hotel and tell you there.”

“No.” You said straight up. You were planning on treating yourself to a nice dinner, and in that moment was not appreciating seb's actions enough to invite him.

“Well, okay. Then, back to my question, are you going to the Red Bull Gala?”

“I wasn’t invited.” You said with a frown, a small flush creeped up your cheeks. You could never control when you blushed or not, it just happened, and you felt embarrassed, which always made it worse. Why was he doing this? You had stated your opinions earlier and wasn't planning on dealing with this.

“Do you want an invite?” Seb asked. The people watching would certainly see a taken aback journalist, surrounded by other confused journalists flash across the television. You were about to deny the offer, until Nico Rosberg burst out laughing. He pressed his face into his elbows, and Jenson covered his hands with his mouth, holding the laughter in.

“Okay, so . . . ,” You started, not planning on continuing your sentence and handing the microphone over to your fellow journalist. Seb’s eyes fixed on you the whole interview.

next

benevolence

you always imagined it your first kiss would be… softer, than it ends up being. but it’s joel. you probably should have known.

smut, 18+. age gap. joel is a grumpy old man who hates himself and reader is down bad.

~

The first time Joel kisses you, it isn’t romantic.

It’s angry - he’s angry. The clicker that just had its hands on you lies motionless a few feet away, mouth frozen in the open position it was in when Joel shot it. Joel is checking you over relentlessly for bites. He’s running his hands over your waist, flashing his light on your neck… fuck, he’s even tugging up the cuffs of your jeans to check your ankles.

“You don’t do that,” he pants, fuming once he knows you’re okay. You’re adrenalized, shaken up and not working off your best judgment. You meet Joel’s eyes.

“Don’t do what? Be on the wrong side of the room? Have the batteries run out of my flashlight? This wasn’t my fault, Joel.” Joel shakes his head, pissed, and he grips the nape of your neck. You didn’t even realize his hand is still there, sturdy and calloused. You bite your cheek. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Shut up,” Joel growls, and it makes you even more upset.

“I didn’t - stop blaming me. Stop making me feel like a dumbass, because I’m trying and I’m tired but I’m still better than half the people in the Q -”

Joel cuts you off before you can keep egging either of you on, his lips connecting with yours in a harsh and almost painful way. Your teeth clash, and Joel kisses you with so much force you almost fall, the only thing saving you being his strong arm wrapping around your back. You open your mouth, probably from shock, and Joel’s tongue does a quick sweep around the cavern when you do. Your hands fly up to Joel’s chest instinctively for balance, and you can feel his racing heartbeat under your palm. It makes you falter. You didn’t realize he was so worried.

You’re just starting to ease into it Joel stops.

His teeth catch your bottom lip as he pulls away, and you both taste blood. Joel steps away, the both of you just staring at each other, panting.

“Do you get it?” He asks, voice gruff. “Don’t fucking do that.”

You blink, years of pining and want pouring over you. You swallow, tasting just a bit of what you think is Joel.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “I get it.”

~

Keep reading

Hello!! Would you be able to write a request for finnick? Just like he’s the capitols darling, reader is the capitals hound dog. Known to be fiercely protective and exceptionally violent and brutal. During the third quarter quell, katniss’ group is afraid of reader because they haven’t seen her all match, but they run into her and she defends them brutally against something? Sorry I know it’s specific:) love your writing!

my body is a cage

finnick odair x reader

synopsis: his focus was protecting katniss, but he sleeps with an eye open as long as you’re still out there..

a/n: i made some changes, jus go with it lmao

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“she’s still out there, katniss.” finnick had made this pointedly to katniss, who wanted to go out hunting for the remaining victors with johanna. you were shrouded in mystery, out of all the victors, finnick knew the least about you.

“where would she be?” peeta looked at finnick, who sighed, shrugging, “the arena is different than the arena she won in, i assume somewhere low to the ground-“ finnick sweeped the beach, eye catching on a rustle in the bush, straight across from them, “and close.” he remembered now how you had won your games.

you had tracked all the tributes like prey, manipulating their surroundings to kill them, it had been one of the most invigorating games for the capitol ever. “she’s a bloodhound, probably sniffed us out before we realized.”

johanna watched the area that finnick had saw you, but still offered her commentary, “she’s brutal, katniss.”

katniss looked at them all, surrounded by skilled people yet found herself doubting their abilities, especially her own. none of them were sure they’d win, not against her.

“the careers are the least of our worries with her out there.” peeta noted. finnick looked at him and shrugged, “she might just kill them herself.”

they knew getting back on the island was a bad idea. katniss ducked at the sound of a mysterious voice, feeling as something flew past her head, stabbing cashmere right in the chest.

“get up.” katniss looked up to see you, standing over her. you had an array of weapons on you, and you were reaching for another one. katniss felt the panic in her throat until you launched it at enobaria, who had thrown herself at katniss. “get up!” your voice sounded more frantic and katniss did, struggling from keeping her eyes off of you.

suddenly the island began to spin.

your grip was loosening, and you groaned with slight fear as you felt the cold water thundering against your feet. katniss reached out for you, “grab my hand!” she screamed, but the water trashing drowned her out.

you could see her hand amidst all the water and grabbed it tightly, closing your eyes as the island slowed to a stop.

you sat on the beach, alone as the others argued over you. katniss had defended you, deciding she wanted you as an ally. but finnick and johanna deemed it too risky, “she could kill us all in our sleep, then what?” johanna had made that point as one of your methods, and you inhaled sharply.

finnick glanced at you, noticing the solemn expression on your face. he had known that expression far too many times, and it made him change his mind.

“johanna.” finnick called her name and sighed, “she saved her life. that’s not something we can just ignore, we don’t even know her.”

there was silence between them all, katniss had looked to johanna, watching as she fought internally before giving in. “i’ll go get her, maybe threaten a little.” she stood up, taking her axe with her.

finnick looked to katniss as johanna left, “i’ll keep an eye on her. for you.” he knew that once katniss settled on allies, she settled. her choices weren’t always the best, but somehow it would work itself out.

“why did you save her?” finnick had taken the first watch with you. johanna had convinced him, as just having you as watch would be ‘asking for it’.

you shrugged, “why not.” there hadn’t been much decision making on the island. it was either her or cashmere, and you didn’t see much of a choice.

finnick looked at you, “i don’t believe that.” his eyes slid themselves back to stare at the beach and you scoffed, “and why is that?”

finnick shrugged, “no one would just randomly save someone without an ulterior motive.” he said it like a fact and you smirked, “do you have one?”

“have one what?” he looked confused, obvious by the furrow in his brow.

“do you have an ulterior motive?” you repeated the full length question and watched as finnick practically whipped his head around.

“no.” he stated plainly, and you rolled your eyes, “i saw you saved katniss, similiar to how i did. you and johanna can’t just be doing this,” you glanced back to katniss and peeta sleeping, “for nothing. whatever it is, finnick, is an ulterior motive.” finnick pursed his lips, almost as if he couldn’t believe it.

“i’ll let you have yours if you let me have mine.” you finished, catching his gaze. finnick knew there were layers to you. you were different than most victors, your brutality is what made you like the rest of them, the willingness to kill. but you were turning out to be way more than what meets the eye. whatever your motive was, finnick sensed it wasn’t malice.

finnick settled to watch the sun rise upon your face, ending the conversation with a nod.

finnick watched as you sat by the beach. it had been post jabberjays, you, him and katniss had all been trapped with the birds, fluttering and screaming your names. now it seemed, like you had decided to decompress by the beach, just as he was going to.

he piled up next to you, close but far enough to give you a good amount of space.

it was then that finnick realized you had been crying, tears evident on your cheeks. he had heard katniss yell her sister’s name, and he had heard annie. you had just screamed in response, as if you were trying to drown out the birds with your own voice.

“i’m sorry.” you apologized to finnick, wiping your eyes as he settled down. you sniffled, watching as the waves moved.

“don’t apologize, there’s no need.” finnick spoke, “who did you hear?”

there was silence for a moment, until you spoke, “my best friend.” your mind shuddered back the sound of his screams and you laughed, painfully. “he’s been dead for years. i killed him.” you admitted, “he died because of a mistake i had made during the games.”

your mind flashed back to the games, where you had accidentally launched a knife to his chest, thinking it had been another tribute.

“he had spent all of his games searching for me. and once he found me, i had killed him.” it was cruel for him to be your district partner, for only one would survive, but you “never thought it would be me.” you glanced at finnick, who had been listening.

“it was supposed to be him.” you cried, “i killed everyone else to get to him, and when it was down to four, was when he came to get me.” you shook your head, “there is nothing in this world that i loved more than him, finnick. now that he’s gone, there’s nothing left for me.”

finnick shook his head, “stop. you know that’s not true.” he tried to comfort you, your words mirroring his own thoughts.

“that’s my motive, finnick.” you revealed, “my body is a cage, and i can’t stand to live in it much longer.”

johanna had woken up abruptly. she clutched onto her weapon, eyes glancing around before she settled on the two figures on the beach. she squinted and made out finnick’s hair, and you. the only two missing from the group. you had your head leaned on finnick’s shoulder, as the two of you watched the rising sun.

I need a quote for my yearbook, please help!

8-9 words, preferably short words because there isn't much space. No swear words, science gags excepted but can't be inappropriate because the teacher putting the book together is a science teacher.

live laugh lasagna

[GUNSHOT] [CAR CRASH] [BOOM] [PEOPLE SCREAMING] [SIRENS] [GLASS BREAKS] [DISTANT YELLING] [EXPLOSION] [HELICOPTERS AND NEWS TRUCKS] “...WE’RE REPORTING LIVE FROM THE SCENE—“ [AMBULANCE SIRENS] “MY LEG... MY LEG”

can i request some slutty luffy? just fuck me up fam ☠️

AHH i think this is so beautiful and one of my fav smuts i’ve written!!! :’)

hunger - luffy x f!reader

smut

summary: luffy gets incredibly horny, and he’s confusing lust with hunger

contains: mating press, praise, marking (reader receiving)

words: 2.4k

_______________________________

Luffy’s alone. He thinks, right now, of touch. And his body is sweaty from the day and from his yearning mind, he’s shirtless because an hour ago he lit on fire beneath his skin, he’s been simmering ever since, and it’s healed, somehow, by touch. So his fingers dig into the grooves of his abs, he likes to feel them flex and shift as he traces every corner, mouth open, drooling onto the glass of the porthole. He left his bed an hour ago when he lit on fire beneath his skin. His blanket became too hot, his mind too full to fall asleep. He’s thinking about food now, juicy fruits that drip down his throat, melted cheese, the greasy, fatty pieces of steak that slide so slowly along his tongue.

He rubs his stomach because he’s hungry, that’s it. There’s a burning within him, starvation but if it was beautiful. He needs food right now but he knows, somehow, that food won’t do anything for him, not really. And if he rubs his stomach because he’s hungry then why does his hand go lower, down beneath his waistline, tugging at the hair down there because, why? Why does this feel good? Why is he moaning, little whimpers that fog the glass, what does he need? He thinks of touch. Skin on skin. That’s it, skin on skin.

You’re probably alone. Moonbeams sail one by one from the east with the wind and blackening sky as the sunset turns lilac, fading, gold waves turning silver, copper. Translucent silk the color of the sunset hangs from your shoulders, a slip so loose it barely covers your chest. It isn’t cold tonight and you’re not tired. You saw dolphins this evening and you wonder if you can see them again before the water disappears in the night. Everyone else is already asleep. You hope that when you’re tired you can find Luffy, who’s probably asleep, and curl up with him as everything drifts away.

But as the ocean laps at the ship and you’re calmed by the gentle rocking you feel, suddenly, arms from behind. Arms that run over yours, hands massaging your wrists up to your shoulders. A distinct smell, the feeling of hot rubber, this is Luffy and he’s so, so warm. And his breathing is so heavy in your ear. He places his chin on your shoulder and it’s covered in drool, he begins to slowly lick your neck as he pulls you closer. You haven’t even said hi before he has you in his lap, squeezing your waist from behind. His licks turn to kisses, and then to bites, all over your upper back and then a wet, raw trail up to your jaw. He’s groaning with want, no words yet, he has too many things he wants to say.

“Hi Luffy,” you murmur with a little smile, reaching back to pet his face which is burning up and flushed. His tongue laps your cheek, he’s an excited puppy, you feel his teeth now so you ask gently, “what’s up?”

“Gonna eat you,” he says in a quiet, gravely voice, right into your ear. He whines after this in desire, in hunger, he’s lustful and desperate.

“Yeah?” You lean back against him. His arms are so tight, he’s trying to wrap you up and crush you like a python. And you can feel his heartbeat race in every muscle.

“Mh, ‘cause you’re real pretty. And I’m hungry so I’m gonna eat you.” He’s almost trying to take a bite out of your neck now, his teeth are sharp but his tongue is soothing, he moans because he likes the flavor. “Real pretty…” he hisses again beneath his breath.

You turn so you’re facing him. He needs a kiss right now and he doesn’t hesitate to grab your face and dive in, writhing tongue slipping greedily between your lips. And there’s a gentleness here too, his hand moves to the back of your head, stroking your hair adoringly. He isn’t going to hurt you he just needs you so, so bad and he doesn’t really know how or why or what he should say.

“God, Luffy.” You’re quiet, muffled by his mouth. And just hearing your voice again clouds his mind.

“Love ya, love ya so much,” he says in between moans and kisses. His nails scrape at your chest, delighted by softness, something to grab onto, more to squeeze. “I wanna play, please can we play?”

Trying to get on top of you he’s leaning over you and pulled by instinct, he wants you straddling him but he wants to be on top at the same time. He’s just a tangle of limbs right now, saliva dripping messily onto your neck.

“Of course I’ll play with you.” You’re blushing, eyes closing but he’s squeezing your cheeks and forcing you to look at him, huge sparkling eyes as deep as the Mariana look down on you.

Luffy begins to laugh. Just a breathy giggle at first, blowing air between his teeth in a little joyful hiss. And then his mouth opens, he laughs more, louder, that’s what he does when he’s excited and when he knows he’s about to get something that he wants so, so bad. And then it fades to giggles again, and he stills for a moment, no movement except his chest. Rise and fall, rise and fall. He’s just looking at you.

And then he licks his lips. He dives in.

You make a small sound, surprised and unable to react in time, as Luffy plants his feet firmly on the deck, your thighs slamming his stomach as your legs are thrown over his shoulders. And you’re bent, folding tighter and tighter as Luffy crouches over you. His arms encircle your legs and your back and your waist and constrict again, his legs are spread and ready, twitching, hips pressing yours. He’s forgetting, probably, that you aren’t as flexible as he is.

“This is good, Lu, this right here,” you manage to choke out because you often have to remind him what your body can and can’t take.

He mumbles a little apology and does a once over with his eyes, he wants to make sure that you aren’t hurt but, at the same time, he’s letting his gaze linger on your body, on the silk slip that’s fallen as your waist curls upwards and your breasts are bare now, so delicious, he’s drooling again. You’re tasty, you’re his.

This must take so much strength, the way he’s perched on his toes over your body, his thigh muscles clench and ripple against yours. Shared sweat, shared warmth. His balance is perfect even as he reaches for your chest, rubbing, holding, kissing, now he’s kissing your lips, now your neck. He doesn’t want this ever to be over.

And he says, “I love ya so much.” That’s the third time he’s said it.

“I love you too,” you say with such joy even as you’re breathless still, but before you can finish he’s pressing his mouth to yours hungrily. You said you loved him and he wants to taste it — the flavor of those words — it’s all-consuming.

“Tastes so good, mmh,” Luffy gasps as he takes you into this hot, wet kiss, “can’t wait, wanna play now.”

You’re not sure how he did it from this position, but his pants are off, kicked to the side. His cock is aching and leaking already and smoldering against your stomach, you can see it from here, throbbing and waiting, skin so smooth and thin and perfect like auburn moth wings over red-hot iron.

His chest crashes against yours in a tidal wave now because this new vulnerability makes him want to be closer. Now you can’t see it anymore but god, it’s so hard it feels like he’s denting you, so long and thick like a python, he’s still holding you, and squeezing more and more. Like a python.

With so much pressure he wraps his hands around lower, lower, snapping your panties, thrusting against your stomach in a way that shakes your body but he’s got you. You’re in his arms.

Begging eyes so close to yours, mouth on your lips and cheek, breathing so fast and so warm and he whispers, “can I?” And it’s so scratchy and kind and needy so deep in his throat.

So you pull his hair, you kiss him, yes.

Rolling back on his heels he finds his way, sloppy thrusts that don’t quite make it but god when they do, he isn’t going all the way even though his every nerve craves you but you’re his baby and he can’t hurt you.

Thick tip so soft and gentle, butterfly wings and flowers, impossibly hard and aching in heartbeat rhythms against your clit, moving you with every pulse, searching and desperate like a moth to a flame he finds you.

Shivers that make you clench your legs against his shoulders as he rubs and rubs back and forth and hugs your body and bites your cheek and murmurs, “that feel good? Ya like that?” with such curiosity like he really wants to know, he wants an answer.

“Perfect, so perfect. Please, I need you.” Words in his ear like shooting stars lighting up his body like the darkening sky. He’s made of ochre sunbeams.

He smiles and laughs and with another quick kiss he’s finding you more. Muscles flex and as he leans forward onto you he’s there, right there. He starts to moan loudly and whisper about how happy he is but it’s Luffy so it’s not a whisper, really. He’s not even inside you yet. He’s just so, so excited.

“Feels so good, so good. C’mere,” he giggles against you happily and makes sure he holds you as he’s pushing into your body, you’re filled in an instant and more and more every second.

Amid the panting and moaning you can almost hear that heartbeat and those pulsing veins buried in you. You’re dented again but from the inside now. With a little mh, Luffy finds his home so, so deep. You’re in a cocoon of warmth, wrapped in the sun, filled by the sun, melting.

“My girl’s so pretty, gotta bite, gonna bite.” Those teeth again and their practiced, hungry chewing. He swallows on instinct, abs vibrating and tightening against your skin as his stomach purs. And he’s rocking into you, back and forth on his toes, enjoying that deep, tight massage. He’s inside you, he’s trying to eat you, trying to get you inside him, too.

You’re going to be covered in marks but that’s ok. You like hearing him groan and laugh against you, and something about that swallowing, his throat flexing against your shoulder, that’s so beautiful to feel.

“Mine, ‘kay? Mine.” Luffy’s talking the whole time through his laughter and you’re swept away by him as he continues to crush your body from the inside over and over, tidal waves on a cliff’s edge, he makes whirlpools in you.

“This is so fun, you’re so fun, so pretty,” he keeps huffing and you hear this over and over as he squirms and wriggles on your body, thrusts shallower because he can’t bear to pull out of you any more than he needs to. Luffy wants to be close and never leave.

He tries to have conversations with you that just spill into unending praise. You’re too dizzy and lost in this world of feeling to respond most of the time but you kiss him whenever he wants, you tell him he’s beautiful and that he feels so good whenever your voice is there.

He’s swelling in you, veins bulging and rubbing so far up inside you that you feel him throbbing in your stomach, his twitching cock encouraged by your clenching, leaking, every muscle wracked with craving and overstimulation.

“Gonna fill you up ‘cause you’re real pretty,” he laughs against your lips, twisting into you deeper still, “gotta make ya all mine.” He still sounds so sweet and so soft, just a playful little puppy.

Even as he groans and begins to pump you full.

Love feels like this, love is raw and endless like this, love makes you float away. You close your eyes and now he lets you, you just hold him, you let the rhythm carry you and it feels like so long until he’s done. He doesn’t want to pull away but his legs give out. His knees finally hit the deck, he squeals in delight as he’s pulled from you with a wet little sound. But he’s still hugging you, of course.

“Heh, felt so good.” Luffy’s smiling with all his teeth, his chin sparkles with saliva, and your neck is dripping too, “thanks, darlin’. Love ya so much”

“Love you too. I love you, Luffy.” You don’t want to ever leave from his arms and you feel so empty now. But you’re soaked in him, neck and thighs both shining.

His hand rests gently on your back, helping you sit up, your slip falls back down over your body and it’s all wrinkled now. Luffy smooths your hair, he pets you, now is when he just wants to stare at you and not say a word. But when he sees the blooming red and purple trailing from your ear to your collarbone he starts to shake a little bit.

“Aw, this ain’t hurtin’ right?” he murmurs, tracing the bruises and teeth marks with his fingers so softly, carefully. There’s no blood, it’s just glossy with layers of drool, he’s proud but he needs to check on you first.

“No, it’s not bad. Don’t worry, I like it.” You kiss him right next to his mouth but he turns, quickly, because he wants your lips. “Whole crew’s gonna know I’m yours, that’s all.”

This makes him smile. He sees no reason for embarrassment or shame, you’re his so he can bite you when he wants. You feel his muscles twitch against you again as he laughs. And he’s flushed all red, hibiscus on his warm honey skin. Those eyes, dark brown eyes melting with that lavender of the sunset which is almost gone now, fading silently. So orchid blue then, on loving, deep Bulgarian rose.

“Good! I want ‘em to.” he rubs his head against your cheek, still biting just a little. And now he’s moving like he wants to pick you up and carry you, even though you’re both tired. But it’s because he’s hungry, and in that throaty little voice he asks, “wanna go get snacks?”