✎ Masterlist ✎

in the almost two years that you and katsuki have been dating, marriage has never been brought up.

not even once.

you’re not worried about it though. the thought is one that must’ve crossed his mind at one point or another and simply not been verbalized. after all—he’s still learning that he is in fact allowed to both have and express his emotions.

alternatively, your brain is certainly no stranger to being graced with images of your boyfriend—well, husband—in a suit and tie, with a handful of three tiered vanilla cake smeared on his face. courtesy of you, of course.

it’s a sweet thought, but one that you tuck away—because now just, isn’t the time.

you’re still so young, and there’s many memories to be made before your wedding becomes one of them. also, you don’t even really have the time to begin with. your boyfriend currently has almost all of his focus on his career as a pro, and as bitter as the words taste—that line of work does require a one day at a time mindset. he knows better than anyone that he can’t gaze too far into the future.

so, marriage remains a topic that you and katsuki have yet to touch on.

however, the two of you attended izuku’s wedding this evening, and much to your surprise—he has a lot to say about it upon returning home.

in fact, you don’t even end up here until two in the morning, and now—at quarter to three—neither of you seem willing to put the conversation to bed.

you’re sitting on the sofa with your legs slung over katsuki’s lap, and he’s mindlessly kneading at the skin on your thighs. he’s definitely not drunk, but after snagging three consecutive days off for this whole ordeal—a miracle, really—he had a drink or two (or three) at the reception, and so yes, he has a bit of a buzz going on. but, he’s not any less him.

“katsuki,” you drawl—tone vaguely similar to that of a parent scolding their child. “stop it, his vows were not cheesy.”

“yeah they were,” he mutters. he’s still in his white button up and black dress pants, although the tie and suit jacket that went along with them are long gone. “almost as cheesy as the fuckin’,” he pauses to lean his head back against the cushions. “tears running down his face.”

and well, it was a beautiful ceremony—an outdoor event that unfolded beneath the pinky-orange sky and the warmth of the evening sun.

candles lined the aisle, and a slew of white roses adorned the archway at the end of it—details that you know izuku didn’t have much to do with, but that he visibly adored no less. he was as happy as you think you’ve ever seen him. in a way, you envy the outward tenderness of his affection.

“i thought it was cute,” you respond. “you can tell that he’s in love.”

having already changed into pyjamas, your thumb and index finger tug and fiddle with a loose thread on the sleeve of your (katsuki’s) shirt, and you find yourself wondering if the possibility of him crying at your ceremony is one that exists.

“yeah, that’s enough love for me.” he turns to you—scarlet gaze lidded with what could be fatigue, the lingering effects of rum, or, a little bit of both. “don’t think i’m cut out for this wedding bullshit.”

he means this wedding guest bullshit, surely.

“well,” you bend your knees, planting your feet flat against his thighs, which prompts him to slide two fingers beneath the silver jewelry wrapped around your ankle. “then i guess now is a bad time to tell you that i caught the bouquet.”

it was an honest mistake. you intentionally placed yourself at the very back of the group, primarily to avoid any potential scuffles, but lo and behold— izuku’s wife has quite the arm. you had to catch it simply to prevent being hit by it.

but apparently your boyfriend didn’t notice the dishevelled bundle of foliage in your hands upon returning to the table.

“you wanna trophy or somethin’?” he deadpans.

“uh, i believe it’s called a ring,” you hum playfully—half poking fun at him, and half hoping that you feel his palm heat up against your skin. he’s pretty easy to read, so long as you know what to look for.

but he doesn’t have much of a reaction.

whatever’s playing on the television is in the midst of bathing him in a blue-ish hue, and so you can’t really make out any of the finer details of his face—the crease between his brows or the sharpness of his jaw. but, you know that katsuki’s wheels are turning. you can feel it in the absentminded graze of his fingertips along the back of your thigh. it’s as if he’s getting a feel for the idea of marriage for the first time, tossing and turning it around in his head. has he really never thought about it before?

“that superstition is bullshit,” he blurts out after a minute or two of silence.

“marriage?” you furrow your brows at him.

katsuki mirrors your look with triple the sass and a little scowl to boot—crease now very, very visible. “no moron, the bouquet toss. jesus, denki sat next to you for twenty minutes and was able to kill that many of your brain cells, or what?” he asks—smirk threatening the corners of his lips. “i thought i told that dumbass to stop flirting with you.”

“don’t worry,” you laugh a little even though you know you shouldn’t. “he won’t remember flirting with me.”

“good,” katsuki mumbles.

you watch quietly as he turns to the television. the shitty comedy movie you’re watching continues to paint him in various colours—a muted orange that softens his features, and a shade of royal blue that makes the scar on his face appear a deep purple.

he’s pretty, you think. in any and every colour.

“so,” you begin, redirecting your gaze to your nails in a painfully obvious attempt at avoiding his. “do you not want to marry me?”

it’s a lighthearted question. some casual late night conversation. you’re going to take his reply with a grain of salt regardless of what it is.

but again, in the blurry background of your vision, you see katsuki with that same look on his face—confusion and bewilderment all wrapped into one.

“did i say that i didn’t wanna marry you?” he asks.

and well, no. however, his apparent distaste for all things wedding related can be interpreted as such—can’t it?

“i read between the lines,” you chuckle and swing your feet onto the floor—sitting back upright.

“well don’t,” he grumbles. you can feel his eyes on you as you stretch your arms out above your head, and when you stand up and start shuffling away—you think you can feel a hole burning into the back of your skull. “hey, get your ass back here.”

“katsuki, i’m tired,” you groan over your shoulder, already knowing that he’s right there behind you.

“listen to me,” he insists, but his voice is soft, light—as if he’s well aware that the topic isn’t. then, he reaches out and tangles his fingers in the excess fabric of your shirt, pulling you flush against the eternal warmth of his chest. he ducks down a bit, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “i’ll give you that ring when i’m damn good and ready, alright?”

you wiggle in his grasp, turning yourself around to face him as his rather interesting choice of words begins to settle.

“what ring?” you smile up at him, and again—he’s easy to read so long as you know what to look for, and so as you watch the tips of his ears flush red, you think you’ve got him all figured out. “baby—”

katsuki’s palm gently greets your face before you can start doting on him. he pushes lightly—using just enough force to get his point across.

“yeah, yeah. save it for later,” he advises, and you swear your heart leaps into your throat at the all but confirmed meaning of those words. “since you’re so good at reading between lines and shit,” he adds.

and even at a time like this, he’s as smug as ever.

but you’re happy—so incredibly happy. of course you are. knowing that the picture perfect images of katsuki as your groom will eventually leave the confines of your mind is all you really wanted. still, there’s a small part of you that feels guilty for even bringing it up in the first place, because you’ve completely eliminated any element of surprise. is he upset about that? it doesn’t look like—

“what, no i love you? no you’re the best boyfriend ever?” his voice fills your ears—extinguishing the prior thought. “can make you wait longer, y’know.”

“shut up,” you curl into his chest, breathing in the faint scent of cologne that’s lingering on his shirt—the same one he’s worn on every date he’s ever taken you on. “you know how much i love you.”

“yeah, ditto.”

and katsuki wants to argue that point further, but he doesn’t.

he’s never been the best at expressing himself. he knows this, and he knows that you do as well. his affection isn’t like izuku’s. his tenderness doesn’t come in the form of words.

instead, he weaves it into everything he does.

it’s in the way he sleeps—always with an arm or a leg or some part of his body touching yours, and always with you positioned further from the door. god forbid soembody enter your home, he needs himself to be the first (and last) person that they encounter. it’s in the way he eats, too—because despite his relentless appetite, he always makes sure you’ve had your fill before he thinks about going back for seconds. above all, he holds you with a tenderness that even izuku couldn’t match. he holds you so close, and he holds you so tight—like the thought of losing you is one that’s forever on his mind and always scaring him shitless.

and so, while he knows better than anyone that he can’t gaze too far into the future, he did.

he bought a ring eight and a half months into your relationship, and has been waiting for a time that the larger part of society would deem acceptable. having to work beneath the scrutinizing eye of the public is shitty, but the way he sees it—there’s no title or piece of paperwork that’s going to change what you mean to him anyways.

nevertheless, katsuki hasn’t doubted for a second that the colour you would look best in is white.

HEYYYY! So like every other mf on the planet right now I am in my hunger games era!!

Please could you write a Finnick x Reader where she is selected for the quarter quell (Maybe in her games she was lethal and killed like 10+ people?)

And when Katniss shoots the arena in catching fire she gets taken by the capitol (Like Peeta) and they torture her and shit? Then Finnick and her get there reunion she’s all like battered and bruided and it’s dead sad? Not sure if this made sense because i’m half asleep and dyselxic but let me know😭🤣

Maybe he says “It’s okay baby i got you” ??? x

hey of course i can! i hope u enjoy it babe <3 its a tiny bit long! my apologizes

cw's: angst, mentions of killing/dying, typical thg stuff, torture, ptsd, lmk if i missed anything

You were one of the youngest victors alongside Finnick, being only 15 and having won your games. You were also from District 4. You won the 68th Hunger Games, a few years after Finnick.

When you were reaped, Finnick and Mags were your mentors. Finnick came off as self absorbed and arrogant but once you started talking to him, the more you realized that was total bullshit. He wasn't how the Capitol portrayed him, he was much more caring and compassionate. He was very sympathetic to your situation, having gone through the same things.

During your time in the arena, you were one of the most ruthless tributes of all time. In the beginning, you were easily overlooked. The tributes weren't thinking that you were going to be much of a challenge because of your size and the way you carried yourself.

But that was exactly how you wanted to be portrayed. You tricked the Careers into thinking you were some naïve little girl, stabbing them in the back (literally) the first chance you got. The Capitol loved the turn of events, cheering you on.

When you had come back home, you had finally understood the intensity of what you had done. You had killed a whole group of people, ending their lives permanently. Those people had lives and family who loved them, and now they're gone because of you.

You suffered through months and months from never ending nightmares. Even getting consoled by your mother didn't help anymore; she doesn't understand. You didn't even feel worthy of food anymore.

You closed off Mags and Finnick when you had come home, driving yourself into isolation and depression. You rarely went out anymore, eating one meal a day and slept more than 80% of the day. Even sleeping couldn't mend the eternal tiredness you had, the void that filled your body.

Finnick had felt more than responsible for your pain. He gave you time before he realized he was just adding to your pain. Even when you didn't communicate back to him, Finnick visited you every day. He gave you advice and told you what he had went through after the Games as well. Eventually you opened up more to Finnick, and slowly, he had become your best friend.

He had told you that numbing it wasn't going to make it go away. He reminded you that you had him and Mags to help you with this process, and that you weren't alone despite of how you felt.

He helped you regain your sense of purpose again, your self image again. Finnick had singlehandedly helped you rebuilt your sense of self again.

He saw a part of you in him, that scared 14 year old boy who was trying to go back home to his parents. He never wanted anyone to feel that, especially you.

He promised you that he would never let anything bad ever happen to you again.

During your Victor's tour, Snow had suddenly deemed you desirable by the Capitol, wanting to sell you as he did with Finnick. Finnick couldn't risk getting involved, wanting to protect his family.

Every night in the Capitol, you were always consoled by Finnick. Every time you had to do a favor, you remember walking to Finnick's room to sleep, not baring the thought of having to sleep alone in the cold bed. He was always there, holding your hand comfortingly as you both slept.

The Capitol adored you both, nicknaming you the princess and prince of Panem. The more time you spent with Finnick, the more the media had speculated a relationship between the young victors.

You and Finnick had connected in many ways. Both having the same trauma, it was easy to talk to him and for him to understand how hard it was.

You and Finnick eventually got together a few years later, then getting married (in secret, of course) almost right after. You were both deeply in love.

Finnick found solace in the thought of always having you by his side, remembering that no one could tear you apart. That was until the Quarter Quell was announced.

You and Finnick were sitting at the edge of the couch, listening to Caesar's words carefully as he explained that this year's Hunger Games was going to be very different.

When it was announced that there will be only be Victors in this year's games, you heard dropped. You looked over at Finnick and he shared the same terrified look on his face.

--

When Annie's name had been called, you without any second thought, put up your hand. "I volunteer as tribute."

The crowd gasped and you looked over at Annie and you could tell she was a bit relived but still scared nonetheless. You immediately embraced her tightly, letting her let out a small sob. "It's okay, you're okay."

Mags looked just as terrified and you took her hand. When Finnick's name was called, you felt your stomach drop. Not only were you back in the arena, but you were with Finnick.

You looked over at Finnick and he looked prepared to fight. You both stood up and he grabbed your hand, raising it up in union.

The trainride to the Capitol was pretty uneventful. Finnick had wanted some time to think about the plan and so did you. A part of you knew what he was planning; he kill everyone else in the arena and then eventually himself, all for you.

As you sat on the bed, you felt the sadness and anger turn into numbness. No amount of crying was going to stop the Quater Quell and you had to be smart.

You didn't want to survive without Finnick. You were either winning with him or dying with him. Life would be meaningless without him.

Finnick knocked on your door slightly, before walking in. You looked up at him and he gave you a small smile. He took a seat next to and took your hand.

"I have a plan."

"Finnick, I know what you're thinking, and no. You're not killing yourself for me."

Finnick looked defeated. "One of us has to survive, Y/N. For Annie. For Mags."

You look a deep inhale, looking away from Finnick. "I don't want to life without you, everything would lose all it's meaning without you."

Finnick felt his heart burst into two pieces as he squeezed your hand. You felt your eyes watering again and you couldn't help but let out another quiet cry as Finnick pulled your head in, as he embraced you tightly.

"Shh, it's okay. I promise, I won't... I won't leave you."

--

It had all happened so fast, you couldn't even comprehend what had just happened. One moment, you were with Finnick trying to find Johanna and Katniss and suddenly there was big loud boom. You were relieved for a moment; Plutarch's plan had worked. Until you realized how far away you were from the others.

You were wandering, trying to find anyone until you heard people behind you. You turned and then you saw some unfamiliar faces; suddenly, your vision went black.

Then, you woke up in a white room. You felt like your stomach had dropped out of your body once the realization hit you; the Capitol captured you.

You were strapped down to a bed and you couldn't move or shake it off. The severity of the situation had hit you; even if by some miracle you did escape, where would you go? How would you find your way to 13 and back to Finnick?

You knew how ruthless the Capitol was to everyone who disobeyed them. Your worst fears had come true and there was no getting out of here.

You heard the door open and you saw some Peacekeepers come in and then you saw the person you dreaded to see most; Snow. You felt like your whole had come crashing down, how could this nightmare become any worse?

"Hello, Y/N."

You didn't respond, resorting to stare at the wall in front of you instead.

He tutted disappointedly. "Out of all the tributes, you were the one I expected least to be involved in this mess. You are the Princess of Panem... What a shame."

You still hadn't replied and you hadn't dared to look at Snow. Months and months you spent trying to heal the trauma he had caused you, you were sure if you had to look at him now, you would break.

"I want to take mercy on you, dear Y/N. If you tell me everything you know about the rebellion, I will make sure the Peacekeepers are gentle with you."

You shook your head. "No."

He let out a small chuckle. "Sorry, I couldn't hear you. What?"

"No." You said again, louder.

He hummed in disapproval. "Okay then, you leave me no choice. You are going to regret this."

He nodded to the Peacekeepers and walked out of the room. You were then met with Peacekeepers, loosening the straps then taking you to another room.

If Snow knew one thing about you, it was that being only physical with you wouldn't hurt you enough. He had to hit you were it hurt most.

They threw you in the seemingly vacant room and immediately locking it. You were confused until you heard it.

"Y/N, help me!" Finnick's voice screamed. "Please, help me! Get up and do something, they're killing me! Please."

You looked everywhere in the dark room, trying to find the source. It kept going.

"Y/N, please! Help! What the hell are you doing, just sitting there? You are such a disappointment!" The voice started shouting. "We should've just left you to died in the arena! You are useless!"

Now this was something new. Your body was filled with panic and fear and even though you knew it was fake, you felt like you were going to throw up from all the noise.

Suddenly, Annie's voice came in as well. Then Johanna's. Then your mother's. There was nonstop noise filled with screams for help, shouting with disapproving messages. Your body couldn't handle it; it was so overwhelmed with fear that you started shaking on the ground, putting your hands on your ears but that did little to nothing.

You wanted it to stop. It was too much, you were trembling. It felt like days, just sitting there in that room listening to all those demeaning voices of your loved ones. You couldn't even think straight anymore.

It was so bad you had started to pound your head on the ground, screaming and crying. You had have enough. And then, it all stopped. Silence was foreign for you; your ears were ringing.

You were sitting on the ground, almost lifeless as the Peacekeepers took you away. Your eyes hurt from the tears, your body sore, your ears ringing and your head was pounding.

But you knew that was just the beginning.

--

You were asleep in bed and you were awakened by the door opening, you instantly jolted up. You looked over to see a group of masked men in front of you and you had started to tremble again, silent tears rolling down your face, thinking that the Peacekeepers had come again.

"No, no, no." You started to mumble to yourself.

A man came up to your and took your bruised hand slowly, rubbing it gently in silent empathy. That was the first soft touch you'd felt in a few weeks and it almost stung.

"It's okay, you're safe now. You're going to 13 now."

You had to blink a couple times, trying to process what he said. Was this a dream? You went to pinch yourself but it was real life.

He then helped you up but you couldn't help but stumble; your legs were weak, you couldn't remember the last time the Peacekeepers let you walk for this long.

As you got into the hovercraft, you saw Annie. Your eyes widened as you both ran up to each other, embracing each other. She had started to cry a little bit and so did you.

That was when it hit you. You were going to see Finnick. You were going home. You started crying into Annie's shoulder as she held you. "We're safe now, we're safe."

You had seen Johanna as well but she didn't seem too responsive. Neither did Peeta. You fell asleep on Annie's shoulder on the ride back and for the first time, you actually felt yourself drifting off calmly.

--

There were lots of doctors and nurses looking at you and asking you all sorts of questions and you tried your best to answer them. You were still in shock; you were safe. They couldn't hurt you anymore.

"Y/N?" You turned around to see Finnick. You immediately got up from the examiner's table and ran into his arms, your eyes starting to water up again.

"Finnick," you sighed slowly. You pulled away, putting your hands on his face and touched him as if he wasn't real.

"Are you.. Are you really here?"

"Yes, I'm really here." Finnick looked at you and suddenly his voice transported you back into the dark room. You quickly twisted out of his embrace and his expression changed.

His voice was back and you heard all of the nasty things he had to you. You back away, stumbling into the examiner's table and your breathing became heavy. "No, no, no, please-please go away. No."

You slid down to the floor and you closed your eyes, putting your hands on your ears and rocking back and forth trying to get that voice to stop.

Finnick ran up to you and put his hands on your knees, trying to get you to look at him. His heart broke in half; he didn't know what the Capitol had done to you but now he knows it has something to do with him.

Of course the Capitol would try to ruin him. His eyes started to tear up at the sight of you, in so much pain and panic.

You opened your eyes, Finnick in front of you. You started to cry some more before Finnick slowly went up to you, wrapping his arms around you.

When he had started wrapping your arms around you, your instinct was to push him away but his warmth was welcoming and safe and you started to focus on his touch. The voices slowly drifted away, the sounds of your silent sobs only being heard.

You then gave into Finnick's touch, falling into him and putting your head in his chest as he caressed your back gently, shushing you.

"It's okay baby, I got you. You're safe now, they can't hurt you."

hunger games

★ smut ✦ angst ❥ fluff ✿ personal favorite

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

finnick odair

away from your cold lust ✦

tear you apart ✦

i was all over her ★

weightless ✦

call me lover ❥

my sisters keeper ✦

his embrace ✦

little hell ✦

devotion ✦ ✿

i love you more than i could ever scream ✦

the pretender ✦

my body is a cage ✦ ✿

watercolor eyes ✦

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

coriolanus snow

money, power, and all your glory ✦

take everything, it’s all yours ★

his first lady ✦ ✿

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

haymitch abernathy

just like her ✦

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

REGULUS

→ LEGEND

(*) Indicates smut.

→ FICS

le coup de foudre. la petite mort. * darling you look divine. * curiosity killed the cat.

© theostrophywife. all works belong to me and should not be reposted in any way or form.

“Secrets”-Megumi Fushiguro

“This is what you wanted, right? A reaction?”

Contains: Fem reader, 18+ characters, smut, secret relationship, early-ish established relationship, unprotected sex, slight brat tamer Megumi, hickies, rougher sex, fluff, aftercare.

Megumi had patience. It was assumed from his stoic personality and the near-habitual, never waning look of disinterest on his face.

Most of the people around him just thought he was moody or bored, and most of the time, it was the truth.

He was patient in asking you out. He had been by your side as a friend for years, only making small moves after high school graduation.

He was patient as your partner. He rarely initiated anything, knowing you had your own issues that came with being a jujutsu sorcerer, and not wanting to push you.

He was patient with your sexual lives, never pushing it until you were comfortable enough.

However, now, his patience seemed to be especially thin around you.

Maybe it was because you knew exactly what you were doing, sitting next to him in a restaurant full of people, your skirt rolled up to show him (and only him) a little bit too much thigh to be considered modest.

For right now, your relationship was a secret, not wanting your other mutual friends to find out in concern of rupturing the atmosphere. It was hard being a jujitsu sorcerer, and you and Megumi had decided to make it as less complicated as possible.

You had only been dating for a about seven months, but he was struggling to keep it between the two of you.

It was easier before you two had sex, the only tell being the longing stares you’d give each other. But now, you knew exactly what made him tick, and you loved to use it to your advantage.

Truly, you couldn’t help yourself.

Megumi was so easy to tease and push, and his reactions satisfied you deeply.

You shifted your gaze from Yuji, who was talking adamantly about something you weren’t entirely aware of, staring at Megumi from the corner of your eye.

He noticed your eyes shift immediately, glaring at you sharply as he swallowed thickly. He blinked, turning his attention away from you so quickly you would’ve guessed it was your imagination if it wasn’t for his hand gripping his seat.

Continuing your conversation, you slyly grabbed his hand, moving it to your mid thigh. Megumi choked, but hid it behind a cough. Nobara barely noticed, interrupting Yuji to ask you about plans for the weekend. Underneath the table, Megumi’s hand was surprisingly gentle; a warning.

Usually, you’d stop there, not wanting to blow your cover.

Today, you had a plan.

Skillfully, you reached across the table for a napkin, the side of your thumb catching a bit of sauce from your lunch as you did.

Nodding along to your friends across from you, you ran your tongue down, licking the sauce off. If you had wanted to kill Megumi, you would’ve looked at him as you did it, but that would’ve been too telling.

Besides, you didn’t need to. His grip on your thigh had tightened, his fingertips piercing into the doughy skin.

After responding to Nobara’s question, you lightly dragged your hand up Megumi’s leg, settling right above his lap.

His grip on your leg was replaced with your wrist, squeezing it twice. He excused himself to the bathroom a minute later.

After finishing lunch, the four of you split for your respective duties. Yuji had to speak to Gojo, and Nobara had promised to spar with a few of the upperclassmen.

As a group, you walked back to the school, parting ways when Megumi and you went south, towards the dorms, while the others went north.

As soon as you and Megumi make it to your dorm, his hands were pulling your hair, forcing your head up and to the side, exposing your neck. Your back hits the wall, and his leg is in between your feet.

“You wanna tell me what the hell was that?” He whispered into your ear, his lips nudging against your neck.

When you don’t answer, his hand tightens around your hair, forcing a whimper out of you.

“You know, if you wanted my attention this bad you didn’t have to make it so obvious.”

“’m sorry.” The words leave your throat in a choke, loosing your breath from how Megumi was now squeezing your waist.

He wasn’t a very affectionate lover unless you initiated, you had never seen this side to him before.

“That’s cute.” He mocked, no amusement in his tone. “Where’d all that confidence go?”

Before you can think of a retort, his mouth is on yours. His kisses you with fever, like he’d been waiting months to feel your lips.

He adjusts his body so his waist is pinned against yours, moaning at the feeling of his dick hard against your vagina.

“You see what you do to me?” His foreheads resting against yours as he peers down at you. “This is what you wanted, right? A reaction?”

“Yes.” You admit.

“Is this good enough for you?” He says through gritted teeth, pulling you from the wall and pushing you onto the bed.

He flips you on your stomach, a hand trailing down your back, forcing you to arch. Your shirt rides up as his fingertips reach your shoulder blades, moving your hair off your back with his other hand.

You turn your head to look at him, eyes glossed and your bottom lip between your teeth.

Megumi’s left arm crosses over your waist to hold your hip, pulling you up so he can kiss you. It’s softer, but shorter. He trails his mouth down your neck, sucking bruises into the skin underneath your shirt.

He pushes you back down again, and you’re arching into him. “Please, I need it.”

You weren’t used to sounding so submissive. You had always been in charge up to this point, and you liked it. You were starting to wonder if you liked this more.

You hear him chuckle behind you, feeling the vibrations from his chest. He slides your shorts off, your panties going with it. Before you could move to push them past your knees, he’s pushing a finger into you.

You almost jolt, groaning in satisfaction at the familiar feeling. Megumi moves slowly, the wet sound of your cunt embarrassingly loud.

You grind back into him, desperately trying to meet his strokes.

“If you want more you’re going to have to ask for it.” Megumi pulls his finger out. “Don’t be so needy.”

“Please, ’m sorry.” You say. “Just fuck me, please.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Megumi punctuates his sentence by pushing the head of his dick into you without warning.

You clench the sheets in your fist, a groan falling from your lips. Megumi’s hips are slapping into yours, the sound echoing in your room.

Normally, he didn’t last too long. Sex with Megumi was usually you riding him, or missionary. He was very sweet, kissing your face as he came and always holding you as close as possible.

He had never fucked you like this before.

You would have been pushed off the bed by the force of his thrust, but he was gripping both of your wrists with one hand.

You were making sounds you didn’t know you could, eyes squeezed tightly shut and drool spilling from your parted lips.

His pace was just as ruthless, jolting you back and forth violently. Letting go of your wrists, he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you up so your back was against him. An arm wrapped around your middle while the other groped at your chest.

He kissed the shell of your ear before trailing down and sinking his teeth into your neck, sucking a bruise much too high to hide.

“Megumi-” You tried to warn, but it sounded more like a desperate moan.

“I don’t care.” His fingers moved from your tits down to your clit, swirling gentle circles.

You were already close, but that, along with his dick in you as deep as possible, had you coming undone in his arms.

You clawed at his bicep, your head falling back onto his shoulder as you shook from your orgasm.

“There you go.” He whispers quietly into your neck.

But, he doesn’t stop. His fingers keep the grueling pace, and now he’s sliding in and out of you.

“Slow down.” You pant, legs trembling.

“But isn’t this what you wanted?” You can feel his smirk. “You were so desperate for my attention earlier.”

“Please, ‘m sorry.” you cry out, but Megumi just pushes you back down, caging you with his body as he rams into you.

Usually, he’s vocal. He’s whiney and sensitive, and little breathy moans would fall from his lips. Now, he’s dead quiet.

It’s unnerving, and it makes you want to stop the embarrassingly loud moans that you barely even realize you’re making, but you can’t.

It’s humiliating. It’s degrading. And it also makes you squeeze around him even more.

“Fuck, you like this, don’t you?” He grunts, pushing your head back down into the mattress.

“Yes.” You shudder. “So good, Megumi.” His name rings out like a song, and it makes his dick twitch inside of you.

“Oh, yeah?” He speeds up his pace. “Do I have to fuck you like this every night to get you to behave?”

You can’t respond, too far gone. Overstimulated, you writhe under him.

“Can you take it?” He asks, and his words have genuine concern in them.

“Mhm.” You sigh.

He ruts into you harder, and you feel his thrusts get sloppy. Before he can finish, you come undone for a second time, and that pushes him over the edge.

He pulls out and spills over your ass, small sounds falling from his lips. He places your hips flat against the bed, kissing your back.

“Stay right there, baby.” He gets up to the bathroom, grabbing a towel. You turn your head to watch him leave, smiling softly at him.

He cleans off your back, kissing your shoulder and trailing up your neck. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too, Megumi.” He picks you up, turning you around. He’s smiling at you, brushing a stray hair behind your ear.

You wrap your arms around his neck, and he slides you up the bed, tucking you into bed before huddling next to you.

You lay your head on his chest, still twitching slightly and shut your eyes. Lost in post nut clarity, Megumi’s softer than usual.

He kisses your forehead over and over, playing with your hair as he holds you close. He moves your hair away from your neck, eyeing the hickies that stick out against your smooth skin.

It was about time you told Yuji and Nobara anyway.

➵ 𝐇𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮

➵ Regulus Black x reader

➵ summary: The Marauders hold a silent grudge against you for falling in love with the younger Black, until one day everything comes out in an argument, and Sirius has no choice but to find his brother, and see for himself how much he loves you.

➵ word count: 2k

➵ tw: swearing, arguing, panic/ anxiety, slut shaming

➵ a/n: lowkey kinda proud of this? pulled this idea outta my ass while zoning out at work and had to write it as soon as I got home lol. anyway, im on a real writing kick right now I have so many ideassss! happy reading xo MIZ

       ╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

You never spoke of your relationship to your friends.

They never asked questions when you would leave, saying you had plans, they didn’t approach you when they’d spot you hand in hand in the halls, a bright smile beaming on your face.

But you saw the resentment.

You saw Sirius grit his teeth anytime his name would accidentally slip past your lips.

You saw Remus’ eyes fall when he saw you with him in the courtyard.

You saw James’ fake smile when you’d show him your new jewelry and dresses that he knew you didn’t buy for yourself.

You heard the girls’ disapproving whispers when you’d leave your dorm to meet him.

It broke your heart every time. You wished to be able to talk freely about your love without feeling guilty, you wanted to bring him to your weekly game nights, you wanted to go to Hogsmeade during Christmas with everybody and get butterbeers and giggle as snowflakes clung onto all your eyelashes. You wanted to share that community with him.

But you loved Regulus more than any of those things.

Keep reading

finnick and sleepy cuddles

blinds.

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!reader

content warnings: established relationship, pet names. nothing else really! this is just pure fluff <3

word count: 0.8k

When you and Finnick had first moved into this house together, he had insisted until he was blue in the face that this specific brand of blinds were the best you could get in District Four. Now, the sunlight streams in through the cheap, filmsy material, and casts shadows around the room.

Finnick has always been a light sleeper, even as a child, and he shifts on to his side, drawing you impossibly closer as he does so.

Even in your half-asleep state, you respond, curling into his side and letting out a whine into his chest. He smiles to himself and presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your hairline.

He doesn’t try to coax you awake just yet; if he had to guess, he’d say it’s only somewhere around the seven o’clock mark and he knows that you like to have a lie in on the weekend, especially after working from nine to five Monday through to Friday.

He’s not complaining— he’s perfectly content to lie with you and let you wake up at your own pace.

Besides, this way he can admire how beautiful you look as your chest rises and falls with steady, slow breaths, and your lashes kiss your high cheekbones.

A small smile graces his lips as you bury your face in closer to his bare chest, trying to hide from the sunshine that threatens to pull you from your slumber. You breathe in his cologne and the sea salt that still clings to his tanned skin from the dip you two took in the ocean late last night and let out a content hum.

Finnick can’t help the rumble in his chest as he laughs at that. You shush him insistently, and he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from disturbing your peace any more than he already has. He may be many things, but at least he can take a hint.

You sling your arm around his stomach and absentmindedly tug him closer to you, craving the warmth and safety that he provides.

He obliges quickly and molds to your every will until you’re content with the position you’ve crafted; one that closely resembles a koala clinging to an oak tree.

His lips graze your forehead once more and you blink your eyes open, just enough to squint at him through the brightness. “Hi,” you mumble, still half-asleep.

“Hi,” Finnick whispers back, angling his head so that he can see you properly.

Without moving from your comfortable position, you coax his head down to yours, and meet his lips in a sweet, soft kiss. He hums into your mouth and you respond by sleepily combing the pads of your fingers through his golden curls.

You break the kiss after a few seconds and rest the side of your cheek against his bare chest while he traces patterns up and down the length of your back. His touch is feather-light and gentle and you giggle into his chest.

“What?” Finnick asks with an amused smile. “Why’re you laughing?”

“It tickles,” You mumble back, intertwining your legs with his under the sheets.

His fingers still their movements. “Do you want me to stop, angel?”

“No,” You say, shaking your head, which proves to be hard when your face is smushed up against his chest. “No. I like it.”

Finnick slowly picks up his pace again, but keeps his movements lazy and languid.

Moments pass, and the only sound that can be heard are the blinds fluttering in the breeze and the waves lapping against the shore outside.

“What time is it?” You ask eventually, moving one of your hands away from him to wipe the remaining evidence of sleep from your eyes.

“Early,” Finnick answers. “I’d say it’s around half past seven by now.”

You hum, shifting onto your stomach so that you can look him in the eye. You’re practically lying on top of him now, and your chin rests on his chest. “You’re so pretty,” you mumble.

He laughs, but you can see the rosy color dusting along his cheekbones. “I think I’m meant to be saying that to you, angel.”

“Then say it,” you prompt.

“You’re so pretty.”

“I know.” You grin.

Finnick scoffs, but there’s only amusement behind it. “You’re so stubborn. Always have to get your own way.” He brings your knuckles up to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the skin there.

“I wonder who that reminds me of,” You muse. “I specifically remember telling you that those blinds were going to let in too much sunlight, and here we are.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Alright, alright, you were right, and I was wrong.”

“I like it when you say that.”

“Don’t get used to it, angel. Don’t get used to it."

Wizarding World

James Potter

Due to the sheer size that is my accumulated collection of James, he had to get a whole post for himself. The prick.

Remus Lupin

Angel by @rosaline-black

You're Losing Me by @astonishment

i thought that i was dreaming when you said you loved me by @mangomonk

i caught myself by @mangomonk

shy!reader and remus meet by @luveline

Born a Party Girl by @lizpottersworld

Not so Secret Admirer by @kquil

it'd be an honor by @patrophthia

skirts by @flwrbo

Beyond Rumours by @ladylokilaufeyson5

Comfort Zone by @bruh--wtf

green with envy by @sombernstarless

if i ever talk to you that way by @vxntagedior

protective james by @of-many-fandomss

Prettiest girl at Hogwarts by @kitkathockey

over the influence by @bruisedboys

Remus takes shy!reader shopping by @bruisedboys

an encounter by @lovableapocalypse

paparazzi by @lushaletta

mouse by @siriuslovebot

Dear Prudence by @once-upon-an-imagine

Regulus Black

Green and Silver by @futurewriter2000

fools in love by @sarahisslytherin

nobody knows what i see by @cupidddd-d

Manipulating Death by @morganalatina21

She a Fighter by @stylesparker

picnic by @morwap

Sirius Black

Sweet Rubish by @shadowbriar

two ghost by @bellatrixscurls

Sirius Black x slytherin!reader by @moonstruckme

"did sirius black just wink at you?" by @ginevrapng

sirius black is such a slut for attention by @ddejavvu

Right Where You Left Me by @in-my-feels-probably

play stupid games, win stupid prizes by @perpetuallydaydreaming

sycamore girl by @patrophthia

apparition accident by @mediocre-daydreams

sleepy by @luveline

flowers by @robynlilyblack

and we run by @evermoreal

it's the hair by @ddejavvu

call it what you want by @velvetcloxds

dote on me by @yellow-berrys

you're not comfy by @siriusblacksjacket

Hourglass by @ancient-vivarium

a little piece of heaven by @kquil

Newt Scamander

Two of a Feather by @valkyriepirate

Happenstances by @valkyriepirate

FOOLISH LOVERS. luke castellan

description. luke castellan has betrayed camp half blood. luke castellan has made an enemy out of those around you. and unfortunately, luke castellan has always held a place in your heart that you can't close off. at least, not until you meet with him one final time.

includes. SMUT 18+, fem!reader, daughter of hypnos reader, oral (f and m receiving), brief anal rimming (f receiving), implied p n v, dreamscape sex again, angst galore, some arguing, references to pjo ep 8. inspo from wicked game by chris isaak

wc: 5.8k+

a/n: a dreamcatcher: daughter of the god of dreams installment.

Before you can realize the change, you’re standing on a hill. 

It takes you a second to notice, but the area is much like your dreamscape. Low, waving blades of grass that travel through the air with the wind brushing against your bare ankles. The ocean is loud and to your right, down beneath a steep cliff. From just a quick glance, you see a storm brewing off into the distance. The water swirls angrily as if it’s ready to disrupt anything that dares to come into its path. 

You can’t help but think about the betrayed son of the sea god back in reality who surely feels the same. 

When you take your eyes away from the entrancing scenery of the ocean, you notice a cabin directly in front of you. It’s small, and made from long wooden logs, although there isn’t a forest nearby to identify the source of the frame. The exterior is slightly shabby, appearing manmade with a few imperfections. 

It’s not on a comparable scale to the cabins back at Camp Half-Blood, but something about it feels cozy. It gives implications of a simpler life. Maybe what summer camp could have been if you weren’t the offspring of a god. 

That and the clouds rumbling with warnings of an approaching storm is what encourages you to seek refuge in the four walls. 

Step by step, you don’t fail to notice how a focus subject has yet to appear. 

Your hand wraps around the doorknob and you push the slab of wood open as you wonder who’s dream you could have been pulled into tonight. 

You haven’t even stepped foot over the threshold, you have started to convince yourself that this is the dream of the son of the sea god, and then someone speaks. 

“Hey.” 

You stop. 

Your foot hovers for a second before you place it back beside the other. 

That voice. You hadn’t heard it for months now, but you know it. Day after day, you lay at night with your eyes closed, cementing the memory of the way he spoke and how he sounded as he laughed at your jokes into your mind. Forcing yourself to recall the inflections in his tone as he teased you, and how his words flattened out and got hard when he gave orders to yourself and others. And then, completely involuntarily, you would force yourself to pick through every single intonation and word that you could remember, attempting to find signs. Any hints or clues that Luke Castellan wasn’t the person he made himself out to be. 

Each night, you grapple with the fact that you couldn’t find any clues. You tried to reconcile with your blindness, all while telling yourself that you could have attempted to prevent it all. 

But hearing his voice now, none of that returns. Unexpectedly, your body floods with warmth. 

Luke sits on a small loveseat. The shape of it is a bit of a blur at first, but you blink and it cleans up to present a busy patterned textile couch. It’s well loved, there are a few tears in the bottom of the fabric at the back, and if you’re smelling it correctly, there’s a slight waft of cigarette smoke. 

Strangely enough, it’s inviting. 

You hate to admit it to yourself, but the boy sitting at one end of it makes it even more inviting. 

You step into the cabin and close the door behind you. 

“Hey, Luke.” 

He turns around to face you at the sound of your voice. You sound stronger than you expected. More casual, too. 

You realize that he’d been looking out a large set of windows before facing you. There’s only two but they take up most of the small wall. Outside is a perfect view of the land you’d just come from; bright green grass in the foreground and deep blue salt water off into the distance. 

Luke stares at you. 

The cabin is a little dark—there’s a lamp in the far corner that illuminates the room, washing out the otherwise blue light from outside—but you think his eyes are shining. As if there’s unshed tears barely held within them.

He smiles at you. It’s soft and almost mournful. 

You should leave. 

You shouldn’t be fraternizing with Luke at all, even if it is within a dreamscape. You couldn’t trust yourself in a room with him, especially with the things the two of you used to do when you were in dreamscapes alone. 

Just looking at him reminds you of all of those times. Sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. The feeling of his muscles beneath your inquisitive hands. The deep and smooth sound of his voice. The way everything felt so real and so tangible as he rocked into you, and then as euphoria swept over your bodies you felt so infinite and surreal. 

Your teeth find your lower lip. Your body urges you to get closer to Luke. Stubbornly, you stay in your spot. 

“What d’you think?” He lifts a finger and circles it around in the air. Your eyes lift and you finally take in the rest of the cabin. 

The main room is spacious, but comfortable. Lightly furnished with hardwood floors. Though almost every surface is covered in some sort of rug, most of them persian. There’s a small kitchen to your left, and then the living area that Luke sits in on the right. There’s a few bookshelves but there aren’t many books on them, and there’s a fireplace that looks to have never been used before. A few picture frames sit on the mantle of the fireplace, but from afar they just appear to be showcasing blobs of people without any distinctive features to identify an identity. 

Admittedly, for this to be the created dreamscape of the son of a messenger, it’s impressive. 

You tell him as such. 

This time, Luke’s smile is appreciative. 

“Means a lot coming from you. Especially with the things you can create.” 

Your skin heats up and you block the memories out of your head before they can firmly cement themselves once more. 

“You might have me beat, Castellan. Giving me a run for my money.” 

You don’t know why you decide to fall into the old routine with him. Maybe it’s because you can’t push Luke away for the life of you. He was once your friend and so much more at the same time. It’s impossible for you to completely forget the times you shared together. 

Maybe it’s the home making you feel this way. 

How comfortable it feels. How protective it is. 

You’ve spent weeks pulled into unfortunate dreams. Nightmares have plagued even the toughest minds of Camp Half Blood as of late, and you’ve been unable to fortify your own mind enough to prevent slipping into the mind of others. Which has left you to fight against unbeatable monsters, fortify the barriers of Camp only to have them knocked down by Zeus over and over again, watch those you love die in horrible battles, and much much more. 

In comparison, there is the possibility of a simple conversation with Luke Castellan giving you what you’d been desperately missing even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself: Luke’s company. 

It’s how you reason with yourself whenever you take a seat atop the cushion of the couch. Instantly, it feels as if you’ve never truly known comfort before. This couch conforms to the curves of your body. You lean back against it, pull your feet up with you, and you quickly decide to stay a little while longer. 

Up close, Luke looks even prettier than you remember. Dark curly hair a little more grown out, unruly and hanging over his forehead like low hanging fruit, begging for you to latch onto it. His face looks a little slimmer as if he’s lost weight, and the angular planes of his cheekbones and jawline accentuates the dark shadow he has along his chin. The mark of facial hair that was previously present. Beneath his clothes—a faded black, almost gray hoodie, and black sweatpants—he appears larger. His shoulders wider, his neck thicker, his wrist and hands veiner. 

(Compared to his covered body, you feel bare in nothing but long socks, and a matching shorts and tank top set.)

He looks virtually the same, but his aura is different. There’s more confidence in him, a larger ego, glory even, that wasn’t there the last time you’d seen him. You know what has caused the change, and it should be something you despise. But his new glory makes him more attractive. It dries out your tongue and lodges something in your throat, pushing it further down until it sits heavy in your stomach. 

“Thought this could be our new spot.” Luke speaks softly, almost in a scared whisper, as if he fears that you’ll reject him. 

(You don’t know if you could ever reject Luke)

Your eyebrows furrow. “Our spot?” Confusion drips off of your words. 

Luke nods once. He licks over his lips and you’re quick to peel your eyes away from the sight and back to his eyes. That’s not helping you much either so you instead try to figure out what books are on the shelves afar. 

Since the little amount of time that has passed, there have been a few more added. From the ones that have already been there, the titles are too far away, too dream disoriented, and your dyslexia hasn’t escaped this dream, but you think you find novels on Seeing. Guides on how to decipher the visions that come to humans, or how to channel them. 

You focus back on Luke. 

“Yeah. Like the old bedroom. But a little more …” he hesitates to find the word then lands on, “Casual.” 

The bedroom. 

Your lower stomach stirs at the mention of it. The large bed, how warm it always was in there, the cold leather of the couch, the things the two of you did to each other on all surfaces. 

This spot is definitely a lot more casual. You’re not instantly compelled to straddle Luke here, although you do have a few thoughts about throwing your legs over his right now and reconnecting in ways you’ve missed since he left. 

So badly do you want to agree. This could be the one place where you get to experience what you’ve been missing without anyone else knowing. This is the only place where you can see Luke without anyone else knowing. 

But it’s wrong. 

He’s the cause of all of this. He’s caused the nightmares you’ve been pulled into. He has betrayed everyone on levels you could have never imagined. And who’s to say that he won’t betray you again. 

“We won’t need a ‘spot’, Luke.” Briefly, his eyes flash as if he’s hurt but in your eyes, Luke has proven himself to be a formidable actor as of late so you ignore it. “This is a one time thing.” 

A moment passes. And then another. 

You turn to watch the sea out in the distance. It appears as if the ocean has lulled for the time being. The sky is still dark, but it has yet to deepen in color. 

Luke takes a breath and you give him your attention again. 

“Why won’t you join me?” 

His eyes flash betrayal, his lips twist into something sorrowful. 

Your answer comes easy. The same one you’ve told yourself over and over again, night by night when you considered reaching out to him. 

“Because it’s not right, Luke.”

When he stands, his newfound power becomes even more clear. It leaks from his pores, spews from his mouth with his words. 

“How could it be ‘wrong’ when you feel the same. All that time you spent telling me about your father. How neglected you felt. What happened to that?” 

Your head shakes. You stand, too, evening out the field for both of you. 

“This is not what I meant. I–” The words don’t find you. Luke takes notice. 

“You what? Love your father? Love the gods? After how they treat you. How they treat us.” 

“Don’t say ‘us’. We aren’t together, Luke.” 

That same look flashes in his eyes once more. He takes a step forward, you take one back. 

He doesn’t say anything. You watch his hand reach behind his back. 

“What, are you gonna fight me like you did with Percy?” 

His head shakes. His eyes harden. He pulls his hand back and it comes up empty. 

“He attacked first.” 

Your voice starts to rise. “And you tried to kill him, Luke. He’s twelve. What don’t you understand about that? ” 

“Twelve and a forbidden child. In the grand scheme of things, his age doesn’t matter. He’s powerful. More powerful than both of us combined.” 

“So is that why you tried to kill him? Because he’s a threat?” 

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you. Not here. Not now.” 

“Yeah? Well then when? And where? Because this is the last time you’ll be seeing me, Luke.” 

“Okay.” 

Your eyebrows raise. Disbelief paints over your features. You’d expected more of a fight. For Luke to disagree or attempt to convince you to return to him a few more times after this. Maybe that’s what you wanted. Maybe you wanted him to convince you that you needed him. Maybe you wanted to hear him tell you that he needed you. 

Either way, your reply is the same as his. 

“Okay.” You turn and take the few steps it takes to get to the door. 

Your chest heaves with large gulps of air in and small breaths of letting them out. Your body is buzzing, the same feeling you would get before sparring with Luke. The same feeling you would get before your bodies joined together. 

You tell yourself to reach out for the door handle. You tell yourself to lift your arm, connect your hand with the metal, and pull it open. You tell yourself to return to your own dreamscape, maybe even reality, and forget any of this ever happened. 

Maybe you would’ve done it if Luke hadn’t spoken. 

“You can walk out that door but that won’t change how you truly feel.” 

He doesn’t add on. You don’t move. 

“And how do I feel?” 

The adrenaline is overwhelming you. You need to expel it out of your body somehow. 

As Luke is speaking, you’re already approaching him. 

“I’m sure I don’t need to answer that for you.”

When he speaks, it’s with arrogance. His confidence is heavily laced in his words, overflowing until it drips out into the air and lodges in your chest. Running through your body and down to your fingertips. It annoys you, makes you want to battle it out with him in a fight you’re sure to lose. 

Your feet thud against the floor with each step until you’re close enough to cup his cheeks in both of your hands and pull his face down to yours. 

There’s no hesitation in the kiss from either side. As if both of you were expecting it to happen eventually. 

Luke kisses you back vehemently, his lips messily sliding against yours as he presses into the center of your back, accentuating the curve and drawing your chest into his. His free hand glides down your side to your hips. He circles to your back, dragging his palm down to rest over the curve of your ass. He grips the flesh through the soft fabric of your shorts, digging his blunt nails in before continuing his hand—open palmed—down to grip the back of your thigh. 

His other hand mirrors his previous actions until he has a hand on either thigh. He tugs once, and you collaborate to wrap your legs around his waist and hook your ankles behind his back. Your hands dig into his hair, and your core tightens as you prepare to continue holding yourself up. But Luke takes most of the load. 

He places his hands on your bottom to keep you lifted. You expect him to walk you back to the couch, or maybe pin you to a wall. But he doesn’t. 

He holds you against him in the center of the living room, kissing you like he’ll never get to kiss you again. You don’t fail to realize how he likely won’t. 

His tongue slides against yours, your teeth knock together at least twice, both of you refuse to pull away to breathe which results in heavy exhales through your noses against the skin of the other cheek. 

While it may be uncoordinated, it’s not primal. 

There’s copious amounts of longing beneath each pass of your tongues against each other. There’s human emotion behind the way you tug on his hair and how he uses one hand to pull your hips closer to him. There’s raw longing in the soft sighs and gasps you both let out into the other’s mouth, taking it in and replicating the noises over and over again. 

When you finally do part, it’s with a wet, pronounced smack. 

“Luke,” you gasp his name before you can realize it’s happening. One of your hands moves from his hair to hold his cheek. Your fingers spread around his ear and your thumb probes into his jaw. 

He hums, his eyes still shut. 

“I want you,” you admit. 

You watch the smile spread across his lips, his eyes flickering open to look into your soul. 

“Took you long enough to admit it.” 

You suck your teeth and roll your eyes. Your other hand, previously resting on his shoulder, slaps his bicep. 

“Don’t be an asshole about it.” 

He laughs as he apologizes, knocking his forehead against yours. “Sorry, pretty girl.” 

He takes a moment.

When he speaks, his eyes are nothing but earnest. His words are slow and careful, despite how simple they are. They fill your chest with warmth. They comfort you, possibly in slight delusion as you instantly believe him without caring about what repercussions his promise could come with. 

“You have me. Always have. Always will.” 

You’re quick to surge forward. 

Luke is quick to reciprocate. 

This time, he walks you back to the couch. He settles you on it carefully, not lifting his hands from your bottom until you’re seated securely along the loveseat and pulled to the edge by his hands hooked under your knees. 

His own knees dig into the rug beneath the furniture. His head is tipped up to continue kissing you, this one lacking the over enthusiasm from before. Now, he takes his time, having confessed his desire to be with you as long as you’ll let him. 

It’s not long until he pulls away and trails his lips down, kissing along your decollete, not stopping when he comes in contact with the fabric of your small shirt. He presses his lips into the fabric firmly, as if he’s trying to reach your skin beneath the layer.

You feel the pressure he has beneath each kiss as he trails down, and you arch into his touch, excitement spreading through your lower half whenever Luke digs his fingers into the elastic of your shorts and pulls them off of your legs before he even reaches there. 

You’re quick to leave your legs open, even going as far as to spread them a little more to give Luke more room. 

His wide shoulders fill the space. They nudge against your knees and instead of letting you spread your legs even more, he throws them over his shoulders, effectively caging himself in with your limbs. 

If the small smile on his face is anything to go by, he’s happy about his position. 

You’re still wearing your panties. Your hands trail down to get rid of them, but Luke stops you with a hand on your lower abdomen. 

“Let me,” he tells you, voice soft and light. 

You remove your hands and do as told. It’s a simple system you have worked out, Luke slowly but surely working his way down to where you want him. He's eager, and you know he wants himself there as much as you do. 

It’s strange what desire could make you do. 

You’ve never been anything but loyal to Camp Half-Blood. To both of your parents. And in normal circumstances, you wouldn’t allow yourself to do this.

 But you’ll simply have a final time with Luke. That’s it. Sharing your body with him, and having his body shared with you, won’t make you forget his transgressions. 

As your panties are pulled off of your legs, and your skin is once again placed above the thick fabric on the shoulders of his sweatshirt, you tell yourself that this won’t change anything. 

You’ll never be able to forget what he has done. What he’s planning to do. 

Except, perhaps, you can push it aside for as long as you’ll have to while you let yourself get lost in his touch. 

The first pass of his tongue is a long stripe between your folds. He spreads you open with his thumbs, pulling at the skin on either side to expose your center. Then he flattens his tongue and licks up from your entrance to your clit. 

He puckers his lips, sucking twice before flicking his tongue against the bud. 

Your hands card through his hair, ignoring the way your fingers get stuck on a few stubborn curls that refuse to separate in favor of grounding yourself. It feels too good, and you haven’t been in this position for too long. There’s nothing you fear more right now than getting too lost and waking up in the real world before you’re even satisfied. 

Luke brings his attention back down to your entrance where he laps up what you’ve been leaking. He groans, peeling his mouth away and you stare down at him, entranced by how grateful he looks. 

Eyes closed, face completely relaxed, his scar laid flat against his cheek, his pink lips parted and glistening. 

He looks ethereal. The sight is addicting. 

“Missed this so much,” he admits, tongue flickering out to lick the remnants of your arousal off of his lips. 

You feel the same, but you refuse to tell him that. Instead, you scrape your nails at his scalp lightly and shuffle your hips, hoping that alone is enough to capture Luke’s attention again. 

Either he catches the memo or he had the same idea as you because his lips are right back between your legs.

You’d expected him to behave like a man starved, licking and sucking your cunt like you would disappear any moment. Instead, he takes his time with you. He utilizes the best part about being in a dreamscape: the lack of concrete time. 

He savors the taste of your cunt, and the little sounds you make. His fingers press into the tops of your thighs as he holds them down against his shoulders to prevent you from squirming. His nose nudges against your clit and digs into the short hair you have on your mound. 

He presses his tongue everywhere that he can, sometimes even sliding further down to rim areas still unexplored. Each time, you would tense up just a little less, until eventually you were trying to subtly urge his head further down for him to do it just one more time. 

And when he does, that’s when the coil in your lower belly gets as tight as it could get, just before snapping from the tension. You would have warned him. Or, maybe you did. You were so focused on getting there that any words that came out of your mouth weren’t even considered. You weren’t aware of anything other than your mouth moving at the same speed as your hips as you dragged your cunt against Luke’s face, using him to guide your orgasm to full completion. 

As soon as your hips stop twitching you swing your legs off of his shoulders and slide to the floor beside him. You pull your shirt off, then do the same for Luke, throwing both of your tops off to the side. 

Unsurprisingly, he’s not wearing another layer beneath the sweatshirt, allowing you to run your palms down his chest, feeling the familiar definition along his abdomen. 

You sit in front of him with your legs folded underneath you, and since he’s on his haunches, he towers over you just a bit. You have to tilt your head up to kiss at his jaw and neck, your hands busying themselves with urging his sweatpants off of his hips. 

Luke does the rest of the job for you, hesitantly pulling away from your touch to stand and slide his sweatpants off of his legs himself. You’re left on the ground, hands politely resting in your lap while you stare up at Luke with wide eyes. 

He slowly reveals more and more of his legs until he’s wearing nothing but his briefs. They hug him well, like they always have. A prominent outline of the muscle definition in his thighs, elastic waistband hanging low enough on his hips for you to see the ‘V’ that connects his hips and abdomen. And of course, the tight material reveals the prominent boner confined within the crotch of his briefs. 

You want to reach up and palm him. You want to pull the final layer off of him. You want to take his cock into your mouth and relax with the heavy and warm feeling of him against your tongue. 

But you decide to be patient. And it’s worth it. 

Luke slides his briefs off himself, never breaking eye contact with you as he throws them to join the rest of your clothing. His stare is strong and heavy as he spits into his hand and puts his dick into the same place, wrapping his palm around the center of it and stroking a few times. 

There’s the prettiest, most picturesque bead of precum at the tip and you’re practically salivating just looking at it, praying deep down that Luke doesn’t run his hand over it so you can have it for yourself. 

As if sensing your inner turmoil, Luke takes a step closer, holding the base of his cock right in front of your face, allowing you to get the perfect view of how his tip is a light pink around the almost clear drop of precum. 

“You want?” he asks you simply, smiling a bit when you nod eagerly. “Then open.” 

You’re quick to do as told, lacking any shame whenever you open your mouth and stick your tongue out. As soon as Luke presses his tip to your muscle, you wrap your lips around him and eagerly suck him clean. 

Another good thing about the dreamscape is that everything either tastes like absolutely nothing, or like pure honey. And when you’re with Luke, things are usually the latter. 

You start to get lost in it, enthusiastically beginning to suck Luke off even though you were only meant to be getting a taste. 

You can see that Luke is close to commenting on it. His eyes shine like they do before he has something to say, but just when his lips part and he takes a breath to speak, you hollow your cheeks and sink as far down him as you can and any words he could have conjured up are suddenly gone. 

He lets you do what you want, eyes fluttering shut and one large hand cupping the back of your head as you continue to suck him off. He lets out the smallest noises, pretty grunts and groans and sighs. 

Luke was clearly just as wound up as you were. Within a couple of minutes he’s already starting to spew out praises like he does when he’s close. Some of them are fragments, broken words strung together in incomplete sentences. 

“So … doing so .. you’re–” when you swirl your tongue at the tip and tease his balls just a bit. 

“Gods, you’re so good at this,” when you jerk the majority of his dick with one hand and focus your mouth on his tip with the other. 

“Close. So close. Almost there, dove” when you take all of him into your mouth once more, throat molding around the definite shape of him. 

And when he cums down your throat, you’re so satisfied that you can’t help but moan unabashedly along with him. 

You’ve only just swallowed his cum before his cock is pulled out of your mouth and he’s back on his knees in front of you. 

His arms wrap around your waist, he pulls you into his lap, laying his head on your chest and just letting himself be. 

Just existing. 

After a couple of minutes, you stop expecting him to speak and decide to just exist too. Your breathing eventually matches up, in and out, in and out, over and over again in tandem. Outside, rain starts to thud against the roof of the small home. Distantly, there’s the faint sound of thunder, and you’re sure the ocean is swirling angrily. 

None of that matters, though. You’ll be left to decipher the metaphorical meanings of it all later, when you aren’t coexisting in the shared warmth from you and Luke. 

When he isn’t kissing the tops of your breasts and holding you securely in his arms. 

Eventually, Luke does break the silence. His voice is low when he does, both in volume and tone. 

“Can I have you? Just one final time?” 

He talks into your skin without looking directly at you. But as you start to respond, you cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. 

The entire time, you’ve been fighting this battle. Knowing you wanted Luke, knowing you wanted to be with Luke, but also knowing it was wrong. All of it was wrong. 

But right here, right now, you let go. You nod unashamedly. You kiss his forehead then the tip of his nose then his lips, before landing on the bottom end of his scar. 

You tell him, “Yes. Of course, Luke”, as if he didn’t even have to ask in the first place. 

And truthfully, you don’t think he did. 

‎

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” 

Luke is in the middle of pulling his sweatshirt back over his head when you speak. There’s a second where the fabric is hiding his face, slowly revealing the curls at the top of his head, then his dark eyebrows, and finally his eyes. They look as they have the entire time: despondent. 

“I know you didn’t. Neither did I.” You have a feeling that neither of you are speaking about the same specific thing, but the overlap in your conditions is so wide that you don’t bother correcting him. 

He reaches behind his back once more and when he pulls his hand back around, he has his camp necklace dangling from his fingers. He undoes the knot, and holds it open, waiting, until finally you turn around and let him delicately tie it around your neck. 

Your hand touches the beads. You want to thank him, but it doesn’t feel right. 

Instead, your lips twist into what you hope comes off as a thankful smile when you turn around. When Luke replicates it, you feel a little better. 

There’s a moment, just a brief moment there where you’re both staring at each other and the memory of Luke’s hands and lips and tongue and his everything engrossing you, taking your everything and combining them together, is still fresh on your mind. The warmth of his eyes and the warmth of his camp necklace around your throat heals you. And you consider that your feelings for Luke were stronger than you ever forced yourself to acknowledge. 

He was more than a close friend to you. More than someone you looked up to. More than someone you shared your body with in the dreamscape. 

He was more. 

It feels unfair for you to have these emotions. The wrongness of it all—your feelings for Luke Castellan, how he’d turned out—has rage fueling deep in your gut. With no one else to blame it on, you can’t help but briefly curse the gods. 

For they were the ones to cause this. To instill deep hatred into Luke’s chest. To prevent either of you from ever having a normal life where you could live and breathe and love without the burdens placed upon you both. 

A life where you wouldn’t have to love and lose someone like Luke. 

But there’s nothing for you to do about it now. 

You don’t want to leave. But your time together is up. You should’ve left a long time ago, and your choice to stay before resulted in something you could never take back. 

You turn and walk to the door. And once more, Luke speaking causes you to stop. 

“You are the only one who could make me change my mind.” He says it in a small whisper, as if he doesn’t want to admit it even to himself. As if he shouldn’t be admitting it at all.

‘Are’. His feelings for you still haven’t changed. You don’t know if they ever will. 

Either way, you’re forced to change yours.  

You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything. Your hand reaches for the doorknob. You take it in your palm, gripping and turning at the same time until the latch is undone. 

The door opens and fills the room with the sound of rain falling. It’s loud and fills the empty space. Up until Luke speaks and the baritone of his voice joins it. 

“This is it?” 

You nod once. Luke’s scoff sounds painful. It’s bitter with an edge of hatred. Maybe disbelief. 

It makes tears brim at your eyes. Your nose stings. Your throat feels as if it’s constricting with the effort to hold your tears back. 

Luke takes a breath. You step one foot out of the door. 

“Dreamcatcher,” he calls to get your attention, the nickname giving you that fuzzy feeling you used to get from just seeing him around camp. “We’ll be seeing each other again.” 

And then your foot lands on the dry green grass of your own dreamscape. 

Just a few hours later, you rise with the morning sun, sneaking off to the showers before everyone else to get rid of the stickiness between your thighs. 

The dream might not have been real, but the evidence between your legs certainly was. Strangely enough, that and the additional chord of beads around your neck. You only notice it when you’ve undressed and stepped beneath the shower head, scrubbing at your skin and running into additional jewelry you hadn’t expected to have been there. 

You take it off and slip it with the rest of your clothes as a keepsake, carrying it around in your pocket for only you to know about.

masterlist ♡

my requests are open! i'm comfortable writing for any sexuality, gender, and/or specified reader preference! my basic model is a fem!reader x male!character because that is how i myself identify and who i am attracted to -- so if you want something else just lmk!! <33

click here for my taglist :)

꩜ -- angst ♡ -- fluff ꕥ -- smut

Spencer Reid

Series

★ Bridges to Belonging ꩜ ♡ ꕥ— Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six (18+) Part Seven (18+)

★ Finding Home Again ꩜ ♡ ꕥ— Part One Part Two (18+)

-- -- -- Extras -- Jeans ♡ ꕥ Migraines ꩜ ♡ Bar ♡ Stood Up ꩜

★ i love you ꩜ ♡ ꕥ— Part One Part Two

★ Short Shorts & Long Hair ꩜ ♡— Part One Part Two

★ Too Sweet ꩜ ♡ ꕥ — Part One Part Two Part Three

★ Make You Feel My Love ꩜ — Part One Part Two Part Three

★ Something Better ꩜ — Part One Part Two

★ Breaking Point ꩜ ♡ — Part One Part Two

★ Too Damn Young ꩜ ♡ ꕥ — Part One Part Two

★ Red ꩜ ♡ ꕥ — Part One Part Two

★ Lost in Translation ꩜ ♡ ꕥ — Prologue Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

One Shots

Whispers in the Dark ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Set 'Em Up, and Knock 'Em Down ꩜ ꕥ

Needy ♡ ꕥ

Capturing the Queen ♡ ꕥ

Sweet & Sour Motivation ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Moving Forward ꩜ ♡

Love in the Club ♡ ꕥ

Lost & Found ꩜ ♡

Strawberry Lemonade ♡

Not Her ꩜ ♡

Ghost of You ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Textual Tension ♡ ꕥ

Hookups & Holdouts ꩜ ♡

Better Late Than Never ♡

Illicit Affairs ꩜ ♡

No More Misunderstandings ♡

Forever & Always ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Depollute Me ♡

Say Don't Go ꩜ ♡

Blurbs

Silent Echos ꩜

Second Chances and Serendipity ♡

Ink Impressions ♡

Love in the Details ♡

The Hardest Goodbye ꩜

Ride 'Em Cowgirl ♡

Home in Jeans ♡ ꕥ

Car Wash ♡

They Were Never You ꩜ ♡

Rewritten Plans ꩜ ♡

Dare Ya ♡

Cream Cardigan ♡

Picture You ♡

Tummy ꩜ ♡

Home with Migraines ꩜ ♡

Matchmaker ♡

Always You ꩜ ♡

Home From The Bar ♡

Bedroom Eyes ♡

Federal Beach Investigation ♡

Stood Up & Home ꩜

Good Boy ꕥ

The Profile of Attraction ♡

A Reid Christmas ♡

Asks

A Gentle Embrace ♡

Southern Charm ♡

Cinephile ♡

Where We Were Meant To Be ꩜ ♡

Love Doctor ♡

Not Strong Enough ꩜ ♡

Birthday Surprise ♡ ꕥ

Technicalities ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Lucky ꩜ ♡

I Love You, I'm Sorry ꩜ ♡

Languages of Love ♡

Wounds: Physical & Emotional ꩜

Chip Taylor

Something's Gotta Give ꩜ ♡ ꕥ

Juno(OH) ♡